The Great Pet Heist

Chad dragged the duffel bag out, and Oscar tugged at the zipper. Gold coins spilled onto the floor.

“Nice haul,” Chad said.

Oscar nodded, picking up the loose coins with his beak and dropping them back into the bag. They couldn’t get sloppy. If this went well, the men wouldn’t even know they’d been robbed until the animals were long gone. They couldn’t leave a single trace of evidence behind.

Oscar zipped the bag back up and grabbed the handles with his feet. Then he braced himself. This was it.

He took a deep breath, flapped his wings, and lifted up into the air. Then, using every bit of strength he had, he flew slowly over to the window. Going slow wasn’t part of the plan, but Oscar couldn’t go any faster. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it to the window in time. The bag was much heavier than the handbag he’d been practicing with.

But just when Oscar thought he’d have to give up, he made it to the window. With one last burst of strength, he flew outside, looked down, and plummeted out of sight.

Marco and Polo watched Oscar drop like a stone. “Was it supposed to go like that?” Marco whispered.

Polo stared at the empty window. She wasn’t sure. It sure didn’t look like part of the plan, but she didn’t want to be negative. “I think so. Looked good to me.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Marco said. “Give the signal.”

Polo nodded and leaned as far out of the grate as she could. She put two fingers into her mouth and gave a long, low whistle.

Butterbean had a mouthful of sock when she heard the whistle from the living room. She immediately spit it out and backed away. Socks were not her chew toy of choice.

Walt leaped off the man’s head and landed on the floor next to Butterbean, her legs already moving. “To the elevator! Run!”

Butterbean wheeled around and took off for the elevator, sideswiping the man and making him stumble into the wall.

Walt grabbed the squeaky carrot as Butterbean raced through the elevator door, just barely getting her tail inside before it closed.

Panting, they collapsed in a heap in the corner.

“We did it,” Walt said.

Butterbean gave the carrot a weak squeak.

“Eighth floor,” the elevator woman said.

“Done!” Polo said as the barking and screeching in the hallway stopped abruptly. If she craned her neck, she could see the man staggering around. She wasn’t sure what Butterbean and Walt’s distraction had been, but it looked effective. She turned to Marco. “Pull me back.” She didn’t feel comfortable leaning that far out of the grate. She didn’t think she was small enough to slip through, but she was probably big enough to get stuck. And they needed to get out of there.

Marco grabbed hold of Polo’s tail and pulled her back into the vent, catching her button necklace on the metalwork as he pulled. The red thread snapped, and the sparkly button fell into the room below.

“Nooo! My button!” Polo said, clutching at it as it fell. But it was no use.

Marco and Polo pressed their faces against the grate and scanned the room. “Where did it go?” Polo wailed.

“There!” Marco said, pointing. The button had bounced and was lying in the middle of the living room, next to the sofa.

“We have to get it!” Polo squealed.

Marco waved his arm desperately. “Chad!”

“Chad! The button! Get the button!” Polo shrieked.

Chad was making his way back toward the sink. He shot a look back at the grate, but he didn’t stop. Now that the commotion in the hallway had ended, he didn’t have much time. “I’ve got my butt moving,” Chad said grouchily. “I can’t move any faster. I’m getting rug burn as it is.”

“No, not your butt! The BUTTON,” Marco yelled.

Chad pulled himself onto the sink and shot the rats a nasty look before he disappeared down the drain. He didn’t appreciate the comments. It wasn’t like octopuses really even had butts.

“What do we do?” Polo said, staring at the sparkle on the carpet.

“We’ll get you another one,” Marco said, patting her on the arm. “I’ll chew one off of Madison’s sweater when she comes by this afternoon. You can distract her for me.”

Polo shook her head. “No, it’s not that. We’re not supposed to leave anything behind, remember? What if the man sees it?”

Marco looked at the button uncertainly. It was very sparkly. Someone would definitely notice it.

The Number Two Man lurched back into the apartment from the hallway. His hair was standing on end like things were nesting in it, and the bottoms of his pants legs looked shredded. Whatever Walt and Butterbean had done, it was bad. He closed the door firmly behind him and flopped onto the sofa, his foot inches from the button.

