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“Me too,” Marco said, climbing up onto the water bottle. “Oooh, you know what this calls for? I think this calls for an investigation!”

“Yes!” Polo narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t Mrs. Food give Butterbean any of her tuna fish? Very suspicious, if you ask me. Mysterious, even.”

“Yeah! Mysterious!” Marco agreed. “We should definitely investigate.”

Oscar groaned. There hadn’t been much to investigate since they’d solved the mysterious haunting of Apartment 5B, it was true. But that didn’t mean the rats hadn’t tried. There had been the mysterious case of Madison’s missing hairbrush. (It fell behind the bed.) Mrs. Food’s suspicious behavior involving a series of mysterious and very short phone calls. (Telemarketer.) And the mysterious disappearance of Walt’s favorite seafood treats. (Chad ate them. He was an octopus they knew who lived on the eighth floor. And to be honest, he was usually behind any mysterious food disappearances.) Oscar was beginning to think that the rats didn’t really understand the meaning of the word “mysterious.”

“That’s not a mystery,” Oscar said. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Are we sure, though?” Polo asked. “Seems kind of mysterious to me.”

“Maybe we should investigate why it isn’t mysterious,” Marco said thoughtfully.

“Maybe we should investigate why you want to investigate everything,” Walt said, resuming her paw licking. “Begging isn’t allowed. Mystery solved.”

“I WAS NOT BEGGING!” Butterbean barked. “I WAS WATCHING CLOSELY.”

Walt rolled her eyes.“Fine. Watching closely is also not allowed. Not at mealtimes.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Marco said. Walt was an amazing investigator.

“You know,” Oscar said thoughtfully. “Since there aren’t any crimes going on, I think it might be time for us to officially retire.”

“Retire?” Marco gasped. “You meanretire retire?” As far as he was concerned, being an investigator was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Well, that and being part of an International Crime Syndicate. Not many rats had that kind of r?sum?.

“Can you even retire from being an investigator?” Polo asked.

“I think we can,” Oscar said. “Besides, we have lots of other things to do now. I, for one, am thinking of improving my Human language skills. How does this sound?” He cleared his throat.“Quiet, Oscar!” He looked around expectantly.“That was me being Mrs. Food, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“I could tell,” Butterbean said. She’d heard Mrs. Food say that a lot.

Walt raised one eyebrow.“Impressive.”

Polo shot Marco a look.“Um, yeah. It sounded just like her.”

“Like looking in a mirror!” Marco piped up. “Or, no. I mean…”

“OOOHHH! Do the elevator lady voice next!” Butterbean said, wagging her tail. She loved the voice in the elevator that told you what floor you were on.

“It’s just a little something I’ve been working on,” Oscar said, preening. “I still need more practice.”

“What needs more practice?” Wallace, a wild rat who used to live in the vents, peeked around the edge of the sofa to make sure it was all clear.

“We’re talking about retiring from the investigating business,” Polo explained. “We’ve all got lots of other things to do. Oscar is going to work on his Human language skills.”

“Yeah,” Marco said. “And me and Polo, we’re, um…” He hesitated, looking around the cage. “Well, these seeds aren’t going to sort themselves,” he said, staring at the scattered seeds doubtfully.

“And I’m going to be a therapist!” Butterbean said.

Everyone stared at her.

Wallace shot a look at Polo, who shrugged.“Um, sure, okay,” Wallace said finally. “Well, I’m super busy too. I finally moved out of Apartment 5B and set up my sleeping bag behind the couch in 7C.” Wallace had used one of Madison’s pom-pom socks as a sleeping bag during a stakeout once, and he may have forgotten to give it back.It was one of his prized possessions.

“Wait, 7C? Mrs. Power Walker’s apartment? Are you moving there for sure?” Butterbean asked. Mrs. Power Walker was one of Butterbean’s favorite residents in the Strathmore Building. She was always really friendly in the elevator, pushing buttons when needed and never asking questions. The perfect neighbor.

Wallace shrugged.“I’m not ready to move my collection of lost keys in or anything, but it looks promising. She leaves a bowl of milk out every night, so that’s a plus. She says it’s for the brownies. I think that’s a kind of fairy,” Wallace explained.

“No, brownies are like cookies but fatter,” Butterbean said. “Like flat cake.”

“That’s true,” Polo agreed. “Madison eats them.”

Oscar closed his eyes. He decided not to say anything.

“Well, I haven’t seen any, so I think it’s fair game,” Wallace said. “I’m not turning down free milk.”

“Sure,” Butterbean said. Free milk was free milk.

“See? It sounds like we won’t even miss being investigators,” Oscar said, clicking his beak. “What with Wallace’s new apartment, Marco and Polo with their seed sorting, Walt with her…”

“Relaxing,” Walt said. “I’m planning on doing some high-quality relaxing.”

“Right. Relaxing. And Butterbean with her—”