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“It’s like she doesn’t even understand urgency,” Butterbean lamented, doing a jig around the entryway.

“And how are you?” Madison said, walking over to Walt. “Are you okay? You look… strange?”

Walt blinked at her.

“And how are your little friends?” Madison said, bending down to peer inside the aquarium.

“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!” Oscar screeched. “Distraction, Walt!”

Walt scanned the area for options. A water glass that Mrs. Food had left on the table was standing nearby. Walt reached out slowly and put a paw on it.

Madison stopped immediately.“Oh no. Don’t do that.”

Walt meowed and pushed the glass an inch forward.

“Good kitty. Just leave the glass alone.” Madison stepped forward, her hands outstretched.

Walt pushed the glass closer to the edge of the table, paused, and then shoved it slowly off the edge.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_24]

“No!” Madison lunged forward and caught the glass in midair. “Whew! Silly cat!”

She carried the glass into the kitchen and put it in the sink. Then she grabbed Butterbean’s leash and came back to the living room. “Good grief, what’s with you guys today?”

She clipped the leash onto Butterbean’s collar and opened the door.

Butterbean smirked as she trotted out of the house.“About time!”

“Thank goodness,” Oscar said, slumping down on his perch. “We did it.”

“For now,” Walt said, turning to look at the vent.

“But this doesn’t make sense.” Polo peered through the dusty grate. “This is the apartment with the treasure? This place is so… BORING.”

“Right? Where are the piles of jewels? Where’s all the gold?” Marco looked around at the beige living room. He’d expected walls encrusted with gems, or maybe some kind of seedy criminal lair. Not boring tweed sofas and vinyl chairs.

Polo scurried down the vent to the next grate along the line. Standing on her hind legs, she quickly peered inside. It was a standard bedroom, nothing flashy or special. Definitely not a treasure lair.“Beige,” she muttered. “Everything is beige.”

“Weird. It’s not personal AT ALL,” Marco said.

“It’s like it’s all rented.” Polo brightened. “Maybe that’s it! Maybe this is just a place where they stash their loot!”

“Okay, sure,” Marco agreed. “But then where’s the loot?”

“I don’t know.” Polo had never felt so confused. Knowing whose apartment it was, she’d expected cold waves of evil to come from everything inside, but it was all just so ordinary.

Marco pointed down the vent.“There’s one more grate. We could try it. But I think it’s the—”

“Oh no,” Polo squeaked. “Marco, that’s the bathroom grate. No thank you. You can check if you want.” She rolled her eyes. She’d never heard about treasure stashed in the bathroom.

“I’ll just take a quick look-see,” Marco said, heading down to the final grate. He stuck his eye up to one of the gaps. He’d hardly taken a look when he squeaked and jumped back. “Polo! It’s—there’s someone here! Look!”

Polo rushed to the grate and then hung back.“I can’t look!”

“Why not?”

“They’re in the bathroom!”

“Just look! It’s not embarrassing. And it’s NOT the creepy guy! No blue eyes!”

Polo covered her eyes (in case the person in the bathroom needed a little privacy), but as soon as she took a peek, she dropped her hands in shock.

“Who’s that guy?” she squeaked.

The man at the bathroom sink wasn’t the creepy Coin Man. This guy had shaggy hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing a shiny-looking suit. He didn’t seem particularly friendly, but he wasn’t giving Polo the heebie-jeebies like the other man had. He didn’t look like he’d eat her for lunch.

Marco and Polo pressed their faces to the grate, watching as the shaggy guy dried his hands on his pants and then headed out into the living room.

“Quick, to the other grate!” Marco squealed, hurrying back toward the living room.

“A second guy,” Polo said under her breath. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“No, and what’s worse, there’s no sign of treasure at all,” Marco called over his shoulder.

“Of course not, not in the bathroom,” Polo scoffed.

“But, Polo. Maybe Butterbean was wrong?” Marco slumped against the grate. “Oh man, we’re going to be living in the vents after all.” He ruffled his hands through the fur on his head. “I don’t even know if there’ll be room for Walt and Butterbean and Oscar. Do you think they can squeeze?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not living in the vents,” Polo said. At least she hoped not, because the others would absolutely not be able to squeeze. “Butterbean’s nose is reliable. Just keep watching.”

The shaggy-haired man was looking in the refrigerator, apparently unhappy with what he saw. He stared inside for a few minutes and finally closed it without getting anything. Then he opened a couple of cabinets, sighed, and closed them again.

“I know that feeling,” Marco muttered.

The man took out his phone and started looking at it.

“That’s it,” Marco said, pushing away from the grate. “There’s no point in watching this. We failed. Again. There’s nothing we can do.”

“We can’t give up!” Polo squeaked. “Sure, it’s all boring. But it’s surveillance! It’s supposed to be boring!”