In the Driver's Seat

Chapter 3

 Federal Building, Manhattan, NY. December 18, 2003. Thursday morning.

Jones rolled his chair over to Neal's desk. "What happened with the couple who said they had a place you could rent?"

Jones had been assigned to tail Neal over lunch on Tuesday. They'd gone to New York Presbyterian hospital and encountered patient Byron Ellington and his wife June. The couple had enjoyed Neal's performance, and when Neal mentioned that he didn't have a piano of his own to practice on, they'd made him an offer. Neal could rent a space in their home and play their piano, in return for helping keep Byron entertained and distracted as his health deteriorated.

"I checked it out Tuesday night," Neal said. "They live on Riverside Drive. The apartment's on the third floor, has a charming vintage kitchen and an ugly bathroom that looks like it was renovated in the 1980s. They're willing to rent it for a song, almost literally. As long as I hang out with them and sing for Byron, the rent's almost ridiculously cheap for Manhattan." He shrugged. "I'd be a fool to pass it up. I'm going to move in on Saturday."

"Do they have an elevator?"

"There's an ancient service elevator that's currently out of service. That's one of the reasons Byron has to stay on the first floor. He's moved into a guest room on that level."

"You need any help carrying your stuff up to the third floor?"

"Are you offering?"

"I've got time, and I'm curious about this couple who offered you the space." Jones lowered his voice. "I ran them through the Bureau databases, to see if they're legit. They're loaded, and he has a record."

"They told me about that. Cons, thefts, illegal gambling."

Jones nodded. "Small-time stuff, at least what he was arrested for. He didn't spend long in prison."

"My stuff isn't heavy," Neal said, "but a car could be useful if you want to help."

Jones looked surprised. "Just a car?"

"The place is furnished, and your car is an SUV. That'll carry everything I plan to take."

Team members started standing up. Jones and Neal decided on a time to meet on Saturday, and followed the team to the morning briefing.

#

" it. Let's get to work," Peter said. He thought it might become his catchphrase at the end of morning briefings.

The members of the White Collar task force stood up and headed out to the bullpen. Tricia lagged behind and said, "Neal, do you have a minute? There's something I wanted to talk about while it's fresh on my mind."

"Sure. Hey, how did the field trip go?"

Peter paused. He'd opened the door that joined the conference room to his office and was about to step through. He should be glad that his second-in-command and Neal sounded comfortable consulting with each other, right? He could get back to the incredibly long list of things he needed to finish before leaving on vacation, and let them handle whatever this was on their own.

"Peter, you're welcome to stay if you want," Tricia said.

Peter turned around, relieved that he wouldn't have to try leaving the door ajar to eavesdrop. He returned to his chair at the head of the table. Neal sat at Peter's left side, and Tricia took the seat on Peter's right.

She opened with, "The field trip was perfect, thank you, Neal. The hospital asked if the choir could come back again in the spring. My sister-in-law is the choir director, and she's over the moon."