The Great Pet Heist

The door burst open so violently that it banged against the opposite wall. A small figure raced in, slamming the door again behind her. It was a very un-Bob-like way to open a door. That was probably because it wasn’t Bob. It was Madison.

She was clutching Polo in a sweaty grip and stopped short when she saw Mrs. Food. “Oh. Mrs. Fudeker. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you were… I just… Is this your rat?”

Mrs. Food reached out for Polo. “Why yes, Polo! How nice of you to return her.” Polo crawled into Mrs. Food’s hand and hugged one of her fingers.

Madison glanced back toward the door. “Yeah, they said I wasn’t supposed to, but I had to, right? I mean, she’s your rat.” She reached down and patted Butterbean on the head. “I’ve been taking care of these guys while you’ve been gone, but I can’t anymore. They’re taking me—” She broke off in a strangled sob. “Anyway, I wanted to say thank you? To these guys, and to you, I guess.” She looked around the room at the animals. “I don’t know how you did it. But I know it was you. So thank you.” She looked at Mrs. Food again. “They’ll understand.”

Mrs. Food nodded. “I’m sure they will.” She hesitated. “You’re Ruby Park’s niece?”

More footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Madison winced at the sound. “Yeah. Anyway, sorry about barging in. I just—”

The door flew open, and a tall red-faced woman in a blazer stood in the doorway. “Madison! I told you we were going straight to the car.” She turned to Mrs. Food. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I’m Mrs. Taylor, and this little girl is on her way to her new foster home. I’m sure you heard about the incident on the top floor? We’ll just be leaving now.” She gripped Madison by the upper arm and pulled her toward the door.

Butterbean wuffled softly and turned her most soulful gaze toward Mrs. Food. Walt bumped her head against Mrs. Food’s arm, purr volume turned up to high. Even Polo blinked in her cutest way (although she was severely hampered by her sweaty, matted fur).

Mrs. Food gave the slightest nod and put on a puzzled expression. “But why?”

Mrs. Taylor hesitated. “Why what, ma’am?”

“Why are you taking her to a foster home? She already has a home. She lives here, with me,” Mrs. Food said, frowning.

“What? What do you mean?” Mrs. Taylor glanced from Mrs. Food to Madison and back again.

“I mean she lives here. Why? What were you told?” Mrs. Food’s voice was chilly.

“Wait, you mean… I’m sorry. She lives here?” Mrs. Taylor looked at Madison accusingly. “She didn’t say she lives here. No one told me she had a guardian.”

Mrs. Food sniffed. “Well, I can’t help that. It was all arranged with her aunt, Ruby Park. Madison is staying here with me while her aunt is deployed in… Where is it again, dear?”

“Afghanistan,” Madison said, hardly daring to breathe.

“Afghanistan, yes,” Mrs. Food said. “You can check with her if you like, but we have it all arranged. It’s very convenient, you see, because we live in the same building.”

“That’s what I meant when I said I lived downstairs,” Madison said, shooting a hopeful look at Mrs. Food. “I didn’t mean my aunt’s apartment on the eighth floor—I meant here. I tried to tell you.”

Mrs. Taylor glared at them both suspiciously. Mrs. Food and Madison stared back without even blinking, they were trying so hard to look innocent.

Mrs. Taylor reluctantly let go of Madison’s arm. “Oh. Well. I will be checking on this, I can tell you that,” she huffed. “But if your aunt set it up…”

“She did. It’s in my Family Care Plan,” Madison said. “That’s why it was so important for me to come here. So Mrs. Fudeker could explain.”

“Well. I see. Well,” Mrs. Taylor fumed. “Thank you for your help then, Mrs. Fudeker. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Food said calmly. Mrs. Taylor turned stiffly and marched out.

Madison whipped around to face Mrs. Food. “This isn’t going to work, is it? They’ll never fall for it! We’ll get in trouble. They’ll check and see it’s not true!”

