by Emily Ecton
Wallace made a sad face. “No, not too many. Just me, actually, although I have a nice circle of friends who live out back in the loading dock. Are you all looking to relocate?”
Polo and Marco exchanged a nervous glance. “Not exactly. But our circumstances may be changing, so…” Polo hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she should confide in Wallace. She didn’t really want to tell him about Mrs. Food, or the coin guy.
“Look, it’s like this,” Marco said. He wasn’t the least bit worried about confiding. “Our living situation is a little iffy right now, so we’re treasure hunting. Hoping to be independently wealthy, if you know what I mean. We’ve got a lead on some treasure, and we’re going to scope it out right now, in fact.”
“Way to go, Marco,” Polo muttered. Sometimes he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
Wallace looked skeptical. “Treasure? In the vents? I haven’t seen it.”
“Not in the vents, in one of the apartments,” Marco boasted. “We’re on a mission, see.”
“Oh,” Wallace said. “That sounds nice.”
Polo rolled her eyes. “The treasure may not even exist, okay? But the problem is that we’re lost. Can you help us find the apartment?”
Wallace shrugged. “I could probably help. What floor is it? You’re in the seventh-floor vents at the moment. That’s my preferred floor. Primo accommodations on Floor Seven.”
“It’s not seven. It’s the top floor. Apartment B,” Polo said.
Wallace went pale. Polo could actually see the blood drain out of his face as she spoke. He cleared his throat. “Apartment B?”
“That’s right,” Polo said. “On the top floor. Do you know it?”
“Oh no. No no no. No indeed no, I don’t go there. Not to that apartment. Have you SEEN that man who lives there?” Wallace took a few steps back. “If there’s treasure in that apartment, you should leave it alone. I think you should just go home. Or if your living situation changes, live here in the vents with me! There’s plenty of room. Floor Five seems quite nice.” Wallace clenched his hands together and leaned forward. “I would stay away from that apartment. I really would.”
Marco and Polo exchanged a worried glance.
“That’s the thing,” Marco said. “We really can’t. We need to at least look inside.”
“It’s important,” Polo explained. “We’ll be careful.”
Wallace clenched his jaw and sighed. “Okay. I can show you the way. But I won’t go to that floor with you. You’re on your own there.”
“That would be fine,” Polo said. The fur on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably. And she’d thought the guy was creepy enough before Wallace freaked out. She was starting to hate Oscar’s ideas.
“It’s this way,” Wallace said, climbing into an up vent that was partially concealed by a pipe.
Marco and Polo followed silently. If this rat who had started a new life in the wild was too afraid to go to the Coin Man’s apartment, what the heck were they doing?
Wallace pulled Polo and Marco up after him into the eighth-floor vents. Then he patted Polo on the shoulder. “Remember, you always have a home in the vents. And if you wanted to bring some snacks when you moved in, that would be good too. I have some perfect storage spots for seeds and whatnot.”
“We’ll bring you some corn and sunflower seeds either way,” Marco said. “We owe you one.”
“Just be careful,” Wallace said. “Good luck.” He grabbed Marco by the hand and clasped it tightly. Then he scurried away without another word.
Marco turned to Polo. “So, should we just go on up?”
Polo shook her head as she looked around. “Let’s look into some of the apartments first. Get our bearings. I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”
She scurried down to the apartment grate at the end of the vent. “According to Butterbean this should be… what?”
Marco frowned as he thought. “Butterbean said that one apartment on this side smelled weird and pretzely, and one smelled like Axe Body Spray.”
Polo rolled her eyes. “Axe Body Spray? I’ll take a look. Catch me if the smell knocks me out.” She sniffed cautiously at the grate. “Not the Axe Body Spray one.”
She peeked up into the vent. “Huh. It does smell kind of empty and pretzelish. I wonder who—HEY!” Polo’s whiskers bristled, and her eyes widened. “Marco! It’s the girl!”
Marco turned to look so quickly that he bruised his nose on the grate. “OUR girl? She lives in this one?”
