"So what did you find out?" Peter leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed with a beer in his hand. Neal had shown up at his house to show him the prints.

"That impersonating a science fiction fanatic is the hardest con of all." Neal said with a straight face, sitting opposite him.

Elizabeth came out and handed him a drink.

"Not into science fiction?"

"It's not a question of liking it. It's a question of being so into it you can roll off every TV episode, every actor, every piece of technical jargon ever invented. Some of them even spoke klingon and elvish."

"They took time to learn a fictional language?"

"Yes. Now, I have to admit, those costumes were a real work of art. Not store bought stuff. Most of them were home made. Got to give them credit for crafts skills and creativity."

"I meant what did you find out about the artist?" Peter scratched Satchmo. "Did she show?"

"Yes." Neal smiled. "And she was doing good business too." He pulled the prints out of the bag and handed them over. "Notice anything about these?"

Peter leaned forward. "Oh, these are weird."

"Yes." Neal frowned. "But familiar. Look at the poses and outfits."

Elizabeth leaned around and peered at them. "Oh, that's different. It's like she's taken famous paintings and replaced people with aliens."

Peter looked at her wide eyed.

"You didn't see it?" Elizabeth asked.

"I was distracted by the three eyes." He pointed at the orange faced figure in Victorian robes.

"She had these huge space paintings. She uses the sand for the planet's texture and meteor dust in the paint for special effects." Neal handed him the brochure. "They were beautiful."

"You like them better than the others I take it."

"Somehow the Mona Lisa with bug eyes and antennae just doesn't do it for me." Neal shook his head, wincing.

"But we can't tell from this that she's the forger. Peter stared at the second print, which admittedly bore a resemblance to the Van Gogh painting in question.

"I can find out more when I meet with her again."

Peter looked up. "Again?"

Neal smiled.


Meeting Lana again was interesting and Neal enjoyed it. She offered him a special tea and they sat at a kitchen window looking out at grassy yard. They were just outside the city, but Neal knew Peter and the team were listening in the van. They were probably bored silly. Neal was getting a delicious snack and talking art techniques with a beautiful girl. He definitely had the advantage. He had to hide an amused smile behind the rim of his cup at the thought.

"So where's your sister?"

"Oh...she's in bed. She hasn't been well."

Neal cocked his head. "Anything I can do?"

She melted slightly at the offer.

"I don't think so. It's an injury. Doctor's say it'll take time, physical therapy, that sort of thing. She's pretty out of it on pain meds most of the time." Her voice went from sad to a touch angry at the end. Neal wondered what she was thinking, or who she was blaming.

The doorbell rang and she rose. "That'll be the nurse. She comes in every day to check on Cynthia. Excuse me for a minute."

Neal winced inwardly as she went to the door. He rose quietly, prowling around, poking into things while alert for Lana's return. He wasn't surprised to happen across a mountain of bills. Doctors, insurance, nurses, medical,..he frowned. Some bills were addressed to her, some to Cynthia. But the ones from a lawyer caught his eye, and one from a bail bondsman. "Hmm." He glanced back, listening to the muffled voices, pulled out his phone and used the built in camera to take pictures of the mail. Lana had set up a space for her artwork and was fairly successful. But Neal knew that it was hard to make it as an artist. She'd mentioned having a part time job. Her sister was clearly in no condition to work. That meant she was probably stuck with all of these bills.

"She's in trouble." He murmured. "She's in way over her head." He continued to explore the small studio. His eye was caught by more paintings. A half finished painting looked suspiciously like another Van Gogh in progress. He wracked his mind, trying to remember what other Van Gogh paintings were missing. He almost had it when footsteps approached.

He hurried to sit back down as she came back.

She sat down with a weary sigh. "I can't do everything for Cynthia myself."

"It sounds expensive. What kind of accident was it?"

Lana's face tensed. "I never said it was an accident."

Expert as he was at shading the truth, Neal recognized her dodge. Someone had hurt her sister on purpose. He considered carefully. Pain meds..., "Are you worried she'll get hooked on the meds? You sound kind of upset about it."

She sniffed, folded her arms across her chest. "Yes."

"Well, there are legitimate reasons for medicine."

She didn't respond, just looked sad. She clutched her mug in both hands and sipped. She seemed much more weary than at the show. She set it down at last. "I'm sorry. I have to get to my second job now."

Neal nodded. He pulled out a card with his number on it. "Lana, if you need help, give me a try." He held it out. "I've got a surprisingly wide variety of friends."

She eyed him warily. "You only just met me. Why would you help?"

"Because I get this feeling your in trouble. And I know what it's like, to be in trouble. Sometimes, it takes help to get out. I've had friends who helped me. I'd like to pass the favor on."

She smiled faintly. "I may just take you up on that."

In the van, Peter scowled at the monitors. He glanced back at Diana. "I think he's decided our suspect is a damsel in distress."

"That's the trouble with bugs. We can only hear what's going on." Diana was frowning too. "We can't see what he sees."

"He sees all these bills and knows she's financially in trouble." Peter studied the pictures Neal had emailed him.

"Which is motive." Diana paused. "Do you think her sister had anything to do with it?"

"I guess that depends on just how she got injured." Peter murmured thoughtfully.

Neal drove up the street in a borrowed agency car. He traded places with an agent who was in the van, leaving the other to drive the car back.

"So, I'm guessing that you think she's a victim." Peter observed looking at Neal.

"Oh, she might be the forger. But I have a feeling someone has backed her into a corner. Did you hear how she reacted when I asked about her sister's 'accident'?"

"If it's an injury it's either accidental or on purpose. She definitely implied on purpose." Diana agreed.

"So maybe her sister owed someone money and they hurt her to get it. Now Lana is backed into a corner."

"Right now all we have is speculation. We ne.."

"We need more evidence." Interrupting, Diana and Neal chorused.

Peter looked taken aback. "Do I say that a lot?"

"Oh no. Just once a twice a case." Diana grinned.

"Maybe we should just tell her the truth." Peter eyed Neal. "Tell her your an FBI consultant investigating the Van Gogh and see how she reacts."

"If she thinks she's a suspect she'll clam up. If she goes to prison, who takes care of her sister?" Neal asked.

Peter just looked at him. "Neal if she forged those paintings..."

"She can make a deal can't she?"

"If she cooperates."