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“Mrs. Food may be right,” Butterbean said, sniffing the soggy towel. “I’m not getting a ghost feeling.”

“Do you know what a ghost feeling is?” Wallace asked.

“No,” Butterbean admitted.

Mrs. Food helped Mrs. Third Floor over to the sofa and then went through the apartment room by room. Butterbean stood in the middle of the living room, head up to catch any stray smells. She wasn’t sure where she was supposed to look for ghosts.

“That fish tank’s what did it for me. It scared the heck out of me.” Wallace’s voice floated up from her tummy area. “Water was everywhere. I was in the kitchen when it happened. Water exploded out of the tank, and I ran.”

“How did you even get in here, Wallace?” Walt asked. “You can’t fit through the vent cover.”

Wallace blew a piece of Butterbean’s hair out of his mouth before answering. “There’s a behind-the-sofa vent here, too. I used that. I got the screws out with a piece of metal from the loading dock.”

“Smart,” Walt said. “And nobody else has used it?”

“No, definitely not. I put a whisker over the entrance to see if anyone else came in. It was always still there when I came back.”

“Hmm.” Walt looked around the room again, deep in thought.

Mrs. Food and Madison finished their inspections and came back to Mrs. Third Floor, who was staring blankly at a gingerbread house competition on the Television.

“Well, I didn’t find anything. I can’t see how this happened,” Mrs. Food said, wiping her hands on her pants.

“Poltergeist,” Mrs. Third Floor said. “Like Madison said.”

Madison folded her arms in front of her chest.“Maybe? But maybe not.” She frowned at the licked cupcakes. “This is creepy, but I’m not sure it’s ghost creepy. In any case…” She looked at Mrs. Food.

Mrs. Food put her hand on Mrs. Third Floor’s shoulder. “Whatever happened here is a crime. We need to call the police.”

— 4 —

IT DIDN’T TAKE THE POLICE long to get there. And it took even less time for them to realize that their biggest problem was Mrs. Third Floor herself.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” she grumbled as she let the two police officers in. “I don’t see what the police can do about a ghost.”

“Poltergeist,” Madison corrected helpfully.

“RIGHT. Poltergeist,” Mrs. Third Floor agreed, crossing her arms. “But since you’re here, go ahead, take a look. The apartment has been DESTROYED. By SUPERNATURAL FORCES.”

“Or by an intruder,” Mrs. Food said apologetically. “We’re thinking it’s probably just an intruder, Officer…”

“Marlowe.” The first police officer introduced herself, giving Mrs. Third Floor an appraising look. “And this is Officer Travis.” Officer Travis nodded. He looked almost as grumpy as Mrs. Third Floor.

Officer Marlowe took out a notebook.“Why don’t you show me what we’ve got here?”

“Well—” Mrs. Food started.

“EVIL SPIRITS,” Mrs. Third Floor interrupted, waving her arms to indicate invisible spirits, “ATE MY CUPCAKES.”

“Just the frosting,” Wallace muttered under his breath.

Mrs. Food took a step forward, smiling tightly.“As I said, there was an intruder. They destroyed a fish tank, vandalized the bathroom, and ate food in the kitchen. We just don’t know how they got in.”

“This may be an unearthly portal.” Mrs. Third Floor’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Maybe in the bathroom?” she added thoughtfully. “I don’t even know how you list an unearthly portal,” she said to herself.

“So… intruder. Got it.” Officer Marlowe wrote it down in her notebook. “And this is your apartment?” she asked Mrs. Third Floor.

“Oh, heavens no. I mean, yes, of course. I mean, not really,” Mrs. Third Floor said. Officer Travis sighed and folded his arms in front of his chest.

Mrs. Third Floor cleared her throat. Her ears were turning red.“It’s a rental unit. I’m the landlady. I’m getting it ready to rent. My old tenant moved to Tulsa.”

“Man Who Smells Like Onions,” Butterbean whispered knowingly to Walt and Wallace. “I did NOT like sharing an elevator with him, let me tell you.”

“I see.” Officer Marlowe gave the apartment an appraising look. “And this is what, one, two bedrooms?”

“Two bedrooms. But I have it set up as a bedroom and an office.”

“Interesting.” Officer Marlowe flipped a page in her pad and made a note. “One thousand square feet, I’m guessing?”

“Eleven hundred,” Mrs. Third Floor answered.

“Aha.” Officer Marlowe made another note. Officer Travis shot her a look. “So not a lot of room to hide, is what I’m saying,” she said, glaring back at Officer Travis. Then she smiled at Mrs. Food. “Now, you said someone ate the food in the kitchen?”

“Yes, see!” Mrs. Third Floor pointed to the cupcakes. “See? The frosting there is all gone. Some… THING… pierced the thin veil separating the living from the dead and… well…”

“Licked the cupcakes?” Officer Travis said, picking one up and examining it.

“Well. Yes.” Mrs. Third Floor shifted. “As you can see.”

“Or,” Mrs. Food jumped in, “another theory is that a person did it. That’s why we called you.”

“Or,” Walt said quietly, “a rat did it.”

“Ooh, I’ll go with that one,” Butterbean said.