To Catch a Thief Read online

  TO CATCH A THIEF

  Written by

  Kate William

  Created by

  FRANCINE PASCAL

  Copyright © 2015, Francine Pascal

  To Jordan Silverman

  Elizabeth had already filled seven pages of a yellow legal pad with her ideas and observations about the thefts. "Both items belonged to the di Riminis . . . one missing from the train . . . one from the château . . . ," she read. "The diamond necklace was stolen from Antonia's room in the château—and the di Riminis' family heirloom was stolen from the countess's luggage."

  Elizabeth circled the word heirloom and drew a big question mark next to it. She didn't know what the heirloom object was exactly and made a mental note to find out.

  Elizabeth realized that she and Jessica were the most obvious suspects. They were the only people who had been on the train and who were staying at the château.

  Except for the countess and Antonia, of course, Elizabeth reflected. The more she considered the possibilities, the more convinced she was of the countess's guilt. All her bluster and rage in the servants' wing that morning might have been nothing more than an attempt to divert suspicion from herself.

  Suddenly the door burst open and Jessica rushed in. "Come on, Liz, let's go!"

  Elizabeth jumped up, responding to the urgency in her twin's voice. "Go where?" she asked, following Jessica to the stairs.

  "To find the jewel," Jessica hissed.

  Elizabeth's mouth snapped shut, and she shivered with excitement. We just might crack this case, she thought.

  Visit the Official Sweet Valley Web Site on the Internet at:

  http://www.sweetvalley.com

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth Wakefield felt as if she'd drifted into a fairy tale. Where else would I be riding on horseback in the moonlight alongside a handsome prince? she wondered. The cool night air was scented by salty breezes blowing off the Mediterranean Sea, with a whiff of the lavender that grew abundantly all over the island.

  Can all this really be happening? Elizabeth asked herself. She glanced at Prince Laurent de Sainte-Marie, riding beside her on his white stallion. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders and sharp features, Laurent was incredibly handsome—the very image of a regal hero. He was the oldest son of a royal European family and the heir to the de Sainte-Marie fortune. He was also a wonderful person, warm and down-to-earth.

  Elizabeth and her twin sister, Jessica, were working as au pair girls for the summer, taking care of Laurent's three young siblings. The job had been Jessica's idea. She'd jumped at the chance to spend her vacation on a private island off the coast of southern France. But the de Sainte-Maries had wanted an older girl with more experience. They'd agreed to hire Jessica only if they could also find a second girl to share the job. Immediately she'd starting working on Elizabeth, trying to convince her to take the second au pair position.

  Elizabeth had balked at her twin's plan. The idea of spending the entire summer so far away from her home in Sweet Valley, California, hadn't appealed to her at all. But Jessica had worn her down—as usual.

  She had regretted caving in to Jessica when she'd had to say good-bye to her longtime boyfriend, Todd Wilkins. The thought of having to spend months away from him had hurt deeply. But apparently Todd hadn't felt the same way.

  Elizabeth felt a pang of regret as she recalled their last time together, the evening before she'd left for France. Todd had broken up with her, claiming that long-distance relationships were too difficult to maintain. She'd felt terribly wounded and had thought the pain would never end.

  She certainly hadn't planned to get involved with anyone else for some time. But then a handsome prince had come into her life. . . .

  "Here we are," Laurent said, slowing his horse to a trot as they came over a hill.

  Elizabeth brought her black mare to a stop, shifting her weight as the horse sidestepped a few paces. "I can't get over how beautiful this place is," she murmured as she gazed down at the Château d'Amour Inconnu, the summer home of the de Sainte-Marie family. The château looked like a fairy-tale castle, its white stone walls glimmering in the moonlight. Several spiked gables jutted up from the roof around the main tower, which was covered with red stone shingles.

  Laurent helped Elizabeth down from the mare. "I think Cendrillon likes you," he said. He pronounced his words with a melodic French accent that Elizabeth thought was delightful.

