The Great Pet Heist

“Just asking. We saw him through the grates. He LIVES here. In the building.” Marco’s eyes gleamed.

Walt made a face. “No, it’s not Bob. I didn’t even know he lived here.” She was going to have to make a note of that. Apparently, she didn’t know the building as well as she thought. “It’s a guy upstairs. He lives on eight.”

Butterbean gave a sputtering, weird bark. “You have a GUY on EIGHT? There’s no GUY on EIGHT. Except for Mr. Axe Body Spray. Is it him?” Little flecks of spit were flying out of her mouth as she barked.

“He’s on eight,” Walt said calmly, flexing her claws.

Butterbean stared at her for a minute, then turned her back and marched huffily to the door. “Then let’s go see him. Right now.” She tapped her feet impatiently.

“Butterbean, wait,” Oscar said. “We don’t know anything about this guy.”

“Trust me. He can get this done,” Walt said dismissively.

“But who is this person, Walt?” Oscar asked, snapping his beak a few times. “This all seems very strange.” He wasn’t going to lose control the same way Butterbean had, but Walt’s attitude was making him very uncomfortable. She was much more secretive than he had realized. It threw the whole heist situation into a new light. Was she a cat to be trusted?

Walt sighed and sat down. “Okay. Remember when I used to slip out to explore the building?”

Oscar nodded. “Mrs. Food was frantic that you’d get into the elevator.”

“Well, I did. And at one point I made some contacts. One contact. This is him.”

“And he is?” Oscar said, hopping closer to her. She seemed sincere, but this was a whole new side of Walt.

“They call him the Octopus.”

“Because it’s like he’s got eight arms?” Butterbean scoffed.

“Because he’s an octopus,” Walt said.

“Right,” Butterbean said. “And I’m a poodle.”

Walt stalked over to the door. “You want to meet him, Bean? Then fine, let’s go. If anyone can help us, he can. And if he can’t… well, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Butterbean looked at Oscar. His shoulders sagged. “Report back what you find out. And please, try not to get caught.”

Butterbean nodded. Her tail started to quiver, but she suppressed the impulse to wag. She was going to get to the bottom of Walt’s secret life. But more importantly, she was going OUT. WITHOUT A LEASH.

“Bean!” A tiny whisper came from the direction of the aquarium.

Butterbean looked around. Polo was waving her arm and whispering at her in a really hissy, spitty kind of way. “BEAN!”

Butterbean gave Walt a chilly look. “I need a moment.” She trotted over to Polo. “What? Do you want to come? I guess we could do the tummy thing again.”

Polo shook her head. “Oh heck no. But if you’re going to eight… you know that weird empty apartment?”

Butterbean nodded. “With the pretzel smell?”

“That’s the one.” Polo looked around before drawing Butterbean aside. “We looked inside the grate,” she whispered. “Madison was there.”

Butterbean’s eyes widened. “Madison? The girl?”

“Yeah, and there’s something wrong there—I just know it. Maybe you could check it out? See what you can smell?” Polo looked uncomfortable. She didn’t want to interfere in Madison’s life, but she had a big feeling it was something important. “I’m… I’m worried.”

“She was acting suspicious on our walk, too,” Butterbean said, frowning. “I’ll see if I can find anything out.”

“Good,” Polo said. Madison had always been nice to her, giving her the button and all. She didn’t like the idea that there was something bad going on there.

“Butterbean?” Walt called from the doorway. “Let’s go.”

Butterbean gave Polo a significant look. “You can count on me.”

Walt and Butterbean sat in the shadows, waiting for an empty elevator. They’d already had to pass up four because of the people inside, and Butterbean was fed up.

“Next one, I’m just going. I don’t care if there’s somebody inside. I’m a resident. I’m entitled to use the elevator,” Butterbean muttered under her breath.

“Keep cool, Bean,” Walt said quietly, twitching her tail. Elevator waiting was an art. You had to lose yourself in the stillness of the empty hallway. Butterbean wasn’t very good at stillness.

The elevator dinged. “That’s it. I’m on this one. It’s mine,” Butterbean said, standing up.

“Sit down, Bean,” Walt said. She really hoped Butterbean wasn’t going to blow this. And barging into an occupied elevator? That would be the quickest way to blow it.

