An American Home

Face to Face

Within two days, Rose Lodge became inundated with visitors and invitations. The men that Erik Ombra had done business with via correspondence were delighted to have him in the flesh. Mr. D'Arcy was never far from Erik's side, either, seeming to take the man as a son-in-law.

Society had embraced the genius and his wife with open arms, delighted to have them in their company.

Just down the road, unaware of just how close to his quarry he was, Ahmir Khan sat in his usual corner of the Rose Crown tavern frowned at the social column of the newspaper on the table in front of him. There was some trick in play, he was certain. Katherine Hemway's fear when he'd confronted her on New Year's Eve had been obvious, but was it for a different reason than being married to the phantom of the opera?

Why, after this long, were they coming out into society? Though he hated doing so, Khan knew the only way he'd learn anything more would be to confront the couple in person. Perhaps something would slip then. He'd begun his inquiry anew, learning all he could of Rose Lodge and all that resided there.

“You look angry.”

Forcing a chuckle, Khan turned to find the familiar street waif that appeared at his elbow almost every time he came to this particular tavern. The boy's brown hair was a tousled mess, and he was barely dressed to withstand the winter wind that was blowing. Not for the first time, Khan wondered if anyone bothered to look out for the boy.

Young Pip slipped into the seat across from him. “By all means, have a seat,” Khan said wryly.

“So, why are you mad?” the boy asked, his blue eyes alight with interest.

Shaking his head, Khan began to set up the chess pieces. “Its none of your concern, Pip,” he responded. “Just my business not going as easily as I expected.”

“That's right,” Pip said, his eyes moving to the chess board, “you're looking for some freak. Some guy told me.”

Khan sent a sharp look at the boy. “That's not kind, Pip,” he chided, speaking before he even thought.

Lifting his head, Pip regarded him with a strange, thoughtful expression. “You sound like a father,” he commented, sounding surprised. “Do you have a son?”

“I used to,” Khan responded shortly. He didn't want to think about Cyrus or Shadi. He closed his eyes, pushing away the memory of his wife and son. When he reopened his eyes, Pip was still watching him. “Who looks after you? Do they know where you are?”

It wasn't the first time he'd asked. Pip shrugged his shoulders. “As long as I show up by the time the sun goes down,” he responded vaguely.

“I have the feeling you're not telling me the whole truth.”

Swiftly, Pip reached out and made the first move, pushing the pawn forward. “You don't either,” he pointed out.

As he made his own move, Khan had the feeling he was the one being pumped for information. “Many chess players prefer silence when they play,” he remarked.

Pip just grinned. “Fine with me.”

Whoever was supposed to look after the boy surely had their hands full!