by Emily Ecton
Oscar flew into the kitchen and tore a piece of tape off the dispenser. Then he flew over to Walt, who carefully took it from his beak and taped it over the latch on the side of the door. They repeated the process until they were sure the latch was completely covered. “Better safe than sorry,” Oscar said.
After patting the tape in place to make sure it was secure, Walt batted the rawhide chew out of the way and let the door swing shut. Then she jumped up onto the handle and opened it again.
“Nice work,” Oscar said, flapping his wings happily. “And totally disgusting distraction, by the way.”
Walt grinned.
Part one of the plan was a success.
* * *
Outside at the elevator, Butterbean wasn’t feeling quite so optimistic. There was a weird new stain by the stairway door that she was just itching to investigate, but she didn’t think it was appropriate with a rat hanging from her tummy. Even a nice rat.
In fact, now that she thought about it, there were a couple of other things she wasn’t sure she could do with a rat hanging from her tummy. Two things, in fact. Two very important things.
“Polo,” Butterbean hissed. “What do we do about… you know.”
“What?” Polo said, trying to maintain her grip on Butterbean’s hair.
“YOU know,” Butterbean said again.
“I don’t,” Polo said.
“If you’re under there…” Butterbean said. “And I need to… you know.”
Polo didn’t say anything.
“I’m on a WALK, Polo.”
“OH!” Polo stopped adjusting her grip and just dangled. “We need to rethink this.”
“I don’t want to pee on you!” Butterbean said in a low wail.
“I appreciate that,” Polo said. “We need to figure this out fast.”
The original plan had been for Butterbean and Polo to go out for Butterbean’s usual walk, and when Butterbean smelled the mystery coin owner, Polo would drop down on the ground and investigate. But they hadn’t really considered the actual purpose of Butterbean’s morning walk. Until now.
For the first time in her life, Butterbean was glad the elevator in their building was so slow.
Polo tried to think. “Okay, so let’s be honest. It’s unlikely that you’ll smell the man outside of the building, right? I mean, you definitely found the coin in the lobby?”
“Right,” Butterbean said, craning her head down to look between her legs at Polo.
“Keep your head up! I’m not here, remember?” Polo squeaked.
“Right, not there. Yes, he was definitely in this building.” Butterbean was almost 90 percent sure of that. Maybe a little less. Maybe 80 percent.
“Good. Is there a hiding place in the lobby? Trash can, potted plant, anything like that?”
“Yes, both,” Butterbean said softly.
“Okay, good. This is what we’ll do. I’ll wait there while you head out to do your… um… stuff. Then I’ll grab you when you come back in. I’ll keep an eye on things in the lobby while you’re gone. Heck, maybe I’ll spot him myself.” Not that it was likely, but if it meant not getting peed on, Polo was all for it.
“Okay, got it. New plan,” Butterbean said nervously.
“Look, here’s the elevator,” the girl said, patting Butterbean on the head. “It’s okay, little guy!”
Butterbean barely noticed the head pat. She just hoped the girl was right.
* * *
Oscar pecked at the remote in the living room, periodically craning his neck to peer at the Television. “I know one of these is the surveillance channel. We’ll be able to monitor them as soon as I find it.”
“I should’ve just gone with her. I don’t like this. Too much could go wrong,” Walt said, pacing back and forth.
“You could hardly have hidden on Butterbean’s stomach,” Oscar said, rolling his eyes. Walt was a little bit of a control freak. “Now move. I think you’re blocking the signal.” Walt stalked over to the sofa and sat down.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be okay. Polo will keep Butterbean on track,” Marco said, munching on a sunflower seed in front of the TV.
“Found it!” Oscar said, sitting back and eyeing the screen. The channel was divided into four different views from four different cameras. One showed the lobby and the elevators, one showed the front entrance to the building, one showed the back entrance, and one showed the garage entrance. “We can ignore that last one. I don’t think they’re going to drive anywhere.”
“You never know,” Walt said darkly. “It’s Butterbean. Anything could happen.”
