Chapter 4: Suspicious Behavior

Neal looked at Peter pleadingly. "Surely you can understand why I need to go to Shepherdstown. Two days should be enough to check out the situation. I have the vacation time."

Peter had arrived at the loft midday, expecting to view the completed Braque forgery. Instead, he found Neal pacing the floor about Angela.

Peter attempted to be the voice of reason, the wise counselor. "I admit that doesn't sound like her, but her mother lives in D.C. That's only about an hour away from Shepherdstown. Shouldn't she be contacted?"

Neal's eyes widened in horror. "You want me to tell her about possible drug use? I can't!"

"It wasn't my fault," a familiar voice squeaked from behind Peter's back. He spun around to see Mozzie standing in the doorway, a guilty look on his face.

"Why do you think we're talking about you?" Peter asked, restraining his sigh.

"You mentioned drugs . . . Never mind." Mozzie was carrying a large canvas tote. He placed it on the kitchen counter and then took a seat at the dinette table. "What kind of drug and what was the effect?" He gazed at Neal eagerly.

Now it was Neal's turn to sigh, but Mozzie's arrival had a positive effect. He was forcing Neal to slow down.

Neal plunked down in a chair next to Mozzie. "It's Angela—"

"Wait!" Mozzie interrupted. "We can't have a story without a liquid libation. I brought refreshments."

"What's up with him?" Peter muttered, also taking a seat.

"He and Billy have been experimenting with new honey wine blends for fall," Neal said gloomily. "He mentioned he might stop by to have us taste one. I hope it's better than what he had me try on Friday. My stomach's still a little queasy."

He sounded like he was joking, but Neal did look a little off-color. Peter had initially attributed it to his concern over Angela but perhaps that was the cause instead. Mozzie had launched a Hawaiian organic honey business with Billy Feng, the owner of the Aloha Emporium, nine months ago. For the line of honey wines, he was constantly experimenting with new blends and roping Neal in to be the taster. Peter didn't have to worry about being drafted into service. No one ever praised him for having a refined palate.

He realized he was being a helicopter dad, but under the circumstances it was understandable. Neal hadn't been cleared for fieldwork, and now he wanted to go down to Shepherdstown. Not that it was for a case, but he was still uneasy.

Angela was probably just going through a phase. She and Michael hadn't seen each other for a while. Her boyfriend could have blown a disagreement out of proportion. Neal was right not to involve parents at this point. Angela could be experiencing a normal case of the jitters. She might feel the need for a cooling-off period. It was unfortunate Henry had already left or he could have gone in Neal's place.

Mozzie placed three glasses filled with an amber-colored liquid on the table.

Neal eyed his glass warily. "Is this better than what you gave me on Friday?"

"Of course! That was the first effort for a new line. This is a completely different product. Billy and I've been working on it for quite a while and feel it's ready to make its debut." He raised his glass expansively to Peter. "You'll like this. Skol!"

Peter's mood lifted at Mozzie's words. "Is this what I think it is? Do you have a drinking horn?"

"Excellent idea! We could market a custom line of drinking horns to go with it."

Peter took a sip, savoring the taste on his tongue. A fruity tartness balanced the sweetness of the honey. Mozzie was looking at him expectantly. Smacking his lips, Peter raised his glass to him. "You've got a winner." He turned to Neal. "I know you're not fond of beer, but you should give it a try. Don't think of it as beer."

"Because it's not," Mozzie added. "The finest honey mead I've ever tasted and I'm just getting started. Do you know that some meads sell at $100 a bottle? By the time university classes begin, Billy and I will be ready to launch our line of craft meads."

Neal gingerly took a sip and smiled his approval.

"Now tell me about the trouble Angela's gotten into," Mozzie ordered, sounding positively avuncular. She worked part-time at the emporium during the school year, helping out with the books and their honey-based cosmetics line. When Mozzie heard Neal's report, he concurred with the need to go down to check it out.