The elevator doors opened. An elderly lady wearing a neon track suit and headband was walking in place inside.

“Oh good. One of the power walkers. Coming, Walt?” Butterbean trotted into the elevator without a backward glance, stood up, and pressed the button for eight with her nose. She sat down quietly and looked up at Mrs. Power Walker, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

“Bean!” Walt meowed, slipping into the elevator just as the doors closed.

Mrs. Power Walker watched Butterbean warily but kept walking in place. “Um. Hello, doggie,” she said after a minute.

Butterbean gave a low woof.

“I don’t believe this,” Walt said, trying to make herself invisible in the corner of the elevator.

“Seventh floor,” the elevator voice said as the doors opened.

Mrs. Power Walker gave Butterbean and Walt a quick wave and then power walked out of the elevator at top speed. She seemed disconcerted about something.

“Never do that again,” Walt said as the doors closed.

“What? It worked, right? Like she’ll say anything,” Butterbean said, grinning. She was glad it had been Mrs. Power Walker. She would never admit it to Walt, but if it had been someone else, like Mrs. Hates Dogs on six, she wouldn’t have tried it.

“Eighth floor,” the elevator voice said.

“Here we go,” Walt said, stepping out of the elevator. She crossed down to the far apartment and knocked on the door.

“But that’s Mr. Axe Body Spray’s apartment. Your guy really is Mr. Axe Body Spray?” Butterbean said in shock. “And you just KNOCK?”

“Roommates,” Walt said. “Now quiet.”

Butterbean heard a small sound on the other side of the door. It was a strange sound, something she couldn’t quite identify. But it made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

“Chad. Open up. It’s Walt,” Walt said in a low voice.

The locks in the door slowly started to turn, and the door opened.

Chad stood in the doorway.

Butterbean sat down hard on her haunches. “Holy cow, Walt. You weren’t kidding. He really is an octopus.”

Chad the octopus sat in the toilet tapping his tentacles against the seat as he listened to Walt explain the Mrs. Food situation. Butterbean couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was bored or happy to see them or comatose.

“So that’s what we need you to do,” Walt said from her perch on the edge of the tub.

“I don’t understand why we’re in the bathroom,” Butterbean said, looking down at the dark blue bathmat. Everything in Chad’s apartment looked hip and modern, even the bathroom stuff. And everything reeked of Axe Body Spray.

“Hush, Bean,” Walt said under her breath.

“I like it in here,” Chad said quietly. “The tile is cool. I can think.”

“Okay,” Butterbean said. It looked like she was shedding on the mat. She hoped Mr. Axe Body Spray wouldn’t notice.

“So, Walt, what’s in it for me?” Chad said, splashing quietly. He started counting off on his tentacles. “One, I don’t live with your human, so her fall doesn’t affect me. Two, I’m not at risk here. Look at this place. I’m set for life. I have everything an octopus could want. Why should I waste my time?”

“Well,” Walt started.

“Walt says that you can get out of anything. Or into anything,” Butterbean interrupted. “She says that locks can’t stop you.”

“Walt has a big mouth,” Chad said.

“Yeah, no kidding!” Butterbean snorted. “But how is that possible? About the locks, I mean. You live in a tank and hang out in a toilet.”

The octopus shrugged. It was like he was doing the wave all by himself.

“Cute friend, Walt. But this isn’t convincing me. Why should I help you?”

Walt jumped down onto the bath mat. “Hilarious good times?”

Chad folded his tentacles in front of him.

“And I know where Mrs. Food keeps the sardines.”

The octopus seemed to consider. “I’m in.”

“So that went well,” Butterbean said after Chad closed the door behind them. There had been more haggling, but in the end Chad had seemed enthusiastic about the whole heist idea. Well, as enthusiastic as Butterbean thought Chad could be. He didn’t do cartwheels or anything.

“I hope so,” Walt said. “I think this is all coming together, Butterbean. I just hope we’re moving quickly enough.”

“Wait one second—I promised Polo,” Butterbean said, stopping at the empty-smelling apartment. Madison’s apartment.