Mrs. Food smiled. “It won’t matter if they check if we fix things first. Listen, Madison, would you like to live here with me while your aunt is away? We can call Mrs. Taylor back if you don’t want to.”

“I definitely want to!”

“Good. I’d love to have you here. And I’m not supposed to live alone right now either, so it’s good for both of us. Now, what do we have to do to get in touch with your aunt—can you call her?” Mrs. Food stood up carefully. “There’s a phone in the office.”

“I can e-mail her,” Madison said quickly. “She’s always liked you, so she’ll definitely say yes. I think she just needs to change the plan she filed for me.”

“Then e-mail, quickly. The computer’s in the office too. And then go get your things—we’ll get you set up in the guest bedroom.”

Madison grinned. “Got it.”

Mrs. Food smiled tightly. “Now the only problem is my nurse. She should be here any—”

“Mrs. Fudeker?” A small woman slipped in the front door and almost bumped into Madison. The woman jumped back in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry, but…” She looked at Madison in confusion. “Who is this? Mrs. Fudeker? I understood you lived alone?”

Mrs. Food raised her eyebrows significantly at Madison. “Sheila, this is—”

Madison leaped forward, hand extended. “I’m Madison Park. I live here. With Mrs. Fudeker.” She shook Sheila’s hand enthusiastically.

“You live here! But…” The woman frowned and looked at her clipboard.

“It’s all set up in my Family Care Plan,” Madison said, a huge smile plastered on her face. “I’m living here while my aunt is deployed.”

“That’s true,” Mrs. Food confirmed.

The small woman nodded and flipped through the papers. “But Mrs. Fudeker, all your paperwork says you live alone.”

“Nope! Not alone. With me,” Madison said brightly. “It’s all set up.”

Mrs. Food made a face. “I’ve been telling people all along I didn’t need placement in assisted living. Not with Madison as my caregiver.”

“I’m very helpful,” Madison said, standing up straighter.

Sheila smiled. “I’m sure you are, hon.” She flipped one last page, then threw up her hands and smiled at Madison. “Well, it’s obvious someone got something very wrong. I apologize. I’ll go back to the hospital and get this cleared up.” She rolled her eyes. “Clerical errors.”

“That’s fine.” Mrs. Food smiled. “And thank you.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Madison said, waving goodbye until the woman was gone. “She bought it!”

Mrs. Food let out a sigh of relief. “E-mail, NOW!” she said, pointing to the office.

“Right!” Madison turned and raced inside.

A few minutes later she stuck her head out. “Mrs. Fudeker, did you call in a tip to the crime line? There’s a message saying something about a reward.”

20

DON’T GET ME WRONG—I’LL gladly accept the reward if they give it to me,” Mrs. Food said as she put a sandwich and pretzels into Madison’s lunch bag. “But what I don’t understand is HOW? I wasn’t even home when that call was made.”

“Beats me, but don’t tell them that!” Madison said, stashing her lunch in her book bag. “It’s really weird, though.”

“Belly rub,” Butterbean said, rolling over onto her back at Madison’s feet.

“Weird and lucky.” Madison reached down to scratch Butterbean’s tummy. “Maybe you’ve got a guardian angel.”

Butterbean caught Walt’s eye and winked. Walt winked back. Mrs. Food and Madison didn’t suspect a thing.

Madison frowned. She stopped scratching and looked from Butterbean to Walt thoughtfully. Butterbean lolled her tongue out of her mouth and drooled a little. It never hurt to look a tiny bit stupid.

“Maybe more than one,” Madison said, winking at Butterbean. Butterbean almost choked on her spit. Smirking, Walt jumped off the chair and stalked into the living room. Well, at least Mrs. Food didn’t suspect anything.

“Now, don’t forget your call with your aunt after school today,” Mrs. Food said.

“Got it.” Madison patted Butterbean goodbye. “See you later!” She threw her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.

