Ivy and Bean Take the Case (2 page)

“What the heck are you doing, Bean?” called her father from the kitchen.

“I'm trying to get this chair up the stairs!” shouted Bean.

“Do you want help?”

Bean thought about that. Al Seven had a helper, a lady named Dolly. Mostly, Dolly lit Al's cigarette, but Bean figured she would have carried a chair if Al had asked her to. “Yes, please.”

Her dad came down to the basement and carried the spinny chair up the stairs. He even carried it out to the front yard.

“Thanks, pal,” said Bean.

Her dad said, “Don't call me pal. You're welcome.”

Bean put the chair behind the desk and sat in it. She spun around. Pretty good. But she wasn't done yet. She needed to look tough enough to solve a mystery. She needed a hat. She was pretty sure there was one upstairs, in the closet of things no one wanted.

She was right! On the highest shelf of things no one wanted, covered with dust, was a hat. It was sort of grayish, sort of brownish. It smelled funny. When Bean put it on, she could hardly see. It was a little dangerous, walking around in that hat, but Al Seven said, “Danger makes me laugh.”

While Bean was climbing down from the shelf, she found something she hadn't expected, something great. It was a telephone, an old one with two parts and a cord. Perfect! Al Seven was always slamming the phone down on people. Bean slammed the phone down a few times to test it. “So long, pal,” she whispered. With the hat on her head
and the phone under her arm, Bean went downstairs to her mom's recycling bin.

Bean's mom's recycling bin was always full of important-looking papers. Papers with rubber stampings all over them. Papers with typing in three different colors. Papers with sticky notes. Today was a good day in the bin. Papers were spilling out the sides. Also big envelopes. And file folders! What a haul! Since she was already down on the floor, Bean took a look in her mom's wastebasket. Five thousand lipstick tissues and a plastic picture of an alligator lying on a log. Words coming out of the alligator's mouth said, “Sure I'm working. I'm working so fast you can't see it.”

Bean stared at the plastic picture for a long time. Was the alligator working or was it supposed to be funny? Did grown-ups think it was funny? If they did, why? It was a mystery. But, Bean decided, not a very interesting one. With her hat, 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.

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.

“What's down there?” said a voice.