“Look! There they are!” Marco squealed. “They’re on TV!” He hopped up and rushed to the screen, scattering sunflower shells in his wake.
“So far so good,” Oscar said. “The plan is going off without a hitch.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Walt said, flicking a piece of sunflower shell off of her tail.
On the screen, a black-and-white version of the girl and Butterbean walked out of the elevator and crossed the lobby.
“Wait—what was that?” Oscar said. What looked like a small black smudge had dropped onto the floor behind Butterbean. Oscar squinted at the screen. “Something’s wrong. Oh no. Tell me Butterbean didn’t just—”
“It’s POLO!” Marco shrieked. “See that sparkle? Hi, Polo!” He waved wildly at the screen.
“Going off without a hitch, huh?” Walt shook her head at Oscar. “I’m pretty sure the rat wasn’t supposed to fall off in the lobby.”
“No, that was on purpose. Look!” Marco said. “See her duck and weave? That’s her evasive maneuver. She did that on purpose.”
The little black smudge on the screen was, in fact, ducking and weaving across the lobby before finally taking cover beside a potted plant. No one in the lobby seemed to notice.
“Can we tape this? Polo’s on TV!” Marco jumped up and down.
“I don’t think…” Oscar looked uncertain.
“Ooohh! Did she wave? I think she waved!” Marco squealed and waved back. “Hi, Polo!”
“She can’t hear you,” Walt said.
“She did not wave.” Oscar suppressed a groan. He should’ve known better than to work with rats. “She seems to have hidden. Why, I have no idea.” He snapped his beak shut. His perfect plan, ruined by a rat with weak arms.
“Maybe Butterbean conditions too much?” Marco said.
“Maybe Polo needs to work out,” Oscar said.
“Cool it. It’s not over,” Walt said, twitching her tail. “They could still gather the information we need. Just keep an eye on them both.”
“Easier said than done,” Oscar said grimly, watching the blurry security screen. When this was all over, whoever was in charge of those cameras would be getting a very strongly worded complaint letter.
Polo was definitely hard to see. Only the occasional sparkle from the button around her neck gave her position away. And Butterbean, seemingly oblivious to her lost cargo, was slowly ambling out of camera range.
Oscar gritted his beak and hoped for the best.
* * *
“I made it. I MADE IT!” Polo shrieked from her position next to the potted plant. “Go get ’em, Butterbean!”
“See you after I poop!” Butterbean called over her shoulder.
“Okay, bye!” Polo shrieked again. Then she dashed out of the shadow for a second, waving her tiny hand wildly at the ceiling, where she imagined the security camera probably was. (She was a little off.) “Hi, Marco!”
Butterbean couldn’t help but feel relieved that she didn’t need to worry about a rat on her tummy anymore. Bathroom difficulties aside, it made it harder to concentrate on smelling things. And there were so many smells to focus on. Trash smells, cleaning smells, food smells, perfume smells, and that was just inside the lobby. To be honest, there were so many smells, Butterbean wasn’t sure she’d recognize the mystery coin owner even if he was standing right next to her.
She had to focus. She had to get this right. If she
didn’t, Oscar would never let her forget it. Plus, she’d have to come out with a rat on her tummy again, and she definitely didn’t want that.
Luckily, Polo had lots of good ideas, so they’d come up with another new plan, just in case she didn’t find the guy outside. Plan B. But neither of them wanted to try Plan B. (It wasn’t even Oscar approved.)
“You walking this little stinker now, Madison?” the doorman said, smiling as he got up to open the door.
Butterbean stopped walking in astonishment. Stinker?
“For now. Until her person comes back,” the girl, apparently named Madison, said smiling. Butterbean stifled an outraged yip and suppressed her canine instincts, which were to go for the doorman’s bony ankles. Probably the wolf in her. But still, STINKER? And the Madison girl didn’t even defend her. The Coin Man better be worth it.
“Haven’t seen that aunt of yours recently. She okay?”
“Um, sure. Just busy I guess.” Madison shifted. She seemed less happy about that line of conversation than she had about the stinker comment. Weird.
