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“Maybe you would,” Oscar said. “But it’s not safe, Butterbean.” He hopped farther down the perch to be nearer to Butterbean. “Those raccoons aren’t playing around. That big raccoon, he threatened us. We need to be stealthy. Going down there like I did was a mistake. I was lucky to escape.”

“Besides, thanks to Oscar, Madison and Mrs. Food are going to be watching us all like hawks,” Polo said. “No offense, Oscar.”

“None taken,” Oscar said grimly. He knew it was true. Now that they knew he could get out, he didn’t know what was likely to happen.

“So, what are we going to do?” Marco said finally.

“We’ll figure it out,” Walt said. She flattened her ears as Madison came into the room. “Later. We’ll figure it out later.”

Madison came over and sat down on the floor next to Butterbean, rubbing her ears sadly.“I can’t even investigate, Bean. They won’t let me do anything.”

Butterbean leaned heavily against Madison’s leg. “Tell me about it.”

“I know, I know,” Madison said. “Mrs. Fudeker said she’d handle it. But I’d feel better if we could go down there and see for ourselves. Do a stakeout, like we did with that apartment on the fifth floor! We’d have it solved in no time.”

“We’re working on it, Madison,” Butterbean wuffled softly. “We’ll clear your name.”

“You’ll help too, won’t you, Bean? You’ll keep an eye out for me?” Madison asked.

“Of course I will,” Butterbean said, leaning her head against Madison’s. “Didn’t I just say that?” she whispered to Walt. Walt shrugged.

Madison smiled and hugged Butterbean.“You crazy dog. I know you can’t do anything, but you make me feel better.” She smiled a watery smile and scrambled to her feet. “Good night, you guys,” she said to the animals as she turned and went down the hall to her bedroom.

Butterbean beamed at Walt.“See? What did I tell you? I’m a terrific therapist.”

Since Madison had gone to bed early (after wandering around grousing about how unfair it was that she couldn’t go investigate herself), the animals hoped they’d have a chance to make a new plan. But no such luck. Mrs. Food didn’t seem like she had any intention of going to bed. After Madison went to her room, Mrs. Food picked up her book and started reading. And reading. And reading some more.

“HOW LONG IS THAT BOOK?” Butterbean whined, watching Mrs. Food read. (It was less exciting than it sounded.) “What are we going to do?”

Mrs. Food smiled at her.“Shh, Butterbean. It’s bedtime.” Then she went back to her book.

“How are we supposed to plan with her here? She keeps shushing me!” Butterbean complained in a spitty whisper.

Oscar adjusted his feathers.“We may not be able to take any action tonight. But that might be a good thing. I have to admit, I’m at a loss as to what we should do.”

“Oscar? Quiet down now,” Mrs. Food said without looking up.

Oscar clicked his beak in frustration.“We’ll reassess the situation in the morning,” he whispered, keeping one eye on Mrs. Food. “Come at them when they don’t expect it. Sound good?”

“But we need to do something NOW!” Butterbean whimpered softly.

Walt stalked over to Mrs. Food and sat down, waiting to be petted. Mrs. Food patted her once on the head absentmindedly and then went back to her book. Walt shook her head.“She’s not going anywhere, folks.”

“That settles it. Early night for everyone, and we’ll reconvene in the morning,” Oscar said, fluffing up his feathers. He tucked his head under his wing. To be honest, he hadn’t been looking forward to a long night of planning. It really had been an exhausting day.

“If you say so,” Marco said, stifling a yawn. “Me, I could plan all night, but sleeping on it might be a good idea.”

“Sounds good to me,” Polo said, burrowing into a pile of cedar chips.

“Wallace, we’ll be starting early tomorrow, so you’ll want to stay here,” Oscar said sleepily.

“If you insist,” Wallace said, snuggling down into the cedar chips in the corner of the cage. It was nice to have a sleepover, now that his apartment was off limits.

“But… that’s not… We should…” Butterbean said, veering back and forth between the birdcage and the rat cage. She turned to Walt. “Walt, shouldn’t we do something? What about Biscuit? What about the raccoons?”

Walt sighed.“Mrs. Food is awake and RIGHT THERE. Even if we had a plan, WHICH WE DON’T, we couldn’t do it until really late.” She patted Butterbean on the back. “Oscar is right. We need sleep. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

Walt curled up in her bed and closed her eyes. Then she opened them again.“Butterbean? Go to sleep.”

“But…” Butterbean wuffled, looking around the room and wandering aimlessly for a few minutes. They were right. There was nothing she could do. But doing nothing just felt wrong. Butterbean lay down behind Madison’s book bag on the floor. She might not be able to do anything, but she’d be ready for the morning. She closed her eyes.

A sharp tap on the door startled them open again. Butterbean’s head jerked up. She looked from the door to Mrs. Food. Mrs. Food looked as surprised as she was.