They pressed their faces to the grate to get a closer look. Madison’s pink backpack was on the kitchen table, and she was sitting alone reading a book.
“Why don’t I smell other people there?” Polo said. “Heck, I barely smell her.”
“Your nose isn’t as good as Butterbean’s, I guess. It makes sense that the girl lives somewhere, though, right? Why not here? Bob lives here. In the building, I mean.”
Polo shook her head as she watched Madison read. “It feels wrong. Something is wrong. I don’t like this.”
Marco gasped. “Oh man. You’re right something is wrong. Look at her.”
Madison had stopped reading. She put her book down on the table and stood up. Then she picked up her jacket and a set of keys hanging by the door.
“What?” Polo said, watching Madison put her shoes on. “What’s so wrong?”
“We’ve taken too long,” Marco said, pointing at Madison. “She’s leaving. Don’t you see?”
He grabbed Polo by both shoulders.
“She’s leaving to go take care of us.”
10
“IT’LL BE FINE, RIGHT?” POLO leaped like a rat Olympic high jumper into the up vent. “The others will cover for us. The girl will never suspect that we’re gone.”
“Maybe Walt will pretend she ate us. I’d buy that,” Marco said, pulling himself up into the vent after her.
“Walt would never eat us,” Polo scoffed.
“Maybe not before. But NOW? If we’ve messed this up, she’ll be super mad. We need to hurry!” Marco looked wildly around the top-floor vent. He didn’t know how Wallace could tell them all apart. “Is it that one?” He pointed to a shadowy grate a few feet away.
“I think so,” Polo said. “Now calm down. We have to do this right. It won’t do us any good to panic.” She edged toward the grate. She could practically feel the Coin Man waiting for her. She braced herself and nodded at Marco. “Let’s go.”
* * *
The elevator ding in the hallway took Walt, Oscar, and Butterbean by surprise. Walt was taking care of a little personal hygiene, Oscar was having a millet snack, and Butterbean was playing with a piece of fluff on the floor. None of them expected Madison to come back so soon. Butterbean sat up so quickly that she inhaled her fluff. “Madison?” she coughed.
Walt stopped midlick, her ears swiveling toward the door.
“Oh no,” Butterbean gasped.
“Urk,” Oscar choked, spitting out a flurry of millet shells.
“It can’t be,” Walt said. Surely it was someone for some other apartment. “It can’t be time yet.”
“I do need to pee,” Butterbean said. She hadn’t wanted to mention it before, but it was true.
A key turned in the lock. The three stared at one another in horror.
“Quick. Distractions. Don’t let her see they’re gone,” Oscar said, flying around his cage and hopping on the perch. “Do whatever it takes!”
The door opened, and Madison stepped inside smiling. “Hey, you guys!” she said brightly.
“Butterbean, go,” Walt said under her breath. Butterbean nodded and launched herself at Madison.
“How’s it—oof!” Madison was abruptly cut off by the small furry dog slamming into her kneecaps. “HEY!”
“OUT OUT, OH PLEASE TAKE ME OUT OUT OUT,” Butterbean wailed, jumping up and down.
“That should do it,” Walt said softly, hopping up onto the table next to Marco and Polo’s empty aquarium. She lounged casuall
y in front of it, trying to hide the lack of occupants from view.
“Okay, sure, little guy, just give me a second,” Madison said, laughing and trying to dodge Butterbean’s wild jumps in the air. “Just let me check on the others real quick. Then we’ll go.”
“OH NO, NO TIME, NEED TO PEE, PLEASE PLEASE,” Butterbean yelped, doing her best need-to-pee dance. Oscar watched, impressed. She was really outdoing herself.
Madison patted at Butterbean absently and made her way over to Oscar’s cage. “Everything okay, bird?”
“Fine,” Oscar said in his human voice.
“Oh.” Madison reeled back, shocked. “Well, good.” Oscar eyed her carefully.
Butterbean slowed her pee dance down to a lazy shuffle and frowned at Madison. “I should totally pee on the floor. She would deserve it.”
“Please don’t, Bean,” Walt said, draping herself over the aquarium dramatically. “You’re doing great.”