Madison’s aunt had agreed to the new living arrangement right away and was horrified that Madison had been living on her own for so long. Mrs. Food was officially Madison’s guardian for as long as her aunt was deployed. Walt and Oscar had hoped to be named guardians too and were more than a little offended that no one had even asked them.

Mrs. Food wiped her hands on a dish towel and made her way down the hallway to her office, carefully checking for any obstacles placed in her path. The last thing she wanted was a return trip to the hospital. But she didn’t need to worry. Butterbean had a new policy—from now on, whenever she barfed, she would immediately clean it up herself. So far it seemed to be working well.

“I still don’t see why SHE gets the reward,” Butterbean grumbled, grabbing her squeaky carrot and tossing it into the air after Mrs. Food had closed the office door. “I mean, it was Walt and Oscar who called. And the elevator lady’s sister. THEY should get the reward.”

“It’ll be easier for her to spend it,” Walt said wearily. They’d had this conversation at least five times. “And think of it this way—we got two caretakers out of the deal. Now if something goes wrong with Mrs. Food again, we have a backup.”

“But we had a treasure! And now we’re poor!” There was just something about those gold coins. Butterbean really would’ve liked to roll in them one last time.

“Polo got a new button,” Marco pointed out. Mrs. Food had left the rats’ aquarium out in the living room—the other animals had objected when she tried to move it back to the office. And Marco and Polo were enjoying their new view.

“That’s right. That’s kind of like a treasure,” Polo said, admiring the button around her neck. Marco had tied the string in a double knot this time.

“I guess so,” Butterbean said, sitting up.

A cabinet door slammed. “What the heck?” Oscar craned his neck to look into the kitchen. “That’s not Chad again, is it?”

“Hey, Chad,” Butterbean said. It was Chad. Again.

Chad was sitting in the sink with a package of sardines he’d gotten from the cabinet. He grabbed the pull tab with one of his tentacles and sucked the sardines down without a word. So far Mrs. Food hadn’t noticed how quickly they’d been disappearing.

“You know, one day Mrs. Food is going to catch you doing that and it’ll all be over,” Walt said, licking a paw. “She’s cool, but I don’t know if she’s strange-octopus-in-the-sink cool.”

“Hey, guys!” Wallace emerged from behind the sofa. His cheeks were filled with sunflower seeds, and he was leaving a trail of shells as he walked.

“Is she strange-rat-in-the-living-room cool?” Butterbean asked.

“She’s going to have to be. After all, they’re members of our gang. Go, Strathmore Six!” Marco cheered.

“Marco!” Polo hissed. “Rude! Wallace isn’t a member. It’s the Strathmore SIX, get it? He’d make it seven.”

Wallace stopped chewing and looked at them, hurt. A shell dropped out of his mouth. “You guys have a gang?”

“More of an International Crime Syndicate,” Oscar said. He hopped onto the Television and snapped his beak. “All in favor of including Wallace and making it the Strathmore Seven?”

“WHOOOHOO!” Marco cheered, high-fiving Wallace, who choked on a seed.

“Sounds good to me,” Walt said.

“Me too!” Butterbean yelped. “Strathmore Seven!”

“Any more sardines?” Chad asked.

“I’ve never been in a club. Thanks, you guys.” Wallace blushed. “But I wanted to tell you—the Patchouli Family was watching the news. The heist is on TV. Channel Seven.”

“Ooh, we’re famous!” Oscar crowed, hopping on the remote and turning the Television to Channel Seven.

“…Prosecutors say that an anonymous tip led police to the apartment, where they were able to arrest the thieves and recover most of the coins that had been stolen.”

“Wait a minute.” Walt stepped on the pause button. “MOST of the coins?”

Oscar shifted from foot to foot. “Hmm. Wow. That’s, um. Interesting.”

Walt cocked her head. “Oscar?”

