Princess for a Week

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Princess for a Week Page 5

by Betty R. Wright


  Roddy wondered if she was going to tell Mrs. Glaubitz about her poor lost kitty. He thought he might throw up if she did.

  Later, as they tiptoed past Uncle Ring and started down the hill toward home, the dear, sweet voice was gone.

  “So where were you?” Princess demanded. “Jacob whispered that you might have gone to the burglar’s house, but he was just being silly. You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I would, too, dare,” Roddy said. “I did! I even went inside. There was an open window in the back and a table underneath it, so I thought you were in there. I was going to—”

  “Going to what?” Princess interrupted. “Were you going to save me?” She was laughing at him!

  “I was going to yell at you,” Roddy admitted. “You could get in big trouble breaking into somebody’s house.”

  Princess stopped laughing. “Well, sure you could,” she said. “But I was playing Chinese checkers with Uncle Ring, remember? I just hope nobody saw you. You could have spoiled everything.”

  “Nobody saw me.” Roddy was about to tell her about the ghostly footsteps when his mom’s car passed them. She blew the horn and waved without slowing down. They watched as she parked in front of the house and ran up the steps to the mailbox. She glanced through a handful of envelopes and then stuffed them into her jacket pocket.

  “No letter from your father,” Princess said. “That’s too bad.”

  Roddy glanced at her, surprised. She really sounded sorry. “It’s not his fault,” he said. “Maybe the letter got lost. Or maybe he’s …”

  “Busy.” Princess finished the sentence for him. “I think he’s busy. When you’re really busy you don’t have time to write.”

  She sounded as if she knew all about people who were too busy to write. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled.

  “Hurry up, slowpoke,” she snapped. “Move!”

  Roddy shook off her hand. For one moment there she had sounded like an almost nice person, but the moment had passed. He took a deep breath. Only one more night and part of a day, and she’d be gone.

  After supper they all sat on the porch steps for a while. The rain had stopped, but a warm, wet breeze brushed their faces. Once in a while a streak of lightning flashed across the sky, making Hilltop Drive spooky in the bursts of light.

  “When the doctor told Grandma she wasn’t really sick, she was ready to celebrate,” Roddy’s mom told them with a yawn. “The traffic was terrible, but we stopped for frozen custard cones on our way back to her apartment. I wished you both were with us.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing we stayed here,” Princess told her. “Jacob’s uncle Ring was having a bad day, and I made him feel better.”

  Roddy’s mom leaned back against the porch railing, and Roddy could tell she was half asleep.

  “I know it’s early, but if I go to bed now,” she said, “can I depend on you two to take care of yourselves?”

  “Oh, sure,” Princess said quickly. “You go to bed right this minute. You look really tired.”

  Roddy’s mom smiled, a sad little smile. “No funny stuff, Roddy?” She looked at him directly and waited for an answer.

  “We’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  After she’d gone inside, they sat for a couple of minutes, just staring into the dark. A flash of lightning lit the quivering branches of the willow tree across the street.

  Princess stood up. “You know what? I’m tired, too,” she said with a phony-sounding yawn.

  Roddy jumped to his feet and stood in front of the door. “You’d better not try anything tonight,” he said. “You’d just better not! You promised my mom.”

  “I promised I’d take care of myself,” Princess said, ducking under his outstretched arm. “And I will. Don’t you worry about me, little boy.”

  A whole hour passed before Roddy saw her. He’d been sitting on the edge of his basement cot all that time, trying to decide what he would do if she sneaked out again. He had almost begun to believe she really had gone to bed, when her skinny legs flashed by the window.

  No funny stuff, his mom had said.

  The trouble was, she didn’t know the real Princess at all. “That girl thinks she’s so smart,” he grumbled to himself as he headed up the stairs. “She thinks she knows everything, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know that the ghost Uncle Ring saw on the street this morning might still be prowling around the haunted house this afternoon. She doesn’t know that!”