“It’s like she doesn’t even understand urgency,” Butterbean lamented, doing a jig around the entryway.
“And how are you?” Madison said, walking over to Walt. “Are you okay? You look… strange?”
Walt blinked at her.
“And how are your little friends?” Madison said, bending down to peer inside the aquarium.
“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!” Oscar screeched. “Distraction, Walt!”
Walt scanned the area for options. A water glass that Mrs. Food had left on the table was standing nearby. Walt reached out slowly and put a paw on it.
Madison stopped immediately. “Oh no. Don’t do that.”
Walt meowed and pushed the glass an inch forward.
“Good kitty. Just leave the glass alone.” Madison stepped forward, her hands outstretched.
Walt pushed the glass closer to the edge of the table, paused, and then shoved it slowly off the edge.
“No!” Madison lunged forward and caught the glass in midair. “Whew! Silly cat!”
She carried the glass into the kitchen and put it in the sink. Then she grabbed Butterbean’s leash and came back to the living room. “Good grief, what’s with you guys today?”
She clipped the leash onto Butterbean’s collar and opened the door.
Butterbean smirked as she trotted out of the house. “About time!”
“Thank goodness,” Oscar said, slumping down on his perch. “We did it.”
“For now,” Walt said, turning to look at the vent.
* * *
“But this doesn’t make sense.” Polo peered through the dusty grate. “This is the apartment with the treasure? This place is so… BORING.”
“Right? Where are the piles of jewels? Where’s all the gold?” Marco looked around at the beige living room. He’d expected walls encrusted with gems, or maybe some kind of seedy criminal lair. Not boring tweed sofas and vinyl chairs.
Polo scurried down the vent to the next grate along the line. Standing on her hind legs, she quickly peered inside. It was a standard bedroom, nothing flashy or special. Definitely not a treasure lair. “Beige,” she muttered. “Everything is beige.”
“Weird. It’s not personal AT ALL,” Marco said.
“It’s like it’s all rented.” Polo brightened. “Maybe that’s it! Maybe this is just a place where they stash their loot!”
“Okay, sure,” Marco agreed. “But then where’s the loot?”
“I don’t know.” Polo had never felt so confused. Knowing whose apartment it was, she’d expected cold waves of evil to come from everything inside, but it was all just so ordinary.
Marco pointed down the vent. “There’s one more grate. We could try it. But I think it’s the—”
“Oh no,” Polo squeaked. “Marco, that’s the bathroom grate. No thank you. You can check if you want.” She rolled her eyes. She’d never heard about treasure stashed in the bathroom.
“I’ll just take a quick look-see,” Marco said, heading down to the final grate. He stuck his eye up to one of the gaps. He’d hardly taken a look when he squeaked and jumped back. “Polo! It’s—there’s someone here! Look!”
Polo rushed to the grate and then hung back. “I can’t look!”
“Why not?”
“They’re in the bathroom!”
“Just look! It’s not embarrassing. And it’s NOT the creepy guy! No blue eyes!”
Polo covered her eyes (in case the person in the bathroom needed a little privacy), but as soon as she took a peek, she dropped her hands in shock.
“Who’s that guy?” she squeaked.
The man at the bathroom sink wasn’t the creepy Coin Man. This guy had shaggy hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing a shiny-looking suit. He didn’t seem particularly friendly, but he wasn’t giving Polo the heebie-jeebies like the other man had. He didn’t look like he’d eat her for lunch.
Marco and Polo pressed their faces to the grate, watching as the shaggy guy dried his hands on his pants and then headed out into the living room.
“Quick, to the other grate!” Marco squealed, hurrying back toward the living room.
“A second guy,” Polo said under her breath. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“No, and what’s worse, there’s no sign of treasure at all,” Marco called over his shoulder.
“Of course not, not in the bathroom,” Polo scoffed.