It was too late.

Marco looked at Polo and then gave an awkward laugh. “It’s fine. That tiny thing? They’ll never notice.”

But he could see the sparkle out of the corner of his eye as they turned and hurried away down the vents.

14

BUTTERBEAN WAS FOLLOWING WALT BACK into their apartment when Walt stopped short in the doorway. Butterbean slammed into her from behind, stumbling and falling forward onto her face.

“Hey!” Butterbean started to object, but then she caught sight of what Walt was staring at. Her jaw dropped.

The small duffel bag was on the dining room table next to the aquarium. It had been unzipped and was overflowing with coins, primarily because Oscar was inside, squawking happily and flinging gold coins in the air. It was a very undignified display.

“Oscar?” Walt said uncertainly. She’d never seen Oscar so enthusiastic before.

“Look, Walt! Gold! We’re rich! I did it! And I didn’t even hurt my back,” Oscar crowed, flinging another coin into the air. It bonked him on the head as it fell, but he hardly flinched. He giggled in a very un-Oscar-like way.

Walt and Butterbean exchanged a concerned look. Oscar had obviously lost it.

“What’s up, Oscar?” Walt said, carefully edging into the room.

Oscar hunkered deeper into the coin bag. “That rich duck on the Television does this a lot, and I always thought it looked fun!”

“Is it?” Butterbean asked, eyeing the bag. She didn’t think she would be able to fit inside, but it was worth a try. She might be able to if she squeezed.

“Well, yes and no,” Oscar sighed, climbing out of the bag and rearranging his ruffled wing feathers. With his feathers in place, he seemed much more like the old Oscar. “It’s a very unique experience. But it does hurt when the coins hit you.”

Walt jumped onto the table and nosed the bag. “It is a lot of money,” she said. She dipped a paw into the bag and raked her claws through the coins. “It should be more than enough.”

“Oh definitely,” Oscar said. “We’re independently wealthy now, no question about that.” He preened and flapped his wings happily. “Our worries are over.”

Butterbean stood up on her hind legs to sniff the bag. “It worked just like we planned. Those coin men won’t know what hit them! Oh boy, they’re going to be mad.” Butterbean inspected the bag carefully. Up close, it looked like it would be too small for her. Maybe if she asked nicely, Oscar would tip the coins onto the floor so she could roll in them. It did look like a lot of fun, and Oscar seemed to be in a mood to say yes.

Butterbean cleared her throat. “Um, Oscar…”

“GUYS! We’re back!” The rats’ voices came echoing through the vents. “Did we get it? Did Oscar die?” Marco and Polo shot out of the space behind the couch and skidded to a stop at the sight of the duffel bag.

“OSCAR! WHOOHOO YOU DID IT!” Marco cheered, attempting to climb up and fist-bump Oscar.

“We weren’t sure, when you fell out of sight like that,” Polo said. “You dropped like a stone.”

“Um. Yes,” Oscar said.

“Dropped is right. Did you mean to do that?” Marco asked.

Oscar cleared his throat. “Of course I did. Time was of the essence, so I decided to go with speed, not elegance.”

“Well good, we were worried!” Polo said, hugging one of Oscar’s skinny legs.

Oscar patted her awkwardly on the head and averted his eyes. He hadn’t actually been going for speed or elegance—he’d just been trying to stay in the air. Once he’d started falling, he’d picked up speed so quickly, he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop in time. If he hadn’t managed to snag the bag handle on Mrs. Food’s window crank, he might have ended up a grease stain on the pavement below. A very rich grease stain, but still a grease stain.

“Thank you, Polo.” Oscar cleared his throat. “So first things first. We should probably count the coins to see how many we have. Walt, you have online contacts who can help us with the next step?”

“I do.”

“We’ll need you to get in touch with them. See what we have to do to get the ball rolling. We don’t have much time.”

“We’ll need to give Chad his sardines, too. We can’t forget that,” Polo said. She had a bad feeling that Chad was upset with them, but she wasn’t sure why.

“And Wallace! We need to give him some seeds,” Marco added.

“Right.” Oscar nodded. “I’m so proud of you all! Our plan went off without a hitch!”

