Behind the Curtain: An Echo Falls Mystery (Echo Falls Mysteries)
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Things are amiss at 99 Maple Lane. Ingrid's dad's job is in jeopardy and her brother, Ty, is getting buff—really buff—but his moodiness is making Ingrid start to wonder . . . Meanwhile, Ingrid's beloved soccer coach is replaced by an icy newcomer who seems a little too savvy to be in it for the postgame pizza. True to her hero, Sherlock Holmes, Ingrid begins fishing around to find out who's really pulling the strings in Echo Falls. But one morning, while en route to the dreaded MathFest, Ingrid is kidnapped and locked in the trunk of a car. Even if she escapes, will anyone believe her story?
couldn’t wait till he retired down to Florida so she could take over. Coach Ringer shot Ingrid a quick look: not the kind of question he had in mind. “Assistant Coach Trimble’s in Tokyo,” he said. “Business trip. Won’t be back till Christmas.” Business trip? Ingrid realized she had no idea what Coach Trimble did for a living. None of the kids had ever asked, and Coach Trimble, who didn’t say much, had never mentioned it. “What does she do?” Ingrid said. “Some kind of foreign business,” said
Ferrand Middle School, out of the budget three years ago. My question to you, school committee: What the heck were you thinking?’” He swiveled around in her direction, an aggressive look on his face, like he’d just challenged someone to a fistfight. “Well?” he said. “Um,” said Ingrid. The truth was she couldn’t have cared less about The Clarion. Teachers always supervised student newspapers, meaning the fun got squeezed out. But Mr. Samuels didn’t want to hear that, so Ingrid said, “Pretty
somewhere.” Chicago. Big city, essence of. Ingrid pulled down the visor, flipped open the mirror, bared her teeth. “This is good enough,” she said. “What is?” “My teeth.” “Don’t start, Ingrid.” “Start?” “We’ve been through this a million times,” Mom said. “The braces come off when Dr. Binkerman says so.” “God almighty,” Ingrid said. She snapped the mirror shut. “What’s your problem?” Mom said. The answer: It was about saving money, not getting the braces off. But Ingrid, pissed now, let
high, but whizzing through the air on a line, an actual whiz you could hear, a gray blur headed right for the far post, where— Oh my God. Where at that moment Coach Ringer was huddled sideways against the wind, lighting a cigarette. “Coach!” Ingrid shouted. But too late. The ball struck him right on the ear with a sickening whack. His head banged against the post, making another sickening sound, metallic this time. Coach Ringer slumped to the ground and lay still. For a moment, everyone
downstairs. Dad’s golf clubs stood in the corner by the door. Sean was over there, examining the putter. “He says go up,” said Ingrid. “Second door on the right.” Sean slid the putter back into Dad’s bag and went upstairs. She didn’t like the way he put his hand on the rail, which was crazy. Ingrid got her backpack and sat down at the kitchen table, her first choice homework venue. She closed her eyes, pulled out a book. Whatever it was, she’d do first. Except it turned out to be math. She