  The ghost of a killer, he thought with a shudder. What would a killer ghost do if he caught a smart-aleck kid poking around where she didn’t belong?

  “If you’re coming you have to do exactly what I tell you,” Princess said. “Every minute! You have to follow the plan.”

  “What plan?” Roddy looked up the hill, but Jacob was nowhere in sight. They had reached the end of the driveway at the side of the haunted house, and Princess started crawling under the lilac bushes before she answered.

  “We’re going inside to look around. It’s my last chance.”

  Roddy ducked under the bushes and crawled. At once his hands and knees were soaked, and dripping leaves brushed his nose. He could hardly breathe.

  “We’ll go in through that window you used,” Princess went on. “The burglar must have left it open the last time he was here. And then we’ll search the whole house.”

  “We can’t!” Roddy protested. He was desperate now. “You heard Uncle Ring this morning—what he said is true! There’s a ghost in there. I heard him walking upstairs. He could still be around.”

  Princess pushed a branch aside and let it flop back in Roddy’s face. “No, you didn’t, silly. You didn’t hear anything. Uncle Ring likes to make up scary stories and you like to believe them. There’s no such thing as a ghost.”

  “If we get caught, we could go to jail,” Roddy said, smothering a sneeze. He felt hot and cold at the same time and wondered whether he was dying. If he died, here under the bushes, no one could blame him for letting Princess get into trouble.

  “We are not going to get caught,” Princess said. “We’re going to be heroes. Just do what I tell you.”

  They passed the side door and crawled on to the backyard. Princess poked her head out from under the bushes and pointed her flashlight at the back of the house.

  “I see the window,” she said. The beam of light dropped. “And there’s the table. But it’s not nearly high enough. You never climbed through the window standing on that.” The flashlight beam dropped lower. “Okay, there’s a big box on the ground. It was on the table, right? Help me put it back.”

  Roddy gritted his teeth. For a moment he’d hoped she wouldn’t see the box.

  “I’ll go in first,” Princess said. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe. If you want to come in, that is. Or you can just stay here like a scared rabbit and watch for a glimmer in the window.” She snickered.

  Until that moment Roddy had thought there might be some way he could avoid going back into the haunted house. Now he knew he would have to go inside with Princess or feel like a scared rabbit forever.

  “I’m coming!” he snapped. “Hurry up!”

  A minute later they were both standing in the kitchen. Roddy switched on his flashlight and looked around. The tall cupboards loomed eerily in the dark.

  “We have to do this as fast as possible,” Princess said in a low voice. “Just in case the burglar comes back early tonight.”

  Roddy almost dropped his flashlight. He hadn’t thought of that.

  “I’ll go upstairs and look around,” she went on, sounding as if she broke into houses every night. “You check the first floor. Search the closets and the cupboards—anywhere a burglar could hide his loot.”

  What kind of loot? Roddy wondered, but Princess was already tiptoeing down the hall. Her yellow braid gleamed in the beam of his flashlight as she turned and started up the stairs. He was alone.

  Closets and cupboards—he looked around at the tall cupboards and knew he couldn
’t open even one of them without making a noise. And if he made a noise, something might hear him—some dead thing that had been waiting and watching in the living room for forty years.

  He switched off his light and started down the hall, holding his breath every time the floor creaked. He passed the stairs just opposite the side door. Then the wall ended, and he knew he was in the living room. His hands were clammy as he searched for the switch of his flashlight.

  Suddenly, a flash of lightning filled the room with cold white light. It lasted only a second, but that was long enough. The thing he had feared—the ghost of the murdered man—sat upright in a battered armchair. Its legs were stretched out, and its arms hung limply over the arms of the chair. Its mouth sagged open, and the eyes—horrible eyes, like black holes—stared straight ahead.

  “Who’s there?” a voice snarled in the dark.

  Roddy yelped in terror. Then he whirled around and raced back to the kitchen.

