The Great Pet Heist

by Emily Ecton

  “No, please…” the second man whispered again. “Please.”

  Marco stood up. He was already going to have nightmares for a month, and he didn’t see how watching this was going to help Polo. He wasn’t even sure how she was going to get out. It didn’t look like Walt’s plan was going to work after all.

  “Can you watch the living room for a minute?” Marco asked. “I want to check on Polo.” Even if he couldn’t help her, he could be there for moral support.

  “I can’t watch! You KNOW that!” Wallace said. “I never should’ve agreed to this.” Wallace didn’t know why he’d gotten mixed up with those weird apartment rats. He didn’t need new friends. He had plenty of friends on the loading docks. Sure, they didn’t have sunflower seeds, but who cared about that? He’d been meaning to give up sunflower seeds anyway.

  Marco glared at the back of Wallace’s head. He felt like punching something. “Come on, Wallace, I just need—”

  With a loud crash, the door to the apartment burst open. Marco gasped.

  “What? What is it?” Wallace called, twisting around to look.

  “WHOOHOOO!” Marco climbed up onto the grate to get a better view. “Wallace, LOOK! It worked!”

  “What worked?” Wallace hopped to his feet and took a few steps toward the grate before stopping. He didn’t want to go back. But he really didn’t want to miss out. “What is it?”

  “It’s the police!” Marco stuck his face through one of the holes in the grate and cheered. Not that anyone inside noticed him, but he thought it was appropriate anyway.

  Wallace rushed to stand beside him. The apartment was crawling with police officers. The Coin Man and the Number Two Man were both handcuffed. Number Two was sobbing, with what Marco secretly suspected was relief. (Because if those police hadn’t shown up, he would’ve been totally dead.)

  Wallace pointed toward the bathroom door. “Marco, look!”

  A police officer moved the chair away from the door and pushed it open. A very dazed-looking Madison stepped tentatively into the room. Two more officers rushed forward and helped her to the couch.

  “Do you see her?” Marco said, craning his neck to get a better view. She had to be okay. “Can you see Polo?”

  “There!” Wallace pointed again. “Look at the pocket!”

  Polo’s head had popped up out of Madison’s pocket. She was grinning from ear to ear, and when she saw Marco and Wallace in the grate, she gave them a thumbs-up.

  Marco gave her a thumbs-up too, then leaned down to put his head between his knees. He needed to take some deep, cleansing breaths.

  “I’d get you a paper bag to breathe into,” Wallace said. “But it would be too big.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Marco said. “I just need a minute.”

  Wallace patted him on the back. “I understand. Hey, what’s Polo doing?”

  Marco stood up and looked into the room again. Polo was hanging out of the jacket pocket and clutching the material of Madison’s sweater.

  Madison didn’t notice, and neither did the police officer taking her statement.

  In just a few seconds, Polo withdrew back into the pocket. Looking up at the vent grate, she held up her hand triumphantly.

  She had a new button.

  19

  “WE DID IT! IT WORKED!” Marco raced out from the vent behind the couch. “The police arrested them and everything.”

  “Is Polo okay?” Butterbean asked, rushing up to sniff him. He smelled pretty much like he usually did, but she liked to check, just in case.

  Marco raised his arms to give Butterbean full sniff access. “She looked fine. Wallace said he’d keep watching. She’ll probably be back soon.” Marco pumped his fist. “WHOOHOO!”

  “Whew! Finally some good news.” Walt hopped off the window ledge, where she’d been sitting with Oscar. “We’ve been watching the police cars drive up. I’m glad they got there in time.”

  “Wow, two successful heists in one day!” Butterbean said, sitting down and scratching her ear. “We’re awesome!”

  “We’re the best heisters ever!” Marco cheered.

  “And now we’re poor!” Butterbean cheered.

  “Yes, about that—” Oscar started, hopping down from the ledge.

  “About that,” Walt said, cutting him off. “I’m not going to a shelter. I’m a black cat, and black cats don’t do well at shelters. The whole ‘unlucky’ thing.” She attempted to make air quotes, without much success. “So when Bob comes to get us, I’m planning to slip out. I can take care of myself. I’d appreciate it if you don’t draw attention to it.”

