Moonlight Masquerade (Edilean 8)

“She was the one who identified the thief. Peter Osmond.”

“That insurance guy?”

“He’s an actuary, but yeah, that’s him. He’s in custody now.”

Al put a plate of eggs, bacon, ham, and heavily buttered toast in front of Reede. It was all swimming in grease. Not good for you, but the taste was divine.

“I hear you rode down the streets on one of the McTern horses. Had on those girly boots, like in that movie Pretty Woman.”

“Not exactly, but close enough,” Reede said.

“And you and that girl walked across the roof of the old Haynes house.”

“It was inside and on a beam, not the roof, and who told you all this?”

“Who hasn’t told me? Those three women you boss around come in here all the time and they don’t talk of anything but you. They say you’re not like—”

“Don’t say it!” Reede half shouted. “I’m not Tristan. Model beautiful, loved by everyone, always patient Tristan. He’s so good I don’t know why he hasn’t been taken directly up to heaven.”

Al was unperturbed by Reede’s anger. “Same reason the devil ain’t reachin’ up to grab you!”

Reede filled his mouth and calmed down. “So what am I going to do about Sophie?”

“Nothing,” Al said. “Nothing you can do. You nearly killed the poor girl. I heard she had to jump into some trees just to keep from being run down by you. You examine her bruised places?”

“No, I didn’t examine—” Reede stopped because he knew Al was trying to make him angry. “I like her. I like her a lot. I’ve not liked a woman this much since—”

“Don’t dive into that pool of self-pity again!” Al said as he put a couple of quarts of mayonnaise on the cabbage he’d chopped. That mayonnaise was one of the highest calorie foods known didn’t bother him at all—and he had the giant stomach to prove it. “That Chawnley girl did you a favor by dumping you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Reede said as he put even more butter on the already saturated toast. “If I’d married her and I met Sophie now, it would be even worse.”

Al started to say that if Reede were happily married he might not be so interested in another woman, even one as pretty as Sophie. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he took pity on the young man. “How bad is it for you?”

When Reede looked up at Al, all he felt was in his eyes.

Al gave a low whistle. “All of you oldies seem to fall so hard for a woman that it eats you up. I’m glad my family is a Newcomer.” Al’s ancestors had settled in Edilean in the 1880s. “You need to make a plan. Hey! I know what you should do.”

Reede looked up with eyes of hope.

“Get a mask tattooed on your face. It’ll hide your identity forever.”

At first Reede frowned, but then he gave a low laugh. “I guess I deserved that. I know I’m going to have to come clean eventually and take the consequences.”

“That would have worked at first but now you’ve lied to her for days. My guess is that when she learns how you’ve humiliated her in front of the whole town she’s gonna be pretty damned mad. If she’s anything like my wife she’ll wait until night and set your bed on fire—with you in it.”

“You are a real joy,” Reede said. “I’m so glad I came to you for advice.”

“You came here for my gourmet cuisine,” Al said without so much as a hint of a smile. “The advice is free.”

Reede had finished his food, but he still sat there on the stool. “You know of a house I can rent for Sophie?”

“Don’t your rich relatives own most of this town?”

“Yeah, but I’m looking for something special. It has to have a place where she can do her sculpture. She makes things in clay.”

Al stood there blinking at Reede for a moment. “You mean like an art studio?”

“Exactly like one.”