9e945bf3b1d705d5d70aa6e5ed9fa2ba

“Oh please,” Walt said as the door closed. “NOW she has carpeting? How insulting. ‘I have carpeting.’ Well, I have bruises across my rib cage, thank you very much. That’s gratitude for you.”

“I wouldn’t pee on her carpet if she begged me,” Butterbean said. (Although secretly, she wasn’t so sure.)

“Let it go, Walt,” Oscar said. “Think of it this way. Your dangling days are over. You’re safe now.”

Walt sniffed.“I guess you’re right.”

“Are they gone?” The white cat poked her head out from under the couch. “I thought those guys would never leave.”

“Tell me about it,” Chad said, slipping up the drain into the kitchen sink. “Where are the snacks? Jerome cleaned me out before he left. My entire stash of canned salmon is gone.”

He jerked the refrigerator door open with one tentacle and then hung suspended between the counter and the door as he rummaged around.“Herring snacks. Perfect.” He grabbed the jar of herring and swung himself back up onto the counter.

“Retirement isn’t for everyone, let me tell you,” the white cat said, settling down on Walt’s cushion and propping her feet up. “Mr. Wiggles wouldn’t have been happy staying here.”

“I wouldn’t have been happy with him staying here,” Chad muttered, sucking down half of the herring snacks. Butterbean was impressed. (Although she didn’t know how they were going to explain the missing snacks to Mrs. Food.)

“He wanted me to give you this, by the way,” Chad said, flipping a piece of paper in Oscar’s direction. It was a dramatically posed photo of Jerome, signed with an inky tentacle.

“An autographed photo…” Oscar breathed. “Just like he promised.”

“You should see the outtakes,” Chad snickered, spraying herring all over the counter.

“Great.” Walt eyed the photo. There was definitely some retouching there. “Now, did you want someth…” Walt’s voice trailed off. She held up a paw. “Do you hear that? What is that?” Her eyes were wide as she looked at Oscar.

He cocked his head and listened.“Oh no.”

A slight splashing sound was coming from the bathroom.

“It can’t be him. The water bottle was empty when she got back,” Walt said. “I looked.”

“Is it Chad?” Oscar asked.

“Still over here, genius.” Chad waved a tentacle from the kitchen. “I can move fast, but not that fast.”

Butterbean swallowed hard.“Ghost?”

“OH NO, IS THIS PLACE HAUNTED TOO?” Wallace wailed. It was so unfair.

Oscar flew over to the bathroom door, followed by the others. Slowly they pushed open the door.

“WHOOHOOO HOT TUB!” Marco cheered as he reclined in the sink. “This is the best. Do the bubbles again, Polo!”

Marco and Polo were lounging in the half-filled sink. Polo held on to the sides and kicked her feet to make bubbles.

“Nope, I’m outta here.” The white cat turned and stalked back into the vent behind the couch. She’d already had one bath too many that week. Flour was a lot harder to get off than she’d expected.

“Walt, Oscar, look, it’s our very own bubble bath!” Polo cheered.

“Just like Chad and Jerome had in the other place!” Marco said, splashing water at them.

“Except we don’t have a Jacuzzi. We just have feet!” Polo explained.

Butterbean climbed up to sniff the water.“I’m not going to fit in there,” she said, snuffling at the bubbles.

Wallace scrambled up the cabinet and slid into the water. He giggled.“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he said happily. “I always wanted to say that.”

Oscar landed on the edge of the sink and dangled his feet in the water.

Walt pawed gently at the water.“I’ll pass, but thanks.” She didn’t like to get wet. But it was good to just have fun for a change and not worry about everything. Especially pesky octopuses like Jerome.

She looked up just in time to see Chad flying through the air.

“CANNONBALL!”

3. THE GREAT VANDAL SCANDAL

— 1 —

BUTTERBEAN LIKED TO THINK THAT nothing could shock her. She’d been part of an International Crime Syndicate, after all. She was an experienced Ghost Investigator. But this? Nothing had prepared her for this.

Mrs. Food had been eating tuna fish for the past five minutes and hadn’t offered her a bite once. NOT EVEN ONCE.

Butterbean scooted forward until her chin was practically in Mrs. Food’s lap. Maybe Mrs. Food just hadn’t seen her. That was the only logical explanation.

“You’re not getting any, Bean,” Mrs. Food said, her mouth full. “Stop begging.”

Butterbean fell backward in shock. BEGGING? As if a Ghost Investigator would resort to BEGGING. She was simply making herself available. Staying open to opportunities. And if that opportunity happened to be a mouthful of tuna fish, so be it.

Walt stopped licking her paw and looked over at the crumpled pile of what used to be Butterbean.“Do I even want to know?” she asked Oscar.

Oscar opened his beak to answer and then reconsidered. He shook his head.“No.”

“For the record, I was NOT begging,” Butterbean grumbled, picking herself up and stomping over to the living room. “I was very restrained.”

“It’s true!” Polo called from the rat cage. “I saw the whole thing!”