Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.
Forged Friendships
Chapter – 7 Best Laid Plans
June drew the next loop up onto the hook and deftly wrapped the fine thread around it three times, drawing the hook back through the loops to complete the stitch. She counted as she worked the next round on the medallion. The rhythm of the repetitive stitches occupied her mind as the lacy doily grew in her lap. Sliding the hook into the ball of thread, she placed the piece on top of the ottoman and picked up the pattern to read the next series of instructions. Three double crochets in front post loop... June read the instructions for the second time as she yawned, reaching for her cup of tea. The china cup clinked against the saucer as she lifted it from its' resting place and took a sip of the cold tea. Placing it back on the saucer, she observed her guest who was now sleeping in a contorted position in the overstuffed chair. Her straight dark hair fell in contrast across her softly rounded pale face, her dark rimmed heavy glasses drifting down toward the tip of her nose. The book that she was leafing through had dropped from her hand and now lay open on the rug next to Dino.
June realized that Violet had to be Neal's mystery woman. Her story fit. She could now appreciate why Neal couldn't allow himself to go through with the ill-fated con. His disposition on Friday night made it all too apparent that he had feelings for this woman, beyond that of a simple friendship. It made June's heart ache to think of how Neal's complicated past always seemed to interfere, making the simple act of sharing his life with someone nearly impossible.
June picked up her cup and saucer and headed for the kitchen. As she entered the room, she saw Mozzie setting at the end of the large table scribbling on sheets of ruled paper, crumpled pieces strewn in front of him. He leaned forward supporting his chin against his fist, his thick brows drawn together in a frown as he swirled a glass of melting ice in his free hand. June sat her dishes in the sink and turned facing the table. "Mr. Haversham, I think you need a break. Your forehead is nearly as wrinkled as that poor linen tablecloth."
Mozzie stopped, flipping the tablet over and looking up at June as he reached to smooth out the table cover. "I thought Peter would be here by now. We need to meet and start to formulate a plan for dealing with Glassenger." June crossed the room and patted him on the shoulder, heading toward the hutch for some fresh glasses. "How about a nice glass of wine? I'll pour." Mozzie nodded in agreement, as she crossed back over to the wine cabinet and pulled a bottle from the shelf. "Maybe you should go in and check on Violet. The poor dear is sleeping in such an odd position. I think she would be more comfortable resting in Neal's room."
Mozzie collected the crumpled paper and tossed it into the garbage. "You're probably right. I don't think she is feeling very well. Did you notice her holding her side earlier?"
June looked up as she pulled the cork from the bottle. "No, but she has seemed restless. I thought it was just the uncomfortable position."
Mozzie shook his head as he started for the great room. He sensed that Violet was in physical pain from her Crohn's disease but he knew that there was little that he could do for her.
From behind, the overstuffed chair looked vacant. Violet was turned sideways, resting her head on the arm of the chair with her feet sticking out from the edge. Leaning down, Mozzie scratched Dino behind the ears. "You being Violet's guard dog?"
The little pug rolled over against the open book and begged to have his belly rubbed. "Okay, Dino. I get it."
He gave the pup a vigorous rub as Dino wagged his tail and barked. Violet stirred in her sleep and her foot dropped to the floor bumping into Dino. The little dog yelped as he scooted under the skirt of the chair. "Oh, aren't you a fearless guard dog."
Mozzie closed the book and picked up Violet's glasses. "Vi. … wake up." He touched her arm as she opened her eyes blinking and feeling for her glasses.
"Here," placing plastic frames into her hand.
"Mozzie, is something wrong?" She craned her neck as she placed her glasses on and tucked her hair behind her ears.
"No, well … it's just that your sleeping position could've probably landed you a spot in Circ de Soleil."
She yawned as she stretched some more, favoring her right side. "Seriously, June thought you might be more comfortable resting in Neal's apartment."
Mozzie led Violet upstairs and opened the door, reaching to the right and turning on the wall light. She stepped inside and surveyed the beautiful artist's style garret, thoughtfully observing all the little vignettes of Neal's life.
