Doc Sprider met Herb in the main hall of the hospital. “About yesterday, detective.”

Halbert wafted it from existence. “No worries, doc. Comes with the territory, I suppose.”

“It does, I’m afraid.” He motioned for Herb to come along. “She’s been much more cooperative today. She’s had breakfast, a bath, and is ready to chat with you again.”

Doc led him back into the stale padded room where another familiar face greeted him. “Edgar.”

The orderly held up a bent index finger. “Herb.” Once Sprider had gone after Dorothy, he added. “A glutton for misery, eh?”

Halbert set out his things on the table. “It’s a livin’.”

The metal door whined open. A subdued Dorothy walked in; her arms bound at the back of a straight jacket.

Edgar slid her chair out. “Have a seat.”

Gale eased down I to her seat with little sound.

“Good to see you, Ms. Gale.” He flipped his notebook to a clean sheet.

Her head twitched. The rusty buckles on her jacket clinked against the metal fasteners.

“Well, then,” he said. “Enough small talk for now.” He looked at his previous notes. “I’ve heard from some people that you weren’t alone at the school, Dorothy. Was there someone else with you?”

Her torso jerked. “Of course.”

After a tense silence. “Okay. Who was with you?”

“The Munchkins.” Her long strands of hair swung over the table. “The Good Witch --”

Herb laughed. “Yes, yes. I remember, but –”

“The Wizard…”

His chair squeaked closer to the table. “Hold up. The Wizard?”

She nodded.

“Who was this Wizard? Can you describe him to me?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “A kind and wonderful man. He helped us all.”

Herb’s hand flew over the page: Wizard. All in her head, too? “I see. What did he look like?”

Dorothy rocked back and forth, wearing a grin. “The Wizard was a kind old man.” Her smile inverted. “The first time we went to the Emerald City to meet him, he wasn’t kind at all, though. He scared the poor Lion half to death!”

“Emerald City?”

The teen confirmed. “That’s where he lives. Emerald City.” Her puppy dog stare drifted into the ceiling tiles. “The most wonderful place I’ve ever been.”

Wizard: older male. Might have an intimidating build and personality. “And, how did you get to this Emerald City?”

“We followed the Yellow Brick Road, of course.” She giggled. “That’s what the Munchkins suggested we do.”

“Understood.” He finished jotting down his thought, and then gave Dorothy his undivided attention. “Was the Wizard there in the schoolhouse with you on that day, Ms. Gale?”

She rocked back and forth in silence.

“Very well.” He cracked open on of his manila files and thumbed through its pages. “Let’s delve a little deeper into your journey on that day, shall we?”

She hummed a tender tune. Herb made a note in the margin: humming a tune. Sounds like a lullaby.

“On the date in question,” he continued, “after the incident at the schoolhouse,” he rifled through his stack of papers, “with the, uh, Munchkins, where did you go, Ms. Gale?”

She sat still in her seat, turning her eyes to his. “They sent me on my way – on the path. I followed it to an intersection.”

Halbert rummaged through his forms. “An intersection.”

She bobbed her head. “I didn’t know which way to go. So, the Scarecrow in the cornfields helped me.”

“Ah,” Herb said, sliding a report from his collection. “The cornfields. Got it. And, this scarecrow helped you in what way?”

“After I helped him down from that terrible pole, he led me down the proper path to Emerald City.”

“So, he talked to you?”

More quick nodding. “Oh, yes. He walked, talked, and sang songs. He wanted to go to ask the Wizard for help, too.”

“All right, I’ll bite.” Herb crossed his arms. “What did you guys want from the Wizard?”

“He was going to show me the way back home, and give the Scarecrow a brain.”

Herb placed a copy of an obituary in front of her. A grainy image of a lanky man in a straw hat sat in its upper right corner. “Mr. Huck. Was this your scarecrow?”

Dorothy’s head bent to one side. “He looks a little like that man.” Her face mashed up. “Scarecrow was different, though.”

“Oh.” Halbert laid out a series of four pictures on top of the obit. “How about these? He look more recognizable?” His finger landed on the first one. “The reports say you came back to the farm after the shooting. The other men had been working around the property and didn’t hear your commotion.”

Gale studied the first image.