  12. Night Five

  (continued)

  Afterward, Roddy couldn’t remember diving into the space under the sink and pulling the door shut behind him. One moment he’d been racing toward the open window with heavy footsteps getting closer behind him. The next, he had wrapped himself around the U-shaped drainpipe and was trying hard not to breathe.

  “Come on!” the voice growled. “No use hiding—I know you’re here!”

  Of course he knew, Roddy thought. How could you fool a ghost?

  The footsteps shuffled around the kitchen. A cupboard door was flung open, then another. Roddy screwed his eyes shut and waited.

  Another sound began and stopped, outside the house but close by. A car door opened and closed. Roddy almost groaned out loud. That had to be the burglar arriving early. He could almost hear Princess saying “I told you so.”

  The footsteps moved back to the hallway, and voices mumbled and sputtered. Roddy could make out only a word here and there. “… someone in here … sleeping … not my fault … check upstairs … I’ll take the basement.…”

  Roddy’s mind was in a muddle. The ghost and the burglar were actually talking to each other, and now the ghost sounded like a real person. One of them, he couldn’t be sure which, was starting down the basement steps, while the other one went upstairs.

  The kitchen was empty. He waited a second or two to be sure. Then he opened the cupboard door a crack. The open window was just a few feet away. If he moved fast and was very quiet, he could get away.

  He was so scared he had one leg over the windowsill, toes reaching for the box, when he remembered Princess trapped upstairs. She’d said she could take care of herself, but that was just talk—dumb talk. Princess talk. Right now she had to be as frightened as he was.

  He scrambled back inside and ran to the foot of the stairs. A hulking figure carrying a flashlight had nearly reached the top. Roddy yelled “Hey!” but the word was just a squeak. “Hey!” He tried it again, much louder. “I’m down here!”

  And then everything happened at once. The man on the stairs turned with a startled grunt. His flashlight shot into the air, and a second later he hurtled headfirst down the stairs. Roddy jumped to one side, and at the same moment the outside door behind him burst open. The falling man landed with a bone-jarring thump and lay still.

  Someone tall stepped into the hall and pointed a flashlight at the man on the floor. Then the light shot upward to Roddy’s face.

  “Good grief, it’s you again!” said a familiar voice. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. It’s another stormy night and you’ve lost your poor little kitty.”

  13. Night Five

  (still continued)

  The man on the floor moved and groaned. Roddy jumped back.

  “Okay, young fellow,” the policeman said. “Speak up! What’s going on here?”

  “Well …” Before Roddy could think of an answer, a clear voice from the top of the stairs answered for him.

  “It’s all right, officer,” Princess said. “That man on the floor is a dangerous burglar. I pushed him down the stairs.”

  The flashlight beam shot upward as Princess started down. “I had to do it,” she announced. “They would have killed us if they caught us.”

  “They?” the policeman repeated. “Who else—?”

  “There’s another one in the b-b-basement,” Roddy stammered. “Looking for us.”

  A second policeman stepped through the door and switched on an overhead light.

  “Down there.” Roddy pointed. The second policeman headed across the kitchen toward the basement, switching on lights as he went. He returned almost at once, pushing a slouching, sour-faced man ahead of him.

  The captive’s eyes widened when he saw Roddy and Princess. “Kids!” he exclaimed. “A couple of fool kids! I should have known. Nobody’s house is safe these days.”

  “Are you saying this is your house?” the first policeman demanded. He glanced at the almost empty kitchen. “Sure doesn’t look as if anyone lives here.”

  “They don’t!” Princess exclaimed. “Not really. They just hide their loot here. That’s what we were looking for, see? We were helping the police. Only we thought there was only one burglar, not two.”

  The man on the floor sat up, rubbing his head. “I rent this place,” he growled. “You can call the owner if you don’t believe me. These kids broke in and I want them arrested.”

  Roddy felt seriously sick. If the two men really lived here, then he and Princess were in trouble. Big trouble! They would almost certainly go to jail. His mom would never forgive him for sneaking out again when she had trusted him, and his dad—NO! He couldn’t even bear to think about what his dad would say.