A full size studio easel stood facing a wall of windows that lead onto a grand terrace. There was a hint of oil paint and turpentine in the air and several freshly gessoed canvases leaned against the lower panes. She picked up a brush from the large crock on the side table and ran her fingers the length of it. These were an extension of Neal, tools used to express his passion. Placing it back into the container, she turned and realized she was alone in the room.
The wall adjacent to Neal's bedroom held a built in bookcase. She approached it running her fingers along the spines of the books, artistic methods, art history texts and classic first edition novels, even a chess set with an unfinished game. Probably Mozzie, black was losing and Neal was always white. Feeling a bit nostalgic, she made a move and captured Neal's rook. He would recognize the bold move as her style.
Approaching his bed, she picked up a novel from the nightstand … Tracy Chevalier's, Girl With A Pearl Earring, such a romantic … and underneath it a sketch diary accompanied by a box of well worn Conte Crayons. Violet flipped through the pages of drawings revealing, people in the park, random portraits, and studies of individual facial features. Neal was always fascinated with the human figure and faces. His drawings had a loving humanity to them that she admired.
Why had she involved him again? It was obvious to her that he had a life of his own here. He was healing, starting over. Now because of her, he was fighting for his life. She winced and wrapped her arm around her lower abdomen allowing herself to collapse onto his bed. She reached for a pillow to tuck under her head as she pulled his grey robe close, burying her face against the collar. The warmth of her body against the soft gray fabric released the scent of his cologne and her thoughts shifted back to Friday night.
Bright lights illuminated the front entrance to the Museum of Modern Art. Neal continued to hold Violet in his lap as his fingers glided through her hair. He held her close and tucked her head under his chin. She reached up and stroked his jaw line with the back of her hand. "Neal, you need to let go now. We're here." He lifted his head and shifted helping her out of the cab.
Neal paid the cab driver and exited, again sheltering Violet against him. She grasped his hand and stepped away from his side smiling as the wind blew her hair, partially obscuring her view. "It feels like it's going to snow tonight. Don't you just love to walk in the snow? It makes the city glisten. Promise we will walk back."
Neal tried to relax and smile as he magically made her gloves appear, holding them above her reach. She smiled broadly, "That's my date the pickpocket. Do I still have a wallet?" He put on a grin for her as they hurried toward the open door. A warm rush of heat washed up from the floor as they passed through to the vast lobby area. Neal helped Violet with her coat as she smoothed her hair back into place. "The opening is on the fifth floor. Remember no souvenirs tonight," she joked. "Awe, you're taking all the fun out of this," he pretended to pout.
He checked their coats, keeping a close eye on his companion. Violet had never liked crowds and Neal was rather shocked that she selected this event for their celebration. It was clearly for his enjoyment. They stepped off the elevator and were immediately greeted by numerous patrons of the arts. Dr. Kinso, the MoMA curator, hurriedly stepped forward cutting in front of Neal, "Welcome, Dr. Nesbit." He leaned down stiffly hugging and kissing her on the cheek. "We are so glad that you could make it to the opening of the exhibit. It is truly a wonderful collection of Monet's work. We have a tour starting in about 20 minutes and would be very honored if you would assist with the guided commentary on the works."
Violet stepped to the side sliding her hand between Neal's open jacket and his vest, drawing herself in tight around his waist to accentuate her point. "Dr. Kinso, normally I would be honored to oblige but I am here this evening with my friend Neal Caffrey. He is one of your newest benefactors and I planned to spend the evening in his company."
Dr. Kinso extended his hand, "Mr. Caffrey, so nice to have you join us. I have this feeling that we have met somewhere before. You do look familiar."
Neal reached forward and shook his hand flashing his charming smile. "I doubt that we have actually met but I am a painter in my own right and my works have been on display in some of the local museums."
Dr. Kinso scratched his chin a bit perplexed, "That must be it. Please do enjoy the exhibit."
Neal reached for a glass of champagne from the passing tray, "I'm sure that we will. Violet dear, let's start over here and work are way around. I adore his Japanese-style triptych."