“Well, not quite,” Polo said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Not quite without a hitch.”

“What? What do you mean?” Oscar clicked his beak. He was pretty sure the plan had gone perfectly.

“There was a hitch,” Marco said. He thought it was pretty obvious from what Polo had said.

“My button,” Polo said, putting a hand up to her neck. “The hitch is my button. The string broke, and it fell out of the grate into the living room.”

“It’s in the middle of the floor now,” Marco said.

Oscar laughed with relief. He’d been afraid they were going to tell him something bad. Something that would mess up the plan. “Oh, well, a button. That’s a very small thing.”

“But it was distinctive,” Polo said. “If they find it, they’ll know it was me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Walt said.

“Polo, you’re not being reasonable,” Oscar said. “Even if they find it, they never saw your button! They won’t have any idea it was you.”

“Right.” Butterbean nodded encouragingly. “They’ll think it was Madison.”

Four heads turned toward Butterbean.

Oscar frowned. “What do you mean, they’ll think it was Madison?”

Butterbean shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like being put on the spot that way. “They’ll think it was Madison, because the Coin Man knows it’s her button.”

Walt stalked over to Butterbean and sat down. “Explain.”

Butterbean sighed. “When we were in the elevator, the Coin Man noticed her sparkly buttons. He talked about them. As soon as he sees it, he’ll know it’s hers.”

Polo sat down hard on her haunches. She’d been afraid the Coin Man would come after her. But the idea that the Coin Man would come after Madison? And that it was her fault? That was even worse.

“Are you sure?” Polo squeaked.

“Of course not,” Oscar said. “That’s ridiculous. The Coin Man didn’t notice Madison’s buttons.”

“He totally noticed her buttons,” Butterbean said.

“Oh no,” Polo said weakly.

“But that’s good for you, Polo,” Butterbean said encouragingly. “He’ll never suspect you.”

“What have we done?” Polo said softly. “We have to fix this!”

“It’s too late, Polo,” Marco said, patting her on the shoulder. “There was no way to get it back. Madison will probably be fine.”

“Marco’s right, Polo,” Oscar said brusquely. “It’s too bad that the button was left behind. It really is. But it can’t be helped. We need to move ahead with our plans.”

Walt nodded. “Remember what Bob said. We don’t want to go to the shelter.”

“But…”

“I’m sure nothing will happen to her. After all, she didn’t take the coins. They won’t be able to blame her,” Walt said.

“She’ll have an alibi,” Oscar said.

“I guess you’re right,” Polo said. “I don’t feel right about it, though.”

“She’ll be fine,” Walt said. “You’ll see. She’ll be here after school—you can see for yourself then.”

“Oh! Right! I forgot about that,” Polo said, brightening.

“In the meantime, we need to get these coins out of sight. Butterbean, do you think you can carry them into the office? I’d fly them, but… you know. My back,” Oscar said. His back felt fine, but he was done carrying that heavy bag. He was pretty sure it made him look ridiculous.

“Sure,” Butterbean said, grabbing the handle of the bag and pulling it onto the floor. Half of the coins fell out, but Butterbean didn’t worry about that as she dragged the bag toward the office.

“We’ll just gather those up too,” Walt said, batting a gold coin in the direction of the office.

It took much longer to stash the coins away than they’d thought, and when they were through, Polo flopped down on the floor exhausted. “Wake me up when Madison gets here,” she said, closing her eyes.

Marco looked at the clock on the wall and frowned. “Okay, but…” he said, looking worried. “Isn’t she supposed to be back now?”

They all turned and looked at the clock and then at the door. There was no sound from the hallway outside.

Polo looked back at the clock. “Walt?”

Walt’s eyes were still on the door. “She’s late. It’s not a problem.”

“The clock says she should be here,” Polo said.

“My bladder says she should be here,” Butterbean said.

“She’s probably fine,” Marco said weakly. “Maybe they made her stay late?”

“They didn’t make her stay late,” Polo said, standing up. “Something is wrong. I’m going to find out what’s happened.”

Polo turned and marched toward the vent without another word.

“I’m going too,” Marco said, hurrying after her.

“I think you’re overreacting, Polo,” Walt said.

