The Woman in Blue

Chapter 1: Old Friends

White Collar Bullpen. September 17, 2004. Friday afternoon.

Neal Caffrey scanned the small group of agents gathered around his desk. "In answer to your question, if three numbers are the same, I'd have to pay Jones $30, but then I'd collect $50 from the rest of you. Like to try it again?" He scooped up the dice and prepared to roll them. The agents launched into a feverish scribbling of numbers on slips of paper.

"Hold on a minute," Jones said, pulling out his calculator "Let me run the numbers."

"Hey, no fair!" Diana protested. "Give me a chance to win back my money." She looked at Neal. "Isn't it cheating to use a calculator?"

Peter chuckled as he looked down at the bullpen. The agents didn't stand a chance. Neal would win all their lunch money and then some, and they wouldn't even mind. Quite a transformation from what it was like when Neal joined White Collar nine months ago. Peter remembered all too well the initial unease the agents had felt about having a criminal become a member of their team. But Neal had worked hard to gain their respect, and it was gratifying to see how that distrust had now changed into acceptance.

In the beginning, Peter had been on high alert for a skeleton from Neal's past to reappear or for him to become entangled in one of Mozzie's schemes. But Peter's inner Neal radar had gone dormant for months. The next item on his agenda was to tame his consultant's reckless streak.

Heading downstairs to mock the group, Peter asked, "How much is Neal taking you for this time?"

"Why, Peter, I was simply instructing them in the finer points of the Bird Cage," Neal protested. "Think of all the money you saved by not needing to hire an instructor. And, frankly, I'm shocked that Quantico didn't do a better job in training them." He managed to convey both disarming innocence and shocked dismay in precisely the correct proportions to have everyone break into laughter.

"To spare the team from being fleeced of all their loose change, let's call it quits for the week," Peter said. "It's close enough to five o'clock for me." He waved off their enthusiastic thanks. "Just remember this next time you have to stay late."

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" Neal asked Peter as they headed for the elevator.

"Nothing besides watching baseball, and relaxing. El is out of town visiting her parents, so I won't have to fight her for the remote. She left me a long list of honey-does which I'll probably ignore, plus a well-stocked refrigerator which I'll definitely not ignore. How about you?"

"Saturday classes for me. But this weekend is special. My baroque painting seminar—the one taught by Sherkov—is meeting at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Dutch Baroque Masters exhibition is currently going on, and we'll discuss some of the paintings. I will dazzle the group by lecturing on a painting by Vermeer, The Woman in Blue Reading a Letter. If you get bored of watching baseball, I could probably arrange for you to sit in."

"Sorry but baseball and boredom are two words that never go together."

Neal smiled. "Okay, DiMaggio, see ya on Monday."

* * * * *

Neal arrived at the museum early on Saturday. His seminar was scheduled to start at two o'clock, but he wanted to have some time to himself first. The ability to use his Columbia ID to get in free at the Met was a perk he never got tired of. And how unbelievable was it that his ID was genuine? If his aunt Noelle hadn't finagled a way for him to apply to the university, it simply wouldn't have been possible. After all, he didn't even have a high school diploma, let alone a bachelor's. It still seemed miraculous that he'd survived the torture of the entrance exams. He'd never crammed so hard in his life. Without Peter, he would have self-destructed.