Neal escorted Violet to the large 3-panel painting displayed on the opposite wall, opting to dodge the crowd by viewing the exhibit in reverse order. "It is so clever how Monet eliminated the viewer's vantage point in this work. You know he specifically required that this piece be displayed on curved walls to give the illusion of endless water." They stood alone engulfed by the peaceful beauty of the enormous flowering aquarium. This was their world and for tonight, they would be lost in the aesthetic beauty of a great master.
Neal finished his champagne and placed the empty glass on another passing tray. "Violet, you are surely hungry now. Let me get some tidbits and some more to drink. What would you like?" They walked toward an open black leather bench. "Some white wine and fruit will be fine. We have reservations at 8:00 for dinner, upstairs at La Genouville. And I don't want any excuses for you not eating to excess." She pinched his waist. "You are much too thin. That well tailored suit may help disguise it but you can't fool me Mr. Caffrey. You have to be at least 20 lbs thinner." Neal blanched, "Maybe 8 or so. A good meal and I'll fill back out." Violet shook her head and waved him off in the direction of the servers.
Violet sat on the low bench taking in the next painting as Neal maneuvered through the crowd to get some hors d'oeuvres. She leaned back on her hands, gazing up as she admired Monet's ability to capture the feeling of being with him in the garden. Agapanthus, the study of a willowy lily plant accompanied by wisteria, irises and bamboo was a plein air painting from Monet's gardens at Giverny.
Neil returned with a plate of red grapes and baked brie spread on crackers along with two glasses of white wine. Violet took a glass as Neal sat the plate between them. "This is nice Violet. It has been too long since I just enjoyed an art exhibit with someone who wasn't bored within 10 minutes." She placed her hand on top of his. "I usually don't attend these openings. As you could see, I needed rescued from those who don't realize that discussing the academic side of art isn't the way to enjoy it."
It was nearly 7:00 pm, when Peter pulled in and parked across the street from June's large manor house. He could see light shining through the front windows, reflecting off the snow that still clung to the shrubbery. Peter turned off the ignition and looked over at El's shadowed features. She was soundly asleep wrapped snugly in a soft burgundy blanket. Peter leaned over brushing her bangs to the side of her face and gently cupping her cheek in his hand. "El honey, wake up. We're at June's."
El tilted her head away from Peter's touch and murmured. "A-huh."
"El," He jostled her slightly.
"El, honey."
Peter exited the car and walked around to the passenger side, leaning in and pulling aside the warm blanket. "Honey, I need to go in and talk with Mozzie. You can't stay here in the car alone."
He released her seat belt and reached down to help her out of the vehicle. She was exhausted but that first breath of frigid air quickly cleared her head. Peter took her by the arm as they stepped onto the glossy black pavement. "Be careful, some of the spots are still icy."
The cars streamed by them throwing an icy spray up as they passed. "Come on El, we are finally going to get a break," As they darted across the street.
Peter tapped on the elegant beveled glass pane in the front door. He could see a figure approaching through the frosted glass. Mozzie pulled the door open and greeted the Burke's as they stepped into the large foyer. "Sorry we're running a little late. El had to tuck him in for the night."
June hurried to the door and patted Peter on the arm as she hugged Elizabeth tightly. "How's he doing? Is he awake and talking?"
Peter helped El off with her coat as she spoke, "June, he's doing better but he is still very weak and pain most of the time. It is so difficult to see him like this."
June closed her eyes and shook her head, "Poor dear," leading Elizabeth through the great room and into the kitchen. "Mozzie told me some things but I think he glossed it over so I wouldn't worry so much. Please, please have a seat Elizabeth." She pulled a chair out at the end of the table.
El sat at the huge kitchen table and kicked her shoes off propping them up on the adjacent chair. "He talks a little but they still have him heavily sedated so he sleeps most of the time. It was funny, he tried to flirt a couple times with the nurses. You know Neal, all he has to do is open those big blue eyes of his and make a slight smile. They are so nice to go along with it."
June looked over at the Mohan's bag on the counter. "I can just imagine him barely awake and still flirting," she chuckled. "Oh, before I forget, please take this gift for him. It's a new robe to help him maintain his style and dignity. Even Neal would have a hard time being suave in open back patient gown."
