A Date with a Werewolf Page 4

  "Who are they afraid of?"

  "Pembroke," Elizabeth replied. "The elder Lord Pembroke, that is. They were terrified that he would find out they spoke with me."

  "Pembroke again," Luke said. "And the only suspects we haven't eliminated are Lord Pembroke, Lady Pembroke, and Robert. It must be one of them."

  "We can't accuse someone of murder based only on the process of elimination," Elizabeth reminded him. "The Pembrokes could be innocent. Maybe we're wrong about one of the other suspects. Maybe there was some other servant in the house that night. Or maybe someone we've never heard of broke into the house and murdered Joy."

  "Do you honestly believe that, Liz?"

  Elizabeth hesitated before shaking her head. "No. I guess I agree that the Pembrokes are our prime suspects. But we can't do anything about it until we have some firm evidence that implicates one of them."

  "We'll find the evidence," Luke assured her. "Werewolves are expert killers. But they aren't terribly skilled at covering their tracks."

  Chapter 3

  "One Million Pounds for Missing Princess!" screamed the front page of Sunday's London Journal. Elizabeth and Luke saw the headline at a crowded newsstand in London, after they left Victoria Station that morning.

  "Pembroke is at it again," Luke complained. He shoved through the crowd to pick up a copy of the newspaper, reaching past a teenage couple with stiff green hair and a middle-aged man walking a poodle. The dog began yelping loudly at Luke, straining at its leash.

  "You'd better watch it, chap," the green-haired boy said, laughing at him. "That little yapper is out for your blood!"

  Elizabeth shuddered at the word "blood," but Luke just cast the youth a dirty look and threw a few coins on the counter. Elizabeth could hear the sound of the poodle's frantic barking following them as she and Luke began walking along Victoria Street.

  The train station had a connection to the tube, but Elizabeth and Luke had chosen to walk.

  "It's hard to believe that a newspaper with the Journal's sterling reputation would sensationalize this missing princess bit all over the front page, day after day," Luke said, handing her the newspaper. "You read it. I can't bear to."

  "I thought Pembroke sunk to a new low yesterday," Elizabeth said, "with that fantasy about the Tokyo bathhouse. Next it'll be 'Missing Princess Abducted by Space Aliens.' "

  She scanned the article. "At least today's story is true. The paper is putting up a huge reward for information leading to the return of Princess Eliana."

  "It's just another excuse for Pembroke to cover up the really big story," Luke scoffed. "This front-page headline should be about Joy Singleton's murder."

  "But why is he doing this?" Elizabeth asked. "He knows there's a murderer on the loose. Why would he endanger a whole city?"

  "He's protecting somebody," Luke said. "And that's not surprising, with the suspect list narrowed down to just Pembroke, his wife, and Robert."

  "We still can't prove that," Elizabeth reminded him.

  "We will," Luke said, staring with interest at the article. "Actually, Pembroke may have done us a big favor with today's edition. A million pounds just might induce someone to turn in the missing princess." He rolled his eyes. "Unless, of course, she really has been kidnapped, or is in Japan, or has been abducted by space aliens."

  "And if the princess is returned home soon, safe and sound, Pembroke will lose his smoke screen!" Elizabeth said. "He won't have an excuse to bury the murder stories at the back of the newspaper anymore."

  Luke stopped walking and faced Elizabeth. "And," he said, his voice rising with excitement, "people will realize that the Journal made up those stories about Tokyo and kidnapping. Pembroke's cover-up will be exposed."

  Elizabeth shook her head. "It's a nice theory, Luke, but nobody's going to turn Lina in. Nobody else knows who—"

  She gasped, realizing what she had said.

  Luke's mouth dropped open. "Lina?" he asked loudly. He glanced around guiltily and then softened his voice. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  "Please, Luke. I'm the only one who knows, and I promised her I wouldn't tell a soul. I never should have opened my big mouth. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

  Luke pulled her to a secluded bench a few meters off the sidewalk. "Elizabeth, are you telling me that your roommate, working-class Lina from Liverpool, is really the missing Princess Eliana—the youngest daughter of the queen of England?"

