A pale crescent moon sat nestled high above the asylum among drifting tufts of silver cloud. Herb shut his car door and stamped out a spent Chesterfield onto the concrete. One of the hospital’s security guards saw Herb approaching and popped one of the main door’s open.

The guard tipped his brim. “Evenin’, detective.”

Halbert slid past him. “How are things?”

The guard spun the deadbolt lock on the door. “Oh, ya know. Quiet relative to the night before.”

Herb shuffled behind him down the polished tile. “That’s what I heard.” He eyed the guy’s black tag: Milson.

“This way,” Milson said, opening the door to the basement. “I’ll take ya down to her.”

Herb chuckled. “Doc tell ya to expect me?”

Milson clopped down the steps. “Yeah. Said you might be back tonight to talk to Gale some more.” He rounded the bottom stair and headed along the sloped floor. “How’s that goin’ for ya?”

Herb tucked his fedora under his left arm. “It’s an unusual case, for sure.”

“You said it, bub.” Milson aimed his nightstick toward the dead end. “You know the rest of the way in, I take it.”

Halbert nodded. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.”

“Good night.” Milson waddled back to the stairs.

“You, too.” Herb strode up to the door to The Cloud.

He placed his briefcase on the cold floor, and fetched his notes. On the other side of the thick door, she hummed and, from the sounds of it, spun in slow circles.

Halbert slid the wooden shield aside. “Hello? Ms. Gale?”

She hummed an upbeat tune about going to see the Wizard.

“Mr. Gale? Dorothy?” He heard the song. She was in there.

“Boo!” Her hideous mask consumed the window.

A massive pulsing knot formed in Herb’s throat. “Jesus, kid!”

Dorothy’s laughter trailed off as she skipped to her bed. “So uptight.”

He bent over and took some breaths. Stars and yellow explosions closed in on him. “Yeah. Too funny.” Herb snagged his file and notes while he was down there. “Before, you had mentioned that the Wizard sent you on a mission to kill the,” his eyes snuck a peek at his notes, “Wicked Witch of the West. Can you tell me about that?”

She shook her bouncy brown curls.

“And, why not?”

Dorothy plopped on her bed and clenched its edge in both hands until her knuckles ran white.

“Ms. Gale? Why can’t you tell me?”

She yanked up handfuls of her white bedsheet. Something sinister boiled just beneath that mask. “You didn’t say, please.”

“Please, Dorothy.” He didn’t blink. “Can you describe your trip to kill the witch?”

Her chokehold relaxed. “You’ll just tell me it didn’t happen again, detective.” She swung her feet. “Try and convince me that I’m crazy.”

Herb lowered his eyes. “It’s my job to show you the facts as they occurred, Dorothy.” A groan. He hated this side of the work. “I know that sometimes it’s not what you wanna hear, sweetheart --” He lifted his gaze to find her standing less than a foot from his window.

The brown glare behind her mask closed the gap between them. She whispered through her wire, faint and ethereal. “Fine. I’ll tell you.” Gale checked to make sure no one else was eavesdropping and continued. “We snuck into the Haunted Woods that protected her castle.”

Halbert maneuvered through his report to the appropriate section.

“About the time we were ready to climb the rock face, her monkies swooped in and kidnapped poor Toto and me.”

Herb cleared the phlegm. “The monkies flew?”

“Uh huh.” Her hand arched toward the ceiling. “Whoosh!”

His pen raced over the page. “Okay. So, you got kidnapped?”

Dorothy spun on a heel and marched off with her hands clasped behind her. “That old hag tried to take my ruby slippers.”

“What would the witch want with your shoes?”

She spun and marched back. “They hold a deep and powerful magic, Mr. Halbert.”

“Such as?”

Dorothy laughed. “We’re getting to that.” The girl’s sideways stare chastised his mortal soul. “The witch tried to touch my slippers, but got shocked instead.” Another odd giggle. “Seems I have to be dead for her to be able to take them from me.” She doubled over. “Isn’t that a HOOT?”

“A real barn burner.” Herb scratched a thought down: what’s with the red slippers? Where did she get them? “Then, what?”

She flipped an imaginary object. “Time started ticking on me.”

“In what way?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Once it ran out, she was going to kill me and Toto.”

Herb’s fist landed against the door. “You’re tellin’ me Gulch threatened to kill you first?”

Dorothy nodded. “She never got the chance, though. The others came to our rescue high in the witch’s tower.” She jogged from one side of The Cloud to the other. “We ran and ran! Down the stone stairs. We flew outside and up along the castle’s walls while her Winkie guards were in pursuit.”

“Winkie?”

She stopped in the middle of her room. “This will go much smoother if you,” she flung her fists behind her arched chest, “STOP – INTERRUPTING – ME!”

Halbert’s pen hit the concrete. Dorothy’s masked face turned to him, heaving with each labored breath.

“My apologies, Dorothy.” He knelt down and nabbed it and stood. “Please.”

She groaned and walked to the adjacent wall. “I was at the point in my story where we stopped anyway.” Gale’s arms flew up in a protective gesture. “The witch flung fire on the Scarecrow. How was I to know?”

Halbert considered a question, and then bit his lip.

“I grabbed a nearby bucket of water and tossed it at the Scarecrow’s arm.” She held open hands at the floor. “ Once it hit her, she melted into nothing. Poof. Gone.” Dorothy snapped her slippers together and bowed. “That’s how I defeated the Wicked Witch and freed the Winkies.”

Herb tossed a glance up at the asylum’s outside wall. Somewhere in the fresh air beyond, thunder rolled. He smoothed out the official report. “Folks over here saw something else, Gale.”

Her arms went up in defeat. “Here we go again.”

“This would be the point where you listen to what I have to say.”

Her slippered feet raced over the floor. Dorothy pressed her mask against the mesh. “Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone.”

Herb’s chest thumped like an angry bee in a screen door. Her vile grin peeled back, revealing teeth ready to gnaw him to his bones.

He attempted to write, but the ink refused to crawl back out. “Who’s on which side of the door, Gale?”

Herb took a lungful of stale air and proceeded. “Police and the local volunteer fire brigades arrived in time to bear witness to your aftermath. The two-story plantation home of Almira Gulch went up like a torch, Gale.” He flipped to the next page. “Says here, the Fire Marshall discovered charred human remains in the kitchen area. He also found a blackened gas can near the body. The Marshall suspects that Mrs. Gulch had been doused in her own gasoline in her own home and set on fire. “ Halbert scoffed. “Here’s the kicker. You went as far as to ransack her broom closet by the back door. The other mops had been left strewn all over.”

He folded the report. “A real piece of work. It all makes sense now.” Herb pecked the wire on his side. “How’s it look from your side, Gale?” He shook his pen. “Looks fine from where I’m standing.” Herb slapped his pen against a leg. Nada. “Damn.” He pocketed the spent implement. “We’ll have to pick up our date at another time, dear. I’m all spent.”