Neal and Diana followed Sara and Bryan at a discreet distance. They watched them got their tickets checked and let inside the concert hall. Neal got annoyed at himself for not noticing the difference between June's ticket and the tickets he found at Bryan's apartment.
"We got a problem," Neal mumbled to Diana. "The symphony must have updated their security system when the Strad went missing. Our tickets don't have a barcode."
He more or less admitted to forging the tickets, but if Diana disapproved, they could leave.
"What do we do now?" she asked.
"We'll be fine. Go with me."
"Can I help you, sir?" the man behind the counter asked.
"I hope so," Neal beamed. "I'm Preston Sumner III. My grandfather called ahead."
"Uh..." He checked the guest list. "I'm sorry, sir. I never got word to print these tickets."
"Well, phone connections from Nice can be tricky, but as you can see, these are my granddaddy's seats." He handed over the tickets he got forged. "Lucky 15B for black."
"Right, sir, but only a Sumner can—"
"Can sit in a Sumner's seat. Yes, this is my wife, Diana. Doesn't she look lovely tonight? She's an avid fan." A little distraction did not hurt.
"Dudamel's mastery of Mahler's 5th Symphony last month was breathtaking," Diana chimed in, beaming at him. The man sure enjoyed that.
"If you'd like to verify with my grandfather," Neal said, "he's at the Royal Riviera."
The man behind the counter made up his mind.
"That won't be necessary. In fact… Maurie..." he turned to a man further in, "Can you take them in? Maurie's our resident instrument expert," he told them. "He'll tell you all about the show."
"Lovely. Thank you so much."
"Right this way," Maurie said.
"Do you know if any of the instruments we'll be hearing tonight are unique?" Neal asked.
"Quite special, in fact. Our second violinist will be playing an Hilaire, and the first, a Nagyvary."
"A modern string said to match the sound of a Stradivarius," Neal told Diana.
"Don't be fooled," Maurie said. "Nothing beats the original."
"Will we get a chance to compare?" Diana asked. "I hear the symphony has a Stradivarius."
"Oh, we do..." Maurie stopped, appearing uncomfortable. "But it's fragile. We only feature it on opening and closing nights." One of the violinists in the quartet on the stage signaled. "Oh, excuse me. Second violin calls."
He gestured towards their seats.
"Thank you so much." Neal watched him go and meet the woman on the stage. "That's true. Recognize our Klimt portrait?" He showed Diana the image from the tape and compared it to the one in the program.
"Mm-hmm. It says here Annie Chaite is second violin. So we know Bryan and Annie are connected somehow, and he snuck something past security."
"All right. I'll keep an eye on Bryan," Neal said as Bryan rose from his seat. "Go check with Sara." Neal walked down and crashed right into Brian. "Oh, gosh! Sorry. I should watch where I'm going."
Bryan stepped back, crossed his arms, and gave him a good look.
"You're Neal Caffrey."
"I usually pride myself on keeping a lower profile." Neal had to admit, though, that he did not mind being known. In this case though… "What gave me away?"
"Who, actually. My girlfriend," he gestured to Sara, who smiled at them. "She was after you for a stolen Raphael. Spent a lot of late nights on you."
On, under, beside, with... Neal wondered it Bryan knew they had been a couple. This was a man guarding his 'property'. Knowing Sara was only acting, this could be fun.
"I guess I was the spark she needed to escape a... monotonous routine." He made a slight gesture with the tickets in his hand towards Bryan, to indicate why she left him. And who came next, in case he did not know.
"Until she realized fireworks don't have a lasting flame."
He did not know if he could win Sara back, but he was sure she would not stay with this bore.
"You know, the nice thing about fireworks — there's usually a second show."
Bryan forced a chuckle.
"Well, you boys look like you're getting along," Sara said, joining them with Diana. Bryan immediately put his arm around Sara's waist.
"Famously. You remember Neal, sweetie."
"Hard to forget." Neal thought her smile and her eyes spoke so much.
"Nice to see you, Sara."
"You don't mind if they join us for drinks afterward, do you?" Bryan suggested.
"I can't think of anything more fun," Diana said. "I'm Diana, by the way." They shook hands. The lights dimmed. It was time for the concert to start.
"Great. We'll find you after the show," Brian said, moving to their seats with Sara pulled tight.
"Well, at least we know Bryan and Annie won't be meeting up anytime soon," Neal said to Diana. "Come on." They took their seats as well.
One thing Peter never thought would happen in his life was a family celebration combined with a criminal who was off the grid of any system of society.
"So, I told Derrida," Mozzie ended his long and fascinating story, "'I will see your deconstructionism, and I will raise you transcendent abnegation.'"
"You've created your own philosophical bubble!" Alan praised him, looking happier than Peter had ever seen him during all the years he had known him.
"I'm on my third manifest."
"Peter, where did you find him?" Tina asked, delighted.
"Oh, ho, ho. Well, like Alan said, mental instability is everywhere." Not a comment Mozzie enjoyed, but Peter would explain later.
"Mozzie's a friend of Neal, who is Peter's C.I," El explained.
"Well, you've lived an extraordinary life," Alan said.
"I have, haven't I? As Abbie Hoffman said to me, 'Sacred cows make the best hamburger.' Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have to go to the restroom."
Mozzie rose and walked up the stairs. Peter figured it was time for him to make an excuse, too.
"Rampant narcissism, delusions of grandeur, paranoia from overblown sense of self. He's..."
"Insane?" Peter asked.
"...Magnificent!" Peter did not know what to say to that. At least he realized that Alan had found him too normal. That was a comfort.
"Well, it's a shame about his rabid kleptomania. He needs constant supervision. I should go check on him." Peter hurried up the stairs and found Mozzie in their bedroom with a laptop and headphones. "You're sitting on my bed?"
"Oh. That chair is not ergonomically supportive."
"You're good with the crazies. Her dad's liking your lies better than my truths."
"Oh, they're not lies to those of us who have our eyes open."
Yeah, yeah, whatever.
"How's my video?" Peter asked, and Mozzie grinned. "Oh, that's a smile. It's good, right? It's touching?"
"Oh, definitely touching. Especially the gladdening of the bride."
"What?"
He sat down beside Mozzie, looking at the screen.
"Oh, the traditional Yemeni custom whereby music sounds throughout the community," Mozzie explained. "That's Pir and Elethia Baakrime. They had a beautiful ceremony where sweetened fritters and doughnuts were prepared to symbolize the sweet life they would have together." Peter grabbed the laptop. "It's cute, huh?"
Maybe so, but all Peter could see was a video of someone else's wedding.
"Oh, God, they sent the wrong video." He returned the laptop. "Oh, God. Oh, of course. Why shouldn't I ruin El's birthday with her father here?"
"Well, on the upside, the Baakrime are probably really enjoying the footage of Elizabeth's bridal shower."
It did not help him to think there was more than one victim in this.
"You need to help me, Mozzie. I've got 24 hours to fix this. Mozzie, stop watching!" He closed the lid of the laptop.
"Oh. What'd you have in mind?"
That was a good question.
"We need a scanner."