"I'd go with you," he said, "but my flight to Paris is already booked. You must keep me informed. It's likely just a lovers' spat, but these matters of the heart must be taken seriously. Michael's a good lad, but a sensitive one. I worked with him on the website for our honey products. He was eager to do everything he could to please Angela. I can see my coaching services will be required once more."

Neal rolled his eyes expressively to Peter. Neal had been driven to distraction by Mozzie's overly solicitous romantic advice. It now appeared that Angela and Michael were to be the beneficiaries. They didn't realize how lucky they were that he wouldn't be able to visit them in person.

Peter mulled over Neal's request while enjoying what he had to admit was a truly remarkable brew. By the time he'd finished a second glass, he'd arrived at a decision.

"Yes, you can go to Shepherdstown. You can take as long as is needed, but under one condition, and that is I'm going with you."

Neal's look of appreciation switched to puzzlement. "That's really not necessary."

"Yes, it is, and here's why. Those identity fraud cases Angela reported provide the perfect cover. We've been trying to feed the rumor mill that you've been taking advantage of me. This will make a great example. You conned me into the need to investigate the cases so you can visit her without using vacation days. You've been back at work for only a week after a totally unnecessary week of medical leave—"

"—which Diana has been complaining about vociferously to Ruiz," Neal added, a smile breaking out.

"Exactly," Peter agreed, plastering an equally complacent look, "and now you've hoodwinked me yet again."

"Suit, I admire your lack of scruples," Mozzie said, raising his glass to him.

"Thank you, I think. Neal, you persuaded me to consult on the cases at Quantico, even though I placed Jones in charge of the work. You then convinced your pushover of a boss to take you along so you can have a day or two to visit your cousin while not doing a lick of work."

"Will Hughes agree to it?" Neal asked. He still had a hard time believing that Hughes had so wholeheartedly endorsed the con.

"I don't expect any problem. It's really not much of a con. Identity fraud is a serious concern. Jones can send me the necessary documentation on the D.C. cases he's been looking into." Peter outlined the plan in his head for a moment. Henry's grandfather Graham and his wife Julia lived in Baltimore. "This will give me a good opportunity to discuss with Graham the part he'll play in the U-boat con. We're spreading the rumor that agents accuse me of favoritism. Diana's told Ruiz that Hughes is reviewing your work and giving you additional assignments. When I walked into the bullpen Thursday, I was surprised to see you working with Jones. Others may have noticed it as well."

"And naturally I would take that lemon of an assignment and turn it into a delicious lemon soufflé," Neal said.

Peter nodded. "You could argue that since Hughes delegated you to work on ID fraud, you're simply performing your assignment."

Crisis resolved, they turned their attention to the Braque. Neal placed the original painting next to his forgery and walked him through how he'd created what to Peter's mind was a flawless copy.

Neal appeared to enjoy the grilling Peter gave him about how he'd created it. Adler believed this painting was key to finding a U-boat of plundered art. He'd put out feelers to fences in Paris based on a rumor that the painting was located there. Adler was offering much more than the typical underground price. Mozzie hoped to be able to sell the painting through a fence for close to Adler's original offer of fifteen million euros.

Part of the money would be used to fund the con. Mozzie's fee was still a matter of negotiation, possibly needing several more rounds of honey mead.

#

Neal breathed easier once he'd secured Peter's approval to go to Shepherdstown. It was an unexpected gift that Peter offered to roll the time into the con they were working on.

He was also grateful that Peter offered to work in D.C., leaving Angela to Neal. Based on Michael's report, she likely wouldn't be thrilled to see Neal. If he brought along a man she'd come to view as a father figure, she might refuse to speak to either one of them.

Peter went outside to call Hughes from the terrace while Neal and Mozzie prepared the Braque forgery for its flight to Paris. The painting was only 24 by 20 inches and would easily fit inside one of Mozzie's custom suitcases. While they worked, Neal continued to puzzle over his cousin's behavior.

"What am I missing?" he asked. "Angela didn't suddenly stop loving Michael, and she's not the type to use drugs. I remember hearing her on at least two occasions lecture musicians about the harm they were doing to their bodies. What other choice is there?"

