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Walt curled up with her fork on one of the couch cushions. Butterbean set her butter knife down and started turning around in circles to make a nest. Then they all lay there in silence.

Well, almost.

“Sunflower seed, anyone?” Marco whispered. “I have extra.”

No one wanted any sunflower seeds.

“Now that I’ve got my spoon,” Polo finally said, the edge of the sock pulled up to her chin. “It doesn’t feel as scary.”

“I just wish we knew…” Walt trailed off, her ears pricking up. “SHHH.” Her ears swiveled toward the sound. “Did you hear that?”

Six pairs of ears strained in the semidarkness. And then they heard it. It was an eerie dripping sound, so soft you almost couldn’t hear it. It was followed by a low humming noise that started and stopped without warning.

“I thought you said it was all clear,” Walt whispered.

Oscar’s eyes were wide. “It was. I swear it was.”

“The not-a-ghost cat next door?” asked Butterbean hopefully.

Walt shook her head.“I don’t think so.” She picked up her fork in her mouth. “Come on.”

Slinking slowly, she tracked the noise into the heart of the apartment. The others followed as quietly as they could. (The rats had trouble controlling their utensils.)

When they got to the bathroom door, they stopped.“It’s in there,” Walt said. “The ghost.”

Oscar braced himself.“Ghost hunters, this is what we came for. On the count of three, let’s get him. One… two… THREE!”

Oscar threw the door open, and the animals rushed into the bathroom and skidded to a stop. Forks and spoons clattered to the floor.

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw.

Oscar gasped and reeled back.“MR. WIGGLES!”

— 7 —

A STRANGE OCTOPUS WAS SITTING in a tub filled with bubbling water. Two of his tentacles were stretched along the back of the tub. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, wonderful. FANS,” he groaned, sloshing water out of the tub. He flicked water at Oscar. “Be a good little birdie and leave me alone, and maybe I’ll have my assistant send you a photo.”

“That’s Mr. Wiggles,” Oscar whispered. His eyes looked slightly glazed, and his beak was hanging open.

“How’d he get here?” Walt muttered.

“Who’s his assistant?” Butterbean whispered.

“Who is HE?” Wallace asked.

Oscar collected himself and bowed slightly in the direction of the tub. Then he turned to Wallace.“Wallace, this is Mr. Wiggles, the octopus currently missing from the City Zoo.”

Mr. Wiggles was the star attraction at the City Zoo, or he had been until he disappeared. He was famous across the country for his crowd-pleasing antics—squirting water, doing clever tricks for visitors, performing daring escapes, that kind of thing. But he was most famous for his talent for picking winners in sporting events. He’d successfully predicted winners in the Super Bowl, World Cup, and Kentucky Derby for the last two years. He workedfor herring snacks.

“CELEBRITY octopus,” Mr. Wiggles corrected, stretching and flicking more water at Oscar.

“Celebrity octopus. Forgive me.” Oscar didn’t even seem to notice the droplets of water on his head. “World-renowned celebrity octopus.” He bowed again. “Mr. Wiggles, it’s an honor.”

Mr. Wiggles shrugged all of his tentacles.“Of course. But if you’re a true fan, then you know my name is actually Jerome. ‘Mr. Wiggles’ is a stage name,” he said, making air quotes. “It’s just a character I play.”

Butterbean bit her lip so she wouldn’t laugh. If Jerome was anything like Chad, he probably didn’t have much of a sense of humor. She was totally going to try to get him to do more air quotes, though.

Oscar giggled. All of the other animals turned to look at him in shock. Oscar wasn’t a giggler. “I can call you Jerome? Again, an honor.”

Wallace sat down hard on the floor.“I’m very confused.”

“Me too.” Walt walked closer to the tub. “So, Jerome, what are you doing here?”

Jerome’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? I thought you were fans. Are you press?”

“We’re not press,” Walt said.

“I KNEW IT! What network are you with?” Jerome put a tentacle up in front of his face like he was blocking a camera. “Talk to my assistant. I’m not doing interviews.”

“We’re NOT PRESS,” Walt said louder.

“We’re residents,” Butterbean said.

“And I’m a rat,” Wallace said.

“Um, yes. That’s all true. But it is a valid question,” Oscar said apologetically, hopping up onto the toilet. “What brings you to 5B?” Oscar couldn’t imagine how such a famous octopus could’ve ended up in the Strathmore Building. It just didn’t make sense, logistically or otherwise. Things like that didn’t happen.

Jerome shrugged and examined one of his tentacles.“You didn’t happen to bring any shrimp with you, did you? Sardines? Herring snacks?”

“Um, no,” Oscar said. “I apologize for the question, but have you been here long?”

“Weren’t you scared to stay here?” Butterbean asked, peering into the tub. There were so many bubbles. “Were you afraid of the ghost?”

“Ghost?” Jerome gave a bubbly laugh.

“I think heis the ghost,” Walt said in a low voice.

“HE’S A GHOST?” Butterbean yelped, scrambling back. “Are you the ghost?”