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Walt had draped herself along the back of the couch. Butterbean was partially wedged under the coffee table. Marco and Polo were lying flat on the floor of their aquarium. And Oscar was sitting gloomily on the bottom of his cage. (Wallace was lying behind the couch, but Mrs. Food and Madison didn’t notice him.) They had failed. And they hadn’t told Jerome.

“What’s wrong, guys? Too much ghosty stuff for you?” Madison asked, patting Walt on the head. Walt twitched an ear in response.

Madison bent down to look under the coffee table.“Butterbean, we did it! We stopped those guys! Aren’t you excited?” Butterbean didn’t even move. Madison stood up. “I think they’re traumatized,” she told Mrs. Food.

“They’ll stop being traumatized when I get the can opener out,” Mrs. Food scoffed, going into the kitchen.

“We’re being depressed,” Butterbean said without moving. She’d thought it was pretty obvious. They’d run out of ideas. They would never get Jerome back to the zoo now. They were stuck with him.

Madison picked up the remote.“Maybe we can watch the news? They like that.” She sat down on the couch and rested her head on Walt’s back. “Want to see the news, cat?”

Walt didn’t respond.

It didn’t matter anyway. The News was over.

“Oh crud,” Madison said, turning the TV off again. “I was hoping they’d say something about that new octopus. I still can’t believe Mr. Wiggles is really gone!”

“Well, it’s been a while,” Mrs. Food said, setting the table. “They can’t keep looking forever.”

“I know, but I was right there!” Madison said, getting up. “I was probably one of the last people to see him!”

“Last person,” Butterbean couldn’t help saying. “You were the last person. I’ve told you that A MILLION TIMES.”

“Maybe even the LAST person,” Madison said.

“Thank you,” Butterbean said.

“I just keep thinking about it, you know, trying to retrace my steps in my head. Surely I saw something, right? Maybe something I saw is the key to everything! It’s like one of those mystery movies where they call everybody into the drawing room to reveal the killer.”

“Right,” Mrs. Food said. “Madison, help me with the rice, okay?”

“Sure,” Madison said, going into the kitchen.

None of the animals moved. Then slowly, Walt’s ears started to perk up.

“Oscar,” she said without moving. Her voice was muffled by the couch cushion. “Did you hear what she said?”

“I did,” Oscar said.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Oscar sat up a little straighter.“About the murder mystery?”

“The drawing room part? Calling everyone together? Retracing steps?”

“Exactly.” Oscar shot up onto his perch. “How much time do you need?”

Walt jumped down from the cushion.“Not long. Cover for me, Bean!”

She streaked into the office.

Butterbean sat up in confusion. She was not thinking what they were thinking.“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” she barked, and then started running in circles around the living room. She didn’t have time to come up with a new distraction technique. Circles were always her best option.

“What in the world?” Mrs. Food came out into the living room.

Madison poked her head around the corner.“She’s lost it.” Then she frowned. “What is that cat doing?” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed off into the office.

“OH NOOOOOOOO,” Butterbean wailed. She couldn’t even manage a simple distraction anymore.

Madison was back less than a minute later.“She’s playing with the computer keyboard. It’s like she thinks she can type,” she laughed.

Butterbean and Oscar exchanged glances. As long as Mrs. Food and Madison thought Walt’s computer hijinks were all a big joke, they should be okay. Just as long as they didn’t investigate too much.

Walt stalked in a few minutes later and sat down in the middle of the living room, a smug expression on her face.

“Did it work?” Butterbean asked, collapsing in a heap next to her.

“Just wait.” She started grooming her tail.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Third Floor poked her head in. “Madison?” She let herself in. “Sorry to bother you, but I just got the STRANGEST message that I think was meant for you. It was someone from the City Zoo. They need you to come by tomorrow for some kind of reenactment? It’s part of the Wiggles investigation. Anyway, I wrote down what they said.” She handed a piece of paper to Madison.

“Okay, thanks.” Madison looked at the piece of paper. “Huh.”

Walt smoothed her whiskers.“Bingo.”

— 20 —

“MADISON, COME QUICK!” MRS. FOOD hit the pause button on the Television as Madison came into the apartment. “Look! He’s back! Mr. Wiggles is back!”

“What?” Madison dumped her book bag onto the entryway floor, her water bottle bouncing out into the dining room.

Walt inspected it carefully. She was just glad it was empty this time.

“No way! I was JUST THERE! When did this happen?” Madison said, sitting down on the couch.

“They just announced it,” Mrs. Food said. “Here, I’ll run it back.”

Mrs. Food rewound for a few seconds and then hit play.