Walt rolled her eyes as the elevator dinged. “Bean, there’s no time,” she muttered, slinking back into the shadows as the elevator doors opened.

Just in time, too. Bob stepped out into the hallway. He was flipping through a stack of papers and heading straight for Madison’s apartment.

Butterbean gave a muffled yelp and hid behind a pillar.

Luckily, Bob was too focused on his papers to notice her yelp, or see her tail sticking out into the hallway. (Butterbean was always the first one caught in hide-and-seek.)

He banged loudly on Madison’s door.

After a few minutes the chain on the door was pulled back, and Madison opened it a crack. Then she plastered a smile on her face and opened the door slightly wider. Not too wide, though, Butterbean noticed. And that smile was definitely fake.

“Oh, hi, what’s up, Mr.—Bob?” Madison said. She looked nervous, like she’d been caught doing something sketchy. Butterbean could smell waves of panic all the way across the hallway.

“Hey, kid, is your aunt here?” Bob said, peering behind her into the apartment. “I need to talk to her about your pet-watching situation.”

“Um, no. She’s not. She’s at work,” Madison said, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Huh. I thought she was in what, the navy? Something like that? Weird time to be at work,” Bob said, still looking into the apartment.

Madison laughed, but she pulled the door almost shut behind her. “Close. Army. But she’s at a meeting. For the army. That kind of meeting. I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

“Fine, well, just wanted to give you all the heads-up. You won’t need to watch those animals much longer. Their owner woke up, but it doesn’t look like she’ll be able to live on her own. So those guys are headed for the shelter, probably in a day or so. Also, your aunt needs to fill out these forms so we can pay you. She’ll need to sign them.”

Madison stared at the papers. “I can’t just sign them?”

Bob snorted. “You’re a kid. An adult needs to sign. Anyway, tell your aunt I said hi, and I’ll stop by later about the papers. And I’ll let you know when we need those animals rounded up—we may need your help with that. Okay, later.” He turned and headed back to the elevator. It came immediately.

“Great,” Madison said, still staring at the stack of papers. After a few moments she quietly closed the door.

Walt shot out of the shadows and streaked over to Butterbean.

“Did you hear that?” Walt said in a low yowl. “Did you hear what he said?”

Butterbean nodded. “I did. Polo is right. There’s something wrong there—that girl does not live with her aunt. I don’t think there’s anyone else living there.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Butterbean!” Walt shrieked. “About Mrs. Food! He said she’s not coming back.”

“But what does that mean?” Butterbean said. She’d heard Bob, but she didn’t want to think about what he’d said. Or what it meant. Especially now that Walt was totally losing it. That was never a good sign.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” Walt said in a low voice. “Heist day is NOW.”

12

“WALT, CALM DOWN!” OSCAR SAID. Ever since she’d gotten back with Butterbean, Walt had been literally bouncing off the walls. Oscar flew to a safe perch on the bookshelf as Walt sideswiped his cage. “Walt, be rational. We can’t do the heist right now. We’re not set up for it!”

“But we don’t have time to wait!” Walt said, leaping from the chair to the couch. “We’ve got to move! Butterbean, tell them!”

Butterbean sat awkwardly on the rug. She didn’t seem bothered by Walt’s flight pattern. “It’s true. We heard Bob talking to Madison. He said Mrs. Food can’t come live here anymore. He used the S word.”

She looked around significantly. Marco looked at Polo and shrugged. He knew lots of S words.

“Shelter,” Butterbean said. “He said we’re going to a shelter.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Polo said. She’d seen the commercials on TV, and the animals always looked really sad. She didn’t think the shelter was a real option for her or for Marco, though. She hadn’t ever heard about rescue rats. No, it would be the vents for them.

“The point is, they’re coming for us. If we don’t move now, it’s all over,” Walt said, temporarily pausing on the back of the couch.

Oscar flew over and landed on the cushion beside her. “Walt, think rationally. Look outside.”

Walt turned and looked at the window. It was dark.

“It’s nighttime,” Oscar said. “We can’t move now. People will be in their apartments. They’ll notice if we try to heist now. During the day, neighbors might overlook a random dog or cat or—”

“Octopus,” Butterbean piped up.

