'You've sent a message that you need my help. Something you have never done before. ... I understood that it can't wait. So, here I am. What can I do for you, June?'

She looked up and locked eyes with him. Deep brown eyes meeting sparkling blue ones. 'I'm dying.'

When Neal opened his mouth to object, she stopped him and took his hand. 'No, don't... You know I'm right. I'm not talking about today or this week, but it's not much time left. I'm not worried about it. You shouldn't worry either. I've lived my life. It was rich, funny, full of love, wild, sometimes stormy, rarely easy, never boring. I've had Byron, the children and grandchildren, my music. I traveled the world and have a home in New York. I didn't miss anything out. In the end when I was bracing myself to easing into a quieter life style, you happened.'

The con man grinned, 'I'll take this as a compliment...'

June looked at him affectionately. 'That is exactly how it was meant, my dear. I'm 87 years old. I'm not afraid of dying. But there is something I need to sort out before I leave. It's about Byron.'

Byron had been no angel in his times. He had run cons, stolen jewelery, marked cards at poker, and committed lots of other crimes that yielded a profit. However, his M.O. was the exchange of valuable paintings with a forgery. He sold the original masters to private collectors. Usually, it took months or even years until the forgery got busted. There were actually a few paintings hanging in museums which never were spotted as counterfeit.

Dutch masters, impressionists, Picasso, and Da Vinci were among the copied artists. Regardless of the period or artistic style, all the paintings had been of superior quality. Usually, someone placed an order, then Byron exchanged the requested painting. He had never let on about the painter he contracted. Byron had been as talented as a five year old kid when it came to painting. He couldn't have been the forger himself.

Hearing that story, Neal's professional interest got aroused. He couldn't stop himself from asking, 'Were the forgeries as good as mine?'

'Oh, stop bragging. They were just as good as yours, maybe even better. They were perfect.' June was amused.

'Though, Byron has never targeted anyone who wasn't loaded. He was a man of honor. If anyone was in need, troubled, or less than wealthy Byron would not have picked him. First and foremost, he has never taken from children at all. Never!" June got excited and riled during her monologue.

Neal Caffrey could relate to Byron's code of honor. 'You wouldn't have loved him if he had been a selfish bastard. I bet he did it as much for the challenge as for the profit.'

'Well, he loved the money and the luxury it could buy. And so did I. But yes, he loved the challenge, the thrill. A part of him never grew up, remained a kid. That's why all these suspicions are so ridiculous.'

'Harlem Shelter For Kids' was a charity founded during the economy crisis of the 1920s. It has raised funds to help homeless and neglected children in Harlem ever since. Many well off people from Harlem supported the case one way or the other. Many years ago a Vermeer was bequeathed to the shelter. The art was never sold but was used as a security for mortgages.

Last month the Vermeer was sent as a loan to an exhibition in Baltimore. It was assessed by an insurance company on arrival. The first examinations raised some doubts about the authenticity. Further tests proved that the painting wasn't older than 30 years at most.

That finding was a shock to everyone. But soon after the news came up, ugly rumors started spreading about Byron being the one to blame for.

The Ellingtons have been donating to 'Harlem Shelter For Kids' for more than 40 years. June has been very involved with the charity, spent a substantial amount of time in raising money or taking care of the kids herself. She had been member of the board for a few years.

She and Byron have been frequent guests in the charity location with access to even the private floors. It would have been easy for Byron to swap the real art for a forgery without being noticed.

'But he didn't, Neal. I swear, he didn't. He would have never done that to any charity organization, leave alone one that cares about children. I'm the last one who'd claim he was without fail. Nevertheless, I don't want anyone blaming such a heartless crime on him. He hasn't deserved this. He has still a certain name in our neighborhood. People respect his memory. He was a good man. This is just not right.' June was not willing to let it go. Friends told her it's too late to do anything about it. Water under the bridge... Though not in her book. Byron was not anyone's scapegoat for a despicable crime like this.

'Now the FBI is onto it, investigating the case. They came asking me questions about the painting or if I knew anything. I don't think they look into any other directions, said they got a tip-off. Please, Neal... I ask for your help to prove Byron's innocence.' She seemed tired by now and her speech was slurring; sometimes she had to grope for the right word.

Neal felt angry that she had to go through all this. He wouldn't let her down. 'You don't have to ask for anything, June. This sounds as if there is someone needed with criminal consulting skills, experience with White Collar investigations, and good connections to the right people." He smiled at her reassuringly, some might even call it mischievously. 'Don't worry,You're not alone in this. I will take care of this. We're going to find out who did it in order to return the real painting to the Shelter.'