“Well, tell her I said not to be such a stranger, okay?” the doorman said, leaning on the doorframe, blocking Butterbean and Madison’s way out. “Tell her to stop by and see her old pal.”
“Um. Yeah. I’ll tell her,” Madison mumbled, looking at the floor.
“Good, good,” Mr. Doorman said, continuing his lounging act. He didn’t look like he was ever planning to move.
Butterbean frowned. Something was up with Madison, but Butterbean didn’t think it was the stinker insult. Butterbean wuffled under her breath. Sounded like secrets.
That was it. She’d had enough. She had work to do, and she really did need to pee.
In one big dramatic flourish, Butterbean started to hunker down, like she was going to let loose and pee in the lobby. (As if. Biscuit would never let her live that down.)
Mr. Doorman immediately stopped his lounging and sprang into action.
“Oh geez, better get that dog outside, quick,” he said, jumping back and shooing Butterbean toward the exit with his hat. She had to do a little hop to avoid getting whacked in the butt, but it was worth it to get moving again. Butterbean shot him a snippy over-the-shoulder look, snout in the air, and bounced outside.
Mr. Doorman wasn’t important. Madison’s secrets weren’t important. Butterbean couldn’t let herself get distracted. What was important was the smell. The Coin Man smell. This was it. It was up to her now. Sniffer powers, activate.
* * *
Polo watched Butterbean and Madison leave the building, and then she hung out under the potted plant, trying to look casual. Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded—she didn’t know what to do with her hands. But it didn’t really matter anyway, because no one was looking at her.
Polo was starting to have doubts about the whole plan, actually. She’d originally thought the hanging-under-the-dog’s-tummy part was going to be the worst part, but now that she’d had a little alone time with the plant, she was noticing some problems. The whole thing depended on Butterbean and Polo bumping into the Coin Man. But what if they didn’t?
Polo couldn’t help but notice that nobody in the lobby looked like their coin guy. In fact, there weren’t that many people at all, except for the doorman guy sitting on his stool humming along with the Muzak. And Polo. And she wasn’t smelling anything that smelled like gold coins.
At least she and Butterbean had come up with a new plan of their own. Plan B. But she sure didn’t want to do that. Heck, Polo wasn’t even sure they COULD do it.
Polo leaned against a leafy branch (which didn’t even look real, now that she had time to examine it) and laughed at herself softly. She was being so silly. Oscar was great at planning. Much better than Polo. That bathroom thing had been just a weird accident. His plan would work fine. Butterbean had probably smelled the guy by now. There was nothing to worry about.
* * *
Butterbean had not smelled the guy. She hadn’t smelled anything remotely like the guy, and she’d even taken extra time to smell the newspaper box and the bus stop bench. Nothing. (Well, not nothing. Lots of somethings. Biscuit, for one. But no Coin Man.)
She’d dawdled as much as she could doing her business, but unless the girl Madison wanted to do another lap around the block, the next stop would be back inside. And Plan B.
Butterbean decided to try for another lap around the block.
“Oh no, that’s it for you,” Madison said, jerking on the leash as Butterbean tried to hustle past the building entrance. “I’ve got to get myself to school, okay? I can’t walk you all day. I can’t even be late, or they might try to call my aunt and then… well, I just can’t be late.” Madison leaned down and pushed Butterbean in the direction of the building.
Butterbean hardly thought pushing was necessary. She gave up and slunk toward the entrance. Maybe the man would be in the lobby. He probably was. He was probably talking to Mr. Doorman right that minute, dropping gold coins left and right.
Madison held the door open and ushered Butterbean inside.
Butterbean stopped in the doorway and did a quick scan of the lobby. High-heel feet with too much perfume. Biscuit’s dog walker, the one with the squeaky shoes. Polo, under the plant, waving like a maniac. That was it. No Coin Man, no coin smells. Nothing. She slumped against the doorframe.
Butterbean was a failure.
“Get moving, okay? Wow, you’re a weird dog,” Madison said, scooching Butterbean over to the elevator.