“Octopus,” Oscar agreed. Then he frowned. “The point is, this time, we need to stick to our plan.”

“But Bob said…” Walt said.

“Bob.” Oscar gave a harsh laugh. “Bob isn’t going to do anything until his paperwork is done, and who knows how long that will take. We’ll stick to the plan. We’ll make our preparations tonight, as planned, wait until the Coin Man leaves, as planned, and then we move. As planned. We’ll be swimming in gold coins and long gone before Bob even remembers we’re here.”

Walt shook her head. “I don’t know, Oscar. He said shelter.” Walt had been in a shelter as a kitten. She didn’t want to go back.

“There’s always Plan B, right, Marco?” Polo piped up. “If we need it.”

“Plan B? What’s Plan B?” Walt said suspiciously.

“Yes, what’s Plan B?” Oscar said, eyeing the rats. He didn’t like the way they were always coming up with their own plans. Or the way they were always calling them Plan B. It was confusing. And besides, there was only one mastermind of this organization, and they were not it.

“What she means is, there’s always the vents,” Marco said. “We can stay there temporarily, if we need to.” He nudged Polo in the side. “Me and Polo, we know a guy.”

“That’s right!” Polo squeaked. “We know a guy!”

Walt lifted a lip in an attempt at a smile. She didn’t think the vents sounded like a better option.

Oscar sniffed. There was no way he was going to be a vent bird. He’d rather find a tree somewhere and try his luck in the park. But there was no need to tell the rats that, not when they were so close to stealing the treasure. “Yes. Well, it’s good to have a Plan B. And in the meantime, Walt, I think we have something to show you that may convince you!” Oscar nudged Walt awkwardly with his wing.

“Show her! Show her!” Polo and Marco cheered, jumping up and down.

“What? Show her what?” Butterbean barked, jumping up and down too. It was easy to get caught up in the excitement. She couldn’t bounce off the walls as well as Walt, but she was pretty good at up and down.

“Wait here.” Oscar flew into the kitchen. There were a couple of muffled thumps, followed by what sounded like some low-level grumbling. Then they heard the sound of loudly flapping wings.

“What is it? WHAT IS IT?” Butterbean shrieked, thumping her tail on the floor. This was the most exciting week ever in the history of the apartment.

Suddenly Oscar appeared, dramatically framed in the doorway. He hovered for a second, as if he was posing, with Mrs. Food’s large handbag hanging from his claws.

“Look! I’m—” Oscar squawked before suddenly dropping a few inches. He flapped his wings awkwardly and rose back up to the center of the doorway. “Bag! See?” he said quickly, maintaining his altitude this time.

“WHOOOHOO!” Marco and Polo cheered, raising their tiny fists in the air.

Oscar flew into the middle of the living room and dropped the handbag onto the coffee table with a thunk, narrowly missing the rat cheering section.

“We were practicing!” Marco said.

“He can carry the bag! “Polo added.

“Even with his bad back!” Marco said.

Oscar leaned up against the handbag. “I should be able to carry the bag out of the apartment, if it’s only for a few minutes.”

“See? The plan will work!” Polo said.

“We’ll be just like a real outlaw gang,” Marco cheered. “Ooh! We need a name! Something catchy. How about the Coin Robbers? Or Fourth-Floor Bandits?”

“Since we live in the Strathmore building, what about the Strathmore Five?” Polo suggested.

“Or Strathmore Six if we include the octopus.” Marco didn’t want to leave Chad out. He didn’t want any hard feelings in the outlaw gang.

“Done!” Polo cheered. “Six sounds better anyway.” The rats high-fived each other.

“Hmm,” Walt sniffed, then jumped over and nosed the handbag. “Hmm,” she said again, grudgingly. “That’s something, at least.”

“It’s more than something,” Oscar said huffily. “It’s everything. All we have to do is be patient, and we’ll be set. Independently wealthy. Set for life.”

“Set for life,” Butterbean echoed.

“Strathmore Six, set for life!” Polo and Marco cheered.

Walt sighed. “Okay. Set for life. Now let’s get ready.”

When Madison arrived the next morning, the tension in the apartment was so thick that Oscar was surprised she didn’t notice. But she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t seem to notice much of anything.