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Marco didn’t argue. He’d never gotten used to Chad’s cloaking abilities.

Jerome cleared his throat.“One last thing. Would you all mind if I had a little fun? So to speak? I have an idea.”

Wallace’s eyes narrowed. “Go for it.” As far as he was concerned, nothing was off the table anymore.

“GOODY!” Jerome clapped his tentacles together. “This is going to be FUN!” He disappeared back into the sink.

Chad had reached the tripod and pulled himself up to the camera. With a quick flick of the tentacle, he hit the record switch. Then he gave the octopus equivalent of a thumbs-up and slid back down the pole.

It was just in time, too. Mr. Slick Hair was coming down the hallway into the room. He barely missed stepping on one of Chad’s tentacles. Chad quickly camouflaged himself, but before he did, Polo saw a look of pure rage cross his face. Mr. Slick Hair didn’t know what he was in for.

“How much time do we have?” Mr. Slick Hair called into the bedroom. “We should’ve just gotten the money and ditched the old lady. I don’t trust this new friend of hers.”

The Bald Guy came in.“Me neither. I swear I’ve seen that chick somewhere before. But stop stressing. We’ll be fine. I could do this setup in my sleep. Plexiglas in place?”

“All set,” Mr. Slick Hair said with a smirk.

The Bald Guy nodded in approval.“Good. The dry ice is down, lights are all set… we’re good to go.” He slapped Mr. Slick Hair on the back. “Trust me, those ladies will only last a minute before they run screaming downstairs. Then we break everything down, tell her the ghost is gone, and we’re out of here. This way we get our money, and she has nothing but good things to say about us.” He held out his fist for a fist bump. “Showtime?”

“Showtime,” Mr. Slick Hair said, bumping fists.

Wallace’s eyes gleamed. “Showtime.”

— 18 —

“WHAT’S WITH THE LIGHTS IN here?” Officer Marlowe stood in the doorway looking around Apartment 5B. “Did a bulb blow out?”

Mr. Slick Hair ushered her inside.“I’m afraid the ghost is not pleased that we’re here,” he said in a low voice. “It’s hoping to drive us out with its negative energy. Three bulbs exploded while we were setting up our equipment.” He put a hand on Mrs. Third Floor’s shoulder, startling her so much she almost hit the ceiling. “I’m afraid we may be in for a bad time today. I tried to warn you.” He glared at Officer Marlowe.

“I’ll be okay,” Mrs. Third Floor said. “I have the cat with me.” She hoisted up Walt, who was dangling from her arms. “And Madison has the dog.”

Madison silently held up the leash as evidence.

Walt gurgled.

“Well, let’s get going. Quiet, please.” Mr. Slick Hair raised his hands and threw his head back. “SPIRITS! YOU MUST LEAVE THIS PLACE! I COMMAND YOU!”

There was an eerie silence. Butterbean looked around. There didn’t seem to be any evidence of spirits, either leaving or staying put. She nudged Walt’s hanging foot. “Go time?” she wuffled softly.

Mrs. Third Floor shivered and hugged Walt more tightly.

Walt looked up at the vent. A little rat arm stuck out and gave her a thumbs-up.

Walt took a deep breath.“Plan Number One, GO!”

Oscar scrambled up the vent to the fifth floor. It had been very inconvenient, having to wait until the humans left before he could go into the vents. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

He could hear Walt’s command as he crawled out into the open. (Luckily, no one was watching him. His feet slipped out from under him three times. It was very undignified.)

He hurried up beside Polo and looked out into the apartment.“What’s happening? Is it me yet?”

“They’ve set up all kinds of fake tricks. You should’ve seen them. But we’re onto them.” She grinned. “It’s going to be awesome.”

Marco pointed into the living room.“This is you, Oscar. Go time.”

Oscar shook himself to loosen up. Then he took a deep breath and started to sing.

Butterbean felt the fur on the back of her neck start to rise. She wouldn’t call Oscar a good singer, but whatever he was singing was very effective. It definitely didn’t sound quite human, but it didn’t sound like a bird, either. She raised her head and started to howl.

“Butterbean! Shhh!” Madison bent down and shushed her. “You’re supposed to be keeping your eyes open, remember?” Butterbean made a face. She couldn’t help herself. As the white cat had said, there was nothing wrong with a little improvising.

“Walt, psst!” Butterbean called. The fur on her neck was starting to prickle again. “What is that song?” She cocked her head to listen better.

“Doesn’t matter! Stick to the plan,” Walt gurgled. To be honest, Walt wasn’t sure what song it was. At first she’d thought Oscar was doing a country number, but now she was getting more of an “Itsy Bitsy Spider” kind of feeling. But whatever it was, it was perfect. Oscar was totally creeping her out.

“What is that?” Madison asked, looking around. “Do you hear that?”