D/C BB: An Angel in Wonderland - Chapters Five & Six
Chapters Three and Four
Chapter Five - The Creepy Caterpillar
When they left the Hatter's house, the Hatter was dressed more like Dean than he had been the previous day. Granted, he wore a leather coat instead of a jacket, his flannel shirt had brighter colors than anything Dean would ever willingly put on. He was also wearing a checkered deerstalker in the same bright colors as his shirt, but he could still easily have passed for Dean's doppelganger. He looked both ridiculous and handsome.
The Hatter had also persuaded Castiel to wear one of his hats. It was a gray fedora hat with a navy blue ribbon. Castiel had been hesitant at first, as he saw no practical use for it, but he had always found it difficult to say no to Dean. Apparently, it was no different with the Hatter and it had only taken a little persuading to make Castiel put on the hat. Castiel had quickly discovered that it was worth it, just to see the Hatter's bright grin and to have his eyes linger just a while longer every time he turned to Castiel.
They were now on their way to interrogate the Hatter's first suspect. Incidentally, it was also the Hatter's only suspect.
“I know he's up to something,” he said. “He just has that creepy, crawly feel, you know. Gives me the shivers, man!”
The Hatter led Castiel to a meadow. It was very strange for Castiel to walk across this meadow. Unlike everything else that he had seen in Wonderland, it seemed to be a more natural size, at least compared to what Castiel was used to. Since Castiel was still so very small, everything else looked so very big. The grass reached his chest, many of the flowers were even taller and there were mushrooms that towered over his head.
The Hatter stopped in front of one of the mushrooms. It was not one of the biggest, but it was one of the most bizarre. The stem was a bright red, the gills were purple and the cap was an almost luminescent blue. However, there were many strange plants and mushrooms in the meadow and Castiel wondered what had made the Hatter stop at this one. Then he noticed that the Hatter was looking over the edge of the mushroom. Because Castiel was shorter than the Hatter, he had to rise onto his toes to see what the Hatter was looking at.
A large caterpillar was sitting on the mushroom. He was bright green with large dark eyes. He sat with his arms folded, smoking a large hookah. Castiel had no doubt that he had noticed their arrival, but he took no notice of them. Castiel and the Hatter stood for a long while staring at the Caterpillar, who proceeded to smoke calmly and quietly. The Hatter glanced over at Castiel and shrugged. Just then the Caterpillar took the hookah out of his mouth and spoke.
“Did you want something?” he asked in a drawling British accent. “Or were you just planning to stand there all day and look stupid?”
Castiel thought that it was very disconcerting to hear Crowley's voice come out of the mouth of a caterpillar. He tried to imagine what it would be like once the Caterpillar turned into a butterfly, but he did not like to think of something so beautiful being so tainted, so he quickly gave that up. Instead he looked over at the Hatter again.
“Where were you last night?” the Hatter asked.
The Caterpillar gave him a supremely bored look and puffed on his hookah. “And why should I tell you that?” he asked.
“Because if you don't, we'll go to the King of Hearts and tell him that you have no alibi,” the Hatter replied.
One of the Caterpillar's eyebrows rose. “Alibi for what?” he asked.
“What do you think?” the Hatter said. “The murder of the Cheshire Cat, of course.”
The Caterpillar blinked. “The Cat is dead?”
The Hatter huffed. “Obviously,” he said, “or it'd be attempted murder, wouldn't it?”
“I wouldn't know,” the Caterpillar said. “I try not to get involved in such things. Dreadfully nasty business, murder is!”
The Hatter folded his arms, so his position matched that of the Caterpillar. However, unlike the Caterpillar, he looked more aggressive and less bored. “And you would know all about nasty business, wouldn't you?” he asked. “I'm betting the Cat had all sorts of dirt on you. There are rumors, you know.”
“Are there really?” the Caterpillar asked. He did not sound very curious.
“There are,” the Hatter confirmed. “I hear you gave Bill the Lizard a mushroom that made him think he saw the Duchess's child turn into a pig.”
“The child did turn into a pig,” the Caterpillar pointed out. “It trotted past here just the other day, grunting and snuffling. You could really see the family resemblance.”
“Yes, yes,” the Hatter said, “I know. But that's not the point. The point is that Bill was too far away to actually see it happen. And what about the Seven of Clubs?”
“What about him?”
“He was playing a game against the Eight of Spades and when he realized that he was losing, he folded. Now he’s getting yelled at during every inspection, since he can’t get the crease out of his uniform.”
“Yes,” the Caterpillar mused, “I hear it’s a real bugger trying to get the wrinkles out of cardboard.”
