The Great Pet Heist

by Emily Ecton

  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.

  “Hi, guys. What’s up?” she said as she walked in, making a beeline for the dining room table. Butterbean had to do some fancy footwork to avoid getting stepped on, and Madison didn’t even blink.

  She had the bunch of papers in her hands, and all of her attention seemed to be focused on them.

  “We’re the Strathmore Six now,” Butterbean said. Madison automatically patted her on the head as she went by.

  “I can probably just sign them, right?” she said to Marco and Polo absently as she poured food into their cage.

  “Sure?” Polo said, trying to be agreeable. It sounded like a legal question, and Polo wasn’t really confident about giving legal advice.

  “HEY!” Marco protested as seeds rained over his head. “Watch what you’re doing!”

  Madison kept pouring the seeds as she looked at the papers.

  Polo reached out and dragged Marco out of the way. “Shh, Marco,” Polo said. “She’s concentrating.”

  “I think those are the papers that Bob gave her,” Butterbean said. “Her aunt is supposed to sign them. But I don’t think she has an aunt.”

  “Of course she has an aunt,” Oscar said. “People have seen her. She can’t just make up an aunt.”

  “Maybe,” Butterbean said. “But I don’t think she has an aunt here. I think her aunt is gone.”

  “Quiet, Butterbean,” Walt said. “Her living arrangements are not our business.”

  “I don’t know—it doesn’t seem right,” Polo said as Madison absentmindedly replaced the lid on their cage. It wasn’t on straight, though, and there was an inch gap over the water bottle.

  “See now, we could totally get out of that,” Marco said. “It’s practically screaming escape route.”

  “We can get out anyway,” Polo pointed out.

  “Well, yeah, but she doesn’t know that,” Marco said.

  “Right?” Madison said to Butterbean, startling Marco and Polo into silence. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. She’d sign it if she was here. So it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, right?”

  “Of course not,” Butterbean woofed quietly. Butterbean didn’t have any problems dishing out legal advice.

  Madison gave a half smile. “Look at me, talking to a dog.” She clipped the leash onto Butterbean’s collar. “I should just do it. It’s no big deal. Right?”

  “Right,”
Butterbean woofed again.

  “I’m doing it.” Madison dropped the leash and dug a pen out of her book bag. She did a few test runs on the back of her notebook, spread the papers out on the table, took a deep breath, and signed.

  “Ruby S. Park. There. It’s done.” She gathered up the papers and shook them at Butterbean. “And if I get into trouble, I’ll tell them you told me to do it.”

  “Wait, what?” Butterbean looked alarmed.

  “Don’t worry, Bean,” Walt said with a smirk. “We’ll come visit you in prison.”

  “Wait, WHAT?” Butterbean yelped.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Oscar said. “Just go for your walk.”

  “Focus on the heist,” Walt said.

  “Right. Heist.” Butterbean shot a nervous look back over her shoulder as Madison dragged her into the hallway and closed the door.

  “That was not nice,” Oscar said quietly.

  Walt shook her head. “That girl is going to ruin everything, isn’t she?”

  Oscar laughed a short, harsh laugh. “Which one, Madison or Butterbean?”

  * * *

  “It’s not even lying, right? Just fudging a little.” Madison kept talking at the elevator. Butterbean was starting to think that she wasn’t really talking to her. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

  Butterbean nodded absently. Walt was right. She needed to focus on the heist, not on whatever Madison was doing. (Which, from what Butterbean could tell, was totally lying and not just fudging.)

  “It’ll be fine,” Madison muttered. Butterbean stared at the floor and tried not to comment. She needed to focus on what was important. There was that weird new stain on the carpet. Butterbean sniffed it and then snorted. Biscuit. She should totally pee on it.

  “I pretty much had to sign, right?” Madison said, tugging on Butterbean’s leash. “If I didn’t, they’d go looking for Ruby, and if that happened, it’d all be over anyway. So I might as well, right?”

  Butterbean wagged her tail in what she thought was an encouraging way. If she peed on the stain, it would just take up extra time they didn’t have. And they couldn’t delay the heist. So she would focus. She deliberately turned her face away from the stain. Focus.

  The elevator light went off and the doors opened. And Madison and Butterbean both took an involuntary step back.

  Because standing in the elevator was the Coin Man.

  “Ah. We meet again,” he said. Madison squared her shoulders and walked into the elevator, punching the lobby button and leaning against the far wall.

  “So silent,” the Coin Man said, staring at her.

  Madison flashed him a tight smile and turned to look straight ahead.

  “Not lurking around my door today?” the Coin Man said. “Why were you doing that, I wonder?”

  He turned sideways in the elevator to watch her as the doors closed. Madison kept her eyes on the lighted elevator numbers.

  “I asked why you were doing that,” the man said, his voice harder.

  “I told you. The dog got loose. Sorry about that.” Madison didn’t take her eyes off the numbers.

  “Ah yes. The dog. Strange that a little dog finds its way to the top floor? Almost… unbelievable.”

  Madison pressed her lips into a thin line but didn’t say anything. Butterbean leaned heavily against Madison’s legs. The thing was, it did sound like a ridiculous story. Too bad for Madison it was true.

  “Your sweater is so sparkly,” the man said, reaching out as if he was going to touch one of the buttons on Madison’s cardigan.

  She shrunk back closer to the wall.

  “That’s what you like? Sparkly things?” the man hadn’t moved, but the elevator suddenly seemed a lot smaller.

  “Lobby,” the elevator voice said.

  “See ya, bye!” Madison blurted as she squeezed out of the opening elevator doors, almost tripping over Butterbean in her rush.

