Insanity (7 page)

“Do I have to know about this?”

“Everything I tell you is important, Alice. You might not use it now, but later,” the Pillar is back in his lecturing mode. “The Great Tom bell is sounded 101 times every night, around five past nine, Oxford time. In the past, it was used as a curfew alarm, to remind students to get back to their dorms. Also, somewhere up there was Lewis Carroll's own photography studio."

“Lewis Carroll was a photographer?”

“And a mathematician and painter, among other things. The guy was a genius. He even predicted Einstein’s theories in a paragraph in his other book, The Hunting of the Snark.”

“I am very curious about his photography. What were his pictures like?” I don’t know why, but something tells me I have to see the photos.

“They were of girls mostly, but we’ll get to that later. Focus only on everything I tell you, Alice. Everything is important,” the Pillar insists, as I walk through the huge cloisters.

I get inside Christ Church College and look at a huge green area in front of me. The college is a fortress, a quadrangle of Renaissance buildings encompassing the green garden in front of me from four sides. There is a fountain in the middle of the garden. The scenery makes me forget about Jack. This place has an unprecedented presence. It's like it holds great secrets; like great men and women have walked its earth.

"I see you went speechless," the Pillar says.

"I can't explain it, but there is something about this place that feels so..."

"Mad?" the Pillar amuses himself. "It's one of the most mysterious places in history. Mad people know that. Sane people think it's just a college, where you get a degree and hang it on the wall. Walk around for a minute, Alice. Let it sink into your soul. Breathe the same air Lewis, and many other geniuses, breathed centuries ago. By the way, you should use your headset, since I will be in your ear for the rest of the day."

"That's reassuring," I purse my lips, then put my headset on.

"That’s better. Here’s a brief history of this frabjous place," the Pillar says. "Christ Church is one of the largest colleges in the University of Oxford. It has a world famous Cathedral Choir, a most respectable library, and a unique and very old cathedral. Let alone, the many untold secrets it keeps safely from the sane people of this world."

"I'm listening." It's true. I wonder why I haven't read about it before I arrived. I am already enchanted by it.

"Over the years, Christ Church has had many distinguished students, tutors, and visiting academics. In my eyes, they are the most amazingly insane men of history. To name a few: madman and philosopher John Locke, madman and scientist Albert Einstein, more than thirteen madmen British prime ministers. And of course, our most beloved madman of all, Lewis Carroll."

"He went to Oxford? I thought he only used the place above as a studio."

"It's almost an insult not to know that, Alice. He was a math tutor at Christ Church."

I come across a temporarily closed area. The police are all over the place. Students can only pass by showing their IDs, and having their bags inspected.

"I assume you've arrived at the crime scene by now," the Pillar says. “Where the Cheshire killed a girl, a professor, a jock, an old woman, and a young girl two days ago.”

"How do you know that?" I look around, to see if he's watching me nearby.

"You're very predictable, like most people, Alice," I can hear him puff his pipe. "You’ll have to learn to be unpredictable if we want to catch the Cheshire Cat. Now walk ahead toward the police, and don't look too long at the crime scene. A regular student should have seen it before."

I approach the policeman. I can't help but shrug. It's not like I am a criminal. I am afraid he knows I belong to an asylum, and will put me back in. I just can't help it. I mean, the cold oxygen I am breathing here still feels like a dream.

"Alice Pleasant Wonder," the police officer reads my name on the card. "A lovely name."

All I do is smile. I hope I come across as sincere and normal.

"It reminds me of the girl who killed her classmates two years ago," he says.

My heart sinks to my belly.

Chapter 20

The Great Hall, Christ Church, Oxford University

Time stops, and I have no idea what to do. I can’t seem to utter words until the police officer speaks again, "Except that, that Alice’s last name was ‘Pleasance,’ and she's in an asylum."

"Yeah, I always get that." My smile is plastic, but he doesn't notice. Now I know why the Pillar changed my name. Although trivial, it makes me someone else. Did the policeman really fall for that, or do I smell something wrong?

“You look perfectly sane to me,” the officer says. I notice he tries to act serious, but he looks funny. He has a peculiar moustache, thin like a mouse’s whiskers. “Have a good day.”

