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“Of course not,” Officer Travis smirked. He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and looked around the apartment. “Floating pizza. There’s a new one every day.”

Mrs. Third Floor turned back to Officer Marlowe and then caught her breath.

“Is that… blood?” she asked tentatively, pointing a foot at a blob of red on the carpet.

Officer Marlowe squatted down and examined the blob. She touched it with one finger and then smelled it.“Pizza sauce, I think,” she said, wiping her finger off. “Not blood.”

“Boy, you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen last night!” Butterbean said. That little blob was nothing compared to the cocktail sauce she’d investigated.

Officer Marlowe stood up.“Officer Travis will take the rest of your statement. I’ll check the apartment for other signs of an intruder.” She headed back toward the bedrooms.

“Blarg,” Walt said, squirming uncomfortably. Mrs. Third Floor hadn’t loosened her grip once since she’d first picked her up. And one thing was clear. Mrs. Third Floor didn’t know the correct way to hold a cat.

“Do you need help, Walt?” Butterbean asked, straining to sniff at Mrs. Third Floor’s legs. (Madison was keeping a pretty tight grip on the leash.) “Blarg twice if you need help. I could go for the eyes!” She’d never tried it before, but it sounded exciting.

Walt glared at her.

“Here, let me take the cat so you can show Officer Travis the video again,” Mrs. Food said, reaching out as Walt meowed pitifully. Mrs. Third Floor frowned and clutched Walt closer.

“I’ve seen it already,” Officer Travis said quickly.

Mrs. Food tugged lightly at Walt.“Mildred…”

Butterbean wuffled softly. She’d seen something like this before, only it had been at Thanksgiving, and with a wishbone, not a cat.

“Okay, that’s… fine, I guess.” Mrs. Third Floor reluctantly loosened her grip and handed Walt off to Mrs. Food, who gave a visible sigh of relief.

Walt curled into Mrs. Food’s arms and quickly examined her midsection. She was surprised there wasn’t a mark.

“Here, see?” Mrs. Third Floor opened her handbag and took out her phone, snapping her handbag shut again with a loud click. She held the phone up for Officer Travis. “Look at this video!”

Officer Travis didn’t even look at it before pushing it away. “I’ve seen it. I know, unexplained pizza activity.” He rolled his eyes. “It flew.”

“Floated,” Mrs. Food corrected.

“Whatever. I got it,” Officer Travis said, examining his nails.

“But…” Mrs. Third Floor looked at her phone sadly. “There’s video.”

“Nothing suspicious in there,” Officer Marlowe said as she came back into the room. “No sign of an intruder. I did wonder about the water pressure, though, so I checked it out. It’s good.”

“Well, that’s something,” Mrs. Third Floor said, turning back toward her handbag to put her phone away. Her handbag was standing open.

“Hmm.” Mrs. Third Floor frowned and put her phone back inside. Then she snapped the handbag shut.

“Uh-oh,” Butterbean said, eyeing the handbag. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, and there was no rat hanging there to blame it on.

“Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do at the moment,” Officer Marlowe said. “But if you’ll initial right here, we’ll file another report and let you know when we have any new information.” Officer Marlowe handed her a pad of paper.

“Right,” Officer Travis snorted.

“Yes, okay,” Mrs. Third Floor said, shooting Officer Travis a look before taking the paper. “I just need a pen.” She looked down at her handbag. It was open.

Mrs. Third Floor visibly jumped. She pointed at the handbag.“But I—I closed that!”

Officer Marlowe took a pen out of her pocket and held it out to Mrs. Third Floor.“What, the purse? Sometimes latches don’t catch.” She smiled. “Your initials?”

“Walt?” Butterbean said. Her bad feeling was getting worse.

“I know,” Walt said. They both had their eyes on the handbag.

“Right, of course.” Mrs. Third Floor closed her handbag again and took the pen.

“And I just initial…”

“Here.” Officer Marlowe pointed at the paper.

“Of course.” Mrs. Third Floor initialed the paper and then turned back to her handbag. It was standing wide open.

“AAIIIIEEEEE!” Mrs. Third Floor clutched at Officer Marlowe’s arm.

A small snickering sound came from under the coffee table.

“JEROME!” Walt yowled, struggling to get away from Mrs. Food. “I KNOW THAT’S YOU.”

“IT’S THE GHOST!” Mrs. Third Floor wailed. Officer Marlowe shot a look at Officer Travis. He was smirking.

A loud crash came from the kitchen.

Officer Travis was suddenly serious. He unhooked his flashlight and turned to Officer Marlowe.“I’ll check that out. You take care of her.”

Flashlight in hand, Officer Travis crept slowly and silently into the kitchen, followed by a slightly less silent Butterbean.

As he came through the door, he stopped short.

A small white figure hovered in the sink.

Officer Travis stood dead in his tracks and stared. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. All of the color drained from his face. Hand shaking, he pointed the flashlight beam at the sink.