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“As if I would give a performance for free,” the white cat scoffed. “Please leave me.”

Walt started to go, but then hesitated.“That’s a promise, right?”

The white cat looked at them for a long second.“You really don’t recognize me?”

“Aw crud, another celebrity?” Wallace groaned.

The white cat laughed.“You’re funny. Does this ring a bell?” She stood up on her haunches and then waved both front paws in the air, meowing pitifully.

Walt and Wallace exchanged a confused glance.“Nooo?” Walt said slowly.

The white cat sighed.“Beautiful Buffet Cat Food?” She sighed again. “I’ve acted in almost all of their commercials. I’m retired now, though. You’re one of the lucky few to see me perform off screen.”

“Thanks?” Wallace said.

The white cat bowed her head at him slightly and then turned, tail high in the air.“Put the grate back on your way out,” she called over her shoulder as she stalked out of the room.

Walt and Wallace looked at each other.“So I guess we’re all set?” Wallace asked. “Since they promised?’

Walt had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.“I just hope you’re right.”

“And I had to run around the living room SEVEN THOUSAND TIMES!” Butterbean said when Walt and Wallace got back. “AT LEAST!”

“She was a great distraction!” Polo said as Wallace climbed back into the cage.

Marco nodded.“I couldn’t watch anything else.”

“You should’ve seen when she switched to figure eights,” Polo added. “She almost knocked Mrs. Food into the kitchen!”

Walt gave Butterbean a warning look.“Bean! You know she’s fragile.”

“I did NOT,” Butterbean said, shooting an icy look at Polo. “I was very careful.”

“Heads up, Walt,” Oscar squawked, watching the hallway. “Madison’s coming. She’s been looking for you.”

Walt nodded and hurried to her bed. She had just curled into a ball when Madison came back into the room.

“I still can’t find her anywhe— There you are!” Madison said, walking over to Walt’s bed. She stared at her for a moment with a puzzled expression on her face. “Have you been there the whole time?” She frowned. “I swear I looked there!”

Walt meowed at her sleepily.

“Weird.” Madison patted Walt on the head and then stood up again. “Weird,” she repeated. Then, shaking her head, she went into the kitchen.

“Is it all set?” Oscar asked quietly after Madison had gone.

“All set,” Walt said. “When those ghost men get here, we’ll be ready for them. Trust me, there will be no ghost.”

She just hoped what she said was true.

— 12 —

BUTTERBEAN HAD A BAD FEELING about the ghost men from the minute they set foot in the apartment, mostly because they almost stepped on her. And the worst part was, they didn’t even really seem to notice.

“Watch the dog, please!” Mrs. Food said, scooping Butterbean up in her arms and examining her paw. Butterbean whimpered, mostly for effect. She was always up for a little sympathy.

“Oh yeah, oops. I was just overwhelmed by the spiritual presence in this apartment. I’m not surprised you’ve had trouble,” the first ghost man said, brushing past her as he walked into the room. He had hair that was slicked back, and the smell tickled Butterbean’s nose.

“Really,” Mrs. Food said. Her voice was frosty.

“Yeah, it’s super strong,” the second man said in a bored voice, rubbing his bald head and then smoothing his mustache. He looked around the apartment like he was appraising the furniture. Polo considered hiding her button under a pile of cedar chips. She didn’t trust these guys.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the Bald Guy’s head. “The common household appliance,” he muttered under his breath. He would never forgive himself for missing that News segment.

“It must be quite a presence if you can feel it down here.” Mrs. Food put Butterbean back down on the floor. “I’m Mrs. Fudeker. The apartment we told you about is upstairs. This is my apartment.”

“Sure, I sensed that.” Mr. Slick Hair nodded, shooting a look at the Bald Guy.

“No doubt,” the Bald Guy said. “The whole building is probably a portal.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Mrs. Third Floor said. She held out her hand. “I’m Mrs.—”

“Mrs. Third Floor!” Butterbean barked helpfully. “Her name’s Mrs. Third Floor!” Mr. Slick Hair shot her a nasty look.

“Oh, you don’t need to introduce yourself to me,” Mr. Slick Hair said, taking Mrs. Third Floor by the shoulders and gazing into her eyes. “The pain on your beautiful face tells me just who you are. It’s your apartment that we’re here to see.”

“Oh brother,” Madison said under her breath.

Mrs. Third Floor flushed and giggled.“Oh, well! Yes. It’s my rental unit.”

“Of course it is,” the man said, patting her on the shoulder as he let her go. “Let me introduce myself. My name is—”

“You’re Johnny Sims!” Mrs. Third Floor burbled. “I watch your show every week.” She turned to the Bald Guy. “And you’re—”