Oscar sighed. “FINE.” He hopped over to the sofa and dragged Mrs. Food’s embroidered bag out from underneath. With obvious effort, he tossed it into the middle of the living room.

The flap burst open, and gold coins spilled out.

Five jaws dropped simultaneously.

Oscar folded his wings. “Well, you didn’t expect me to return ALL of them, did you?” he grumbled. “What if it happens again? We might NEED them!”

Walt flopped back onto her haunches. “Well, that’s it. We’re officially criminals.”

“But criminals who can do this!” Butterbean yelped, bouncing in excitement. “Oscar, can I?”

Oscar swept his wing in the direction of the coins. “Feel free.” He looked at Marco and Polo and Wallace. “You too.” He winked at Marco. “Now’s the appropriate time.”

“WHOOHOO!” Marco shrieked, pumping his fists.

With cheers of happiness, Butterbean, Marco, Polo, and Wallace all threw themselves into the small pile of coins, rolling around and flinging coins in the air.

Walt and Oscar exchanged glances.

“Oh, heck,” Walt said, jumping in after them. Oscar was only a second behind her.

And across the room, Chad began inching toward the celebration. He was an expert coin flinger.

Acknowledgments

This book would not have been possible without the hard work of the amazing people at Atheneum. I was so lucky to get to work with you all.

Special thanks to Reka Simonsen (rock star), Kate Testerman (also a rock star), and David Mottram (another rock star) for bringing Butterbean and the rest of the Strathmore Seven to life.

Thanks also to:

The real life Colleen and Elizabeth, for being such good sports and letting me borrow your names.

The real life Bob, whose name I also borrowed, and who was one of my dog Binky’s favorite people.

My SCBWI friends, for encouraging me even when I got stuck halfway through the book.

My family, for reading endless revisions without complaint (to me, anyway) and for helping me look for the flash drive containing the first Pet Heist draft long after it was obvious that it had disappeared forever. (If anyone ever finds it, let me know.)

And finally, thanks to the elevator voice at the Hyatt Regency Century Plaza. The way you say “lobby” gets me every time.

(No animals were harmed in the making of this book. However, some did have their schedules rearranged, their meals delayed, and their walks cut short. Apologies to all.)

More from this Series

The Great Ghost Hoax

More from the Author

Night of the Living Lawn…

About the Author and Illustrator

Emily Ecton is the author of eight middle-grade books published under the names Emily Ecton and Emily Fairlie. She is also a former writer and producer for Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me!, the Peabody Award–winning comedy news quiz on NPR. She lives in Virginia with a law-abiding dog with no known criminal affiliations. Visit her at emilyecton.com.

Dave Mottram is an illustrator living in Ohio who worked as a graphic designer for many years, which led him to pursue his passion for illustration. He paints traditionally and digitally with color and layers and line. He lives with Gracie, a law-abiding black Lab with no criminal affiliations. Visit him at davemottram.com.

Visit us at simonandschuster.com/kids

www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Emily-Ecton

www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/David-Mottram

Atheneum Books for Young Readers

Simon & Schuster, New York

ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2020 by Emily Ecton

Illustrations copyright © 2020 by David Mottram

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Atheneum logo is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or business@simonandschuster.com.

The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

Interior design by Tom Daly

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Ecton, Emily, author. | Mottram, Dave, illustrator.

Title: The great pet heist / Emily Ecton ; illustrated by Dave Mottram.

Description: First edition. | New York City : Atheneum Books for Young Readers, [2020] | Audience: Ages 8–12. | Audience: Grades 4–6. | Summary: When their elderly owner goes to the hospital, Butterbean the dachshund, Walt the cat, Oscar the mynah bird, and rats Marco and Polo plan a robbery to support themselves.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019035648 | ISBN 9781534455368 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534455382 (eBook) Subjects: CYAC: Pets—Fiction. | Robbers and outlaws—Fiction. | Humorous stories.

Classification: LCC PZ7.E21285 Gre 2020 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019035648