  Butterbean looked horrified. “No! Walt, we’ll figure something out!” Butterbean raced over to Oscar. “We need to stay together! Right, Oscar? We’ll make a new plan!”

  “Wallace invited me and Polo to live in the vents. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if the rest of you came. It’s an option,” Marco said. Then he caught sight of Butterbean’s stricken face. “Well, not for Butterbean. Sorry about that.” Marco wrung his hands apologetically. “But you’re cute—you’re sure to get adopted quickly.”

  “Or maybe the power walker woman can take you!” Walt said encouragingly. “She seems nice.”

  “No! You can’t live in the vents without me!” Butterbean whimpered.

  “Listen, about that—” Oscar started again.

  “Are you going to come live in the vents, Oscar?” Marco said.

  “Um, no.” Oscar shuddered. “If it came down to it, I’d head to the park. I hear there are some lovely trees there. But listen—”

  “No! No trees, no vents, no slipping out! We’ve got to stick together!” Butterbean turned to Oscar, her eyes moist. “We just need a new plan, right, Oscar? Can’t you think of something? You’ve got all the best plans.”

  Walt bumped her head up against Butterbean’s side. “Butterbean, think about it,” she said. “Giving the money back was the right thing to do, but now that we aren’t independently wealthy, we can’t live on our own. And besides, we don’t even have anyone to take care of us.”

  “We’ve got Madison,” Butterbean said stubbornly.

  “We don’t have Madison. Not anymore,” Marco said. “She’s living alone, remember, no adult? Those cops have to know that by now. Do you think they’re going to let her keep doing that?”

  Butterbean tried to be positive. “Maybe?”

  “No chance,” Walt said, frowning. “She’ll be sent to what, an orphanage?”

  “I don’t think they do orphanages that much anymore,” Oscar said. He wasn’t sure, though. There were lots of orphanages on the Television, but Oscar was starting to doubt how accurate his shows really were.

  Marco rolled his eyes. “Well, wherever she goes, it won’t be here. She won’t be feeding us,” he said.

  “Marco is right, Butterbean,” Walt said sympathetically. “I wish we had options. But we now have zero people to take care of us. Bob is coming. Face it, our time is up.”

  Butterbean opened her mouth to protest, but just then a key turned in the lock.

  “Bob!” Marco gasped, racing for his aquarium. “No, it’s too soon!” Polo wasn’t even back yet. Marco gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going anywhere without Polo. Not without a fight.

  The door opened, and Butterbean screamed in delight.

  It was Mrs. Food.

  She was sitting in a chair wheeled by Bob, who positioned Mrs. Food next to the couch.

  “MRS. FOOD!” Butterbean shrieked, racing to the chair and jumping up in an attempt to climb into Mrs. Food’s lap and lick her nostrils all at the same time.

  Bob did not look amused. “Yeah, back in the apartment, huh? I’m onto you, dog,” he muttered, pushing Butterbean away from Mrs. Food. He turned and glared at Walt. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, too, cat.”

  Mrs. Food laughed weakly and reached down to scratch Butterbean behind the ears. “Calm down, Bean,” she said.

  Butterbean sat down, wagging her tail so hard that she looked
like she was going to levitate. Bob shifted uncomfortably. “Now, do you need me to get your stuff together, or…”

  Mrs. Food half turned to look at him. “I think I can manage. I can get out of the chair myself. You don’t have to stay.”

  Bob looked relieved. “Well, good. That lady, your what, Elder Care lady? She’ll be here soon, so she can help with anything you can’t do. Sorry to see you go, ma’am.”

  “Me too, Bob.” Mrs. Food looked sad.

  She sat absentmindedly patting Butterbean’s head until she heard Bob leave. Then she turned back to the animals. “Now, all of you, stay calm. I have some bad news.”

  Walt hopped up onto the arm of the wheelchair. Oscar flew over to the coffee table. Marco perched on top of his water bottle. Then they waited. This was it. It was finally happening.

  Mrs. Food folded her hands in her lap. “I know this has all been very scary for you. And I wish I had better news. I’m well now, but the doctors said I’m not well enough to live on my own. And I can’t take you with me to the care facility I’m going to. So you’re all going to have to go to new homes.”

  “Shelter,” Walt said softly.

  Butterbean gave a low wail.

