Choirboy Caffrey

Chapter 5 - Just in Case

St. Louis church. Saturday afternoon. Early December, 2003.

Peter had dropped Neal off for the Christmas concert rehearsal, and returned to the hotel room to continue working the Michael Darling case. Having heard Neal's conclusions and read his notes, Peter agreed that Michael's wife Tara was the most likely culprit, but he needed to be certain before taking any action.

At 3pm Peter returned to the church parking lot. Members of several choirs were streaming out of the building and into their cars, but there was no sign of Neal. After ten minutes of waiting, Peter went inside the church to find his missing consultant.

The choirs had exited through a side door, which led to a series of classrooms and a choir rehearsal room, all empty. Next Peter found an office, a kitchen and reception hall, where a few church members were tidying up. It looked like they had served coffee and cookies to the choirs. At last he came upon what looked like a nursery, but equipped with a monitor. This was the cry room, where parents took fussy children so their crying wouldn't disturb the congregation. The monitor let parents follow the church service while quieting their children.

Focused on the front of the worship area, the monitor showed Neal sitting at a piano and Michael standing next to him saying, "Slow it down. Think less Local Devastation and more Frank Sinatra. Picture a peaceful Christmas Day, when you have all the time in the world and you want the song to last. It's not always a race to the finish line."

Neal gave a passage a leisurely run through. "Sinatra, huh?"

"That's right. Remember, rock will get your blood racing, but a smooth crooner will win the listeners' hearts. Old Blue Eyes knew what he was doing. Now for the bridge, try this." Michael demonstrated what he wanted and Neal repeated it. "That's right. Take it back from the last bars of the verse and let me hear the transition." Neal played enough of the song now that Peter could recognize it, but he wasn't interested in the music. There was a woman in the cry room, wearing those gloves people use for serious household cleaning. She held a disinfectant and rags, and it looked like she had cleaned about half the room but was currently transfixed by the monitor.

A woman in her mid-to-late forties, blonde hair with a hint of gray. Probably too old to be Michael Darling's wife or a groupie. Remembering the photo the Marshals had given Neal of a blonde woman they described as "functioning as your mother," Peter thought he'd solved the mystery of why Neal was infiltrating a Christmas concert in St. Louis. This had to be the woman Neal had called Wednesday night, taking the risk that the U.S. Marshals would track him down, which in fact they had, showing up at their hotel room the next morning.

"A fan of Local Devastation?" Peter asked.

The woman spun around. "I'm sorry?"

"You're watching Michael Darling. He was the creative genius behind the group Local Devastation. And now he's leading the Concordia choir for their performance here."

"That must be why he seemed familiar. My nephew loved that group. He played their songs so many times I could probably sing them myself." She removed her gloves and shook Peter's hand. "Ellen Parker. I'm a member here. Can I help you?"

"It's that obvious I don't belong?"

Indicating Peter's suit, Ellen said, "You're not exactly dressed for the clean-up crew."

"True. I'm here for Neal Caffrey. But it looks like he's still busy with Michael."

"I've been listening to Neal. He's talented."

"Probably all those years of piano lessons he took," Peter said, taking a guess.

"Yes. At least, that was the case with my nephew."