  Elizabeth nodded, sick that she'd divulged Eliana's secret. "She's tired of being sheltered and elite. She wanted to meet real people and see what the real London is like, so she ran away from Buckingham Palace, moved into HIS, and found a job in a soup kitchen."

  Luke leaned over and kissed her. "Elizabeth Wakefield, you are just full of surprises. All you have to do now is write up an article about the princess's real whereabouts, and Pembroke's cover-up will be exposed. If Tony won't print it in the Journal, I'm sure an editor at some other newspaper in town would be happy to."

  Elizabeth jumped up from the bench. "Luke! I can't betray Lina's confidence! Besides, exposing the cover-up wouldn't do much good right now—not until we're sure of exactly what Pembroke's covering up."

  Luke sighed. "I guess you're right," he admitted. "And don't be alarmed. I won't reveal her royal highness's secret if you don't want me to. In fact, I admire the girl for what she's doing. But when we have enough evidence to go to the police, you may need to convince Lina—or Eliana—to turn herself in. After all, lives are at stake."

  Elizabeth remembered the sight of Joy's body on the blood-spattered sheets of Jessica's bed. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch.

  "Especially Jessica's life," she whispered.

  "Welcome home," Eliana said to Elizabeth as the American girl walked into the dorm room at noon on Sunday. It felt good to put aside her fake Liverpudlian accent and speak instead in her natural, softer tones. Elizabeth was the only person she could truly be herself around.

  Then Eliana laughed. "Home. It's strange how quickly I've come to think of this place as home."

  Elizabeth glanced around the spacious but messy dorm room and raised her eyebrows.

  "My mother would be horrified if she knew where I was living," Lina continued. "Actually, I called her again this morning—from a pay phone across town, so she can't trace me. I was afraid that today's Journal article would upset her—a bounty on my head and all. So I called to tell her that I'm still all right, but that I can't bear the thought of going back to my old life yet. She's furious with me."

  "I'm sure she's just concerned about your safety."

  "That's for certain. Mum is so overprotective that it's like living with a prison warden!"

  Elizabeth laughed. "With Buckingham Palace as the world's best-decorated prison."

  "Did you see today's Journal, by the way? The going rate for a princess is now one million pounds."

  "Don't worry about anyone trying to collect it," Elizabeth said reassuringly. "Your secret is safe with me." Then she looked away, blushing.

  "Liz, what's wrong?"

  Elizabeth sat down on the bottom bunk. "To tell you the truth, your secret isn't safe with me. I accidentally told Luke about you, just a half hour ago. I'm sorry, but it slipped out."

  Eliana felt a stab of fear. "Is he going to turn me in?"

  "No, of course not," Elizabeth said quickly. "You can trust Luke—and me, even though I haven't given you much reason to."

  Eliana relaxed again. Elizabeth looked so miserable that she felt sorry for her. "It's all right, Liz. I know you trust Luke. That's good enough for me. Besides, I'm too happy today to let it bother me. And I owe it all to you."

  Elizabeth looked at her expectantly, though Eliana could see that her mind wasn't really on the conversation.

  "David and I went out together last night and had a marvelous time!" Eliana bubbled. "You know, I've lived in London all my life, but I've missed so much of the city. David and I explored it together. We were real tourists—Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral. We even dropped by Buckingham Palace to watch the changing of the guard! Of course, I wore my dark glasses for that."

  Elizabeth smiled. "I'm glad you had a good time."

  "It's amazing how much David and I have in common, Elizabeth. For one thing, our politics are exactly alike." She stared at her fingernails for a moment. "He'll hate me if he ever learns the truth about who I am. You know, we both despise the whole idea of royalty, the idea that some people were born to have power and wealth and position, just because they're descended from a line of interbred snobs. You have a much better system in America."

  "We have problems in America, too," Elizabeth said absently.

  Eliana crossed the room and sat beside her. "You sound as if you're a thousand miles away. What's the matter, Liz? Are you still upset about telling Luke my secret?"

  Elizabeth shook her head. "No, Eliana. I'm fine."