  Mrs. Food sighed. “I’ll do my best to find places for you. I’ve already started asking around. I’m so sorry.” She rubbed Butterbean’s ear. Butterbean’s leg started to thump. “The nurse is going to be up in just a minute to help me get my things, but I wanted to let you know myself.”

  Butterbean launched herself up at Mrs. Food’s face again. She looked so sad. Butterbean couldn’t stand it.

  Loud footsteps echoed in the hallway.

  Mrs. Food sighed. “Bob again,” she said, reaching out and stroking Walt’s neck. “I wish we had more time.”

  The door burst open so violently that it banged against the opposite wall. A small figure raced in, slamming the door again behind her. It was a very un-Bob-like way to open a door. That was probably because it wasn’t Bob. It was Madison.

  She was clutching Polo in a sweaty grip and stopped short when she saw Mrs. Food. “Oh. Mrs. Fudeker. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you were… I just… Is this your rat?”

  Mrs. Food reached out for Polo. “Why yes, Polo! How nice of you to return her.” Polo crawled into Mrs. Food’s hand and hugged one of her fingers.

  Madison glanced back toward the door. “Yeah, they said I wasn’t supposed to, but I had to, right? I mean, she’s your rat.” She reached down and patted Butterbean on the head. “I’ve been taking care of these guys while you’ve been gone, but I can’t anymore. They’re taking me—” She broke off in a strangled sob. “Anyway, I wanted to say thank you? To these guys, and to you, I guess.” She looked around the room at the animals. “I don’t know how you did it. But I know it was you. So thank you.” She looked at Mrs. Food again. “They’ll understand.”

  Mrs. Food nodded. “I’m sure they will.” She hesitated. “You’re Ruby Park’s niece?”

  More footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Madison winced at the sound. “Yeah. Anyway, sorry about barging in. I just—”

  The door flew open, and a tall red-faced woman in a blazer stood in the doorway. “Madison! I told you we were going straight to the car.” She turned to Mrs. Food. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I’m Mrs. Taylor, and this little girl is on her way to her new foster home. I’m sure you heard about the incident on the top floor? We’ll just be leaving now.” She gripped Madison by the upper arm and pulled her toward the door.

  Butterbean wuffled softly and turned her most soulful gaze toward Mrs. Food. Walt bumped her head against Mrs. Food’s arm, purr volume turned up to high. Even Polo blinked in her cutest way (although she was severely hampered by her sweaty, matted fur).

  Mrs. Food gave the slightest nod and put on a puzzled expression. “But why?”

  Mrs. Taylor hesitated. “Why what, ma’am?”

  “Why are you taking her to a foster home? She already has a home. She lives here, with me,” Mrs. Food said, frowning.

  “What? What do you mean?” Mrs. Taylor glanced from Mrs. Food to Madison and back again.

  “I mean she lives here. Why? What were you told?” Mrs. Food’s voice was chilly.

  “Wait, you mean… I’m sorry. She lives here?” Mrs. Taylor looked at Madison accusingly. “She didn’t say she lives here. No one told me she had a guardian.”

  Mrs. Food sniffed. “Well, I can’t help that. It was all arranged with her aunt, Ruby Park. Madison is staying here with me while her aunt is deployed in… Where is it again, dear?”

  “Afghanistan,” Madison said, hardly daring to breathe.

  “Afghanistan, yes,” Mrs. Food said. “You can check with her if you like, but we have it all arranged. It’s very convenient, you see, because we live in the same building.”

  “That’s what I meant when I said I lived downstairs,” Madison said, shooting a hopeful look at Mrs. Food. “I didn’t mean my aunt’s apartment on the eighth floor—I meant here. I tried to tell you.”

  Mrs. Taylor glared at them both suspiciously. Mrs. Food and Madison stared back without even blinking, they were trying so hard to look innocent.

  Mrs. Taylor reluctantly let go of Madison’s arm. “Oh. Well. I will be checking on this, I can tell you that,” she huffed. “But if your aunt set it up…”

  “She did. It’s in my Family Care Plan,” Madison said. “That’s why it was so important for me to come here. So Mrs. Fudeker could explain.”

  “Well. I see. Well,” Mrs. Taylor fumed. “Thank you for your help then, Mrs. Fudeker. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Food said calmly. Mrs. Taylor turned stiffly and marched out.