Elizabeth looked in the bag and felt the soft fabric, "June, he will love this. Are you sure that you don't want to take it yourself? I think they may upgrade his condition soon and then you can visit. Or better yet, I bet Mozzie could dig up a nurse's uniform and sneak you in."
June laughed as she sat a plate of warm cinnamon rolls and the teapot on the table, starting to pour them each a cup.
"Mind if I join you?" A small voice sounded from the service stairway door. June and Elizabeth looked over to see Violet stepping into the kitchen. June immediately got up from the table and walked across the kitchen, "Violet this is Elizabeth Burke. Please join us. They just came from the hospital." June lightly touched Violet's arm as she took another cup down from the cabinet. "Did you get some rest? Mozzie was worried that you weren't feeling well."
Violet pulled the chair out next to Elizabeth and slid into the seat, "Yes, I think I dozed off for a little bit. I am feeling better now, thanks." She reached her hand over and touched El's. "My name is Violet and I am old friend of Neal's. I am so glad that you could be with him. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation but I am glad to hear the Neal is a little better. I think your husband is here to see me."
Elizabeth folded her fingers around Violet's. "Oh, you must be Dr. Nesbit."
"Yes, I 'm worried that I am the one responsible for this whole situation. I am so sorry I have involved all of Neal's friends." Elizabeth could feel Violets hand tremble. "Neal was going to help me and now he is ...," her voice trailed off as June and Elizabeth both moved closer placing their arms around the small woman.
"This is not your fault and Neal is going to pull through. My husband will find out who hurt Neal and they will pay for this crime. He is going to help you too."
June handed Violet a tissue as Peter and Mozzie stepped into the kitchen. "Mmmm cinnamon rolls?"
Mozzie looked over at Peter as he started to devour a warm roll, "Now this, this is good." He pointed across the table at the three women, wagging his finger side to side. "Don't mean to disrupt your little hen gathering but I need to talk with Dr. Nesbit."
He motioned for her to move into the dining room as he grabbed another roll from the plate. Mozzie rolled his eyes, "Funny, always thought you could only go fishing for agents with donuts. Little did I know that any pastry could derail them." Mozzie licked his finger and gestured a tick mark in the air as a note to self. "June, could I trouble you to make some coffee. I kinda promised The Suit."
Peter sat at the end of the table licking the goo from his fingers, "So, you are Dr. Nesbit. Mozzie was right that is a bad photo of you in our profile but then Jones did just pull it off the security camera in the lab."
Violet looked at Mozzie for support. "I guess you have some questions for me."
Peter pursed his lips, "Yeah you could say that, since my consultant was last in your company and now he's in critical condition. Can we start with why you think this might have happened?"
The soft-spoken woman wrapped her arm around her waist as she answered. "I came to the city on Tuesday to install a new test instrument in the FBI's crime lab and teach a couple of seminars. I am a forensic art historian. The classes were about how to use modern scientific techniques to detect forgeries."
Peter had heard this all before and his patience had lapsed over a day ago. "And you're considered a renowned leader in your field, correct?" He leaned closer to Violet.
"Yes"
"Then let's cut through the crap. Why leave your posh home in Connecticut a few weeks before Christmas to do a job that anyone in your lab is capable of doing? Why are you really in the city Dr. Nesbit?"
Violet's stomach churned, "I came here to ask Neal for help. My husband was Neal's first partner. We met when Neal tried to con me out of some chemical formulations for special coatings. The coatings were developed for art restoration but could easily be used to mask forgeries from certain test methodologies. My husband was killed when he set up a deal with art forger Marcus Glassenger."
Mozzie swallowed hard not realizing that Violet was aware that her husband was murdered.
"Neal tried to protect my work by double crossing Bryan and it resulted in Glassenger having him killed. Less than six months later, Glassenger was caught in the middle of an art theft ring and was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He has been out for over a year. About a month ago, he contacted me wanting the real formulations."
Peter crossed his arms, "So what happened on Friday night? Did Glassenger attack Neal?"
"Neal and I went out Friday night, first to the MoMA and then the La Genouville. He left my suite at the Mansfield around 12:30. Please believe me, Agent Burke. This wasn't set up to revenge my husband's death. I had planned to take Neal out for his birthday months ago. We are very close friends and have celebrated our birthdays together for years.
