New York City is famous for many things. One of the lesser-known attractions are the ‘Brownstone’ houses. Many of these were built at the end of the 19th Century and are very desirable residences. Unconverted ones can sell for well over $ 10 million.

Millions of people pass by them every day and most of the time, they are ignored because they are part of the fixtures and fittings that make up the fabric of the ‘Big Apple’. Only when something out of the ordinary happens do they attract attention.

Derek Redmayne was one of those who were attracted to one particular more modest property in Brooklyn. It wasn't the architecture that drew him there regularly but the sound of sweet music coming from the ground floor.

Visible through the large windows which because of the summer heat were wide open, a young woman would spend hours playing a grand piano. Her repertoire included all of the Beethoven Piano Sonatas, most of those written by Mozart as well as lesser known composers such as Pavane. The smile on her face told everyone who stopped to briefly listen that she was enjoying herself. She seemed to be oblivious to how large or small her audience was, it didn’t matter when you are having fun.

Derek was one of those who lingered a bit longer than most. He had been a pianist himself in a former life, but was never even close to her level of expertise. That made him admire her skill even more although he wasn’t watching her play. He’d stand with his back to the house listening to her skill for up to twenty minutes every few days while he was in NYC.

His behaviour was noticed by a local NYPD Officer, Joe Bartoli. He didn't like people loitering on his patch. There had been several robberies of local houses in broad daylight in recent months. His superiors had been putting pressure on him to get his patrol area under control.

Derek Redmayne and his passion for music unwittingly became a target of Officer Bartoli. The first time he spotted him standing in front of a Brownstone he watched and waited. After ten minutes, he was about to move in and arrest him for loitering with intent when Derek moved away.

Officer Bartoli followed him for three blocks but lost him in the evening traffic. He made a not to keep tabs on the location and the next time, he'd not get outsmarted by this criminal.

---

It was almost two weeks later that Office Bartoli got his chance. Derek was back in front of the brownstone and as before he had his back to the one with the music coming out of the window. He failed to notice that Derek had his eyes closed and his head was moving in time with the music. To Officer Bartoli, this man was clearly casing a house for a robbery.

He walked up to Derek with one hand on his service pistol and the other on his taser.

“Ok scumbag, assume the position. On you knees with your hands behind your head.”

His words took Derek by surprise.

“Move scumbag or I will tase you.”

“Sorry… I don’t understand?”

That question was resistance in the eyes of Officer Bartoli. Without warning, he tased Derek who jerked a lot and sank to the floor.
Officer Bartoli wasted no time and cuffed Derek. Then he radioed it in. Derek had been arrested on suspicion of committing a robbery and resisting arrest.

---

As Derek recovered from the tasing, he found that he was lying face down in the middle of the road with his hands secured behind his back.

“What…. What happened?” he muttered.

“You have the right to remain silent…”
The officer read Derek his rights at the speed of light. When he'd finished, he added,
“So shut the fuck up scumbag. You are going down. If I have my way, it will be ten years in sing-sing.”

A small crowd had gathered around as Office Bartoli waited for support to arrive. Derek thought about protesting, but he'd seen far too many US Cop shows to know how trigger-happy some Police Officers can be. He bided his time and waited for a senior officer to arrive.

It took some twenty minutes for the support to arrive. Derek was bundled into the back of a Police Car and taken to a Precinct Station for processing.

---

“Name?” asked the Desk Sergeant.

“I want my phone call,” said Derek.

“Cut the crap. You will get it when I think that you deserve it,” joked the Sergeant.

Derek sighed.
“Then please look inside my jacket. The arresting officer frisked me but didn’t take my passport. That will explain everything.”

“Passport? Wanting to flee the country. I’ll make sure that the ADA knows all about it.”

Derek was beginning to lose his temper. For a normally calm person, this was a rare occasion.

“Look Sergeant, I have diplomatic immunity. I want my phone call or I will make sure that you are patrolling the garbage tips on Staten Island before the week is out.”