“Thank you.” I take the card back and take a couple of steps up into the building.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," the Pillar chirps in my ear.

"That wasn't funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be. Anyways, what you're entering now is the prestigious Great Hall."

The Pillars words ring in my head as I enter this enchanting place. Long dining tables are stacked on both sides. They are filled with all kinds of dining instruments, bowls, forks, and placemats. Gold and brown are the most common colors in this yellowish, dim-lit place. The walls are unusually high, and majestic in ways I can't describe. Portraits are hung behind the table on both sides. Exquisite oil painted portraits of people I don't know.

"A unique place, isn't it?" the Pillar says.

"Unbelievable." I am enamored.

"The Great Hall is where they filmed movies like Harry Potter. All that abracadabra wizard nonsense couldn't have used portraits if the Great Hall didn't exist," the Pillar says. "Also, movies like the Golden Compass with its hodge podge white bears were filmed here. The Great Hall is where every great story wants to take place."

"Really? I never knew that. Why do I sense resentment toward these movies in your voice?" I can't help but take the chance and ask him. The Pillar doesn't open up. Seeing him personally irritated at something gives me a small window into his mind.

"Why do I resent them?" the Pillar wonders. "Alice. Go ask any tourist about the Great Hall, they always mention this Harry Potter, and never Lewis Carroll and Alice in Wonderland. Harry Potter isn't even real. Lewis and Alice are."

"I assume by Alice, you mean me?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You will know everything in time.”

I walk further into the hall. "So why am I not in class, and walking around the Great Hall?"

"Pull out the map from the book. What do you see?"

I do as asked, and stare at the Cheshire Cat’s map. It doesn't take a genius to see this is the circled spot on the map.

"Make sense now?" the Pillar says.

"It does." I fidget in my place. Looking around, the magnificent place turns into a scary castle in my eyes. What if the Cheshire Cat is watching me now? What if this is a trap, and I will be dead next?

Chapter 21

Inside the Great Hall, I walk among tourists. I didn’t know tourists from all over the world visited during college hours, but I like the idea.

Everything around me is grand and majestic. I come across a table full of empty teacups right before the Great Hall’s massive door. “What are those teacups for?”

“They are usually for professors’ and intellectualists’ meetings,” the Pillar says. “Rarely are they for the priests from the cathedral, who sometimes have special meetings in here too.”

“Don’t tell me the Mad Hatter is involved?” I don’t know how I even dare to ask.

“Be careful of what you wish for, Alice,” the Pillar’s says. “He’s even worse than the Cheshire. Are you inside the hall yet?”

“I am.”

“Tell me where the arrow on the map points exactly. Can you make it out?" the Pillar demands.

"It points at the portraits on the wall behind the tables in the Great Hall."

"These are portraits of very respectable men and women you’re staring at, except they aren’t wizards," the Pillar chews on the words. I think he really hates Harry Potter. "Well, they are real wizards of science, literature and all sorts of arts. Can you tell me which portrait the Cheshire Cat wants us to see?"

"Hmm..." I count the portraits on the map. "It should be...let me see..." I walk tangent to the wall, and finally stand in front of a black and white portrait. It’s of a middle-aged man, with fair features and nurtured hair. He looks very familiar. Very intelligent. I read the sign underneath, “Charles Lutwidge Dodgson."

"Interesting." I hear the Pillar breathe into his pipe. "So that's what the Cheshire want us to look at."

"Who's Charles Lutwidge Dodgson?" I say.

"Shame on you, Alice," the Pillar laughs. "It's Lewis Carroll's real name. It's written right under the name on the plaque."

"Lewis isn't his real name?"

"Lewis Carroll is a pen name, part of the forgery of the truth behind Wonderland,” the Pillar says. “Let's figure out why the Cheshire wants us to look here. It’s one of his games, I’m sure. There has to be a reason behind it."

"Maybe he’s just fascinated with Lewis Carroll?" I suggest, unable to see something peculiar in the portrait.

"You still think this isn't the real Cheshire Cat, and just some infatuated copycat?" the Pillar says. "You're even worse than the media. Look harder at the portrait. Something must be odd. The Cheshire likes riddles."

