Ivy and Bean Take the Case by Annie Barrows Page B

her phone, and an armful of paper, Bean went outside.



+ + + + +
    Bean was a good artist. She could draw nice stuff like flowers and cute bugs and dancing bagels, but she could also draw serious stuff like science pictures and pyramids. Her sign was serious. She wanted it to look like a real, grown-up sign. Al Seven’s sign said Al Seven, Private Investigator. Bean wanted a sign like that. She began to write in big, serious letters.

    Bean’s last name was really long. It was so long that sometimes she mixed up the letters.
    She mixed up the letters.
    Bean got another piece of paper. Bean, she wrote in big, serious letters. Good.
    Private. Good.
    Investigator. Oops. Instevigator.
    Bean got another piece of paper.
    Bean. Good.
    Pirvate. Oops.
    Bean got another piece of paper.
    Bean. Good.
    Prva—oops. Bean crumpled the paper and threw it on the ground.
    She got another piece of paper. Bean. Good.
    P. Good.
    I. Good.
    Done. Whew.



Bean taped her sign to the plum tree. She put her hat on her head. She put the papers and file folders on the desk. She made her eyes into slits and looked around Pancake Court. She watched Jake the Teenager walk out of his house with a gigantic shopping bag. “So long, pal,” she muttered. She picked up the phone and slammed it down. She was tough. She was ready. She was ready for her first mystery.



UNDER COVER JOB
    In front of every house on Pancake Court, there was a yard. Then there was a sidewalk. After that came the curb, and then came the street. At the front of every yard, near the sidewalk, there was a little cement rectangle. Every house on Pancake Court had one of these little cement rectangles in front of it, and every little cement rectangle had a small hole in it. Bean had known this for years.
    But what was under the rectangle? Bean didn’t know. It could be a tunnel that led to the center of the Earth. It could be anything!
    Bean crouched over the little cement rectangle in front of her house and peered into the hole. No good. She couldn’t see anything. She lay down on the grass and put her eye over the hole. Nothing but darkness.
    â€œWhat’s down there?” said a voice.

    â€œYikes!” squawked Bean, flopping over like a pancake.
    It was Ivy, leaning over her. “What’re you doing?”
    It’s hard to be tough while you’re lying flat on your back, but Bean tried. “I’m cracking a case.”
    â€œYou’re what?” asked Ivy.
    â€œIt means solving a mystery,” Bean said. She sat up. “I’m practicing to be a private investigator. P. I. for short.”
    â€œPi?” Ivy said. “3.1415—”
    â€œNo, not that one. P. I. stands for private investigator. You know, someone who solves mysteries. Like Al Seven.”
    â€œAl who?” asked Ivy.
    So Bean explained everything about Al Seven and
Seven Falls
. For a while, Ivy thought Al Seven
was
seven, but soon she understood.
    Bean told her about how Al Seven found clues and rubbed his face. She told Ivy about how Al Seven snuck after people and spied on them and asked them the hard questions. How Al Seven spied on Sammy La Barba and saw him put money in a mailbox. And then about how Al Seven gave all the money to a girl named Lola.

    â€œWhy’d he do that?” asked Ivy.
    Bean shrugged. “Don’t know. But then he sits in his car for a long time and then the police come and some newspaper guys, and he’s a big hero. But he doesn’t care, and he walks off alone in an alley.”
    â€œWow.” Ivy was impressed.
    â€œSo,” Bean said. “I’m going to be a P. I. and I’m going to solve mysteries.”
    Ivy looked around Bean’s front yard. “What mystery are you solving now?”
    â€œThe Mystery of What’s Under the Cement Rectangle,” Bean answered.
    â€œHey!” Ivy said. “I’ve always wondered about that!”
    â€œThat’s what makes it a