“Well, we’ll see,” Polo said as she climbed into the vent. Marco scurried after her with one last apologetic look at Walt.

“She’s probably fine,” Oscar said, looking out of the window at the street below. He saw lots of adult people, but no small, child-sized people. “It was just a button. Who would even notice that?”

“The Coin Man,” Butterbean said, her head on her paws. She was stationed by the front door, nose pressed to the gap underneath. “The Coin Man will notice.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. She wasn’t part of our plan anyway,” Oscar said. “Not to be mean, but we need to look out for ourselves. We don’t have Mrs. Food to take care of us anymore.”

“If something happens to Madison, we don’t have anybody to take care of us anymore,” Butterbean grumbled. She really needed to pee.

Oscar looked back out of the window. There was no doubt now that something was very wrong. Madison had never been this late.

“Ahem, excuse me?” A small voice came from the direction of the vent. “Knock knock?”

“Who’s there!” Butterbean said, whirling around. A small rat was standing nervously by the couch. And even though he’d said “knock knock,” it didn’t sound like he was telling a joke.

“Um, I’m Wallace. I’m here about Marco and Polo?” Wallace cleared his throat. “I met them in the vents?”

Walt jumped down from the top of the couch and landed next to Wallace, who was visibly startled. “You know Marco and Polo?”

“Um, yes?” Wallace eyed the vent like he was planning to make a dash for it.

“They’re not here, unfortunately. Would you like to wait?” Walt leaned away from the rat. She was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. Wallace didn’t seem like a rat who’d had a lot of experience with cats. Or at least not good experiences.

Wallace cleared his throat and clutched his hands in front of his chest. “Yes, I realize that. That’s why I came. There seems to be some sort of… incident going on? In the apartment on the top floor? I thought you might like to know.”

“What’s happening?” Oscar flew over and landed on Wallace’s other side. He loomed over the rat, eyeing him carefully. He wasn’t worried about being nonthreatening.

Wallace swallowed. “I’m not sure. I don’t go to those vents. But I saw Marco and Polo go up there, and… well, there’s a lot of noise. Bad sounds. I’m not sure.”

Butterbean pawed at the front door. “Walt! Open! We need to go now!”

“Butterbean, wait.” Oscar turned to Walt. “Maybe Chad can help?”

“I don’t know—Butterbean might be right,” Walt said, looking at Wallace. If he had risked coming to a cat’s apartment, the situation must be bad.

“Maybe we should—” Walt started, but she was cut off by a screeching noise in the vent.

A screeching noise that was coming from Marco.

He skidded into the room and grabbed Walt’s leg, clutching at it in desperation.

“WALT!” he screamed. “It’s Polo! We went to Madison’s apartment to check on her, but she wasn’t there! But there were signs something bad had happened, so we decided to check on the Coin Man, and he got her! He found the button! And it’s bad! Oh, Walt!” Marco sobbed.

Walt put her paws on either side of Marco’s shoulders. “Marco. Calm down. Where’s Polo?”

Marco shook uncontrollably. “Oh, Walt. Polo’s dead!”

15

BUTTERBEAN GAVE A LOW MOAN. Oscar put his wing around Marco and led him over to Butterbean’s squeaky carrot. “Sit down, Marco. Now, you’re sure she’s dead?”

“The Coin Man got her! Of course she’s dead!” Marco wailed. He sat down on the squeaky carrot, which emitted a long, plaintive squeal. “She must be.”

Oscar and Walt exchanged hopeful glances.

“So she could still be alive?” Walt asked. “There’s a chance?”

Marco sniffled and wiped his nose on the squeaky carrot stem. “Hardly any chance. You weren’t there, Walt. It was bad.”

Walt’s whiskers trembled. “Okay, but hardly any is still a chance. Even if it was bad, it might not have been dead bad.”

“The Coin Man kicked at her. She went flying across the room.” Marco’s eyes welled up. “Do you think she could’ve survived that? He was going after her when I left.”

Walt winced. That didn’t sound good at all. But she wasn’t about to tell Marco that. “Marco, we don’t know what happened next. Polo is a very resilient young rat. We can’t give up on her yet.”