The Motion of Puppets by Keith Donohue Page A

Exhibit B, would a) be found by a real person and b) mean what it was supposed to mean. To wit, that there was a puppet inside the toy shop asking to be saved. Imagine such a thing, ladies and gentleman of the jury, and you will have an imagination that outstrips my own. The absurdity of such an SOS, why, it beggars credulity. As if a body would happen to pass by, discover said note among the debris of the alleyway, and break down the door. No, my clients were not attempting their escape. They, my friends, were only pulling your collective leg.”
    The Three Sisters put their foreheads together in a private consultation, with Olya keeping watch at the Devil’s retreat. From the bench, the Queen motioned for Mr. Firkin to begin.
    â€œCall Nix the clown,” he said.
    â€œObjection!” the Devil roared. “Nix is a member of the jury, Your Honor, and you cannot expect him to be a witness for the prosecution as well.”
    After a second’s thought, the Queen ruled. “As we are so few in number, I will allow it. But, Mr. Nix, your own testimony must not prejudice your deliberations. Bailiff, if you please.”
    Carrying a miniature book in its mouth, the Worm sidled up to Nix, who placed his hand on it and swore to tell the truth. Mr. Firkin hitched his thumbs into a pair of suspenders he had fashioned for the occasion. “Now, then, if you will kindly tell the jury—including yourself—where you were on the night in question.”
    â€œLast night? Here, same as always, m’lord.”
    Firkin paced before the witness box, contemplating the phrasing of his next line of attack. “Tell us in your own words what you saw those two hoodlums getting themselves up to on the night in question.”
    â€œThey were conferring in the corner, Mr. Firkin. I could not hear what they were saying, but I had my eye out. Not literally, of course. And that one—”
    â€œLet the record show,” Mr. Firkin intoned, “that Nix the clown is pointing to the codefendant, Miss Harper.”
    The Queen gaveled on the makeshift desk. “There is no record, Mr. Firkin, just so you know. We have no stenographer. We have no paper on which to write, and our pencil is currently Exhibit A, so I see no need for a record.”
    Hiding her voice behind her hand, Noë whispered in Kay’s ear, “Do you see a pouch on the Queen? For this is fast becoming a kangaroo court.”
    â€œI heard that,” snapped the Queen. “May I remind the defendant that my feelings are very easily hurt?”
    Nix jumped in to fill the awkward silence brought about by the embarrassing remark. “I saw Kay Harper fetch the matchbook, Your Grace, and next thing, Mr. Firkin here is saying it’s time for us to go to bed. Quick as a wink, Noë makes a break for the curtain. Chaos ensues, I don’t mind telling you, but you were there. You saw it. Everyone here is a witness. I had to stop her from trying to run through between the strands of beads. She would have been injured. Or worse. She may have awakened the Original.”
    The Three Sisters crossed themselves. “Without a cat in the room,” Olya said, “the mice feel free.”
    Mr. Firkin scowled at her to keep quiet and then clapped Nix on the shoulder to show how well he had done. “Your witness, Devil.”
    â€œI have no questions for this clown. The province concedes the point that he stopped her in what he believed to be an attempted escape. His bravery is not germane to our case.” He winked and gestured for Nix to step down.
    On his way back to the jury box, Nix waved to the defendants and honked a toy bicycle horn concealed in his trousers pocket. When the laughter died down, Mr. Firkin announced in a loud voice, “The prosecution calls the Devil.”
    â€œYour Honor, please, this is preposterous. I cannot be expected to testify against my own clients.”
    â€œOverruled,” she said