  The man didn’t move. He just laughed quietly as he watched her go. Then he held out his arm to stop the closing doors and strolled into the lobby.

  Bob was leaning on a mop, talking to Mr. Doorman, when Madison rushed over to him.

  She thrust the papers into Bob’s hands, pointing at the bottom of the page. “Here you go, my aunt signed the papers, it should be all set. Okay?”

  Bob stared at her. “Um, sure, but…”

  “Great, thanks!” Madison bent down and picked Butterbean up, pushing past Mr. Doorman into the outer lobby.

  Butterbean bounced along in Madison’s arms as she hurried to the front door. It was different, being carried. It should have felt more relaxing, but Madison’s panic was contagious.

  They were almost outside when Bob’s voice drifted over from the elevator area. “Oh, that? That’s Ruby Park’s niece. You know, on eight?”

  Madison and Butterbean whirled around just in time to see Bob chatting with the Coin Man.

  The man was watching them over Bob’s head. A cold smile spread across his face.

  “Oh great, that’s just what I need,” Madison said under her breath, plopping Butterbean down onto the pavement unceremoniously. “Let’s go, dog. NOW.”

  Butterbean didn’t need to be told twice. Because now she knew two things the others didn’t know. One, the Coin Man was onto them somehow. Or onto Madison at least. And two, he was leaving the building.

  This was going to be the quickest walk in the history of walks.

  It was heisting time.

  13

  “WHOOHOO HEIST DAY!” MARCO CHEERED when Butterbean got back. “Did you see the Coin Man? Is it go time?”

  Marco was ready for some heisting. He bounced up and down in his aquarium and didn’t even care if Madison could hear him. It was pretty obvious she didn’t speak Rat.

  Butterbean nodded as Madison took the leash off. “He just left. But UGH.” She shook violently, spattering Madison with spit. “So creepy.”

  Madison jerked back. “Okay, I’ll see you guys soon.” She suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Um. Hopefully.”

  “She gave Bob the papers,” Butterbean said in a low voice. “The papers that she FORGED.”

  “We’d better move, then. Good thing we know the Coin Man left,” Oscar squawked. If the others were going to talk openly, he might as well too.

  “We don’t know the status of the other man,” Walt said. “But Chad said that he could handle his part even if one of them was there. And he’s ready. So now we just wait for Madison to leave.”

  The animals all turned to look at Madison, who was gathering up her book bag. She slowly looked up, as if she could feel their eyes on her. Then she set the book bag down again and stared back at them. “What?”

  Nobody moved. They just blinked at her. (Except for Butterbean. She couldn’t help doing a little tail wagging, too.)

  “Um,” Madison said. “Did I forget something?”

  “We should warn her to watch out for the Coin Man,” Polo said.

  “She won’t understand us,” Walt said. “Besides, doesn’t she know?”

  “Watch out for the Coin Man!” Butterbean barked.

  Madison picked her book bag back up. “Look, I can’t stay, guys. Is that it? I’ll be back. No matter what, I’ll come back right after school, okay?”

  “I don’t think she understood you,” Polo said to Butterbean.

  “She’s not the best listener,” Butterbean said.

  “No, but if she’s coming back after school, we need to get moving. So she needs to go!” Walt stalked over to Madison, coiling herself around her legs and pushing her in the direction of the door. Once she saw what Walt was doing, Butterbean raced over and pushed too, in a slightly less subtle way.

  “Okay, I get the hint, guys.” Madison hesitated just inside the door and grinned. “You’re all weirdos, you know that?”

  Walt waited until the door closed and then stood stock-still, listening until she heard the elevator ding. Then she relaxed. “She’s gone.”

  “Weirdos and
CRIMINALS, am I right?” Marco said, high-fiving Polo.

  Walt rolled her eyes. “Right. Everyone know what to do? Butterbean?”

  Butterbean picked up her squeaky carrot and nodded. She was on hallway duty. Obviously. She was pretty clearly the queen of the hallways.

  “Oscar?”

  “Window,” Oscar said. He snapped his beak nervously. He wasn’t big on flying outdoors, but it had to be done. He was going to be independently wealthy if it killed him.

  “Marco? Polo?” Walt said.

  “VENTS!” Marco and Polo cheered as they crawled out of their aquarium and raced to the sofa. “Vents, here we come. See you guys soon!”

  They disappeared into the vent shaft, still cheering as they went.

  “Ready, Oscar?” Walt turned her back on the vent.

  “Ready,” Oscar said, taking a deep breath. Walt hurried to the ledge by the dining room table and pushed at the window crank until the window opened. “Chad will open the one upstairs. Ready, Butterbean?”

  Butterbean squeaked her squeaky carrot. She just wished she had a bigger part.

  Walt hurried back to the front door. “Then let’s go. It’s on.”

  * * *

  Marco and Polo peered through the grate into the Coin Man’s apartment. The Coin Man’s Number Two Guy was there, lying on the couch with his feet up on the cushions. He was looking at his phone.

  “Yuck. Unsanitary,” Polo said, looking at his dirty shoes on the beige sofa.

  “Shoot! I was hoping he would be gone too,” Marco said under his breath.

  “Let’s hope Chad can handle him,” Polo said. She scanned the room. “He should be here any minute, right?”

  “Right,” Marco said. “There! Hi, Chad!” Marco waved through the grate. Chad had just emerged from the drain in the kitchen sink and was pulling himself up onto the kitchen counter. He waved a tentacle in the direction of the grate.

  The man on the sofa didn’t notice.

  “Shh! Marco! We’re heisting here!” Polo said, pulling his arm down.