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Mrs. Third Floor made a strangled sound.“Not the ghost HIMSELF, but you can see he’s been here. Look! The remote is sitting in the middle of the couch. IT’S ON THE COUCH! I WOULD NEVER LEAVE IT LIKE THAT.”

“I know, I know.” Mrs. Food patted Mrs. Third Floor on the shoulder.

“Oh shoot. Yeah, that’s me,” Wallace said from underneath Butterbean’s stomach. “I did that one.”

Walt rolled her eyes.

“What can I say, I like my shows.” Wallace attempted to shrug, but he only managed to slide down closer to Butterbean’s legs.

“Watch it, Wallace,” Butterbean grumbled.

“SEE? Even the dog can sense the presence!” Mrs. Third Floor said. She went over to the haunted remote and poked it with one finger. “Do you think it’s cursed?”

Mrs. Food walked over carefully and picked up the remote. Mrs. Third Floor gasped.“Don’t touch it!”

“It seems fine to me, Mildred.” She pointed it at the Television and clicked it on.

It was a home shopping channel. The salespeople onscreen were very excited about a new line of cookware. Butterbean sniffed. She wasn’t interested in cookware.

“YOU SEE?” Mrs. Third Floor screeched. “I WOULD NEVER WATCH THAT.”

“Home shopping?” Walt said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh that… um. Not me, that’s for sure,” Wallace stammered. “That… um… Wow, that’s some ghost. Spooky.”

Walt shook her head.

“A rat can dream, okay?” Wallace blurted out. “Sheesh.”

Mrs. Third Floor grabbed the remote and changed the channel.“See! THAT’s where it should be!”

It was the Hallmark Channel. It seemed to be showing some kind of Christmas movie, even though it wasn’t anywhere near Christmas.

“Wow, it IS haunted,” Butterbean said, examining the twinkling Christmas tree lights on the screen. “The Television doesn’t even know what time of year it is!”

“Butterbean,” Walt started, but she was cut off by a shriek from Mrs. Third Floor.

“AND THERE!” Mrs. Third Floor pointed a trembling finger at the kitchen island, where an elaborate tiered cupcake display was set up. They were all beautifully frosted, except for the bottom row of cupcakes, which had the frosting almost completely licked off. “THE GHOST RUINED MY CUPCAKES!”

Wallace shifted uncomfortably.“Um, yeah. That would be me again.”

Walt let her breath out in a huff.“Wallace, are we sure you’re not the ghost?”

“It’s not me, I swear! I SAW THINGS.”

Mrs. Food inspected one of the licked cupcakes.“It does look strange, but I don’t know if it looks paranormal.…”

Madison took the cupcake and examined it. Then she shot a suspicious look at Butterbean.

Butterbean gasped.“WHY IS SHE LOOKING AT ME?”

“You do seem like a likely suspect,” Walt said smugly. “Even if you are innocent.”

“But that’s not all.” Mrs. Third Floor grabbed Mrs. Food’s arm and dragged her away from the cupcakes. “That’s just what’s new. I haven’t even shown you the worst of it. How do you explain THAT?”

She pointed at a large fish tank partly obscured by leafy ferns in the corner of the room. It had obviously been just as fancy as the rest of the apartment at one time, with lots of brightly colored rocks and plants. It even had a little diver and treasure chest in the middle. But the lid to the tank had been shoved to the side and was half submerged in what was left of the water. The rest had been sloshed onto the floor and spread like a stain on the carpet. But that wasn’t the worst part. There were no fish.

“Um.” Mrs. Food frowned.

“Not me,” Wallace squeaked. “I swear, not me at all.”

“My beautiful tropical fish display! WHERE ARE THEY?” Mrs. Third Floor demanded. “They’re all GONE.”

“That’s… um…” Madison said, examining the tank. Walt sniffed at it too. Her stomach started to growl.

“And look!” Mrs. Third Floor dragged Mrs. Food down the hallway and pushed her into the bathroom. Butterbean and Walt had to scramble to keep up with them.

This time it was Mrs. Food who gasped.“But everything’s wet!” She picked up a dripping bath towel and held it carefully away from herself. The bath mat squelched under their feet, and there were pools of water all around it. The tub was half-filled with leftover cloudy water. There were dribbles of water half dried on the walls.

“THOSE WERE DECORATIVE,” Mrs. Third Floor wailed, pointing at the hand towels, which lay in a wet pile on the floor. “AND JUST LOOK AT MY TINY SOAPS!”

The remains of tiny soaps that once probably looked like little shells or bows or something fancy lay in a mushy mass in the soap dishes. They were definitely not decorative anymore.

“This is terrible,” Mrs. Food said, ushering Mrs. Third Floor out of the bathroom. “But do ghosts usually do this kind of thing?”

“Poltergeists do, right?” Madison said softly. She shivered, looking around like a poltergeist was going to creep up behind her. “Aren’t poltergeists the kind of ghosts that break things?”

“Yes!” Mrs. Third Floor said triumphantly. “Poltergeists! I have a poltergeist!”

“That may be true, but I’m still not convinced,” Mrs. Food said. “Why don’t you sit while Madison and I look around.”