  Elizabeth stroked the animal's glossy black fur. "I like her too," she replied.

  She watched as Laurent looped the horses' reins around a tree trunk.

  "Cendrillon means Cinderella, doesn't it?" Elizabeth asked as she and Laurent hiked down the hill, hand in hand.

  Laurent nodded. "The mare's name used to be Noir because her color is like the night," he told her. "But the first time we were outfitting her for the horseshoes, she pulled the cross-tie out of the wall and escaped with only three of the shoes attached to her hooves. After that everyone called her Cendrillon."

  Elizabeth laughed. "How disappointing," she said wryly. "I was expecting a much more romantic explanation."

  Laurent chuckled. "The blacksmith was also disappointed."

  As they drew closer to the château Elizabeth noticed that the de Sainte-Maries' dinner party was still going on, even though it was after midnight. The French doors to the formal parlor were open, and several guests were congregated on the stone veranda. The soft strains of a flute and piano duet seemed to float on the breeze.

  Elizabeth grimaced as she caught sight of the countess di Rimini and her daughter, Antonia, who were vacationing with the de Sainte-Maries for the summer. They had traveled to the château on the same train as the twins and were two of the biggest snobs Elizabeth had ever met. On the train the countess had created a big scene about having to ride in the second-class car. Then she had created an even bigger scene by accusing everyone in the train of having stolen a precious heirloom from her suitcase.

  "I think we should avoid the main entrances," Laurent suggested.

  Elizabeth nodded. Laurent had skipped the party to be with her, and she understood why he might want to avoid being seen. "Are you going to be in big trouble with your parents?" she asked.

  Laurent gently pulled her into his arms. "No matter the cost, I wouldn't have missed this time with you," he said.

  Elizabeth smiled up at him. In the moonlight his dark blue eyes shimmered with emotion. "I'm glad," she replied. "But—"

  He lowered his lips to hers, pushing her words right out of her mind with a deep, searing kiss. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly, as if she might melt into the ground without his support.

  "Oh, Laurent," she murmured. "This is all so . . ." She breathed deeply and rested her forehead against his chest. "I can't even describe how I feel right now."

  "Neither can I," he whispered.

  A sudden burst of laughter on the veranda broke the spell. Elizabeth sighed in disappointment. "I can go the rest of the way by myself," she offered. Laurent was staying in a small private cottage on the north side of the island, some distance from the château.

  He squeezed her hand. "What kind of a prince would I be if I didn't see my lovely damsel safely to her door?" he chided her jokingly. "But don't worry. I have an idea."

  He steered Elizabeth away from the château. "Have you discovered the secret tunnels yet?"

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Secret tunnels?"

  "But of course," he replied with a laugh. "They are a standard feature in old European castles."

  ''Sounds interesting," Elizabeth said. "Lead the way. The last thing I feel like tonight is another run-in with the di Rimini duo. Sometimes I get the impression that they don't consider Jessica and me worthy of breathing the same air. We are such lowly servants, after all," she added sarcastically.

  Laurent cleared his throat and chuckled nervously without comment. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, wondering about his strange reaction. Maybe he feels embarrassed about his family's friendship with such horrid snobs, she thought. She decided to drop the subject. The di Riminis were nothing to her and Laurent, especially on such a glorious evening.

  "Where are we going?" Elizabeth asked as they crept into a small, enclosed garden. It's high stone walls were covered with dark climbing vines. Just inside the iron gate a pair of stone lions flanked the entrance. A grassy path curved into a shadowy jungle of flowering bushes.

  "Trust me," Laurent said reassuringly.

  Elizabeth felt giddy with a sense of adventure as Laurent led her farther into the garden. The air was perfumed with honeysuckle and rose, and the wind whispered through the tangled dark foliage.

  They came to a white stone shed that seemed to glow like a ghost in the moonlit night. Laurent reached for the latch on the wrought iron door and pushed it open. It swung inward with an ominous-sounding creak.

