Neal's loft. Thursday night. March 31, 2005.

Neal Caffrey dropped his backpack on the floor just inside his loft when he got home. For his Computational Art class he had a heavy text book and his laptop to lug around, and it was a physical and mental relief to shed that burden.

"Hey, roomie!"

Neal blinked in surprise at the familiar voice. It was Henry Winslow — cousin, unofficial older brother, someone he'd described to Peter as a "force of chaos." Henry was sitting on the sofa, drinking a beer.

"Early flight?" Neal asked. "I thought you'd be landing about now."

"Decided to drive, instead. Easier to manage the luggage." He nodded toward three suitcases beside the fireplace.

Three suitcases? What was he planning to do for the next week? Move in?

"And June said she needed me for something on Friday, so I thought getting in earlier and catching a full night's sleep would be best."

Odd that June hadn't mentioned anything about that to Neal. On the other hand, she'd been busy recently, making plans for another remodeling project, and he'd been absorbed in projects of his own. In fact, it felt like he'd been running all day, right up until his class, and then had rushed home. He poured a glass of water for himself and then sat in the chair next to the sofa.

"Not wine?"

"Not tonight." Neal toed off his shoes, and then put his feet up on the coffee table. "So, umm, about the 'roomie' part... You don't have to sleep on my sofa, you know. June has a spare bedroom down the hall ready for you."

Henry nodded but then rambled on about their past adventures, those four years from the time Neal turned eighteen until he was twenty-two, when they'd roamed the country making their way as con artists and musicians. Sometimes they slept in Henry's car, but they got good at convincing hotels they had a reservation and sneaking a free night's stay. If the room only had one bed, a coin toss decided who had to sleep on the floor.

They'd had some fun along the way, but Neal was glad to have a steady job and a place of his own now. He glanced at his bed and yawned.

"Am I boring you?" Henry asked.

Neal shook his head. "Sorry. Haven't been sleeping well, lately."

"What's wrong?" Henry asked. He had a master's degree in psychology. Of course he jumped to the conclusion that stress or some other problem was giving Neal sleepless nights.

Neal shrugged. "I think something's up with the furnace. It's been too cold the last few nights, and I keep waking up. I'll grab an extra blanket tonight, and then tomorrow I'll mention it to June."

"Good idea." Henry stood and grabbed two of his suitcases. "Same guest room I used before?"

"Yeah." Neal picked up the third suitcase. "This way."

Friday morning. April 1, 2005.

June's chef set up a breakfast buffet in the dining room. Henry hid a yawn as he loaded his plate. He hadn't slept as well as he had on prior visits.

Neal savored a cup of coffee and asked his landlady, "Did you say the contractors will be here today?"

"That's right," she confirmed. "But it's just for the final measurements. They're finishing another project and won't start work here for another week."

"Do you think they could look at the vents in my loft? For some reason the bedroom area gets much colder than the rest of the space."

"Of course I can ask them to take a look. Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"I've only noticed it the last couple of days."

Henry, who had taken a seat beside Neal, added, "Send them up to my room. It was absolutely freezing in the closet."

"How odd. I'll have them check there, too." June smiled at him. "Did you notice the shelves in that closet? The top one is still uneven. Installing those shelves was Byron's one attempt at being a handyman before he admitted that his talents ran more to sleight-of-hand."

Oh, yeah, he'd noticed. After a nearly sleepless night, those shelves had given him a big shock this morning. He told himself he must have been imagining things. "I'll give them another look next time I'm up there," Henry promised. Then he glanced toward the staircase. "Where's your other guest?"

"What other guest?"

"I heard a voice — sounded like they were in the room downstairs. I wasn't sure if it was someone on the telephone, or a TV playing."

June shook her head. "The room beneath yours is Byron's old study. I send someone in to dust occasionally, but other than that it's always empty. He may have had a radio in there, but it hasn't been turned on in more than a year." She looked concerned.

"I could take a look," Neal suggested.

"Would you mind? It still makes me sad to be in there... Byron loved that study so much."

"I'll go with you," Henry offered. He needed to resolve this if he was going to have a chance of sleeping tonight.

They didn't find anyone in the room, nor any signs of an intruder. The radio was off, and it had been long enough since the last time it was dusted that it was obvious it hadn't been touched last night.