  Eliana clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Here's a bit of news to cheer you up. Rene was in here looking for you this morning. He has to attend an embassy function for most of the day, but he left you a message. He asked me to tell you he's sorry for acting, as he put it, 'like a spurned lover.' He wants to be friends now, and asked if you'll meet him for lunch tomorrow."

  Elizabeth's blue-green eyes lit up. "That's wonderful, Eliana! I'll leave him a note accepting the invitation."

  "Good. But you still haven't told me what's wrong, Elizabeth. Didn't you have a good time at Pembroke Manor?"

  "No . . . I didn't," she said, getting up from the bunk. "Suddenly I'm starving. Will you excuse me if I go downstairs to raid the kitchen? I'll fill you in on what happened later."

  Eliana watched the American girl thoughtfully as she headed out of the ro
om. Elizabeth had seemed agitated for most of the week—ever since the night she and Eliana came across the mangled body of a Yorkshire terrier on a foggy London street. Elizabeth had recognized poor Poo-Poo as the subject of her missing dog story at the newspaper.

  Eliana shivered at the memory of the Yorkie's body, the blood on its throat glistening crimson in the moonlight. She couldn't imagine what had happened at Pembroke Manor to further upset Elizabeth. But somehow, she knew it was related to Poo-Poo's bloody death.

  Jessica walked into the kitchen of HIS Sunday afternoon and set her suitcase on the floor. She was surprised to see her sister at the table, reading the most recent issue of the London Journal and eating leftover chicken.

  "I didn't know you were back!" Elizabeth began.

  "Robert just dropped me off," Jessica explained. "I haven't even been upstairs yet. Is there any more of that fried chicken?"

  "Help yourself."

  Jessica poked the front page of Elizabeth's newspaper. "How about that million-dollar reward Robert's father is offering for the missing princess?" she asked. "The Pembrokes are just about the most generous people I've ever met."

  "It's a million pounds," Liz corrected her.

  Jessica rolled her eyes. "What difference does it make? A million is a million. Somebody's going to get rich by finding Eliana. Too bad it can't be us. Maybe we've been investigating the wrong news story. If you were a princess, where would you go?"

  Instead of answering her question, Elizabeth changed the subject. "How was your dinner date with Robert last night?"

  Jessica sighed dreamily. "You should have seen the restaurant, Liz. There were enough forks at my place setting to stock the whole silver department at Simpson's department store back home. We ate chateaubriand—that's steak, you know. And trifle—a scrumptious dessert with layers of fruit and custard and sponge cake and I don't know what else. There was candlelight and soft music and the world's best-looking waiters. It was the most elegant dinner I've ever had!

  "How nice," Elizabeth said without much enthusiasm.

  "Robert is just amazing, Liz. He knows absolutely everyone worth knowing in England. A member of parliament stopped by our table to say hello. A member of parliament!"

  "It sounds like fun."

  "Then why do you look as if you've just eaten a sour pickle?"

  "Oh, don't mind me, Jessica. I'm still recovering from what happened this weekend."

  "What's to recover from? It's over and done with. Of course, I feel awful about Joy. But there isn't anything we can do about it. She would want us to go on having a great time in England. And, Liz, I am having one heckuva great time! I haven't been this happy since before Sam died. I didn't think I would ever love another boy the way I loved Sam. But I do, Liz. I'm in love with Robert Pembroke. This is definitely the Big L!"

  Elizabeth looked startled. "Are you sure it's Robert you're in love with, and not just the money and the celebrities and the expensive dinners?"

  Jessica folded her arms impatiently. "Give me a little credit, Liz. I'm not that superficial. Robert is kind, generous, and a lot of fun. He really cares about me. Of course, having tons of money and being related to royalty is always a plus in a boyfriend. But you know I wouldn't date someone who was naff, or a real narg, just because he was rich."

  "Naff? Narg? I had no idea you were bilingual."

  "They're British words," Jessica said with an air of importance. "Robert taught them to me. Naff means uncool, and a narg is a nerd—like your friend Winston Egbert in Sweet Valley. In fact, most of your mates in Sweet Valley are nargs."

  "My friend! Winston is our friend, and as for—"

  "Oh, cool off, Liz. I'm only kidding," she lied. "The point is that I'm in love with Robert Pembroke and he's in love with me. My own twin sister should be happy for me."