I look, but I can't see anything that catches my eye. I even check the portrait’s frame, to no prevail. A couple of tourists glance awkwardly at me when I do that. "Could you just tell me what I am looking for?" I whisper, aware of a few people around me probably thinking I am mad, talking in the headset all the time.

"It depends on what you want to find," the Pillar muses.

"That's not funny."

"I think it is. Tell me, Alice. Lewis’s picture is a profile, right? Do you see anything in the direction he is looking toward?”

“Another portrait. Einstein.”

“Does he still look crazy with that white cotton candy-like hair?” the Pillar mocks him. “Anyways, I don’t think that the Cheshire want us to look at Einstein. How about the portrait opposite to Lewis’s on the other side?”

I turn around. “Actually, there is no portrait in that spot on the other side. You think it’s a secret door?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s unlikely that the answer is that far from the location of the portrait,” the Pillar says. “Since the portrait faces the table, do you see anything unusual on the spot facing Lewis Carroll?"

"I do," I say. "It definitely unusual, but it I don’t think it belongs to the Cheshire."

"Can you please describe it?" I sense the Pillar's curiosity in my ears.

"It's a block of cheese," I try to sound casual. Why is there a block of cheese in the Great Hall?

"Cheese. How quaint," the Pillar laughs. "Of course, I don't have to tell you what cheese and a grin have in common."

"I suppose you say 'cheese' when you grin in a picture, which refers to the Cheshire Cat somehow?"

"He has a sick surreal sense of humor, doesn't he?"

"He has a sick mind. He kills young girls. Besides, it says Cheshire Cheese on the block."

"Cheshire Cheese. Now that's clever," the Pillar snaps his fingers.

"I don't see how."

"Lewis Carroll was born in Daresbury, Warrington, in Cheshire," the Pillar says.

"Is that a coincidence?”

“From now on, there are no coincidences. Everything we’ll go through is preciously planned by the Cheshire, and its solution has to relate with Lewis Carroll.”

“Is that what inspired Carroll to create the Cheshire character, because he was born in the town of Cheshire?"

"Create, no. Write about, yes," the Pillar explains. "Cheshire is a dairy county, long known for a peculiar cheese warehouse in the banks of the river Dee. That’s when it was still a port, more than a hundred years ago."

"So?"

"Patience, my dear mad girl." The Pillar pauses and takes a longer drag on purpose. He wants to teach me to listen, and not interrupt him. "Of course, a cheese warehouse in Cheshire attracted a whole lot of miserable rats." He imitates their squeaky voices on the phone. I am starting to glimpse part of his insanity. "The rats came from all over the world to the cheese warehouse, thanks to the ships arriving to transport the cheese. That's when the cats crawled into Cheshire County, assembling on the dockside to catch the endless amount of rats. And since no Pied Piper ever came to Cheshire, the Cheshire Cats were the happiest in the kingdom. Happiest means they grinned all the time."

I find myself wanting to sit all of a sudden, still staring at that grinning cat on the block of cheese on the table. Part of the Pillar's story sent thunderbolts to my head, as if I should remember this myself, but I can’t. Another part was the craziness of the fact that the Cheshire Cat is real. This isn’t a game. This isn’t a copycat.

"Alice?" the Pillar says.

"I'm here. Just felt a bit dizzy. Why is the Cheshire sending us this message then?"

"Well, for one, the message is for me. I imagine he has other riddles for you, later. As for now, he wants to remind us he is real, not just a grinning cat in a book with pictures. He has a history and an origin. He wants us to respect him."

"So what is he? A cat possessing someone’s soul?" I let out a nervous laugh.

"I can’t answer that now. But you'll never look at cats the same way again, will you?" the Pillar laughs without acknowledging me. "Now, let's get back to the puzzles. Look closer at the block of cheese. You might find something underneath it. I'm sure this game isn't finished yet."

I pick up the cheese and inspect it.

"Anything?" the Pillar asks.

"Yes," I say. "When I turn the cheese upside down, I see something carved on its back."

"Please read it, Alice. Meow some Cheshire music to my ears." The Pillar is a notch too excited now. I'm caught between a serial killer I am supposed to catch, and another puffing nonsense in my ears.