The Great Ghost Hoax

“I see.” Officer Marlowe gave the apartment an appraising look. “And this is what, one, two bedrooms?”

“Two bedrooms. But I have it set up as a bedroom and an office.”

“Interesting.” Officer Marlowe flipped a page in her pad and made a note. “One thousand square feet, I’m guessing?”

“Eleven hundred,” Mrs. Third Floor answered.

“Aha.” Officer Marlowe made another note. Officer Travis shot her a look. “So not a lot of room to hide, is what I’m saying,” she said, glaring back at Officer Travis. Then she smiled at Mrs. Food. “Now, you said someone ate the food in the kitchen?”

“Yes, see!” Mrs. Third Floor pointed to the cupcakes. “See? The frosting there is all gone. Some… THING… pierced the thin veil separating the living from the dead and… well…”

“Licked the cupcakes?” Officer Travis said, picking one up and examining it.

“Well. Yes.” Mrs. Third Floor shifted. “As you can see.”

“Or,” Mrs. Food jumped in, “another theory is that a person did it. That’s why we called you.”

“Or,” Walt said quietly, “a rat did it.”

“Ooh, I’ll go with that one,” Butterbean said.

“You guys,” Wallace groaned. “Stop it. There really is a ghost.”

“And you, little girl. You don’t know anything about these?” Officer Travis said, waving the licked cupcake in Madison’s direction. “Pretty tempting, aren’t they?”

“I guess?” Madison looked confused. “They were licked when I got here, though, so not really?” She didn’t know anyone who thought licked cupcakes were tempting. Except maybe Officer Travis.

“Right.” Officer Travis narrowed his eyes at her and put the cupcake down.

Officer Marlowe ran her finger along the countertop and examined it. “And this countertop. Is this… granite?”

“What? Yes,” Mrs. Third Floor. “Do you think that has something to do with it?”

“It’s possible,” Officer Marlowe said.

“But probably not,” Officer Travis said, frowning at Officer Marlowe. “What we need to do is evaluate the scene. Now, the bedroom is through that door?”

Mrs. Third Floor nodded. “Right. And the bathroom was totally destroyed—it’s right through there. There’s water everywhere.”

Officer Marlowe made a note. “I’ll take a look.” Then she hesitated. “Is that the only bathroom?”

“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Third Floor said.

Officer Marlowe frowned. “I see.” She turned and headed down the hall.

Officer Travis clapped his hands together loudly. They all jumped. Wallace almost lost his grip on Butterbean completely. “Ladies,” he said in a booming voice. “Please take the kids and livestock and remain in the living room area for the duration of our search.” He glared down at Mrs. Food. “We don’t want them destroying evidence, got it?”

“Got it,” Mrs. Food said. She turned to Madison. “Okay, KIDS. You heard him.”

“How many people does he think I am?” Madison whispered, sitting down on the couch. “Sheesh!”

“LIVESTOCK?” Butterbean huffed. “I’ve never been so offended.”

“That makes two of us. If he wasn’t wearing a uniform, I’d go for the jugular.” Walt jumped up onto the couch and settled in a pounce stance.

“That makes three of us,” Wallace said. “And I don’t even think he knows about me.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re one of the kids,” Butterbean said.

“Hush, dog,” Madison said, rubbing Butterbean’s ear. “This is important. Do you sense any ghosts?”

Butterbean thumped her tail. She figured Madison could interpret that anyway she wanted to.

“I didn’t think so,” Madison said, her eyes narrowed.

Butterbean made a mental note that thumping meant no.

“If I’m right, the animals are protecting us from the forces of evil,” Mrs. Third Floor said, wringing her hands nervously.

“Sure,” Madison said, shooting a look at Mrs. Food.

Mrs. Food clamped her lips together tightly and stared at the ceiling.

Butterbean stood a little taller. She’d never protected anyone from the forces of evil before.

“Oh brother,” Walt sighed.

“I get why Mrs. Food called the police,” Butterbean said after a few minutes of waiting. “But how are we supposed to do any investigating if we’re sitting on the couch?”

“We’re not,” Walt said, stalking along the back of the sofa. “We need a new plan.”

“What are we going to do?” Wallace shifted.

“Leave it to me,” Walt said. “But for now, we watch. And wait.”

“So, what, we’re just supposed to WAIT until they get back?” Marco wailed from the top of the water bottle.

