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“Cat treat?” The white cat nodded toward the package of caviar treats on the counter.

“For the last time, no.” Polo made a face. “Those things are disgusting.”

“I know,” the white cat said sadly. “So, where is everyone? I thought with everything going on, you’d at least be planning some daring escapade. No plans for a late-night confrontation?”

“What do you mean, where is everyone? We’re right here,” Polo said. “HEY, WALLACE,” she called down. “Wake up!” She turned back to the white cat. “See, there’s Wallace. All accounted for.”

The white cat gave her a pitying glance.“All accounted for except for one bird, one dog, and one black cat. Any idea where they might be?”

Polo’s eyes got wide. “Oh no.” She looked down at Marco and Wallace. “They’re not here?”

The white cat stood back so they could see the living room.“Do you see anyone else?”

The white cat was right. The room was empty. And Polo could just make out a piece of orange paper that had been slipped in between the door and the frame. The piece of paper they used when they needed to sneak out.

“OH NO!” Polo turned to Marco, her eyes huge.

“Basement?” Marco said, climbing out of the cage.

Polo nodded.“BASEMENT! NOW!”

“No way. Forget it,” Reginald said, his face stony. “Absolutely not.”

Oscar reeled back a little. They’d gone from “whatever you need” to “no” in record time. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Why not?” Walt said, lashing her tail.

“What’s wrong with the plan?” Butterbean asked.

“What’s WRONG WITH IT?” Reginald demanded. “You want us to GET CAUGHT!”

“Well,” Butterbean said. “Just a little.”

“And not really CAUGHT caught,” Walt said.

“We just need them to know that Madison’s not the one doing this,” Oscar clarified. “That’s all. We don’t want them to actually catch you.”

Reginald glared at them, his eyes cold.“Look, I’ve got a soft heart. I don’t want the kid to go to jail. But do you KNOW what they do to raccoons that get caught?”

Oscar shifted uncomfortably.“Um. Not exactly.”

“ME NEITHER,” Reginald boomed. He seemed 100 percent back to his old intimidating self. “And I DON’T WANT TO FIND OUT.”

“Urk.” Oscar swallowed hard.

“That goes for these guys too,” Reginald said, waving his arm around at the other raccoons, who seemed to be building blanket forts with some bedding they’d found. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. (Butterbean had the distinct impression he was also counting to ten.)

“I see your point,” Oscar said, frowning. It was true, those didn’t look like raccoons who would do well in captivity. And that was the best-case scenario.

Oscar clicked his beak in frustration. If the raccoons got caught in the act, it would definitely clear Madison’s name. But Reginald was right. He hadn’t fully appreciated the risk to the raccoons.

Oscar stepped forward and gave a slight bow.“Reginald, I have to apologize. I wasn’t considering the implications.” He turned to the others. “We’ll have to come up with something else.”

“But what other options do we have? There’s nothing else. What are we supposed to do?” Walt demanded. “Frame someone? Because I can’t think—”

“Well, look at that.” The white cat stalked into the storage area flanked by Marco, Polo, and Wallace. She sat down and shot an accusing look at Walt and the others. “I thought we’d be leading a rescue expedition, but it looks like somebody forgot to invite us to a party.”

Walt and Oscar exchanged a significant glance.

“You left us behind!” Polo complained, stomping up to Butterbean.

“You should’ve told us,” Marco muttered.

“Yeah,” Wallace said weakly. He still hadn’t quite woken up.

“And you’re buddy-buddy with this guy now?” The white cat nodded toward the big raccoon. “Weren’t you saying something about threats, Oscar?”

A raccoon wearing a tutu reached out slowly toward the button around Polo’s neck. Polo shot him a nervous side eye and edged closer to the white cat.

Oscar shifted his weight awkwardly.“Well, see, Butterbean did some therapy…”

“Oh, of course. Butterbean did therapy. It’s all clear now.” The white cat rolled her eyes as she smacked the tutu raccoon’s hand away. “Puh-leaze.”

“It’s true!” Butterbean said. “And the raccoons are going to help us clear Madison.”

“Oh, so they’re confessing to Bob? Is that it?” The white cat twitched her tail. “Again, I say, PUH-LEAZE.”

Walt shot another significant look to Oscar.

“So we were just um, thinking about you, actually,” Walt said to the white cat in her sweetest voice. “About what a talented actor you are.” She nudged Oscar hard.

Oscar snapped to attention.“Right. So talented.” He swallowed nervously. “And we were hoping… well, we were thinking we could um, hire you? Maybe?”

Butterbean’s eyes grew wide. “OOH! RIGHT! I get it! Like last time! That would be perfect!”

The white cat had done them a favor once, giving a showstopping performance to help get the animals out of some trouble. (She’d done an amazing job. Residents of the building were still talking about it. At least, the white cat was still talking about it.)