Neal pulled open the curtains and looked at the traffic. "Your room faces the street. Any chance what you heard was someone outside on a cell phone, or a car radio?"

"No. It was definitely inside the house, and I heard it multiple times. Fact is, it woke me at least twice."

"It's hard to believe someone snuck in, not after Mozzie upgraded the security system." Neal checked his watch. "I'll call him from the Bureau and ask him to review the security tapes. Can you hang around the house with June today, at least until we figure this out?"

Henry nodded. "June and I had plans for this morning, and the real estate agent said she'd be willing to meet here to talk about what I need."

"I thought June was meeting with the contractors this morning," Neal said.

"That shouldn't take long."

"Well, try to hang around when she's with them."

"You think they're behind the voice I heard?"

"No, it's just that June's been vague about what she's having them do. Even Mozzie hasn't been able to figure out what room she's remodeling next."

"Does it matter?"

Neal shrugged. "It's her home. She can remodel anything she wants. I'm just curious why she'd keep something like that a secret."

"I'll find out," Henry promised.

"What are you going to tell her about the voice you heard?"

After casting a frustrated glance around the room, Henry said, "I'll tell her I must have dreamed it."

Damn it, Henry thought as Neal left for work. The night's weirdness in the closet and the mysterious voice both had ties to a dead man. Just his luck that nothing freaked him out as much as the idea of ghosts.

FBI Manhattan White Collar Division.

As soon as he got to his desk, Neal called Mozzie and filled him in.

From the Hawaiian music in the background, Neal concluded that his friend was hanging out at the Aloha Emporium this morning. "I'm on my way," Mozz finally promised, as a female voice in the background called out Neal's name. "Did you hear that?"

"Angela wants to talk to me?" Neal guessed. His younger cousin worked at the Emporium part time. "Tell her I'll call her." A moment later he dialed her cell phone number. "What's up?" he asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me," she said, sounding exasperated. "I thought Mozzie would keep me informed, but he keeps changing the subject to a romantic getaway he has planned with Janet. I'm not that annoying when I talk about dating Michael, am I?"

Neal chuckled. "Not quite. At least you don't offer unsolicited advice on my relationships."

"You don't need advice. Fiona is great. Just tell me our plan is on track."

"Everything's under control," Neal promised. But he listened as Angela reminded him of the next steps in their plan, as if he didn't have it all memorized. He was co-author of this scheme, after all. For the first time he was on the receiving end of Angela's bossy nature. He looked up to see Peter standing at his desk. Neal could only deal with one boss at a time. "Listen, I need to get back to work. See you tonight."

"Fiona?" Peter guessed, naming Neal's girlfriend.

"I wish."

"Well, I have some news I know you don't wish for. Travis is out sick today and Jorge is on the verge of going home with the same bug, and that means we need to cover for them in the van."

Neal groaned.

"I know. Surveillance isn't your idea of fun, but it's our turn. We'll head out right after the morning briefing."

###

Usually Neal was so full of energy that it was annoying to be confined with him in the fake municipal van, but not this morning. The kid might have recently turned twenty-six, but his eyes were drifting shut like he was a kindergartner who had missed his nap.

"Rough night?" Peter asked.

"Huh? Oh, sort of. I have a... project at home that kept me up late the last few nights. It's starting to catch up with me."

That pause before project worried Peter. "What kind of project?"

"Remember that story you told me, about how when you were a little kid your older brother tricked you into thinking you'd stumbled onto Bigfoot's lair?"

Peter nodded.

"You could say it inspired me. Henry's here to find office space for the branch of Winston-Winslow he's gonna open in New York, but he made sure to arrive just in time for April Fool's Day... He has to be up to something, right?"

"Naturally," said Peter, because he'd met Henry enough times to know wherever he went, mischief followed.

"Obviously I have to defend myself. That's why..." Neal stopped as his cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID he said, "It's Henry. I'll put him on speaker if you promise not to make a sound." He waited for Peter to nod and then answered.

"Mozzie's here," Henry announced.

"Good. Did he figure out the source of the voice you heard last night?"

"He couldn't find anyone on the security tapes. He's on his way up to go through Byron's study and he's dressed as a... You couldn't have warned me?"

"Dressed as what?" Neal asked.

