Halbert flipped to the next page. “All right. So, you wake up in the snow, and go into Emerald City?”

Dorothy backpedaled from the door. “Not so fast, detective.” Her paces halted in the padded room’s center. “We approached the door and knocked, but the guard said no one got in to see the Wizard.” Her voiced deepened. “No nobody, not nohow!” A girly laugh. “Such a stubborn man.”

Herb jotted his notes. “How did you get in?”

“He felt sorry for me, I guess.”

In his book: signs of social manipulation. Bent people to her will?

Dorothy went to the mattress along the far wall and sat down. “He agreed to take us to see the Wizard. First, we had to be primped and made presentable to meet him.” Another fit of laughter. “They refitted the Scarecrow with new straw. Workers buffed out all of the dents and dings in the Tin Man. They combed and curled mine and the Lion’s hair.” She clapped. “Oh! He looked like royalty.”

“Very nice,” Halbert said, taking record. “Once you were ready, then what?”

Dorothy leaned against the wall. “The guard appeared, and said it was time. Two immense green doors opened up, and we all walked to the end of a huge tunnel.”

Halbert hummed. “Tunnel, huh? Then, you met this Wizard?”

She nodded. “He had a large platform with pillars of fire. He appeared to us as a giant talking head. My, how he shouted at us.” She dropped her head. “How dare we waste the time of such a powerful man, and so forth.” Her torso lifted, then deflated. “All I wanted was to get back home.”

“Ah,” Herb reviewed what he had written. “Yeah. There are other statements about Oscar, er, Oz – using intimidation tactics on people.” He looked into what the doc had called The Cloud. Dorothy had fallen over on her bed, and lay curled up near her pillow. “Did the Wizard agree to help you?”

She yawned. “Yeah, but we needed to prove ourselves to him first.”

“What kind of proof?”

Dorothy stretched out. “He told us to kill the Wicked Witch of the West, and bring back her broomstick as proof.”

Halbert turned to the next page. “Oh, hell. That sheds a little light on the next sequence.”

Another long yawn escaped her. “Can we take a break, detective? I’m getting a headache, and my eyes are killing me.”

He closed his file. “Sure, sure.” Herb locked it up in his case. “Can I swing by later this evening?”

A soft affirmative mumble escaped her followed soon after by light snoring.