“Then there’s the matter with the Duchess's footman,” the Hatter said.
“Which one's hers?” the Caterpillar asked. “The Fish or the Frog?”
“The Frog,” the Hatter replied. “The Fish works for the Queen. The Frog took one bite of your mushroom and handed in his resignation. Now he lives on the leaf of a water-lily in the small pond behind the Duchess's house.”
“And I'm sure he was never happier,” the Caterpillar said.
“Not the point,” the Hatter said, annoyed. “The point is that there is something fishy about your mushrooms.”
“No,” the Caterpillar said. “There's something fishy about the Queen's footman. It's mainly his smell. If my mushrooms smelled like that, I would never be able to sell any.”
The Hatter looked triumphant. “So you do admit to selling them?”
The Caterpillar looked bewildered. “When did I ever deny it?” it asked. “It wouldn't be very good for business, would it, if no one knew. Do you deny that you sell hats?”
“No,” the Hatter said. “But my hats don't make people go insane.”
“That's arguable,” the Caterpillar replied. “Although,” he conceded, “it is more likely that the insanity came before the purchase. Otherwise, I find it difficult to explain how you ever make a sale.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Maybe we should go into business together,” he said. “I'm sure my mushrooms would do wonders for your sales.”
Castiel expected the Hatter to take offense at this, but to his surprise, the Hatter actually seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment. Fortunately, however, it was only for a moment. “I don’t think so,” the Hatter said. “Bugs bug me. You creepy-crawlies give me the creepy-crawlies.”
The Caterpillar rolled his eyes. “How very narrow-minded of you, Hatter,” he said. “But very well, have it your way! But to revert to our original topic, I must say that I'm rather surprised at you. I wouldn't have thought that you of all people would object to some more insanity in the world. Or are you scared that others may encroach on your territory? If so, you needn't worry. You're still the maddest of them all.”
The Hatter glared at him for a moment, before dismissing it with a shrug and a grimace. “I don't exactly object,” he admitted. “There's nothing wrong with some good, old-fashioned insanity, even the boring kind that you're spreading. I just don't think that the King would agree. You know how he is. He hasn't embraced his madness the way the rest of us have. So I'm going to ask you, once and for all, do you admit that your mushrooms make people act strange?”
“-er,” the Caterpillar said.
“What?”
“Strang-er,” the Caterpillar clarified. “We're in Wonderland. Everything here is already strange, so you can't make them strange, only stranger. Or less strange. Bill the Lizard, one of the most unobservant creatures that I ever met, actually observed something that was really happening. Who cares if he was too far away to actually see it, if he even was? It was too far for you, but Bill’s a lizard and lizards are known for their sharp vision. Maybe he really did see it. The Seven of Clubs folded, because that’s what happens to losing cards. They’re folded. As for the Footman, he’s a frog. Now he acts like a frog. Have you considered that maybe my mushrooms simply restore the natural order?”
“The natural order?” the Hatter almost shouted. “We're in Wonderland. How can it be Wonderland if you take all the wonders away?”
The Caterpillar considered this for a moment. Then he said, “Impressive. You actually made a valid point. So Luck is still around, after all. I thought she'd left a long time ago.”
The Hatter took a deep breath. He seemed to be trying to compose himself. “Did you or did you not kill the Cheshire Cat?” he asked.
“I did not,” the Caterpillar said. “As you have clearly demonstrated, my dirty secret is not so secret at all. So why would I kill the Cheshire Cat? Besides, he was one of my best customers. He always wanted something to nibble at. I'm going to be taking a real loss in profits.”
The Hatter stared at him for a moment, looking disbelieving. Then he suddenly visibly deflated. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Do you know who did it?”
The Caterpillar inhaled deeply from the hookah as he thought about the question. “Not for certain,” he admitted. “However, you may want to talk to the Duchess. I know she has some secrets that she would like to keep. Ask her about her friendship with the Queen of Hearts.”
“Right,” the Hatter said. “The Duchess. We'll do that.” He took a step back from the mushroom. “So we're going now.”
The Caterpillar raised both his eyebrows at him. “Good for you,” he said. Then he went back to puffing on his hookah and staring out at nothing.
Chapter Six - The Dallying Duchess
The Duchess lived in a house not far from the Caterpillar's mushroom. If Castiel had been the usual size of his human vessel, he would have thought that it was a very small house. In fact, it would have looked rather like a dollhouse, but with walls on all sides. However, as Castiel was not much bigger than a doll at the moment, he thought that it was a rather large and beautiful house.
