The next day, Neal got a call from Elizabeth to come by for lunch.
"Oh, Peter is not—" he started.
"Keep Peter out of it," she snapped. "I asked you. And it's about that scanner. Can you just come?"
Neal saw no reason to refuse.
When he got there and was shown into the kitchen, he found Mozzie as well. His eyes went from one to another.
"What's going on here?" he asked.
"No one believed me, so I found someone who did."
"I would normally let aspiring criminals do their thing, but for her, I'll make an exception," Mozzie said. "And now we got indisputable records." He held up a small recorder.
"It's our new neighbors," Elizabeth said. "He had a big duffel bag in the trunk. And we saw a gun."
"Or a Tony Award. More likely a Sig Sauer P227, though."
Mozzie pressed the play button.
"'Any luck with the work order?' 'I'm still waiting for them to call me back, but it'll be in place tomorrow by 2:00.' 'Tomorrow, 2 o'clock. We're set up for good.'"
Mozzie turned it off.
"So, who's Woodward, and who's Bernstein?" Neal asked. "They're waiting on a work order. It could be anything. And a duffel bag could be filled with gym clothes."
"Mm. There are no certainties in life," Mozzie said and floated away.
"Well, here's one. If you saw a gun, you should let Peter know."
"Neal, I saw the way Peter looked at me today. He thinks I'm paranoid after what happened with Keller."
"No, he's just —"
"Neal, stop it. He does. I don't want him to see me as a victim."
"Look, he worries about you."
"And I'm worried that the new neighbors are up to something."
"Look, this is exactly when having a husband in the FBI comes in handy."
"Not until I know more. On the off chance that I might be wrong, will you help?"
"Moz and I will take a look around and see if there's anything Peter needs to know about."
"Thanks. Wait. We're not talking about breaking and entering?"
"No."
"Of course not," Mozzie added from the living room. "There won't be any breaking."
"Or entering," Neal beamed.
Peter had called his contact at the NYPD to see if they had any indication of something happening in the area, but no.
"Thanks. Got it." He hung up as he saw Jones and Diana return and aiming for his office. "Anything?" he asked Jones entering his room first.
"We talked to businesses at 47th and Park. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Midtown north detectives canvassed a five-block radius," Diana read from a file. "Fistfight, guy stiffed a cabbie out of his fare."
"Phones went down briefly in an office building," Jones said.
"Tip jar was looted at a coffee house."
"And an ATM malfunctioned." Peter raised an eyebrow when he heard this. "Bank manager said it was nothing, didn't lose a dime."
Peter let go of his tension.
"I appreciate the diligence," Peter said. And so does Elizabeth." He smiled embarrassedly at them and returned to work, though the couple lingered. He looked at them. What?
"Hey, look," Jones began, "my mom's convinced that her dry cleaner's part of the mob."
"Christie was positive one of her patients was on the 'Most Wanted' list," Diana chimed in.
He appreciated that they wanted to assure him that his wife was not behaving strangely at all.
"Well, glad to know El's paranoia is run-of-the-mill," he smiled. "And, from the looks of it, it's all good in my 'hood.'"
Then, a bubbling giggle was heard from both of them.
"I can't really pull that phrase off, can I?" Peter asked, and Diana chuckled.
"Not even close."
"You're under a lot of pressure," Jones said. "It's okay."
Peter looked after them, admitting that African American Vernacular English probably was not what he had practiced most.
"All right, keep an eye on the approach," Neal told Moz. "I'm gonna get a closer look."
He slid down the narrow path between the garage and the house.
"Careful, the churlish fellow we spied before could still be here, and he may or may not be armed."
He glanced through the net of the gate. The garden seemed empty. He opened the gate and snuck up to the nearest window.
"He's got a lock-pick set in there," he reported back to Moz. "No gunman, but I see the duffel bag." He tried to pull up the window. "You got a knife handy?"
"We said we wouldn't break in."
"I'm not breaking in. I'm reaching in. Moz, the bag is right here. I need something sharp to pry the window."
"Mrs. Suit made me leave my tools."
Neal sighed.
"We don't have time. Come on."
He searched the ground around him.
"There's nothing in here but old tofu boxes and sprout containers," he heard from Moz. He probably searched the bins.
"Never mind," Neal said. "I got something." A piece of a can would have to do.
"Careful!" Mozzie warned. "This neighborhood is rife with tetanus."
Neal was just about to go to work with the window when he saw a man enter the room. He flipped out of sight, standing between the two windows. He heard the man coming near and saw his shadow, but his best guess was that the duffel bag was of more interest than the view.
The shadow and the sound told him the man had left. He turned to get the window open when Moz made some odd clay cuckoo sound.
"I don't know what that means!"
"It means to hide, obviously," Moz hissed back. Neal did.
"Uh, hello?" he heard a woman's voice.
"Huh. Paper in the green bin," Moz replied.
"Excuse me, that's for paper."
"Uh, not paper towels or napkins."
"What are you doing in my trash?" The woman was not pleased.
"Trash? I don't think so. I'm the founder of the Cobble Hill Recycling Bureau."
"I don't care who you are. Get off my property. Don't come back."
"Oh, fine. I do not suffer repeat offenders."
The woman dumped her garbage and returned inside. Neal quickly left the property, too, and joined Mozzie on the sidewalk.
"Well, whatever he's planning, he's got the tools to break in. I saw an Elite III lock-pick set in there."
"These people are environmental terrorists," Moz returned, honestly upset by what he had seen in the bin.
"Can you focus? Please?"
"Right. An Elite III pick set. Strictly government issue."
"Yeah, or black market." Which was where he, of course, got his once upon a time.
"Yeah, you convinced yet?"
They walked back into the Burke's home.
"Did you see anything?" Elizabeth asked.
"A lock-pick set," Neal replied.
"What kind of lock-pick set?"
"Look, the bottom line is it's illegal, and if Peter sees it, he can confiscate it and get a warrant to search the rest of the house."
"Okay. How do we get him to see it?"
"Well, that's the problem," Mozzie said.
"Well, I don't think Peter's gonna be peeping through windows."
"No, he can't," Neal agreed. "But if he's invited inside the house and sees it in plain sight..."
"Great. How do I get an invitation?"
"Meet your neighbors dinner party," Neal suggested.
"Okay, if my neighbors are criminals, do you really think they're gonna host houseguests?"
Neal and Mozzie glanced at each other.
"Judging by their trash, they're a couple of health-food nuts," Moz said.
An idea popped into Neal's mind.
"How's your garden doing?"
"Not much, why?"
"I know a great market where you can find the finest vegetables," Mozzie said.
"Get a pile of something that don't last long," Neal suggested.
"Summer peas, maybe?" Moz suggested. "Local, organic…"
"Go over and offer it as a welcoming present, and be that anyone neighbor you can't get rid of before you have an invitation to dinner with your own peas."
"Oh, god…" She took a deep breath. "No, I can do that. I'm in catering. I know how to arrange a party."