Ivy and Bean Take the Case (Book 10)
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Watch out, you diabolical masterminds! There's a new detective on Pancake Court: Bean! She laughs at danger! She solves even the most mysterious mysteries! What? There aren't any mysteries? Then Bean and her assistant, Ivy, will make some!
grass. Underneath the cement lid, down below the grass, there was a rectangular space full of slime. In the middle of the space stood a gray machine with a dial on it. Pipes came from its sides and disappeared into the ground. “Hey, look at that!” It was Sophie S. from down the street, bending over Bean. “I always wanted to know what was under there.” “The Mystery of What’s Under the Cement Rectangle has now been solved,” Bean said. It felt good to have an answer. Sophie S. peered down
kid-houses, no rope. That left seven—no, eight—houses with no kids or tiny kids or grown-up kids. How was she going to get into those basements and sheds? Could she sneak in? She might have to break a window. Al Seven would do it in a second. Al Seven had probably never been grounded. Ivy cleared her throat. Bean spun. Ivy cleared her throat again. Bean looked at her. What? Ivy wiggled her eyebrows. She tossed her hair. Bean gave Ivy a bug-eyed look. What? Ivy tapped her nose. “What?!”
said, “Get off the phone, Bennett! It’s not ours, Bean, sorry.” + + + + + + Fester the dog barked. There was nobody at his house except him. + + + + + + Ivy took a deep breath. She took one step onto Mrs. Trantz’s front path. Like magic, the door opened, and Mrs. Trantz was standing on her porch. “What are you doing in my garden, little girl?” yelled Mrs. Trantz. “Hi, Mrs. Trantz,” began Ivy politely. “Don’t Mrs. Trantz me!” yelled Mrs. Trantz, not politely. “What are those children doing
downstairs. She stopped in her mom’s office to borrow her phone, the one with the camera, and then she got the flashlight, and finally there was nothing else to do except go outside. In the front hallway, Bean took a deep breath. She got ready for the dark and the cold and maybe a big and mean person. Everyone else was cozy in their warm beds. Nobody knew what she was doing. She was all alone. Al Seven never seemed lonely. There was something weird about him, Bean decided. She opened the door.
The porch looked regular, but the rest of Pancake Court was blueish-blackish and empty. Bean sat down on her top step, and looked out over the nighttime world, with its looming, dark houses and rustling, dark trees. The yellow rope glowed in the light of the streetlamp, from Dino’s chimney to Ruby and Trevor’s grass. She had made it in time. It hadn’t grown, not yet. The nighttime world reminded her of Al Seven’s black-and-white world. Even though she wasn’t cold, Bean shivered. It wasn’t the