“Shhh! I can’t hear!” Oscar had turned the Television back on and was watching the News. He had the volume turned down low, so he’d be able to hear Mrs. Food’s key and get back to his cage in time. That was the theory, anyway.

“But anything could’ve happened! They could’ve all been eaten by GHOSTS,” Marco said.

“It’s true! We’d never know!” Polo chimed in. “We need to do something.”

“We need to stay here,” Oscar said, keeping one eye on the Television. They were just about to give tips on decorating your small space. And Oscar didn’t know anyone who had a smaller space than him. (Well, maybe the rats, but they didn’t do much in the way of decorating.) His cage could really use a few pops of color.

“Harrumph.” Marco threw himself into a pile of cedar chips.

“You said it,” Polo said. “Harrumph.”

As she spoke, a cabinet door slammed in the kitchen. The rats froze. Oscar cranked the volume on the Television another notch higher.

“Ghosts?” Marco whispered to Polo, still not daring to move.

“Maybe?” Polo whispered back. “Or maybe it’s just—”

The electric can opener started whirring.

“CHAD,” Polo finished, flopping over backward in relief.

“HI, CHAD!” Marco waved. He nudged Polo in the side. “Maybe we can do some investigating of our own!”

He scrambled out of the cage and scurried to the kitchen. “HEY, CHAD! We’ve got a very important question for you!”

“YES!” Polo hurried after him. “Very important!”

Chad the octopus was sitting in the sink eating a can of salmon. He hardly looked up when they came in.

Marco skidded to a stop and watched Chad eat. It really was something to see. “Um, Chad. So we have something really important to ask you.” Marco hesitated.

Chad kept eating. “So you said. Three times.”

“Right. So…” Marco tried to figure out what to say. Now that he was standing there, asking about ghosts felt a little… well, dumb.

“It’s, um…” Polo hesitated too. She and Marco exchanged glances.

“Ghosts,” Marco blurted out. It sounded even sillier now that he’d actually said it. “Have you seen any ghosts?”

Chad stopped eating. A little bit of salmon fell out of his mouth. “What?”

“Ghosts,” Polo said. “You know. Spirits? Apparitions? Like oooOOOOOOOoooooooOOOOO…” Polo made scary ghost noises and waved her arms in a ghostly way.

“Um. Yeah. Like that.” Marco cringed, grabbing Polo’s arm and dragging it down to her side. “Ghosts. We heard there were ghosts on the fifth floor.”

“Have you heard that?” Polo asked, smoothing her fur down self-consciously.

“Ghosts?” Chad stared at them. “On the fifth floor?”

“Yeah,” Polo said, cringing inwardly.

Chad made a snorty sound. “In a word, no. No ghosts, not on five, or anywhere else. That’s ridiculous.” He turned back to his salmon. “Was that all?”

Marco blushed. “Um, well…” He couldn’t think of any way to turn the conversation around to make it less awkward. He shot a desperate look at Polo.

“I like what you’re doing with your… uh… tentacles,” Polo blurted out. “It’s a good look.” She really wished she hadn’t made the ghost noises.

Chad’s eyes narrowed. “What about my tentacles?” He finished his salmon and flipped the can in the air so that it landed in the trash can across the room. He was a very good shot.

“Nothing,” Marco said, grabbing Polo’s arm. “It’s not important. That’s all, Chad. See you later.”

He dragged Polo back into the living room. “It’s a good look?” he whispered.

Polo made a face. “I know! I couldn’t think what to say. But you know what we’ve got?”

Marco frowned. “What?”

“We’ve got exclusive information. Walt is going to be so surprised!” Polo said smugly, holding up her hand. “HIGH FIVE!”

Marco smacked her hand. The ghost hunters were on the case.

“I don’t think they’re even looking for a ghost,” Butterbean said, watching Officer Travis sniff a lemon that had been set out in a decorative tray. “He touched that with his nose.”

“I’m not eating that one,” Wallace said, shuddering slightly. “The ghost can have it.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get any answers this way,” Walt said, watching Officer Travis put the lemon back and then scratch his armpit.

“Me either,” Butterbean said. “Unless… DO YOU THINK THAT LEMON IS HAUNTED?”

“Get real, Butterbean. It’s a lemon,” Wallace grumbled. “What he needs to be looking at is that salt shaker. It tried to kill me!”