  Elizabeth gulped. "We have to go in there?" she asked nervously as she peered into the black interior.

  Laurent rubbed the back of her neck. "It's perfectly safe," he assured her. "I've been sneaking through these tunnels since I was a child."

  "I'm glad I wasn't your
au pair," Elizabeth muttered dryly. Steeling her courage, she followed him through the doorway.

  Elizabeth was immediately engulfed in blackness. She felt her way along a cold, damp wall, skimming her fingers over the bumpy ridges in the stones. With her sight disabled, her remaining senses grew sharper. The echo of their voices and footsteps into the distance told her they were in a cavernous tunnel of some sort. She sniffed the air and noticed it smelled like wet dirt and chalk.

  "These tunnels were built in the twelfth century," Laurent explained. "They were used by the royal family to escape the invasions of their enemies. In the time of the French Revolution noble families hid down here from the mobs, and during World War II the Jews found refuge from the Nazis."

  "Wow!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "There's so much history in here. I wish these walls could tell us everything."

  "I'm sure there is more than anyone knows," Laurent said. "Imagine all the rendezvous en secret—secret meetings—that have taken place over the years." He chuckled. "These walls could tell better stories than the American soap operas."

  Elizabeth laughed. "As long as they don't tell on us." She flinched as her fingers slipped across a patch of slime on the wall.

  The tunnel gradually widened enough for her and Laurent to walk side by side. "How did the Château d'Amour Inconnu get its name?" Elizabeth asked. "It means unfamiliar or unknown love, doesn't it?"

  "Yes," Laurent replied. "There is a legend of sorts."

  "Well—," Elizabeth prompted, gently squeezing his hand. "I hope it's more exciting than the one about how Cendrillon got her name," she added jokingly.

  Laurent said nothing for several seconds. "Long ago a prince fell in love with a young maiden," he began at last. "But their love was doomed. And things for them ended badly"

  "What happened?" Elizabeth asked, intrigued.

  Laurent cleared his throat. "The prince married another; the maiden turned into a bird."

  "That's it?" Elizabeth protested, laughing.

  "It's a worn-out story and not so interesting to me. I prefer modern times." He lifted their entwined hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her wrist. "And modern love stories."

  Chuckling, Elizabeth made a mental note to ask about the legend at the château. One of the servants could probably fill her in on the missing details.

  The passageway narrowed again. "We're almost at the end," Laurent told her.

  Elizabeth sensed the floor rising at a steep incline, forcing her leg muscles to work much harder. She also noticed faint, luminescent patterns on the walls. "I can actually see something," she said.

  "There are open panels near the ceiling in this part, which allow in the moonlight," Laurent explained.

  He reached for her hand and guided her around a corner. "Here we are," he said.

  Straining her eyes, Elizabeth noticed the faint outline of a small door several feet from the ground.

  "That's strange," he suddenly murmured. "It's not locked. This entrance is usually kept bolted shut. Someone must have used it recently."

  As Laurent opened the door a wedge of light filtered into the darkness. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

  Laurent glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. "You doubted me?" he teased.

  "Not for a minute!" she countered. "But I'm not cut out to be a mole. I'm from southern California—born in sunlight."

  He laughed at that, then poked his head through the doorway. "All clear," he whispered.

  Bracing his arms on the ledge, Laurent hoisted himself up through the opening, then reached down to help Elizabeth.

  She crawled through the doorway and found herself crouched beneath a dusty staircase. She noticed the familiar brown-and-tan tiles that covered the floor. "This is the servants' wing," she whispered. The rooms she and her twin had been assigned were just up the stairs. Elizabeth flashed a broad smile at Laurent. "I'm truly amazed."

  "I'm amazed also," he said, his voice low and sexy. "By you, Elizabeth."