  The first policeman shook his head. “What we’re going to do is this,” he said. “We’re all taking a ride down to the station to sort this out.” He helped the fallen man to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  “Hey, not us!” the man protested. “Why should we go? This is our house. These kids are troublemakers. I told you, I want them arrested.”

  “We’re all going,” the policeman said firmly. “Take ’em,” he told his partner.

  The man stumbled out the door, and Roddy started to follow. He wished he’d never been born. Even Princess must see what a mess they were in now. He looked back, and there she was, still standing on the bottom step of the staircase.

  She was smiling.

  He knew then that Jacob had been right all along. Princess really was crazy. He should have made his mom understand that. He should have told somebody. Now it was too late.

  “Before we go you should see something, officer,” Princess said. Roddy shivered. The dear, sweet voice was back. “It’s very important.” She turned and started upstairs.

  “Now what?” the policeman asked suspiciously. “You’ve found your cat?”

  When Princess didn’t answer he shrugged, grabbed Roddy by the shoulder, and climbed the stairs after her.

  There were several open doors off the small landing at the top. Princess stepped through one of them. With her flashlight she found a wall switch and turned it on.

  “All right, you can come in now,” she said grandly. Roddy cringed. She sounded like the hostess at a surprise party, he thought. Crazy, crazy, crazy!

  He followed the policeman into the room. The floor was bare, and there was nothing to see except boxes. They were stacked from the floor to the ceiling against each wall. Every box was stamped PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY.

  The policeman pushed back his hat and said, “Well, I’ll be a cockapoo’s cousin!”

  “Yeah,” Roddy breathed. “Me too.”

  Princess swung around on tiptoe. “And there’s more in the other bedroom,” she said. “I checked.” Her face glowed pink and her eyes sparkled. Roddy thought she didn’t look like the same person who had been ruining his life for a week. She looked happy.

  Jacob, his mom and dad, and Uncle Ring were waiting out on the sidewalk in front of the house. They all looked relieved when they saw Ro
ddy and Princess coming toward them. Roddy searched for his mom among the few neighbors gathered nearby, but he couldn’t find her.

  “Praise be!” Uncle Ring shouted. “You’re all right! Whatever possessed you to go into that terrible place? I warned you—didn’t I warn you?”

  “Yeah,” Roddy mumbled. “We’re sorry, Uncle Ring. It just happened—”

  “No, it did not just happen,” Princess interrupted. “We had to do it to look for the loot, Uncle Ring. The treasure! And guess what—”

  “Never mind!” the policeman interrupted. He paused while the squad car pulled out of the driveway with the two burglars in the backseat. “Are these kids yours?” he asked the Glaubitzes. “I need to talk to them now—someplace quiet.”

  Mr. Glaubitz looked dazed, but Jacob’s mom answered quickly. “They’re our son’s friends,” she said. “You can talk to them at our house. Roddy’s mother must be fast asleep or she’d be here by now, poor woman.” She frowned at Roddy. “I hate to wake her with all she has to worry about, but I’ll call. My husband will fetch her.”

  The little group started up the street toward Jacob’s house in silence. Even Princess was quiet at first. Then she said, “Roddy’s mom will be proud of us, don’t you think?”

  No one answered.

  “Well, my dad will be proud,” she went on loudly. “Proud as anything! Just wait till I tell him!”

  For Roddy, the next hours were a painful blur. Over and over again, the policeman made them explain why they had been “playing detective” in the haunted house. How many times had they gone inside? When? What had they seen and heard while they were in there?

  Princess did most of the talking, but Roddy had to tell how and why he’d entered the house by himself that afternoon. All the time the questions went on, his mom stared at him, white-faced, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She sat on the couch between Mrs. Glaubitz and Uncle Ring. Mrs. Glaubitz kept patting her hand. Uncle Ring fell asleep.

  The doorbell made them all jump. Mr. Glaubitz went to see who was there. He came back with three strangers.

 

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