“Don’t you threaten me scumbag. You were arrested for loitering with intent to commit a burglary.”

“And I have diplomatic immunity. I work for the British Government at the United Nations. Every minute you detain me is a minute longer that my boss will be on the phone to your Secretary of State in DC giving him an earful. That will be echoed to One Police Plaza and you really don’t want that do you?”

Gradually, what Derek was saying began to sink in.

“You say that your passport is in your jacket inside pocket?”

“I do.”

The sergeant didn’t look very happy as he came around the desk and extracted Derek’s passport.
One look told him that both he and Officer Bartoli were in lots of trouble.

“Bartoli, release this man immediately.”

“Sarge?”

“You fool. Why did you not question the suspect first before getting your taser out?”

“I didn’t want to take any chances. He gave me the slip a few weeks ago.”

The Sergeant shook his head. Officer Bartoli was not the sharpest of Patrol Officers in his precinct.

“Get on with it Bartoli. Release this man.”

Bartoli moved very slowly but released Derek from the handcuffs.

“Now Sergeant, I have to make a phone call.”

“Please Mr Redmayne, come this way,” said the Sergeant.
“Bartoli, man the desk. I will be back in a few minutes. I’m not finished with you.”

---

Derek made a call to the head of the UK’s UN delegation. He’d have to make a full report the following morning. The United Nations took attacks on representatives of their member nations very seriously.

Once he was back at the front desk, the Sergeant asked,
“Sir, if this is not a state secret, why were you standing outside that particular Brownstone on at least two occasions?”

Derek smiled.
“I was listening to some delightful music. There is a young lady in that house who plays the piano exquisitely. After a day of listening to boring people talk about boring things that matter to almost no one, it provides a few minutes of relief.”

The Sergeant shook his head.
“Now I have heard everything…”

“Sergeant, why not relieve Officer Bartoli tomorrow and listen for yourself? I stand with my back to the house just so that I can listen to the music and not be accused of stalking the beautiful young lady who lives in that house.”

He saw the Sergeant's reaction.

“Don’t worry Sergeant. I am not a stalker. I have no idea who she is and I’d rather not know. The memory of the music that she makes is more than enough for this failed musician. Yes, I studied Piano at the Royal College of Music in London but it was clear that I wasn’t that good. That young lady is worthy of a concert at Carnegie Hall.”

---

Derek’s work took him back to London soon after the encounter with Officer Bartoli. It was almost a month before he was back in New York. Even then it was nearly two weeks before he was able to get away in time to get to the Brooklyn Brownstone in daylight. The city was emptier than normal as the school holidays had just started and many of the permanent staff at the UN were on holiday themselves.

Derek’s heart was pounding as he turned onto the block where the Brownstone was located. He’d gone almost fifty yards when he heard the sounds of the final part of Beethoven’s Cuckoo Sonata No 25 coming from the house. A small smile appeared on his face. That was one of his favourite pieces. He’d played it many times when he was a student.

To his sadness, she finished playing that piece before he got to the front of the house. He need not have worried as she started playing a new piece. He recognised the melody but could not put a name to it. He stood as he had last time with his back to the house with his eyes closed. His fingers began to mimic hers as they moved about the keyboard. After around twenty bars, he remembered what it was, the Janacek Piano Sonata.

He was so engrossed in the music, that he didn’t notice someone coming out of the house towards him. A tap on his shoulder made him jump a bit. He turned to see a woman at his side.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I’ll be on my way but the music is so beautiful…”

The woman smiled.
“Please come into the house. Miss would like to talk to you.”

“Miss?”

“Miss Claire, who plays the piano.”

Derek was a little hesitant but after a couple of seconds, he accepted the invitation.

---

The house was delightfully cool after the heat of a New York Summer. It was also rather dark compared to the bright afternoon light outside. Derek’s eyes began to adjust to the light as the woman led him into the front room. This faced away from the sun and was even cooler than the hallway.

Seated at the piano was the young woman. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back and moved in time with her body as she played from memory. That fact alone impressed Derek. Then there was the fact that she was very beautiful. To his eyes, everything was perfectly proportioned.

