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“That’s IT!” Wallace punched his fist into his palm. “LET ME AT ’EM!” He raced out into the living room, heading straight for the Bald Guy. But halfway there, he seemed to reconsider. Instead he swerved around the Bald Guy’s feet and jumped up onto the couch, hopping onto one of the remote buttons. The volume immediately shot up, so that the ghostly background voices were obviously from the TV. (It was a toilet paper commercial.)

“Walt!” Wallace screamed. He suddenly felt very exposed on the couch. “Distraction!”

“I’M GOING FOR THE EYES!” Walt launched herself out from under the couch and leaped up at Mr. Slick Hair’s face.

But she wasn’t fast enough. He saw her coming.

In one swift motion, he reached up and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, so she dangled in midair.

“Get rid of that thing,” the Bald Guy said. “That cat messed up the take. Now we’ve got to do it all over again.”

“It’s fine, we’ll just double our fee.” Mr. Slick Hair shook Walt. “How do you like that, cat? Double the fee sound fair to you?”

Walt tried not to react. She had to give Wallace time to hide. And if she twisted around just right, she thought she had a good shot of biting the man’s hand off. (Or at least leaving a nasty mark.)

The man walked across the apartment, holding Walt out in front of him.

Wallace took cover under the couch.

“I’ll go tell the others, Walt! It’ll be okay, Walt!” Wallace’s voice floated across the apartment.

Walt twisted in the air, slashing with her claws, but it was no use. She couldn’t escape. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was a kitten again. It was so humiliating to be carried that way.

Mr. Slick Hair pushed open the bathroom door and, without a word, flung Walt inside. She spun around midair and landed on her feet as he slammed the door.

There was a round of applause from the sink. Two octopuses were sitting there watching her.

“She really stuck the landing, didn’t she, Chad?” Jerome said, still clapping softly.

“Eight tentacles up,” Chad said.

Walt shook herself off and glared at the door.“That man,” she sputtered. “Those men—”

“Those men,” Chad interrupted, “are even worse than you said.”

“True. And I, for one, am offended by their stagecraft,” Jerome said. “Well, you’ve convinced me. They’ve got to be stopped.”

Walt slumped. She was locked in a bathroom, after all.“But what are we going to do?”

Jerome stretched his tentacles out in front of him and cracked them like he was cracking his knuckles.“What are we going to do? It’s simple.”

He looked at the door and smiled.“We’re going to teach them a lesson.”

— 13 —

“DO YOU THINK…” MRS. THIRD Floor hesitated. They’d been waiting for a long time, and she’d started that sentence at least three times. “Do you think… the ghost did something to them?” She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “Do you think it could have… I don’t know… eaten them?”

There was a silence. Madison bit her lip.

Mrs. Food cleared her throat.“I don’t think that, no.”

Mrs. Third Floor nodded and slumped in relief.

Butterbean sat bolt upright. She hadn’t even considered that possibility. “OSCAR! Do you think JEROME could’ve eaten them?”

Oscar picked through his food dish absentmindedly.“Oh please. Do you really think Mr. Wiggles would do something like that?”

“Maybe not, but JEROME…”

“Jerome is still Mr. Wiggles deep down. He wouldn’t eat them.” He flicked a piece of browning fruit onto the bottom of his cage. “Besides, would you eat those guys?”

Butterbean shuddered at the thought of it, and she ate garbage.“Good point.” She lay back down and put her head on her paws. “I’ll be glad when Walt gets back.”

“Me too.” Oscar clicked his beak. He didn’t want to say anything to Butterbean, but it made him nervous that Walt was still in the apartment. He just hoped she had something to report when she got back. And that it was soon.

“Why is it taking so long, then?” Mrs. Third Floor asked after a few minutes.

“They need to be thorough?” Mrs. Food said. “And maybe…” She patted Mrs. Third Floor on the hand. “They may be having a hard time finding a ghost.”

“It probably really is an intruder,” Madison said, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the carpet. “I mean, why would a ghost just show up now? It doesn’t make sense.”

“But the pizza…” Mrs. Third Floor started.

Mrs. Food held up her hand.“I know. But I still think there’s some other explanation. We’ll see what they say.”

“Seriously, this is a condo building,” Madison said. “Do you think a ghost would live in a condo? Like Bob would let that happen.”

Bob was the maintenance man in the building, and he had some pretty strong ideas of how things should be run.

“I think Bob would take issue with a ghost living here,” Mrs. Food said, smiling.

“You’re right, he would,” Mrs. Third Floor said, relaxing a little for the first time. “I’m probably being silly. Of course they’re not going to find a ghost!”

“Of course not.” Mrs. Food patted her on the arm again and got up to go to the kitchen.