  Madison whipped around to face Mrs. Food. “This isn’t going to work, is it? They’ll never fall for it! We’ll get in trouble. They’ll check and see it’s not true!”

  Mrs. Food smiled. “It won’t matter if they check if we fix things first. Listen, Madison, would you like to live here with me while your aunt is away? We can call Mrs. Taylor back if you don’t want to.”

  “I definitely want to!”

  “Good. I’d love to have you here. And I’m not supposed to live alone right now either, so it’s good for both of us. Now, what do we have to do to get in touch with your aunt—can you call her?” Mrs. Food stood up carefully. “There’s a phone in the office.”

  “I can e-mail her,” Madison said quickly. “She’s always liked you, so she’ll definitely say yes. I think she just needs to change the plan she filed for me.”

  “Then e-mail, quickly. The computer’s in the office too. And then go get your things—we’ll get you set up in the guest bedroom.”

  Madison grinned. “Got it.”

  Mrs. Food smiled tightly. “Now the only problem is my nurse. She should be here any—”

  “Mrs. Fudeker?” A small woman slipped in the front door and almost bumped into Madison. The woman jumped back in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry, but…” She looked at Madison in confusion. “Who is this? Mrs. Fudeker? I understood you lived alone?”

  Mrs. Food raised her eyebrows significantly at Madison. “Sheila, this is—”

  Madison leaped forward, hand extended. “I’m Madison Park. I live here. With Mrs. Fudeker.” She shook Sheila’s hand enthusiastically.

  “You live here! But…” The woman frowned and looked at her clipboard.

  “It’s all set up in my Family Care Plan,” Madison said, a huge smile plastered on her face. “I’m living here while my aunt is deployed.”

  “That’s true,” Mrs. Food confirmed.

  The small woman nodded and flipped through the papers. “But Mrs. Fudeker, all your paperwork says you live alone.”

  “Nope! Not alone. With me,” Madison said brightly. “It’s all set up.”

  Mrs. Food made a face. “I’ve been telling people all along I didn’t need placement in assisted living. Not with Madison as my caregiver.”

  “I’m very helpful,” Madis
on said, standing up straighter.

  Sheila smiled. “I’m sure you are, hon.” She flipped one last page, then threw up her hands and smiled at Madison. “Well, it’s obvious someone got something very wrong. I apologize. I’ll go back to the hospital and get this cleared up.” She rolled her eyes. “Clerical errors.”

  “That’s fine.” Mrs. Food smiled. “And thank you.”

  “Yeah, thanks!” Madison said, waving goodbye until the woman was gone. “She bought it!”

  Mrs. Food let out a sigh of relief. “E-mail, NOW!” she said, pointing to the office.

  “Right!” Madison turned and raced inside.

  A few minutes later she stuck her head out. “Mrs. Fudeker, did you call in a tip to the crime line? There’s a message saying something about a reward.”

  20

  DON’T GET ME WRONG—I’LL gladly accept the reward if they give it to me,” Mrs. Food said as she put a sandwich and pretzels into Madison’s lunch bag. “But what I don’t understand is HOW? I wasn’t even home when that call was made.”

  “Beats me, but don’t tell them that!” Madison said, stashing her lunch in her book bag. “It’s really weird, though.”

  “Belly rub,” Butterbean said, rolling over onto her back at Madison’s feet.

  “Weird and lucky.” Madison reached down to scratch Butterbean’s tummy. “Maybe you’ve got a guardian angel.”

  Butterbean caught Walt’s eye and winked. Walt winked back. Mrs. Food and Madison didn’t suspect a thing.

  Madison frowned. She stopped scratching and looked from Butterbean to Walt thoughtfully. Butterbean lolled her tongue out of her mouth and drooled a little. It never hurt to look a tiny bit stupid.

  “Maybe more than one,” Madison said, winking at Butterbean. Butterbean almost choked on her spit. Smirking, Walt jumped off the chair and stalked into the living room. Well, at least Mrs. Food didn’t suspect anything.

  “Now, don’t forget your call with your aunt after school today,” Mrs. Food said.

  “Got it.” Madison patted Butterbean goodbye. “See you later!” She threw her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.