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“Mrs. Fudeker?” A small woman slipped in the front door and almost bumped into Madison. The woman jumped back in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry, but…” She looked at Madison in confusion. “Who is this? Mrs. Fudeker? I understood you lived alone?”

Mrs. Food raised her eyebrows significantly at Madison.“Sheila, this is—”

Madison leaped forward, hand extended.“I’m Madison Park. I live here. With Mrs. Fudeker.” She shook Sheila’s hand enthusiastically.

“You live here! But…” The woman frowned and looked at her clipboard.

“It’s all set up in my Family Care Plan,” Madison said, a huge smile plastered on her face. “I’m living here while my aunt is deployed.”

“That’s true,” Mrs. Food confirmed.

The small woman nodded and flipped through the papers.“But Mrs. Fudeker, all your paperwork says you live alone.”

“Nope! Not alone. With me,” Madison said brightly. “It’s all set up.”

Mrs. Food made a face.“I’ve been telling people all along I didn’t need placement in assisted living. Not with Madison as my caregiver.”

“I’m very helpful,” Madison said, standing up straighter.

Sheila smiled.“I’m sure you are, hon.” She flipped one last page, then threw up her hands and smiled at Madison. “Well, it’s obvious someone got something very wrong. I apologize. I’ll go back to the hospital and get this cleared up.” She rolled her eyes. “Clerical errors.”

“That’s fine.” Mrs. Food smiled. “And thank you.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Madison said, waving goodbye until the woman was gone. “She bought it!”

Mrs. Food let out a sigh of relief.“E-mail, NOW!” she said, pointing to the office.

“Right!” Madison turned and raced inside.

A few minutes later she stuck her head out.“Mrs. Fudeker, did you call in a tip to the crime line? There’s a message saying something about a reward.”

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DON’T GET ME WRONG—I’LL gladly accept the reward if they give it to me,” Mrs. Food said as she put a sandwich and pretzels into Madison’s lunch bag. “But what I don’t understand is HOW? I wasn’t even home when that call was made.”

“Beats me, but don’t tell them that!” Madison said, stashing her lunch in her book bag. “It’s really weird, though.”

“Belly rub,” Butterbean said, rolling over onto her back at Madison’s feet.

“Weird and lucky.” Madison reached down to scratch Butterbean’s tummy. “Maybe you’ve got a guardian angel.”

Butterbean caught Walt’s eye and winked. Walt winked back. Mrs. Food and Madison didn’t suspect a thing.

Madison frowned. She stopped scratching and looked from Butterbean to Walt thoughtfully. Butterbean lolled her tongue out of her mouth and drooled a little. It never hurt to look a tiny bit stupid.

“Maybe more than one,” Madison said, winking at Butterbean. Butterbean almost choked on her spit. Smirking, Walt jumped off the chair and stalked into the living room. Well, at least Mrs. Food didn’t suspect anything.

“Now, don’t forget your call with your aunt after school today,” Mrs. Food said.

“Got it.” Madison patted Butterbean goodbye. “See you later!” She threw her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.

Madison’s aunt had agreed to the new living arrangement right away and was horrified that Madison had been living on her own for so long. Mrs. Food was officially Madison’s guardian for as long as her aunt was deployed. Walt and Oscar had hoped to be named guardians too and were more than a little offended that no one had even asked them.

Mrs. Food wiped her hands on a dish towel and made her way down the hallway to her office, carefully checking for any obstacles placed in her path. The last thing she wanted was a return trip to the hospital. But she didn’t need to worry. Butterbean had a new policy—from now on, whenever she barfed, she would immediately clean it up herself. So far it seemed to be working well.

“I still don’t see why SHE gets the reward,” Butterbean grumbled, grabbing her squeaky carrot and tossing it into the air after Mrs. Food had closed the office door. “I mean, it was Walt and Oscar who called. And the elevator lady’s sister. THEY should get the reward.”

“It’ll be easier for her to spend it,” Walt said wearily. They’d had this conversation at least five times. “And think of it this way—we got two caretakers out of the deal. Now if something goes wrong with Mrs. Food again, we have a backup.”

“But we had a treasure! And now we’re poor!” There was just something about those gold coins. Butterbean really would’ve liked to roll in them one last time.

“Polo got a new button,” Marco pointed out. Mrs. Food had left the rats’ aquarium out in the living room—the other animals had objected when she tried to move it back to the office. And Marco and Polo were enjoying their new view.

“That’s right. That’s kind of like a treasure,” Polo said, admiring the button around her neck. Marco had tied the string in a double knot this time.

“I guess so,” Butterbean said, sitting up.

A cabinet door slammed.“What the heck?” Oscar craned his neck to look into the kitchen. “That’s not Chad again, is it?”