Walt attempted to pat Wallace on the back, but it wasn’t easy with Wallace hanging under Butterbean’s stomach. She just ended up whacking Butterbean in the leg. Madison gave her a strange look.

Officer Marlowe came out of the bathroom and headed over to Mrs. Third Floor.

“I think we’ve got all we need here. I made a note of the water in your bathroom. That was quite a mess.”

Mrs. Third Floor gave her a teary smile. “Thank you.”

Officer Marlowe nodded. “I just have one last question. Now, that water, is that included in the rent?”

“Well, yes.” Mrs. Third Floor blinked. “Water, gas, electric—I include all utilities.”

Officer Marlowe raised her eyebrows. “Really. That’s VERY interesting.” She made another note on her notepad before putting it back in her pocket. “We’ll be in touch. In the meantime, you might want to get some sort of surveillance camera for the front door.” She turned to leave, and then hesitated. “And, as a precaution, I don’t think you should rent the unit until we’ve gotten to the bottom of this.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Third Floor nodded. “I’ll get a camera installed first thing in the morning. But you know that ghosts don’t appear on camera.”

Officer Marlowe kept her face blank. “Right. We’ll see ourselves out.”

The two officers exchanged a glance as they headed for the door.

Mrs. Third Floor gave a small hiccuppy sob.

Mrs. Food hurried over and rubbed her arm. “It’ll be okay, Mildred. We’ll get this sorted out.” She turned back to Madison. “Ready?”

Madison stood up. “Let’s go, guys.”

Walt leaned over. “Wallace, do you want to stay here? You could just go back to your vent.”

Wallace shook his head, making it look like Butterbean was trying to do the hula. “I’d rather stay close to Butterbean here. It makes me feel safer.”

“That’s fine,” Walt said. “And it doesn’t matter. We’ll be back soon enough.”

“We will?” Butterbean said.

“If we’re going to investigate, we have to move fast, before those cameras are in place. It’ll have to be tonight.”

“Wait, you mean…” Wallace said softly.

“Yes.” Walt stood up and unsheathed the claws on her left paw. “That means one thing. We’re having a sleepover.”

— 5 —

OSCAR HAD TO ADMIT, HE was looking forward to doing some serious investigating. He just wished Walt had called it what it was—a stakeout. Because the word “sleepover” was having an unfortunate effect on the other animals.

“WHY DON’T I HAVE PAJAMAS!” Marco wailed. “How am I supposed to have a sleepover without pajamas!”

“SHHH!” Walt hissed at him. She glanced nervously at the dining room, where Madison and Mrs. Food were having dinner. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to have noticed the ruckus. To be fair, it had been a pretty exhausting day. Mrs. Third Floor hadn’t left for ages. “Keep it down!” Walt hissed. “Stop attracting attention. Do you want them to find Wallace?”

Wallace had decided to hide out in Marco and Polo’s aquarium until it was time for the sleepover. So far Mrs. Food hadn’t noticed the extra rat in their cage. (They’d been very carefully flopping into a heap whenever she walked by. It wasn’t easy to tell how many rats there were when they were in a heap. Unless you counted tails, which luckily, Mrs. Food didn’t usually do.)

“FINE. I’LL GO NAKED. I just feel so unprepared,” Marco sighed. “No pajamas, no fuzzy slippers, no popcorn, nothing. Do we even have movies to watch?”

“WE DON’T EVEN HAVE SLEEPING BAGS!” Polo wailed.

“There might be popcorn, actually!” Wallace said, sticking his head out from under a pile of cedar chips. “I think Mrs. Third Floor had some in the cabinet. She said something about making the apartment smell homey. I bet she wouldn’t mind if we ate it.”

“Well, at least we’ll have something,” Marco said. He could always go for a good piece of popcorn.

“And there are probably movies on TV!” Wallace said. “And if there aren’t, there’s always the home shopping channel. I think tonight’s the Cubic Zirconia Extravaganza!”

“OOH, SPARKLY,” Polo sighed. She had her sparkly button, sure, but she always had room for more sparkly things in her life.

“Remember, this is supposed to be a stakeout, not a party,” Oscar said. “We’re staking out the ghost.”

Butterbean wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, but Walt didn’t say stakeout. She said sleepover. And I don’t have pajamas either.”