  "I'm happy that you're happy, Jess. But I think you're rushing into this. Isn't it awfully soon to be talking about love? I mean, you met Robert less than a week ago. There are probably a lot of things you don't know about him . . ."

  Jessica jumped from her seat. "What did Robert ever do to you?" she yelled. "Why do you hate him so much?"

  "I don't hate Robert. It's just that—"

  "Besides, you've known Luke less than a week, too. Why is it all right for you to be serious about him, if it's not all right for me and Robert? You're only four minutes older than me, Liz. You have no right to tell me how to live my life!"

  "But Jessica, I—"

  "I don't have to stand here and listen to you criticize the guy I love," Jessica shouted. "I'm fed up with your bossy, holier-than-thou attitude!" She stormed out of the room.

  Elizabeth pounded a fist into her open palm as she watched Jessica's retreating back. "Sometimes she makes me so mad—" she said aloud. Then she noticed Eliana hesitating in the doorway.

  "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, Liz," Eliana began. "And I'll leave if you want me to. But are you all right? I was reading in the library and I couldn't help hearing—"

  "It's OK," Elizabeth said. "You might as well come in. And I'm fine. I just get so angry with Jessica sometimes! I don't know why I bother trying to help her. All I get for it is yelled at. She's so absorbed in little Lord Robert that she won't pay attention to anyone else. But I don't trust Robert or his family. And what happened at Pembroke Manor this weekend certainly didn't increase my confidence. I just know they're hiding something."

  "I'm still in the dark about just what happened this weekend," Eliana reminded her.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and described her discovery of Joy's body in Jessica's bed Saturday morning. "I'm not accusing Robert of being a murderer," she admitted. "At least, I don't think I am. But somebody who was in that house this weekend is a murderer, and the evidence seems to point to the Pembrokes."

  She decided not to mention the werewolf connection just yet, realizing how crazy it would sound.

  "Even aside from the murders, I don't think Robert Pembroke is the kind of guy my sister should be going out with. He has a terrible reputation, and I don't want to see her get hurt. After all, she hardly knows him, and now she's convinced that she's in love. Tell me honestly, Eliana," she concluded. "Was I out of line to caution her against jumping into this relationship so quickly?"

  Eliana looked thoughtful. "No," she decided. "It's never out of line to be concerned about somebody you love. But in this case, I can tell you that you don't need to worry so much. I know Robert; in fact, the Pembrokes are distant cousins of mine. Certainly, the family isn't everyone's cup of tea. They're much too—aristocratic." She smiled ironically.

  "Robert's been a bit of a handful for his parents," Eliana continued, "but it's only with schoolboy pranks and that type of thing. He's not a bad sort. And I'm a hundred percent certain that he doesn't have it in him to be a killer. The worst injury Jessica could get from Robert is a broken heart, when he moves on to his next conquest."

  Elizabeth sighed deeply. "I'm relieved to hear you say so, Eliana. I hope you're right. I do know that there's no real evidence for accusing him of murder."

  "Of course there isn't," Eliana said. "And what possible motive would he have for murdering the young woman at Pembroke Manor?"

  Elizabeth shook her head. "None that I can think of."

  "Maybe you're overreacting to Jessica's relationship with Robert. It's only natural to want to protect your sister, but she's sixteen years old—old enough to make her own decisions."

  "And old enough to make her own mistakes," Elizabeth pointed out. "But you're right. If Robert turns out to be a rat, Jessica will have to learn about it on her own—though I still plan to keep an eye on her."

  Elizabeth fingered the newspaper on the table in front of her. "If you know Robert," she said thoughtfully, "then you know his father, as well. You, of all people, must have noticed the way the Journal is exploiting the missing princess story. What would Pembroke have to gain from plastering you all over his newspaper?"

  Eliana shrugged. "The coverage is annoying, but I don't question Lord Pembroke's interest in using his newspaper to help find me. As I said, we are cousins."

  "All the same, it seems like there would be more important news to cover than this steady stream of princess stories. No offense."

  Eliana laughed. "I suppose it must seem strange to an American, but to the British, anything dealing with the royal family—even idle gossip—is important news."