Because they approached the house from the back, they had to walk through the garden to get to it. This garden was much smaller than the Queen's garden and less beautiful. Castiel thought that it could have been rather lovely, but it had obviously not been very well cared for. The hedges were uneven, the path was overgrown and the flowers had been left to grow wild.
“It used to be more beautiful,” the Hatter said, when he caught Castiel looking around. “At least as beautiful as the Queen’s garden. The Queen didn't like that, so she ordered the Duchess's head to be cut off. Obviously, her soldiers never got around to it, but after that, the Duchess tried to fire her gardener. Fortunately for him, it was a very damp day, so she couldn't do it.”
Castiel tilted his head and frowned. “Why couldn't she fire him on a damp day?”
“Have you ever tried setting fire to sodden paper? It takes skill and practice. The Duchess had neither. So the gardener was just forced to leave and got a job for the Queen. Now all he has to worry about is keeping his head on his shoulders, which he should manage, as long as he just remembers to keep it down at the same time.”
They were just passing a small pond that was almost covered with water-lily leaves. On one of the leaves, there sat a frog. There was also a big willow growing by the pond, with branches reaching out over the water. It would all have looked quite picturesque, if the Frog had not been dressed in the livery of a footman. He was sitting on the edge of the leaf, with his trousers rolled up and his feet in the water, looking as happy as could be. There was something furry lying by his side. At first, Castiel thought it was a small animal, but then he realized that it was a powdered wig.
“Hullo,” the Frog said, when he saw them. He had to lower his head to do so, since his eyes were almost on top. “Are you here to see the Duchess?”
“Yes,” the Hatter said. “We're here to question her about a murder.”
“Ah yes,” the Frog said. “The Cheshire Cat. I heard about that. Nasty business. I liked him. He had a great sense of humor. Used to scare the bejesus out of the Duchess. Once he made himself invisible, but left his head visible, and then he made me serve him to the Duchess on a platter. I never heard anyone scream so loud.”
“Yeah, he was hilarious, all right,” the Hatter said sourly. His tone made Castiel suspect that the Duchess was not the only victim of the Cheshire Cat's jokes.
The Frog paid him no attention. “So what do you want to ask the Duchess?” he asked.
The Hatter narrowed his eyes. It was clear that he was trying to decide whether or not he ought to answer. “We want to ask her about her friendship with the Queen,” he finally said.
“Oh?” the Frog said. “What about her friendship with the Queen?”
“We don't know, do we?” the Hatter replied. “That's why we need to ask.”
The Frog hummed. “My friend, the Queen's footman, always said there was something fishy about it,” he said, “and he ought to know.”
“Yes,” the Hatter said. “Well. We really should be going.”
“You do that,” the Frog said. He raised his head and stared up at the sky.
Castiel followed the Hatter to the door of the house. The Hatter knocked.
“It's no use,” the Frog called out. “I don't think I'll answer it.”
The Hatter scowled. “So how do we get in?” he asked.
The Frog shrugged. “Turn the doorknob?” he suggested.
The Hatter did as he was told. The door swung open and Castiel found himself staring into a dark hallway. “Huh,” the Hatter said. “The obvious solution. That's hardly ever the right one.” He gestured at the hallway. “After you.”
They found the Duchess in the sitting room at the end of the hallway. She was sitting on the sofa and reading a book. When she saw them, she closed the book and raised her eyebrows questioningly at them.
“Funny,” she said. “I don't seem to remember inviting you.”
“Don't worry,” the Hatter said. “Neither do I, so unless we're both losing our memories, I think you're okay.”
The Duchess rolled her eyes and stood up. “Not exactly what I was concerned about,” she said, coming closer, “but never mind. Who's your friend, Hatter?” She eyed Castiel with great interest, walking around him to examine him from all angles.
The Hatter's face darkened and he stepped between them. “He's an Angel,” he said, “and he's with me.” His voice sounded tense.
The Duchess ignored him. She was leering at Castiel now and running a hand up his arm. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Castiel took a step closer to the Hatter. For some reason, this seemed to make the Hatter relax, while the Duchess grinned. “So I see,” she said. “Pity.”
The Hatter was still glaring at her. “You don't seem very upset,” he said.
The Duchess looked surprised. “He's cute,” she said, “and I’m disappointed, but I'm sure I'll get over it.”
The Hatter narrowed his eyes. “I meant over the fact that your cat is dead,” he said.
“Ah yes,” the Duchess said, “that. I always told him that he would come to a violent end. He was much too curious for his own good and you know about curiosity and cats, of course.”
“Yes,” the Hatter said, “but in this case, I think curiosity had an accomplice.”
The Duchess narrowed her eyes at him. “And who would that be?”
