It dawned on me (after I published, naturally) that I had left two wonderful and critical relationships out of this story. I could make the excuse that I edited this stuff out for the sake of moving the plot along, but really I just blew it and forgot. So, here are a couple of missing scenes. The first one is from Part Two. The second is from Part Three.
Elizabeth was working at her butcher-block cutting board, deftly chopping up a big bright green pile of parsley to add to the salad, when she heard scuffling sounds, keys clattering on glass, and the front door closing. Peter was home.
"Hi, honey!" she called.
Footsteps came her way, and the swinging kitchen door swung open just as she got the last of the parsley off the knife and started gathering it up. Peter stepped in, loosening his tie, looking tired and grateful to be home. Elizabeth smiled at him.
"Dinner's almost ready. You want to wash up? Oh, and while you're over there, can you get the refill bottle and top off the soap?"
"Sure," Peter said. He rolled up his sleeves and slowly got down on his hands and knees to fish around under the sink for the hand soap refill bottle, presenting his rear end to Elizabeth while he hunted.
After over ten years, she was still very pleased with the view.
"Looks like someone had a long day," Elizabeth prompted, dumping the parsley into the bowl. She plucked the big wooden fork and spoon from a nearby canister and started tossing the salad.
"Oh, you have no idea," Peter said, emerging victorious with his prize. "There was a lot of … um … excitement." He filled the hand soap on the counter and Elizabeth took the salad out to the table, setting it down next to some warm, herb-crusted tilapia filets.
"Oh?" she said, gathering up a half-full bottle of white wine and two glasses from the sideboard. "What happened?"
Peter turned on the faucet and spoke through the door. "Just Neal being Neal, mostly."
Elizabeth turned the corkscrew a few times. "Uh oh, what did he do?"
Peter came through the doorway, drying his hands on a dishtowel. He plunked himself down heavily. "Something stupid," he said, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Peter, just because you and Neal have different methods …"
"No no no, you don't understand. Neal did something stupid."
She got the cork free. "'Sent back to prison' stupid?"
"Possibly. I hope not, but I'm going to be begging Hughes for some leniency after this stunt." Peter took the bottle from her and began to pour them each a glass. Elizabeth started making him a plate of fish and salad. "Somehow, he stole the key to his anklet and got it off. Then he stole a gun and went after Fowler. He didn't actually shoot anybody, but we had to arrest him, and now he's under lock and key at June's until we can figure this out."
Elizabeth stared, disturbed. She handed Peter his plate silently. Peter looked even more worn than he had when he came through the kitchen door. Elizabeth sensed he had something else to say, and she wasn't going to like it.
"… And Moz got shot."
They had fish, salad, wine, and a very civilized disagreement for dinner. Elizabeth demanded details, so Peter gave her the blow-by-blow of a very exhausting day, from Neal playing Errol Flynn at the Russian Museum to rescuing Moz in an alley. The important part, as far as she was concerned, was that her two favorite criminals were basically okay and under the same roof for a while. And she was going to stop by.
"Peter, I need to see them. Neal is having a really hard year, and I want to make sure he's all right. And I know Mozzie is a little weird, and he has trust issues, and he's a bit skittish, but we're friends! I want to visit."
Peter sighed. "Elle, I know you hate to hear this, but … no. Visiting is a terrible idea. Neal is under house arrest partly for his own protection, and someone just tried to kill Mozzie. The further away you are from this, the safer it is for you. Emotionally and physically."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, Mozzie … for God's sake, honey, you're talking about him like he's Furble."
Elizabeth scowled. "I loved Furble. I'm not ashamed of that."
"Mm hm. And what was Furble?" Peter asked, with the air of a lecturing parent.
"A feral cat," Elizabeth answered with a sigh.
"And what did Furble have?"
"Rabies. … You're being so childish. It was eight years ago! We didn't even have Satchmo back then. How long are you going to keep needling me about that disaster?"
"As long as it takes for you to realize that no matter how big your heart is, there are just some relationships that aren't going to work," Peter said, taking a sip of wine. "And your heart is very big, Elle. I'm worried."
Elizabeth was touched by his concern, but she had an argument to win, so she scoffed. "Okay, first of all, I'm pretty sure that Mozzie is not a feral cat. And second, who are you to say that our relationship doesn't work? I'm never going to watch Moon Landing, Fact or Fiction? or debate with him about government conspiracies, but he's friendly. He appreciates a good cup of tea. He debugged our house. He kept you safe when you were on the run that one time. We're definitely on the same side where Neal is concerned, too. He's one of us, Peter. I want to see him. I want to see both of them."
In the end, Peter's big "win" was that he got her to hold off on visiting for at least a week, to give Mozzie some time to recuperate and Neal some time to adjust to his situation.
Neal was helping Mozzie lay down for a nap after a particularly trying session with the spirometer. The former was trying to be gentle. The latter was coughing and wincing.
"Coughing is good for you, Moz," Neal reminded him. "It means nothing can settle in your lungs and mess you up."
"You're a sadist," Mozzie snapped, gripping Neal's arms for support as he was lowered towards the pillows.
Neal rolled his eyes as he settled his friend in bed. "And you're a tattletale."
The bell rang from miles off. Helga wasn't working today, and Annie was upstairs in Neal's quarters cleaning up, so Neal left Mozzie and went to answer the door himself. He was hoping it wouldn't be Peter, who had shown up yesterday to randomly torture him instead of help him, as explicitly requested in the text message.
The door opened to reveal someone much more welcome. Elizabeth smiled and stepped into the entryway, burdened with two shopping bags that smelled liked cooked meat and spices. Neal shut the door, Elizabeth set the bags down, and they embraced.
"I'm so glad you're all right," she said. "I heard what happened at the museum." She looked down. "I see they got the anklet back on you."
Neal gave her a cheeky grin. "They had to get it off Bugsy first."
"I heard about that, too," Elizabeth said, a bit amused, a bit disapproving. "Husbands talk." She motioned at the dog collar on his wrist with its little jingling tags. "Nice charm bracelet, by the way."
Neal picked up her bags and felt a gentle sloshing movement. She must have packed up a month's worth of her chicken soup for Mozzie. As for her little jab, he just shined it on. "Well, you know, I was going to do one of those 'live strong' ones, but I felt this made a more profound statement."
"Mm hm," she said, indulging him. "Where's Moz?"
Neal nodded down the hall. "Fourth door on your left. I'll put this in the kitchen."
Elizabeth unwound her scarf from her neck as she clicked across the parquet floor in her heels, counting doors. The room that she peeked into was well appointed and luxurious. Mozzie, slightly propped up and half-asleep in the bed, looked a little better than Peter's description. His eyes immediately darted to her when the door squeaked.
"Hi, Moz," she said, making her way over to the bed and sitting down on the mattress by his side. "How are you feeling?"
Mozzie, wonder of wonders, fought down his skittishness and awkwardly reached for her hand, which she gladly gave him. "Doing better, Mrs. Suit. It's good to see you."
Elizabeth smiled. "It's good to see you, too. When Peter told me what happened, I was really worried."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about me," Mozzie said, puffing up a little. "I'm tough."
Neal, listening outside the door, smiled and crept noiselessly back the way he'd come. If there was one person he'd trust to be alone with Mozzie right now, it was Elizabeth Burke.
Ta-dah! Thus concludes the "DVD extras." Thanks for reading. (-: