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Just as she did, the front door burst open, and the two ghost men rushed inside. (Without even knocking. Butterbean was shocked.)

“We got it!” Mr. Slick Hair patted his video camera. “Right here, we’ve got the evidence.” He pointed at Mrs. Third Floor. “Take a look. You’ve got a ghost, lady!”

“Are you planning to stay in here all day, or do you want me to let you out?” The white cat pressed her face to the vent grate and peered down at Walt and the two octopuses. “Those two weirdos with the camera left ages ago.”

Walt had been trying the door handle for half an hour. It wasn’t opening. All she’d managed to do was provide Chad and Jerome with free entertainment. They hadn’t even offered to help. They’d been laughing nonstop.

“What do you think?” Walt hissed as she slid down the door for the fiftieth time. “LET ME OUT!” She was having a hard time controlling her temper.

“No, you can’t go!” Jerome said, giggling hysterically. “You almost had it that time.”

“Try that spin maneuver again,” Chad said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“OUT!” Walt screeched at the white cat.

Jerome rolled his eyes.“Oh fine, you’re no fun.” He waved a tentacle at the white cat. “Let the grumpy cat out. It doesn’t matter to me. Stop laughing, Chad.”

Chad spit water at him.

Jerome turned on the faucet in the tub.“If those men are gone, I’m taking a bath.”

Walt’s eyes widened. “PLEASE, CAT! NOW!”

The white cat smirked down at her.“Just a sec.” Her face disappeared from the grate.

Jerome tested the water with one tentacle and looked around.“I probably shouldn’t use bubble bath, should I? Bad for my skin, I’d guess.”

“Probably not?” Walt said. She couldn’t imagine that bubble bath would be good for an octopus.

“Good thing the tub makes its own bubbles,” Jerome said, turning on the Jacuzzi jets.

There was a thump on the other side of the door, and then it swung open.

“Oh thank goodness.” Walt raced for the door. “Jerome, we’ll have a discussion later. Make plans.” She didn’t want to stick around for a conversation. She just had to get out of there.

“Sure, sure…” Jerome said. Then he snapped his tentacles at Chad. “Chad! Get me some tub snacks, pronto.”

Chad clenched his tentacles.

Walt didn’t bother to see what happened next. She streaked past the white cat and into the vent behind the couch. She had to find out what was happening downstairs.

“See there? That’s your ghost.” Mr. Slick Hair pointed at the video on his tablet. “Right there.”

“That’s a ghost?” Mrs. Third Floor squinted at the screen. “It looks… well…”

“It looks like smoke. Is that smoke?” Madison asked, peering over her shoulder.

Butterbean stood up on the chair to get a better look. It wasn’t easy to see, though. Mrs. Third Floor’s head was in the way.

“It’s a GHOST, kid. You’ve got a GHOST PROBLEM.” Mr. Slick Hair leaned back and glared at her.

“It’s always a shock the first time people see one, Johnny,” the Bald Guy said, jiggling his foot as he sat at the table. He glanced at his watch like he had somewhere better to be.

“Right, of course.” Mr. Slick Hair slicked his hair back and then wiped his hand on his pants. “Look, I don’t want to be a jerk, but you don’t have a lot of time to figure out what you want to do.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Third Floor looked startled.

“We can get rid of the ghost, no problem. But we have to move fast,” the Bald Guy said. “A nasty ghost like this, once it gets established?” He whistled. “You might never get rid of it. Didn’t they have to demolish that one house, Johnny?”

Mr. Slick Hair nodded sadly.“Total loss. But unfortunately, the work we do? It’s not cheap, especially with a rush job,” Mr. Slick Hair said. “We’ll give you a fair price, though. In exchange, we’ll just need you to do some publicity for the show.”

“PUBLICITY?” Mrs. Third Floor shot up like she’d been launched from a rocket. She scared Butterbean so much that Butterbean jumped back into Oscar’s cage stand, almost knocking it over. “I don’t want any publicity! I want this kept quiet!”

“It’s not much, just a couple of interviews, a photo spread, maybe a commercial or two. Do you think that doorman out front will talk to us? Maybe some of the neighbors?”

Mrs. Third Floor grabbed the back of the chair.“No, absolutely not! Publicity would ruin me. Can’t we do it a different way?”

Mr. Slick Hair shrugged.“I don’t know. We do a TV show.”

“We could make an exception, couldn’t we, Johnny?” the Bald Guy said. “Since she’s such a nice lady?”

“Oh yes, could you?” Mrs. Third Floor held her breath.

“Well… I guess so,” Mr. Slick Hair said, after thinking about it. “Maybe we could blur out the identifying information?”

“We could…” the Bald Guy said slowly. “But you know the problem.”

“That kind of technology costs a lot,” Mr. Slick Hair said sadly. “And that’s on top of our ghost elimination fee.” He stood up. “I’m sorry. It’s probably too much. We should just let you find someone else.”

“NO!” Mrs. Third Floor grabbed his arm. “Please, I need you! It doesn’t matter how much it costs—I can pay you. PLEASE!”