The woman who had come out on the street to meet him put an arm up to stop him from going closer to her while she was still playing. He didn’t protest, He was just marvelling at her skill at the ivories. She’d moved on from Beethoven and was now playing the Janacek Sonata. This was not the easiest sonata in the classical repertoire. He remembered struggling with this very movement yet she was playing it perfectly from memory. He was most impressed and very content to wait for her to finish.

It was nearly four minutes later that the piece concluded. Derek resisted applauding and hoped that his big grin would convey just how appreciative he was of her playing.

The pianist let the last note die away gradually with her eyes closed. He’d done the very same thing when he was a student. Savouring the moment hadn’t gone down well with some of the professors especially if he’d made a mistake in his playing.

“Thank you for coming inside. I hate going out into the city in summer,” said the young woman.

“No… Thank you for your excellent skill at the keyboard. I studied Piano at University but I was never anywhere near as accomplished as you are. It is an honour to hear your playing at the end of the day.”

She smiled back at him and stood up. Her white blouse and ankle-length yellow pleated skirt just seemed right. Even her medium-height black heels fitted the scene perfectly.

“I’m Claire… Claire Middleton.”

“Derek Redmayne.”

She smiled.
“Any relation to Eddie? Your accent gives the game away.”

Derek smiled.
“No relation as far as I know. Yes, I’m British.”

Claire briefly frowned.
“What are you doing in this part of the city? This isn’t on the normal tourist routes?”

“I come over every few weeks. I am on secondment to the British Legation at the UN. I sleep on a put-me-up about 10 blocks from here. My route from the bus to that place took me past here one day and heard you playing. It was very enthralling. That first day you were playing the Mozart no 8. I just had to stop and listen.”

“Then you got tasered by that stupid beat cop?”

“I did and I’d probably still be in jail right now if I didn’t have diplomatic immunity. That cop didn’t even bother to ask me who I was or what I was doing outside your house.”

“I’m so sorry that you had to endure that. It was not deserved but I have some good news about that trigger happy cop. He’s been busted back to patrolman and posted to Harlem.”

Derek thought it better to change the subject.

“Why aren’t you on stage wooing the audiences with your majestic playing?”

Claire smiled.
“Severe stage fright. I could not complete my course at Juilliard because of it.”

Derek smiled.
“I was just not that good especially compared to you. Playing that piece today from memory? Marvellous.”

Claire grinned.
“You clearly didn’t hear the missed notes then. There were at least three in today’s piece.”

“Well, they weren’t obvious. People deserve to hear you play even if you play from behind a screen. You are that good.”

Claire blushed. She flicked her hair with a toss of her head. He knew just how beautiful she was. She made the career diplomats that he worked with on a daily basis look downright dowdy and ugly.

“I’m ok doing what I do here. You are evidence of that. I have to admire how you turned your back to the house so that you could listen more intently. It was a shame that idiot cop didn’t bother to ask what you were doing.”

“I am probably lucky that he just tased me rather than shot me. Cops… or the Police back home generally don’t carry guns. It still freaks me out when I see someone carrying.”

“Twitchy Cops are a fact of life here.”

Derek thought about his current assignment and the end date which was just two months away. The words ‘so near yet so far’ crossed his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Claire.

He sighed.
“I was just wondering how I could ask you out to dinner. As my way of saying thanks for entertaining me on my way home.”

Claire smiled.
“That sounds awfully fatalistic?”
Then she thought for a second.
“That’s not the right word. Finalistic or something like that?”

“In a way, it is. I have just a little time left on my assignment here.”

“Then what?”

Derek smiled.
“How about I answer that over dinner?”

“Touché!”

“Ok. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick a place that serves great Italian food and I don’t mean Pizza.”

“That sounds great. What time?”

Claire looked at the antique clock that stood on an old sideboard.
“About this time do?”

“Perfect. That’s a date then.”

[to be continued]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clair_de_Lune