9e945bf3b1d705d5d70aa6e5ed9fa2ba

Mr. Slick Hair scrambled to his feet.“No, I mean, yes, that’s a fake. We were trying to trick her, I confess. That was a scam, sure. But that thing? With the…” He shuddered. “… the… the arms? We didn’t do that! That was a real ghost. Listen! Those noises? That’s not us!”

They all listened. Oscar had stopped singing, but a new sound had started. It was one that all the animals recognized. The sound of vocal exercises.

“That’s not a human sound, Officer,” Mrs. Third Floor said softly.

“Officer?” Mr. Slick Hair stared up at Officer Marlowe in horror. “Wait, what? I mean, no, this was all a… a prank!”

“Yes, good fun,” the Bald Guy said from his perch on a kitchen stool. “Just a joke between friends. Now let me out of here.”

He hopped from the stool onto the couch and then scrambled over the coffee table toward the door, like he thought the ghost would grab his feet.

Officer Marlowe stepped in front of the exit, blocking the Bald Guy’s path. She turned to Mrs. Third Floor. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to say these men are scamming you. This ghost? It’s all fake.” She put one hand to her temple. “I’m seeing a whole lot of fraud charges in their futures.” She reached into her waistband and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “I’m taking them in.”

Mrs. Third Floor nodded.“Yes, you’re right. I know you’re right, but still…” She swallowed. “These men didn’t vandalize the apartment. Or lick the cupcakes. They may be scammers, but there’s still a ghost. Can’t you hear it?”

“Cat! That’s your cue!” Wallace hissed from the vent.

“I realize that, ma’am, but—”

Officer Marlowe was cut short. Because at that moment, the white cat made her appearance.

Trotting in from the kitchen, covered with flour, she gave a pathetic unearthly yowl and collapsed in a heap on the living room floor. She had even managed to find a spotlight. (It was very dramatic.)

“This is my favorite death scene,” she said in between screeches and moans. She put a paw onto her forehead and fell back. “Observe my skills,” she said, coughing gently and batting her eyes up at Mrs. Third Floor. “You don’t see a performance like this every day,” she moaned. “OH WOE IS ME!”

“Oh, it’s a kitty!” Mrs. Third Floor squealed.

“It’s covered with gross stuff. What is that?” Madison said, taking a step forward to examine it. Butterbean was way ahead of her.

She snuffled at the white cat for a moment.

“Stop it! You’re ruining my scene!” the cat screeched, batting at Butterbean’s face before collapsing back in a heap. “OH WOE!”

Butterbean lifted a white nose and sneezed. A puff of flour flew up around them.

Madison examined Butterbean’s face. “It’s flour!” She stood up. “Just like before!” She did a discreet fist pump in the air. “I KNEW it wasn’t a ghost! High five, dog!” She held up her hand for a high five. Butterbean did her best to high-five back.

“The poor little kitty!” Mrs. Third Floor let go of Walt, who fell in a heap on the floor. Then she scooped up the white cat and cuddled it to her chest. She didn’t even notice the flour all over her front.

“There’s your ghost,” Officer Marlowe said, picking up the phone and pointing at the white cat with it. “I knew there was a rational explanation. That cat’s been in your apartment.”

Madison frowned.“But that doesn’t explain the—”

“Hsst,” Mrs. Food hissed, poking her in the side.

“… pizza,” Madison finished under her breath. She exchanged significant looks with Mrs. Food. “Right, that’s it! That kitten must’ve gotten stuck in here somehow. Wow, crazy, right?”

“That cat must’ve licked your cupcakes,” Mrs. Food said to Mrs. Third Floor.

“Poor little darling,” Mrs. Third Floor cooed. “Poor baby kitten. We have to find your mommy and daddy.”

“Kitten, my butt,” Walt grumbled, standing up and smoothing her sweaty, matted fur. “That cat is older than me.”

“I need backup at the Strathmore Building,” Officer Marlowe said into the phone. Then she pointed it at the couch. “I’ll need you two gentlemen to sit down there. Your little con is over.”

The ghost men sat down on the couch obediently. Mr. Slick Hair was still shaking and staring at the floor. The Bald Guy had his head in his hands.

They didn’t hear the cheers coming from the vent overhead or see the two octopuses high-fiving in the light fixture.

— 19 —

IT DIDN’T TAKE OFFICER TRAVIS long to show up to assist with the arrest. And he seemed very relieved to find out that the exploding flour canister episode from before had a kitten-related explanation.

“I figured it was a cat or something,” he said to Mrs. Third Floor as he put the handcuffs on Mr. Slick Hair. “I said to myself, ‘That’s a cat doing this, not a ghost.’ That’s what I thought, anyway.”

“Kitty kitty,” Mrs. Third Floor said, cuddling the white cat. “Little sweetie pie.”

“Really?” Madison said, eyeing Officer Travis skeptically. “If that’s what you thought, why didn’t you say so?”

Officer Travis shrugged.“Thought it was obvious.” He hustled Mr. Slick Hair away without meeting Madison’s eye.