Butterbean was a failure and a weird dog.
She had a hard time looking Polo in the eye. But when she finally did, Polo didn’t look disappointed. She looked freaked out. And to be honest, a little crazy.
“That’s it, then?” Polo asked. If they were going with Plan B, they had to do it now.
“That’s it.” Butterbean hung her head.
Polo took a deep breath. “Okay. Initiate Plan B.”
7
“SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Walt asked Oscar as they watched the surveillance feed.
“I think it looks great! So exciting! This is better than a movie!” Marco said enthusiastically. “I just wish we had a piece of popcorn to go with it!”
Oscar shifted from one foot to the other as he side-eyed Marco. “It doesn’t appear that the man with the coins has been found.”
“No,” Walt agreed.
They’d watched as Butterbean distracted the doorman and went outside. They’d waited, trying to catch a glimpse of Polo hidden under the potted plant. But now Butterbean was back, and the only thing she seemed to be doing was standing and sniffing the lobby.
“I don’t think anyone there looks like our guy,” Walt said.
“I think that one’s a lady,” Marco said, pointing at the screen.
“What I can’t understand is why Polo and Butterbean didn’t stick to the plan,” Oscar said. “Why was Polo under that plant? Why didn’t she go outside with Butterbean?” Oscar ruffled his feathers and sighed loudly. “Well, that’s it, then.”
“Try again tomorrow?” Walt asked.
“What else is there to do?” Oscar shrugged his wings.
They didn’t know about Plan B.
They watched as Butterbean and the girl waited for the elevator. When the doors opened, Oscar leaned forward to peck the remote to turn the Television off. But a paw across the face stopped him cold.
“Walt, what—”
“What are they DOING?” Walt gasped. She jumped to her feet and rushed forward to press her nose against the screen.
Oscar’s jaw dropped. “Are they INSANE?”
Plan B had started.
* * *
Butterbean felt like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It had seemed okay when Polo had suggested it in the elevator, but that was before they thought they’d actually have to do it. When Butterbean’s biggest concern was keeping a rat from hitching a ride on her tummy while she peed. That didn’t seem like such a big deal now that Plan B was about t
o go into effect.
“You ready?” Polo squeaked from her position under the plant. She wasn’t getting back onto Butterbean’s tummy. That part of the plan was OVER.
“Ready,” Butterbean yipped, stealing a peek up at Madison. The girl was twirling the end of the leash and shooting nervous glances at Mr. Doorman. She wasn’t paying attention to Butterbean.
Good.
The elevator bell dinged in the lobby.
The doors opened. The elevator was empty.
“NOW!” Polo shrieked, rushing quickly through the open elevator doors.
“GOT IT!” Butterbean shrieked back, jerking the leash out of Madison’s hand as she ran at top speed away from the elevator.
“Butterbean, NOOOO!” Madison yelled.
Butterbean skidded across the lobby, slid into the plate glass window, and bounced off, turning back just as Madison started running toward her. Perfect.
Butterbean skidded between Madison’s legs and tumbled into the elevator just as the doors started to close.
“Grab my leash! Grab my leash!” Butterbean squealed. Polo desperately tugged at the leash, which was lying partly in the lobby and partly inside the elevator, still attached to Butterbean.
“I’m trying!” Polo said, jerking the leash inside just as the doors slammed shut.
“Whew!” Polo hunched over with her hands on her knees and took a deep breath. “Okay, now hurry, give me a boost!”
Butterbean stood with her paws on the elevator panel and tried not to give in to the heebie-jeebies as Polo raced up her back and perched on her head. Paws flying, Polo pushed the button for every single floor.
“You can skip four—that’s us,” Butterbean said. She was trying to keep her head still so Polo wouldn’t lose her balance, but she wanted to see what Polo was doing.
“Too late,” Polo said, settling back between Butterbean’s ears. “I pushed them all. Now get ready.”
“Ready,” Butterbean said. She positioned herself in front of the elevator door, waiting.
