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The white cat inspected her paw.“So let me get this straight. You’re thinking that I’ll step in and save the day for you again by pretendingI’m the one who made this mess? Is that it?”

“Yes?” Butterbean said hopefully.

“No,” the white cat sniffed. “I have an exclusive contract with Beautiful Buffet Cat Food, remember?” She waved the package of caviar treats in the air. “I couldn’t help even if I wanted to. No more side gigs. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Reginald said, staring at the white cat with a baffled expression.

“Um, excuse me. Could I…” Two small, thin hands were trying to grab at the waving treat package. The white cat looked down to see the small raccoon wearing a tube top wiggling its fingers in anticipation. “Would you mind if…” the raccoon said in a tiny voice.

The white cat tossed the package to the raccoon.“Oh, please, take the whole thing. You’re doing me a favor.”

The small raccoon took a treat, examined it, and hurried over to the utility sink to wash it carefully. Then she took a delicate bite.“Oh yes, thank you. Very nice,” she said, her eyes shining. She took one more and then tucked the package into her tube top.

The white cat’s eyebrows shot up. “At least somebody likes them,” she muttered.

“LISTEN UP!” Reginald clapped his hands loudly. “Here’s the solution. We’ll just stop, okay?” He scratched his stomach. “This place is getting old anyway, what with that lady and that maintenance guy always snooping around. Besides, we’ve already found most of the good stuff.”

Butterbean looked at Walt and Oscar.“That sounds good, right? If they just stop? It’ll be all solved then!”

“Well…” A strange look crossed Oscar’s face.

Reginald nodded.“Done.” He turned to the raccoons behind him. “NEW RULE! No more messing things up, okay? From now on everything goes back where you found it.”

“Oooohhhhh.” The raccoons gave a half-hearted thumbs-up before continuing on with what looked like a costume party. (Except for the group in the corner, which had started what sounded like a barbershop quartet.)

“NO!” Oscar said suddenly. “No no no, that’s the absolute worst thing you could do. Do NOT stop.”

“But that’s what we want, isn’t it? For them to stop?” Butterbean was so confused. It was late, and she’d put in a long night of work already. Being a therapist was harder than she’d thought.

“Don’t you see? If they stop now, it’ll look like it was Madison all along,” Oscar said. “Think about it. She’s not coming down here anymore. So if it stops…”

“They’ll still think it was her!” Butterbean said. “We need to make it worse, right?”

Reginald sighed and clapped his hands again.“LISTEN UP! Change of plans. DO NOT put things back where you found them. Let’s mess this place up!”

“WHOOHOO!” The raccoons gave a much more enthusiastic thumbs-up and cheer and flung various bits of clothing into the air. Chad even clapped from the sink (splashing the harmonica raccoon in the process).

“Thank you,” Oscar said to Reginald after the cheering had ended. “I think this will work.”

“It has to,” Butterbean said.

“We’ll make sure it does,” Reginald said. He nudged Butterbean. “And don’t worry, Doc. We’ll put that lady’s stuff back where she’s sure to see it. Clear the kid’s name.”

“Thanks,” Butterbean said, beaming. “You’re a very good patient.”

Reginald’s ears turned pink. “Well, you know. Felt good to talk to someone.”

“Doc?” Walt stared at Butterbean for a long second and then shook her head.

Reginald picked up a throw pillow and tore it in half with his bare hands.“Now, you guys clear out. We’ve got a mess to make!” he said, throwing the fluff in the air.

“Um. Yes. Thanks again,” Oscar said, edging carefully out of the room.

As they waited for the elevator, Oscar felt hopeful for the first time in a long time.“You did it, Butterbean,” he said quietly as he took his place on her head. “You fixed it. Trust me, by tomorrow morning, everything will be back to normal.”

— 16 —

EVERYTHING WAS NOT BACK TO normal. It was worse.

They’d expected to get good news about Madison first thing in the morning, but as the day stretched on, the animals started to get concerned. So when the knock on the door finally came, Butterbean leaped to her feet in excitement. “Finally! Madison’s been cleared!”

“Shh, Butterbean, be calm,” Mrs. Food said, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she walked to the door.

“Sheesh, it took long enough,” Marco grumbled, hopping onto the water bottle for a better view.

“Too bad Madison’s at school,” Polo said. “She’s going to miss the whole thing!”

“It’s probably Bob coming to apologize,” Oscar said smugly. “This will be good.”

The animals watched in anticipation as Mrs. Food opened the door. They were half-right—it was Bob. But he wasn’t coming to apologize. In fact, he’d barely opened his mouth to speak when he was pushed aside by Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six.

“Well, I was right,” Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six gloated. “What do you have to say for yourself?”