Mozzie stopped wrapping the canvas in palette tape and rested his chin on his hand. Was the resemblance to Rodin's Thinker deliberate? With Mozzie, it was often hard to know for sure, but thankfully he didn't shed his clothes.

"Once the impossible is eliminated, it's time to meander through the highly improbable," the Thinker said. "I've always found that to be much more pleasurable."

Neal eyed him warily. When Mozzie took flight on a Sherlock tangent, there was no telling where he'd land. Sherlock had been a drug user. Once Mozzie followed his example and drugged himself to solve a crime. If Mozzie showed any inclination to do anything similar this time, Neal would—

"Could she have been possessed?" Mozzie stroked his lip for a moment. "Or there's always the possibility of space aliens. Demons, perhaps. Several options come to mind. Nor should we exclude the effect which being scratched by a zombie would cause." He turned to Neal. "Did Michael mention any unusual wolf howls? There was a full moon last week."

Tell Michael werewolves were a possibility? That was a non-starter.

"Perhaps you should check with Dean and Sam," Mozzie added. "They'll be in town soon."

"Why?" Neal glanced at the terrace. Peter was still talking on his cell. "Have vampires been spotted in the city?"

"Not yet, although you realize it's inevitable. Janet told me Chloe's moving to New York. She's signed a contract with a publishing house."

Chloe's move to New York was a surprise, but trust Janet to know. Mozzie's girlfriend had bonded with Chloe as a fellow nature-lover. Would Peter be upset by the news? Did he still hold a grudge for her having inadvertently turned him into a dork? Neal would need to break the news carefully. Now was not the time. If Peter thought their road trip might be the highway to vampire-land, the trip would be called off.

"How long will you be in Paris?" Neal asked, changing the subject from anything remotely suggesting the supernatural.

Mozzie didn't seem bothered by the non sequitur. "Probably only a couple of days."

"Give my regards to André." His former fencing coach and fellow thief had agreed to act as their go-between for the sale. "I hope it won't be long before Peter agrees to place the painting on the market."

"We can't offer it for sale until Henry returns," Mozzie reminded him. "That will give you plenty of time to deal with whatever is going on with Angela. I intend to make use of the break to fly to Rome after my business in Paris is concluded. Do you remember Luchino?"

"Luchino Borroni? Your friend at the Vatican library?" Luchino worked in the manuscript department as a Scriptore. Mozzie had called upon his help when they first learned about Astrena.

"The very same. Luchino believes he's found a manuscript that may be relevant to our elusive Greek goddess. I plan to spend an enlightening day exploring the collection with him. Then, over a carefully selected fine vintage of Barolo, I shall probe his mind about the Vatican's secret vault."

"The Vatican insists there isn't one."

"Naturally. They'll never admit it"—Mozzie tapped the side of his nose—"but we know otherwise."

We? Neal certainly didn't have any knowledge about it. Mozzie had mentioned the Vatican's secret vault before. Would Luchino provide information to rouse his slumbering conspiracy theory?

Peter walked in, saving him from the details about what precisely Mozzie was seeking. Neal had enough cons running at the moment. There was no room for extraneous conspiracy theories.

"We got a green light," Peter reported. "Hughes agreed that this will be an excellent opportunity to show my favoritism."

"Will you invite El to accompany us?" Neal asked hopefully. She could be helpful if it was a woman thing. Angela would more likely confide in her if she didn't want her mom to know.

"I just spoke with her. She has an event scheduled for Tuesday evening and can't leave. Since this is ostensibly a business trip, that's for the best. We can take the train tomorrow morning and rent a car in D.C."

Neal nodded, forestalling a yawn. Mozzie's mead packed more of a wallop than he'd realized.

Hawk-eyed Peter frowned. "You've been pulling double duty—working at the office during business hours and painting at night. You can consider this trip comp time."

"Thanks. You won't hear me say this often, but I'll enjoy a reprieve. I was dreaming about painting rivers all night. My head's stuffed with more ideas than I possibly have time to execute." Neal didn't add that when he woke up, he was standing in front of his easel, working on a canvas. Peter might think he was suffering a relapse, and that wasn't the case. His friend Aidan, an expert programmer, woke up in the middle of the night to write code he'd dreamed about. What Neal had done was basically the same.