  She saw the passionate look in his eyes. Her mouth went dry. Laurent moved closer and slowly pulled her into his arms. "This night with you has been so special," he said. "If only . . ."

  Holding her breath, Elizabeth waited for him to continue. Instead he lowered his lips to hers for a deep, powerful kiss that seemed to go on and on. Elizabeth felt as if their hearts were beating together, as if their souls were entwined. I'm really and truly in love, she thought. With a prince!

  In her small room in the servants' wing of the Château d'Amour Inconnu, Jessica Wakefield snuggled closer to Jacques Landeau. Although they'd been apart for nearly a week, it seemed she'd been waiting for him forever.

  Jacques shifted slightly, squeaking the rusty springs of her narrow bed. "I have missed you so, mon ange" he whispered into her ear, his sexy French accent melting her heart.

  Jessica had known that coming to France for the summer would turn out to be a fabulous, romantic adventure. But falling in love with Jacques was even more wonderful than she'd imagined. Not only was he gorgeous, with warm brown eyes and curly dark hair, but he also happened to be from a royal family. His father, Louis Landeau, was the duke of Norveaux.

  Jessica had met Jacques and his father a week earlier, at the train station in Paris. She had been struggling with her luggage and had begged her twin for help. In response Elizabeth had spouted off a litany of I-told-you-so's in an annoying, bossy-older-sister tone of voice and had marched off without a backward glance. Of course, Elizabeth had managed to pack all her things into two bags and had worn sensible shoes.

  Jessica's arms, back, and shoulders had been throbbing painfully under the heavy load of her many bags, and her new leather sandals had blistered her feet. Suddenly the hottest guy she'd ever seen and a distinguished-looking gentleman had appeared at her side. After introducing himself and his father, Jacques had offered to carry Jessica's luggage. Then the Landeaus had boarded the same train as the twins. Jacques and Jessica had sat side by side, talking and laughing for hours . . . and somewhere along the way Jessica had fallen totally in love,

  Jessica sighed deeply and wrapped her arms around Jacques's neck. "I missed you too," she said. "This week has been miserable without you."

  He gently ran his fingers up and down her arm, setting off a cascade of tingles all through her body. "You and I, Jessica, we share something that is so . . . magnifique. With you I feel like I am at home in my heart. You inspire me to many dreams."

  Jessica snuggled closer. "What kind of dreams?"

  Jacques's brown eyes glimmered. "I dare to see in my mind a future with you," he whispered. "I imagine new things we shall discover together. I wish to show you the many wonderful places I have traveled. You are so full of life . . . all the days with you become a beautiful adventure."

  Jessica basked with pleasure. "I like your dreams."

  Jacques leaned over her, bracing himself with his elbow. "Two years ago my father and I made a trip to Morocco. We stayed in a white palace that dazzled the eyes in the bright desert sun. And the sounds in the village, the people and the animals, the markets . . . they were like a strange, exotic song."

  Jessica closed her eyes, letting his words paint a picture in her mind. She imagined herself draped in silk and jewels, riding with Jacques on a camel across the sandy desert. . . .

  "Another time we joined with a safari in central Africa," Jacques continued.

  Jessica wrinkled her nose. "Did you have to sleep in tents and fight off giant killer mosquitoes?"

  Jacques grinned sheepishly. "The tents, they were appointed as lavishly as a luxury hotel, with soft beds and elegant furniture. But the mosquitoes, they are pesky like everywhere."

  "What about the wild lions and rhinoceroses?" Jessica asked. "Wasn't it dangerous?"

  "It was not," Jacques replied. "We don't go too near the wild animals. We shoot them only with the cameras, with the lenses that are, how you say . . . long-range. But of course, my father would advise I tell of my courage in facing a hundred fierce lions, so as to impress you," he added with a laugh.

  Jessica grinned, recalling Louis Landeau's blatant matchmaking efforts and indiscreet romantic advice to both her and Jacques during the train ride from Paris. "Your father is too much," she said jokingly.