The Great Pet Heist

by Emily Ecton

  Walt held on with her claws and scaled Madison’s chest until she’d reached Madison’s shoulders, immediately whipping her tail into Madison’s face. “GO GO GO!” Walt meowed as she coiled her body around Madison’s head.

  “GO!” Marco said, grabbing Polo by the hand and giving her a boost up the table leg. The two scrambled for the aquarium as Madison staggered out of the entryway.

  “Should I wrap my leash around her legs?” Butterbean barked excitedly. “That could be fun!”

  “We don’t want to kill her!” Oscar squawked.

  “Oh, okay,” Butterbean pouted, sitting down on the rug. “It’s safe now, Walt! They’re inside again.”

  Marco and Polo slid down the water bottle into their cage, flopping into a pile in the cedar chips and pretending to be asleep. It wasn’t hard to do. They were both exhausted. The wheel didn’t keep them as in shape as they’d thought.

  “Sheesh, cat, I’m glad to see you, too, but come on!” Madison managed to scoop Walt off her shoulders and set her down gently on the couch. “Good kitty,” she said, patting Walt on the head.

  Walt ignored her and started licking her tail.

  Madison snorted and turned to the other animals. “Okay, so everybody good, then? Anybody else crazy today? Rats?” Madison peeked into their aquarium. “Rats are good? Bird? Good? Okay then. See you guys.” She staggered back toward the door and grabbed for the handle. “Sheesh!”

  She scooted through the doorway quickly, like she expected the animals to jump her again, and then she was gone.

  Marco rolled over on his back and groaned. Polo popped her head out of the aquarium. “Is it safe? Because oh man, we’ve got problems.”

  11

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S another guy?” Walt said, lashing her tail in frustration. Butterbean stepped quietly to the side. Walt had already hit her in the face with it three times. It kind of stung.

  “That’s what we saw! There’s another guy!” Marco insisted. “He was counting the coins!”

  “He’s not as creepy as the main guy. But we still have to get past him, too,” Polo pointed out. “That’s TWICE as many guys.”

  “Not to mention figuring out how we’re going to carry such a HUGE bag of coins. That thing was as big as Butterbean!” Marco said. “I was thinking Oscar could grab it, but how could he fly with it? It’d be so heavy!”

  “He has a bad back!” Polo said, pointing at Oscar.

  “It’s not that bad,” Oscar said, shifting awkwardly. So he had a few twinges every now and then. It’s not like he was totally incapacitated.

  “We thought maybe we could pass the coins under the door and drag them down in the elevator,” Marco said.

  “But we still have to get someone on the inside! And how do we do that? Again, we were thinking Oscar, but how do we get those open?” Polo said, waving her arms at the windows.

  “And again, bad back!” Marco squeaked.

  Polo slumped against the table leg. “We have a lot of issues to work out.”

  “Hold on,” Walt said, pacing back and forth in front of the Television. “Hold on.”

  “Okay,” Butterbean said uncertainly.

  Everyone watched as Walt stalked across the floor, head down, obviously deep in thought.

  “Hold on,” Walt said again, even though nobody had said anything. The others kept watching.

  “Hold on to what?” Butterbean said finally.

  “I’ve got it.” Walt sat down on the carpet. “Problem solved. We can do this.”

  “Wonderful,” Oscar said cautiously. “Mind telling us how?”

  “I’ve got a guy,” Walt said. “He can help us. He can handle the inside work.”

  “You’ve got a guy,” Oscar said.

  “I’ve got a guy.” Walt lashed her tail in satisfaction.

  Oscar opened his mouth and then shut it again. Butterbean cocked her head to the side.

  “We’ll have to ask him, but if we present it the right way, I think he’ll do it,” Walt said confidently. “It’s perfect.”

  Butterbean cocked her head even farther to the side.

  “You’ve got a guy,” Oscar said again.

  Walt nodded.

  Butterbean erupted.

  “YOU’VE GOT A GUY?” Butterbean lifted off the ground with every word. “WHO ARE YOU? You’ve got a guy! You’ve got a secret vent! You have computer skills! THERE ARE RATS AND YOU KNEW! It’s like I don’t even KNOW you anymore, Walt!”

  “The dog has a point,” Oscar said dryly.

  “Calm down, Bean,” Walt said. She’d never seen Butterbean get so worked up. The stress was obviously taking a toll.

  “DON’T ‘BEAN’ ME!” Butterbean yelped. “YOU HAVE A SECRET LIFE.”

  “Is it Bob?” Marco asked. “Is he your guy?”

  Walt blinked. “Bob? No. Why would it be Bob?” The idea that she’d have a secret connection to Bob was more than a little disturbing. What kind of cat did they think she was?

  “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 l
ooked 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 wa
tch 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.”