"I'm glad to hear you realize when you're overdoing it. I have to admit when I first saw you yawn, I thought it was from your date."

"That didn't work out. My date came down with a stomach bug. Electra took me out to dinner instead."

"How late were you out?"

Neal hesitated for a moment before replying.

"Neal?"

"Three o'clock," he finally admitted. This new openness he and Peter had agreed to was going to bite him.

Peter's eyes widened. "You stayed that late with Electra? Did she turn out to be a cougar, after all?"

"It's not what you think," Neal quickly protested. "There were others involved."

"Time for me to go," Mozzie interjected quickly. "I'll give Paris your greetings. Suit, remember not to believe everything you hear."

Before Neal could object, Mozzie scurried off with the Braque. A rat fleeing a sinking ship couldn't have moved faster. Considering what happened, the comparison was especially apt.

#

"Enough with the stonewalling." Peter sent his pushover-boss persona to the sidelines as he steered the car onto the entrance ramp of the interstate. "I lived up to my side of the bargain. I even agreed to rent the car you wanted."

"Don't expect points for that," Neal retorted. "You know you wanted this silver Mustang."

Peter permitted himself a smile. Neal had him. That car brought back memories of his college days. And Neal was right—it helped sell the con. The idea was to make Peter look like an easy mark for Neal's schemes. What could be more inappropriate than renting a Mustang convertible for a business trip? But Peter wasn't about to admit defeat.

"I let you hold off during the train ride, an overly generous gesture since I'd already promised to rent the Mustang. We have about an hour before we arrive in Shepherdstown for you to tell me what happened Saturday night. And since you spent so long building it up, it better be good."

"Gosh, I didn't realize your standards were so high. I don't think the story's worthy of you. Forget it."

"Nothing doing, Junior. You already coughed up that others were involved. Did you go out partying?"

"Not in the way you think." Neal described his dinner with Electra at the hotel. Peter had never been to the Plaza Athénée, but he'd heard how elegant it was. "We discussed art most of the time. She also offered to introduce me to a friend who's the owner of an art gallery. He occasionally hosts receptions for new artists."

"El told me she'd mentioned the gallery over lunch. Electra's connections could prove useful."

When Neal didn't answer, Peter stole a glance from the highway to look at him. "Problem?"

"They could come at too high a cost," he acknowledged. "Electra was sending signals that I'm quite familiar with. I've no wish for her endorsement if it comes with strings."

Were El's original instincts right? Neal was no stranger to women making a play for him. As a general rule, he wasn't averse to flirting back.

"She invited me upstairs to her suite after dinner. I was inclined to accept—I'd never seen the suites at the Plaza Athénée. If they're as sumptuous as the public areas, it would be worth a visit. But I realized I'd have to mislead her. She's a lovely person—refined, sophisticated. I was flattered, but I won't take advantage of her."

"Good for you." Electra's wealth and connections made her a prized patron. Neal's refusal to play the game earned him high marks.

Neal shrugged. "It was probably for the best that Mozzie called with an emergency."

"That's why you were up so late?"

He nodded glumly. "When I heard Percy was lost, I had to help."

"Who's Percy?"

"Mozzie's pet rat."

Peter snorted, taking a turn slightly faster than he would have otherwise.

"Eyes on the road!" Neal ordered, grabbing the armrest. "I shouldn't go into the details. You'll be distracted. Unless you'll let me drive?" he added hopefully.

"Nothing doing. This Mustang is in my name. So Mozzie keeps a pet."

"He does and Percy's a member of the family."

"I hope you appreciate that I'm not making any reference to Mozzie's relations."

"I do, and I realize what an effort it is. Percy was looking a little dispirited when he heard Mozzie was departing for France, or at least that's what Mozzie assured me. He attempted to cheer him up by letting him loose in the apartment. Percy took advantage of his newfound liberty to race off, seeking adventure. Mozzie was frantic when he called. If Percy couldn't be found, he'd have to cancel the trip to Paris. You understand my dilemma."