“Well, you don’t need pajamas for a stakeout,” Oscar huffed, puffing out his feathers. He just hoped that if they really did find the ghost, they’d be able to handle it. Ghosts were serious business.

Walt sat down next to the rat cage. “Look, I can’t do pajamas, but I think I can get you guys sleeping bags. Okay?”

“Oh, Walt, that would be awesome!” Polo cheered. This was shaping up to be the best sleepover ever. As long as she didn’t think about the ghost part, that is.

“Okay, so here’s the plan. We wait until everyone’s gone to bed. Butterbean obviously can’t go through the vents, so I thought I’d go with her in the hallway. Oscar, you and the rats open the door for us when we get there.”

“Wait, how are we getting there?” Polo asked, tilting her head to the side.

Walt shrugged. “The vents. Obviously.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry, but no. I’ll go on Butterbean’s tummy, thank you. I don’t want to be in those vents alone.” Wallace crossed his arms defiantly.

“HEY!” Polo said indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!” Wallace glared at her. “IT’S NOT SAFE.”

“But you love the vents!” Oscar said. “They’re your home!”

Wallace shook his head. “Nope. Not until that ghost is gone, they aren’t. I’ll stick with Walt and Butterbean.” He shot Polo a look. “WALT’S BIG.”

Walt sighed. “Fine. Oscar, you and Marco and Polo can handle the door.”

“Um. I think I’d rather go with Wallace, okay?” Polo toed the floor of the cage nervously.

“Yeah. Me too,” Marco said. “Safety in numbers, right?”

Walt groaned. “The more of us there are in the hallway, the more risky it is!” She couldn’t believe the others were being so silly. “Fine, Oscar, we’ll meet you there.”

Oscar shot a sideways glance at Walt and cleared his throat. “Um.”

“NOT YOU TOO!” Walt burst out. “We are supposed to be INVESTIGATORS. How are we supposed to investigate if we’re a bunch of chickens!”

“Sorry,” Marco said.

“Bawk bawk,” Polo said softly.

“Walt, you haven’t seen the classic horror movies on the Television. You don’t know what happens when the Television people split up.” Oscar shuddered. “It’s not pretty.”

Walt groaned. “So all of us are just going to traipse through the hallways and hope nobody sees us? Is that really our plan?”

Butterbean patted Walt on the shoulder. “Trust me. It’ll be fine.”

It took forever for Madison and Mrs. Food to get ready for bed. Butterbean had a feeling they were spooked by all the ghost talk too. They’d never left the bathroom light on all night before.

Finally, Oscar opened the door to his cage and hopped out. “Bean! Help me check!”

Oscar flew down the hallway and hovered outside Mrs. Food’s door. “Nothing.”

Butterbean nosed at the bottom of the door and cocked her head. “Snoring. We’re good.”

Oscar flew to Madison’s door and did the same check. “Sounds good. Bean?”

Butterbean nodded. “Asleep.”

Oscar flew back into the living room. “All clear. Everybody ready? Let’s go.”

Walt didn’t move. She just sat in the living room and twitched her tail back and forth. “And how exactly are we going to get inside?” She was still irritated about the whole vent thing.

Oscar held out a claw with a flourish. In it was a shiny silver key. “Voilà!”

Walt’s eyes got wide. “Where did you get that?”

“Mrs. Food’s pocket. Mrs. Third Floor gave it to her before she left,” Oscar said smugly. “I thought we could, you know, borrow it. Just for a little while.”

“Well done,” Walt said grudgingly. “But I still think this is a ridiculous plan.”

“It’ll be fine!” Marco said, walking over to her. He was carrying a tissue bundle filled with sunflower seeds. He patted it lovingly. “Snacks. Now should I just climb up or…”

Walt rolled her eyes. “FINE. Just one second.” Walt disappeared behind the couch and reappeared a few minutes later with a small bag hanging around her neck. Then she lay down. “Hop up,” she said. Marco and Polo quickly scrambled onto her back.

Oscar eyed the bag. “That’s one of Mrs. Food’s.”

“Like you said. I’m borrowing it,” Walt said, standing up. “Polo, can you be in charge of the key?”

Polo nodded solemnly as Oscar handed her the key. “I’ll guard it with my life.”

Walt looked uncomfortable. “Erm, okay?” She really didn’t think it would come to that.

Butterbean nosed Wallace. “You coming with me?”