“You found Huck in the cornfields behind the house. You found a claw hammer, crept up on him, and buried it in his skull.” His finger slid the photo closer. “Multiple times.”

Her eyes registered astonishment, but no remorse.

Herb glanced at the gore. Huck lay on the ground. Chunks of his scalp and skull hung like flaps. “He needed a new brain, thanks to your handiwork.”

“That’s not true.” Her jaws quivered. “That’s not the Scarecrow.”

Herb laughed. “Not yet, he wasn’t.” He moved the next picture down. “You took the sickle from the tree stump beside him, and you slit him from neck to navel. Gutted him there on the spot.”

“We sang and danced, Mr. Halbert.” A genuine desperation overwhelmed her. “It’s true. I swear it!”

Herb tapped the last images. “After that, you tied a burlap sack over his head. When the cops found his body, holes had been ripped out for his eyes, nose, and mouth.” He held up this piece of evidence. “Look more like your scarecrow, Dorothy?”

Tears formed in her eyes. “H – he was my friend.”

Herb wrote in his notes: signs of remorse over Huck. Edgar cracked his neck behind the girl. “This might be a good place to stop for the day.” He collected his things, and opened the heavy door. “Thank you both for your time. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

Dr. Sprider escorted him outside. “Any progress today?”

“A bit, I think.” Herb stopped on the sidewalk and lit a cig. “I told the warden and commish that I’d give them an update today. So…”

Sprider took his hand and shook it. “Say no more. Tell them I said, hi.”

Herb released a white cloud over the roof of his Ford. “Will do, doc.”

His commute to the city building went with as much excitement as could be expected in a sleepy Kansas town. His radio offered nothing in the form of a respite either. If it wasn’t a screaming preacher, then it was a debate on entering the war in Europe. After finding a spot to park his car, Herb gathered his things and made his way to Commissioner Jones’ office.

She had her name etched into a faux gold plate on the front of her office door. Halbert tucked his hat under his left arm and knocked. He heard a muffled, “Come in,” from the other side.

“Nice spread you’ve got up here,” Herb said, rubbernecking. “Fourth floor, too?”

Judy wrapped up a note she had been reviewing and rose to greet him. “Being Commissioner also has its downsides, Mr. Halbert.” She lowered her hand to one of the leather chairs. “Please.”

He sat his case next to one, and sank into the luxurious cloud. “Cozy.”

“I trust that you bring me some news on our examination?”

He leaned forward in the soft cushion. “I do. Ms. Gale’s no doubt got some issues coping with reality.”

“Oh?” She let a hint of condescension sneak into her tone.

Herb sighed. “There’s still a lot that doesn’t add up for me, but she seems convinced that her trip to this land of make-believe really took place.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Judy leaned into her executive chair. “So sad.”

“She keeps referring to other man that was with her at the time.” Halbert moved to the edge of his seat. “The Wizard. Any ideas?”

She shook her head. “No real idea on that one. Sorry. Our investigators at the time of the crime gathered eyewitness accounts of a male suspect that may have been connected to the shootings, but we never were able to make an arrest.”

He looked out one of her windows at some passing birds. “I’ve had some folks approach me and tell me about this mystery man.”

Judy’s brow furrowed. “You think there’s something to this theory?”

“I’m havin’ trouble believing that a fourteen-year-old girl fired one rifle by herself and did all that damage.”

The commissioner tapped a finger at the side of her mouth. “Another shooter?”

“Maybe.”

Judy leaned across her desk. “This could be a win-win, if your investigation can prove it.”

Herb sat back in his chair. “Even if Gale is bonafide nuts, you’d still have another suspect of sound mind to hang.”

Judy smiled. “My office has full faith in your abilities, Mr. Halbert.”

“What happens when she turns out crazy, and our mystery guy never materializes?”

Commissioner Jones rose from her desk. Herb got the picture, and followed her go her door.

She pulled the door open. “You do your job detective.” She leaned against it. “I’ll get us over that bridge, if it comes to it.”

The sun’s glint on his briefcase caught his attention. “Almost forgot.” He slid past her and retrieved it. “When should we reconvene?”

She let him rub against her as he exited. “Why don’t you call me when you’ve got something to tell me?”

Halbert set his fedora on his head, tipped its brim, “Ma’am,” and headed back to his car. “A bizarre case is an understatement.”