Peter raised a halting hand, "So are you the "friend" that for the past 4 years sent Neal one chocolate and sketching supplies on his birthday?"
Violet shook her head, "It was part of our tradition." She thought for a second about their silly chocolate toast. It probably seemed very peculiar to whoever inspected the gift at the prison. It was also disquieting to know that Agent Burke knew such obscure details about Neal's life. He probably knew just as much about her.
"I don't know if Glassenger actually attacked Neal but I am certain that he's behind it. The attack was meant as a message for me, that he will hold true to his threat and have my Uncle killed if I don't comply."
"Doctor, what does Marcus Glassenger want you to do?" Peter looked at the empty table in front of him. "Mozzie check on that coffee."
Mozzie left the room as Violet continued to explain. "Glassenger is in the city and I am to meet with him tomorrow evening. He wants me to prepare a batch of my coating and falsify documentation for his forgeries."
A few minutes later, Mozzie returned with the coffee and sat it on the table along with more cinnamon rolls. Peter seemed more relaxed now and offered Violet one of the rolls. "How does this work? Why doesn't he just forge the documents?"
Violet was looking rather ashen as she pushed the plate of rolls toward Mozzie and started to explain the process. "Glassenger will need to be in possession of an original piece. I will take a very small scraping from the painting and test it using micro Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy. This will generate a spectrum that identifies each components wavelength and its' intensity using a common algorithm."
Peter raised his hand, "Doctor, in English please. I haven't slept in over two days and I am not sure I could even begin to follow you if I was completely awake."
Mozzie interjected, "Peter that is English to Violet."
"I'm sorry Agent Burke, the test is like taking a finger print of the painting. Each one is unique. My lab equipment generates an individual serial number for each test report. These numbers are traceable and fake documentation could be easily discovered. By forcing me to falsify the records, I would be the fall guy for the fraud. Once I have a real fingerprint recorded, I can play with the test results to make them look unique for as many paintings as he needs. The coating is visually undetectable once it is chemically graphed to the surface of the paintings. It will make the forgeries impossible to test except by the most costly test methods. My signature on the documentation will be accepted by most galleries as irrefutable."
Peter picked up his cup of coffee and took a swallowed. "So, you are to meet Glassenger tomorrow night?"
"Yes, I am to meet him at the deli down the street from my hotel. He will take me to a lab facility and I will prepare the coating for him and run some tests on his original. He said he would consider us even if I comply."
Peter shifted his eyes down concentrating as he finished the cup of coffee in his hand. "I don't like this. Glassenger is a violent criminal. I can't let you do this alone. What will you take along to this meeting?"
"I sent a list of supplies to Glassenger last week. I will only be taking my portable FT-IR instrument and my personal protective gear."
"What's that include?"
"My lab coat and prescription safety glasses, any lab facility should have the other common items I will need."
Peter poured another cup of coffee, "Okay. Here is what we are going to do. Mozzie, I want you to take Violet back to her suite and stay with her tonight. I am going to make arrangements for Jones to check into the Mansfield and for Cruz to work in the kitchen. When, Agent Cruz comes to deliver room service. I want you to give her the test instrument and Violet's lab gear. She will return it tomorrow morning with instructions. The FBI will send an agent to protect your Uncle until this is over." Peter reached over and touched Violet's hand. "You are not going to be alone tomorrow when you meet with Marcus Glassenger. With your help the FBI will catch him with enough evidence to send him back to prison for good."
Mozzie, cleared his throat looking at Peter and then Violet. "Are you insane? Violet isn't a trained agent! Look at her … she isn't even well. If something happens to her, Neal isn't going to snap out of it this time. I'm begging you … find another way."
Violet stood up and leaned across the table. "Mozzie I can do this … Neal is in this situation because of me. Agent Burke isn't going to let anything happen to me."
Author's Note: Thank you to all the readers and reviewers of my first Fan Fiction story. I appreciate all the kind comments and encouragement. I hope that I am keeping your interest so far. Please let me know what you think. - SK Musings