"A ghostbuster."

Neal snickered. "As in 'who you gonna call?' in the movie Ghostbusters?"

"Yeah. Where did that come from? I thought he was obsessed with aliens and clones."

"And the paranormal, although he hasn't talked much about that for a while. Ever since he got involved with the local SETI group he's been focused on aliens, but before that he thought there could be spirits in the tunnels under Columbia. I guess I should warn you, he believes that Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a documentary disguised as fiction. I'm sure he has a theory unifying aliens, clones, and the paranormal, if you care to ask him."

"No, thanks." Henry huffed out a breath, a sound of pure annoyance. "Is he actually going to find anything? Or is he too distracted by his obsessions to focus on reality?"

"He'll get to the root cause," Neal promised. "You just may need to apply a filter when he explains his findings."

"I can do that," Henry said, although it sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. "Any chance you could come home for lunch and run interference?"

Peter nodded and gestured, and Neal responded, "Okay if I bring Peter along?"

Henry hesitated a moment but agreed, and then they ended the call.

"Let me guess," Peter said. "You're trying to convince Henry the mansion is haunted?"

"It's a joint con with Angela. We both wanted payback after he manipulated us on spring break, and she's still annoyed about the way he dumped us in the lake. It seemed safe to assume he's planning yet another prank. We're joining forces against him. Turns out ghost stories kind of freak him out."

Peter could see that Henry deserved a comeuppance, but he also had concerns. "What about June? It's barely a year since her husband died. Is she going to be upset by what you have planned?"

"She's in on it. It would be nearly impossible to do everything we have in mind without her figuring it out, and it's much easier with her help. When I first mentioned a haunting I wondered if she'd balk, but she surprised me. She wanted us to make it look like it's Byron's ghost. She said he'd love the idea of being part of one more con."

"I assume Mozzie is a member of your crew?"

"Yeah, but he's the wildcard. He could get carried away, start believing the con. That's where I'll be glad to have your influence over lunch. Welcome to the crew."

Peter felt honored and a little disconcerted. "You don't actually believe in ghosts, do you?"

"I think most ghost stories are just that: stories. People talk themselves into believing wilder things than I ever tried to sell them as a con artist. Still, as Shakespeare put it, 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.' Back in St. Louis, I was more open to Michael Darling's theory of a Christmas miracle than you were."

"Yeah, since he thought you were the miracle, you may have been a little biased. If today's con requires me to pretend to believe in ghosts, maybe I should bow out."

"Not at all. Having a skeptic helps sell the con. Henry will want to side with you, but he won't be able to discount what he's experienced. That will add to his confusion. Plus, he wouldn't expect me to bring along someone to debunk the con. That throws doubt on any suspicions he might have that I'm behind it."

Peter smiled and shook his head.

"What?"

"Have I mentioned recently that I'm glad you're on our side now?"

June Ellington's mansion.

Henry opened the door when Neal and Peter arrived. He'd had a twinge of doubt when Neal invited Peter along for lunch, but he soon squashed that. This was gonna be perfect.

"Mozzie waved me away when I checked on him. He said he'll be down soon to fill us in, and June's chef told me lunch will be ready in a few minutes. June's upstairs and wants to talk to you. I guess it's time to fill you in on our secret."

"What secret?" Neal asked.

"I wasn't kidding last night when I called you roomie. We're really going to be roommates. I've worked out a lease with June."

"I didn't realize June had a second apartment here," Peter said.

"She doesn't. I'm moving into Neal's loft."

"The hell you are," said Neal. "Nice try, but I'm not buying it. There's no way that would work. There's only one bedroom. Are you trying to convince me you'd sleep on the sofa long-term?"

"Maybe she's getting you a sleeper sofa?" Peter suggested, but his tone indicated that he, too, thought this was a joke.

Henry started up the stairs. "She's adding a second bedroom. Come and see. Hurry up. The contractor can't stay much longer." He quickened his pace, and they rushed to keep up. The less time they had to ask him questions, the better.

"That isn't possible," Neal insisted as he jogged up the stairs. "There's no space for a second bedroom."

"You'll see," Henry promised.

They reached the top floor. "What, are you going to build it on the balcony?" Neal scoffed just as Henry opened the door to the loft.

"Oh, you guessed," said June.