"More to the point, did Electra?"

Neal's grin registered with Peter even with his eyes on the road. "I was saved by the rat! I claimed a family emergency. It took hours but we eventually found him hiding in a stairwell."

"Do I want to know which building?"

"No, you do not. I expect I'll have another opportunity to see Electra's suite. She mentioned she comes to New York often. Now that she'll likely be a benefactor to El's community theater group—"

"You shouldn't feel any pressure because of that," Peter interrupted. "I'm proud of you for not playing the patronage game."

"Then you'll let me drive the Mustang?"

He flicked a glance at Neal's pleading eyes. "Once we're in town."

"An acceptable compromise. Electra must know plenty of artists who'd be thrilled for her patronage. She's a fascinating person. Even though I wasn't interested, I couldn't deny her allure." He chuckled. "I owe Percy. Who knows what would have happened in that suite? Would I have fallen prey to her magnetism?"

"Speaking of prey, did you check with the Winchesters? I vowed never to go on another road trip if they were in the area."

"I wondered when you'd bring them up. Mozzie heard from Chloe that they're in Cape May. This will please you—no vampires or witches are terrorizing the seaside resort. Supposedly a vengeful spirit is running amok."

"Cape May's not far from Shepherdstown," Peter reminded him.

"Maybe as the ghost flies. I checked and it's over four hours away. You remember that idea I had for Henry? I'd love to stop by and pick their brains on ghost sightings."

"You realize that Henry may never forgive you."

"You don't seem bothered about ghosts," Neal commented, dismissing Peter's warning.

"After our experiences with vampires and witches? Hardly. Bring on as many Caspers as you want."

"Sure, you're fine with the lovable ghosts, but how about the not-so-friendly ones? The ghost Dean and Sam are facing doesn't sound like any I'd want to visit. By the way, did I mention that Shepherdstown is known as 'the most haunted town in America'?"

Peter let out a curse and nearly pulled off the road. "You're not serious?"

"'Fraid so. I wasn't going to tell you, but you're bound to see the signs. I suspect that's why Angela picked the place for her fieldwork. You know how she likes horror tales."

Peter refused to dwell on that gloomy topic. He took comfort from the fact that no apparitions had ever appeared to darken his days. He'd focus on identity fraud. Neal would verify that Angela was okay. They should be back at work by Wednesday.

Before leaving, Peter had reviewed the case history with Jones. Max Ganesh spearheaded the new identity theft initiative in D.C. and Peter had an appointment to meet with him the following day.

Graham and Julia invited Peter for dinner tonight. They'd meet in Frederick, Maryland, about midway between their home in Baltimore and Shepherdstown. Once the U-boat con started, Graham would work with Hughes. As a veteran warrior, Graham relished the thought of participating in what might be his last case. Peter suspected he'd make full use of the evening to brainstorm ideas.

Hughes had given his permission for the con to begin the following week. Peter hadn't told Neal yet, because in his own mind it was contingent on Neal's performance over the next several days. He planned to monitor him closely to make sure he was one hundred percent ready.

So far so good. Neal appeared to have taken his advice and looked much more rested than the previous day. Neal would meet with Angela and Michael this evening. Based on what he discovered, he could either spend the next day with Peter in D.C. or have the day with Angela and Michael.

Neal had selected their hotel. The Thomas Shepherd Inn was reported to be a charming place that El would have loved. The rate was no more than what it would have cost them to stay in D.C.

Shepherdstown was a small college town with less than two thousand inhabitants. Neal had clearly researched the place. During the drive, he expounded on its history. Located along the Potomac River in the lower Shenandoah Valley, it was the oldest town in West Virginia. And also the most haunted . . . It really wasn't necessary for Neal to repeat that part.

Peter steeled himself. This was simply another business trip. No different from scores of others he'd taken. The Winchesters weren't here. No matter how difficult Angela's issues were, no vampires or witches would be involved.