“But, Polo. Maybe Butterbean was wrong?” Marco slumped against the grate. “Oh man, we’re going to be living in the vents after all.” He ruffled his hands through the fur on his head. “I don’t even know if there’ll be room for Walt and Butterbean and Oscar. Do you think they can squeeze?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not living in the vents,” Polo said. At least she hoped not, because the others would absolutely not be able to squeeze. “Butterbean’s nose is reliable. Just keep watching.”
The shaggy-haired man was looking in the refrigerator, apparently unhappy with what he saw. He stared inside for a few minutes and finally closed it without getting anything. Then he opened a couple of cabinets, sighed, and closed them again.
“I know that feeling,” Marco muttered.
The man took out his phone and started looking at it.
“That’s it,” Marco said, pushing away from the grate. “There’s no point in watching this. We failed. Again. There’s nothing we can do.”
“We can’t give up!” Polo squeaked. “Sure, it’s all boring. But it’s surveillance! It’s supposed to be boring!”
Marco sighed. “I think we were wrong, Polo. I don’t think there’s any treasure. Maybe it was just the one coin.”
Polo clenched her jaw. “What did you want him to do, just pull out the coins and start counting them?” she said. “Pretty unrealistic, Marco. This isn’t a movie.”
“I expected something!” Marco said, waving his arm in the direction of the grate. “More than this!”
The man in the apartment put down his phone and sighed. Then he opened the cabinet-style end table by the couch and took out a small duffel bag. He hoisted it onto the coffee table, unzipped it, and dumped out a stash of gold coins.
“Holy cow,” Polo said in a low voice.
Marco’s eyes bugged out as he looked at the pile. “Guess it wasn’t so unrealistic after all, huh.”
“I guess not.” Polo raised her hand for a high five. “Whoohoo!”
“Whoo!” Marco echoed, high-fiving her. “We did it! We found the coins. And boy, there are a LOT of them.”
“Tons,” Polo said. “Good news for us, right?”
“Right!”
They watched the man counting the gold pieces in front of him. It was strangely soothing. They were so shiny.
Finally Marco shot Polo a sidelong look. “How are we ever going to carry a bag like that?”
Polo didn’t answer. She just stared at the pile of coins and the duffel bag that was almost as big as Butterbean.
* * *
Walt was trying to look calm, but her tail was twitching wildly. She didn’t think she would be ab
le to keep Madison from noticing the aquarium again. It was pretty obvious the rats weren’t in it.
“Maybe I could pretend my wing is broken? Do a big show of flapping around?” Oscar said thoughtfully. He’d done a little acting in his younger days. Maybe it was time to get back to his roots.
“Sure, but what would she do then, take you to the vet?” Walt said. “We don’t want that.”
“No, true,” Oscar said, shuddering. He definitely didn’t want to go to the vet. “So no wing. Another hairball?”
“I can try, but I’d rather not.” Hairballs were Walt’s specialty, but she hated to overuse them.
“We’ll keep that as a backup then. As a last resort.” Oscar tapped his beak against the bars of his cage. “Should I soil my newspaper?”
“Do you think she’d notice?” Walt asked.
“Hmm. Maybe not,” Oscar admitted.
“Still, it’s worth a try,” Walt said. Marco and Polo had been gone a long time. She’d been so sure they would be back before Butterbean and Madison returned, but now she was afraid they might not come back at all. They didn’t really know anything about those vents, after all. Anything could have happened.
The elevator dinged in the hallway.
“The girl?” Oscar asked.
“I think so.” Walt took a deep breath and stood up. She took one last glance at the vent. Empty.
“I’m ready to soil as needed,” Oscar said.
“Thanks,” Walt said as she listened to Butterbean’s tags jingling in the hallway. “Here we go.”
As the key turned in the lock, Walt heard a loud skittering behind her. Marco and Polo ran out into the living room just as the door started to swing open.
“Rats! Take cover!” Oscar screamed. “It’s the girl!”
“Shoot!” Marco squeaked in alarm, immediately bumping into Polo and knocking them both over.
Walt took one look at the slapstick rat routine behind her and made a decision. And as Madison walked in the door with Butterbean, she sprang.
“Whoa!” Madison squealed as Walt hit her full in the chest, knocking her back. “Cat!”
