Nocturne in Black and Gold

Chapter 29: Brooklyn Nocturne

How did a walk in Riverside Park turn into something so serious? Neal should have insisted that Peter stick to joking about animals in the zoo.

When Peter made a left turn onto bridges, he only served to muddy the waters. Bridges, rivers, loaded triggers ... Peter might not be a tree about to be uprooted by Hurricane Azathoth, but bridges could get washed out too. Then what would happen to the townspeople?

Wasn't this exactly why Mozzie said to avoid long-term entanglements? Neal needed to make that clear to Sara. If she wanted to play games, fine. But don't expect any commitments. Not from him. He refused to let her get caught in the undertow.

Marcel had arranged with the French consulate to have his painting transported to Paris via diplomatic pouch. Peter offered to pick him up the next morning and they'd stop off at the French consulate on the way to work.

He felt at loose ends after Peter left. He attributed his restlessness to the Vermeer being finished. For a week that painting had filled up every available minute, and now it was done. He was left feeling unsettled. That was completely natural. It had nothing to do with bridges ... or hurricanes.

He decided to go to Columbia. He hadn't been to his studio for almost a week. When he arrived, he found Bianka was also there. He hadn't planned to stay very long, but she'd prepared a new painting and asked him to give it a mock critique.

Slipping into his art student persona was a relaxing change. Afterward, they went for a coffee. The Frick Museum was having another salon evening, this time with a Danish piano trio. The performance was to take place next weekend, and Bianka invited him to attend with her. Sara would be in Chicago, and he accepted readily. Another sign of returning normalcy, and it didn't sound like Peter would let him start on the Braque anytime soon.

He'd have to be careful that Bianka didn't get the wrong idea. She apparently liked flirting with him, but she probably considered him a placeholder until classes resumed in the fall.

That evening, Mozzie brought the Braque over. The previous day, Mozzie and an associate had installed a fake panel in Neal's armoire. It provided a convenient hiding spot for paintings and other slim objects. Not that he intended to use it for anything else, but as Mozzie reminded him, a little extra insurance never hurt anyone. He also brought him a copy of The Divine Comedy, in Italian, of course.

His expert on Dante stayed late into the night. Discussing Il Purgatorio in Italian might help maintain Neal's fluency in the language, but it wasn't conducive to peaceful dreams. His nightmares returned with a vengeance. He relived the horrors of the trial, but instead of the Vermeer, he was being tried for the theft of the Braque in front of the Inquisition. The results were the same. Peter was in prison. El was dead.

When he awoke in a cold sweat at five, he didn't attempt to go back to sleep. This wasn't the best start for convincing Peter he was once more in control.

He wasn't hungry but popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. Before eating, he retrieved the puzzle piece and laid it on the dinette table. It could be his breakfast companion. Should he start carrying it around in his pocket? How many more nights did he want to spend with Mozzie in Purgatory?

He flipped the puzzle piece between his fingers. Was it time for a leap of faith? If he took it, would he and Peter both fall off the bridge with no one around to rescue them?

* * * * *

When Peter picked Neal up on Monday morning, he was disappointed to see that Neal didn't look any more rested than he had on Sunday. Was that a sign he'd been working on bridge-building? Infrastructure repair could be exhausting.