The Hatter began pacing around the room, tapping his finger against his chin. “Someone with secrets, I think. Secrets that they did not want anybody else to know. Secrets that the Cat knew.” He spun around and fixed the Duchess with a penetrating stare. “Tell us about your friendship with the Queen!”
The Duchess stared back. Then she crossed her arms. “What about our friendship?” she asked.
The Hatter crossed his arms. “I think you know,” he said.
The Duchess glared at him. The Hatter glared back. The Duchess raised an eyebrow. The Hatter raised one of his. The Duchess sat down on the sofa. The Hatter sat down in an armchair. The Duchess sniffed. The Hatter raised his other eyebrow. The Duchess eyed him suspiciously. The Hatter smiled grimly.
“Fine,” the Duchess said. “You obviously already know. But can you blame her? Do you really think that the King has ever been able to show her the appreciation that she deserves?”
“She married him,” the Hatter said.
“He tricked her,” the Duchess said. “She thought she would be a widow by now. After all, he is known as the Suicide King. But he has always been bad at cutting off heads, even his own.”
“And so the Queen turned to you.”
“Out of desperation. Why should she waste her gifts on someone like him? He has no taste. Everyone knows it.”
“But you do?” the Hatter asked.
“The best,” the Duchess bragged, “and I do love tarts.”
The Hatter gave her a strange look. “The Queen's a tart?” he asked.
The Duchess rolled her eyes. “Don't be stupid!” she said. She gave a crooked grin and added: “If you can help it. The Queen sells the tarts.”
“Oh,” the Hatter said. He was staring at the Duchess, obviously taken aback by this news. “So she’s running some sort of escort service?”
The Duchess gave him an affronted look. “Of course not,” she said. “She doesn’t deliver the tarts; she has servants for that.”
“Servants deliver the tarts?” the Hatter asked.“What, they can’t walk on their own?”
The Duchess blinked. Castiel got the feeling that once again there were two different conversations going on. At least this time, he was involved in neither. Unfortunately, that did not make it any easier for him to follow either of them.
“Have you been buying mushrooms from the Caterpillar?” the Duchess asked. “Walking tarts? Tarts don’t walk. They have to be carried and served, before you can eat them.”
The Hatter’s eyes were very wide. “You eat the tarts?” he said.
The Duchess was looking increasingly bewildered. Castiel could relate. “Of course,” the Duchess said. “What else would I do with them?”
The Hatter’s eyes roamed over the Duchess’ body, then he made a face of agreement. “I see your point,” he said. “Although you could always use your fingers.”
“My fingers?” the Duchess exclaimed, sounding appalled. “What am I? Some sort of uncivilized brute? I’ll have you know that in my circles, we always use cutlery when we eat.”
For a moment, the Hatter looked sincerely shocked, then his eyes widened even further and his jaw dropped. His cheeks turned pink and he scratched his nose uncomfortably. “Of course,” he said. “Right. Okay. So you eat the tarts. Which are actual tarts. Which the Queen sells. So why is this bad?”
The Duchess was looking searchingly at the Hatter, clearly trying to make sense of the conversation they had just been having. When he asked his question, she shook her head and seemed to give up the effort. “Because,” she said, “when they married, the Queen promised that the King would have all her tarts. He actually made it a capital offense for everyone else to eat the Queen’s tarts. If he were to find out that she’s been selling them to the highest bidder...”
“... the highest bidder might find their outlook on life brought down by about a head,” the Hatter finished. “Yes, I see. Did the Cat know about this?”
“Of course,” the Duchess said. “He always shared the tarts with me. Unlike the King, the Cat knew how to appreciate something sweet.”
“I see,” the Hatter said. “So did you kill him to keep him quiet or to have the tarts all to yourself?”
The Duchess snorted. “Don't be stupid!” she said. “I could never eat them all on my own. Not unless I want to look like a pig.”
“Yes,” the Hatter murmured, “I hear that's something of a problem in your family.” He gave her a sharp look. “So it was to keep him quiet, then?”
The Duchess shook her head, looking condescending. “The Cat couldn’t tell on me,” she said. “Not without giving himself away, as well. So you see, I had no reason to kill the Cat.” She leaned back in the sofa and sighed. “Talk to the Knave of Hearts instead,” she said. “I hear he’s been getting around quite a lot, lately.”
The Hatter rose from his seat. “We'll do that,” he said. “Thank you.”
The Duchess waved a lazy hand at him. She had closed her eyes. “Yes, yes,” she said. “Go away! And take your pretty friend with you. You've given me a craving for a tart.”
Chapters Seven and Eight