FIC: Two Dead Guys, a Girl, and a Psychic (6/18)
Title: Two Dead Guys, a Girl, and a Psychic
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Juliet
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Life is great for Shawn Spencer. He has a cool job, a smart, beautiful girlfriend, and gets to hang with his best friend all day. What more could a guy want? When he gets his next two cases, a dead chemistry professor and a girl looking for her father, it looks like business as usual. Too bad things never go that simply when Shawn is involved. REWRITE OF TWO DEAD GUYS AND A GIRL!
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Sorry I'm late posting this. I haven't had the energy to think the last few days, let alone fight with the various fanficiton sites to get this up.
This chapter is the first time I ever wrote Lassiter and when I started falling in love with that character. There is just so much hidden behind his gruff exterior that we don't get to see in the show. Anyone who is familiar with my stories knows how big a role he often plays and this is where it all started.
Flashback
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Two Wrongs Make a Dead End (Unless You Ask For Directions)
True to his word, Gus didn't let it go. He spent the entire drive to the police station trying to convince Shawn to turn Nikki in. Gus's arguing strategy had two stages. Stage 1 was to try to convince the victim (ie. Shawn) through logic that Gus was right. Since his friend had tried that at the office and failed, he was now on Stage 2; list all the reasons he was right until the victim (ie. Shawn) gave in.
Since Stage 2 required very little input on his part, Shawn tuned Gus out. Instead, he used the ride to think about Nikki. He wasn't too worried about her breaking into the office. She hadn't taken anything valuable, just eaten some candy and read a magazine or two. While Gus may not agree, it all seemed harmless to him. What was more worrying was Nikki's reaction to any mention of her mom. She hadn't asked if he had talked to her. Rather, she asked what Shawn had found out about her mom. That, combined with all the other little things he had picked up over the last two days, made him wonder if he should get the police involved.
“Reason 7,” Gus was saying. “If Nikki cons us, it proves you’re not a psychic. What psychic wouldn't pick up on a conman, or woman? We'll end up in prison for defrauding the police.” He glared at Shawn. “I don’t want to go to prison Shawn. I won’t do well in there.”
“Nobody is going to prison, Gus,” Shawn said in exasperation. Gus just shook his head and moved on to the next reason on the list. Shawn let his mind drift back to Nikki. She hadn't done anything criminal yet; at least nothing major. He really didn’t want to involve the police unless he absolutely had to. Beside his promise, things tended to get complicated and bogged down with all the bureaucracy and paperwork (which was half the reason he got cases solved before they did). No, until he found out more or something changed, it would be best to wait before bringing her to their attention.
Gus was still arguing as they walked inside. “Reason 23,” he said as they stopped in the middle of the station. “Nikki already broke into the office once. Who’s to say she won’t do it again, or break into someone else’s office? This could be the first step towards becoming a career criminal. In a year she could be robbing banks and on the lam. We should turn her in for her own good.” He paused. “Are you listening to me?”
“Not even a little.” Shawn scanned the station, looking for Juliet. He finally spotted her coming up the stairs from the interrogation rooms, her arms full of files. He waved until she spotted them.
“You have to tell her about Nikki,” Gus said quietly as Juliet headed towards them.
“I'm not telling her.”
“Dude, you have to,” Gus said, voice dropping to a whisper.
“I'm not telling her,” he hissed to Gus.
Juliet was almost up to them. Gus leaned in close to his ear. “Tell her,” he whispered slowly.
“Dude!” Shawn exclaimed, pushing Gus away. “Stop spitting in my ear.” He pulled up the edge of his shirt and bent sideways to wipe his ear clean.
“Hey guys.” Juliet frowned as she watched him contort his body as he dried his ear. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” he said, dropping the edge of his shirt. He gave Gus a glare before turning a smile on the detective. “And how is my lovely Juliet today?”
“Swamped,” she huffed, shifting the files in her arms so she could brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I have six cases, including the robbery downtown yesterday.” She eyed him hopefully. “You didn't have any visions about the robbery, did you?”
Shawn shook his head. “Sorry Jules. The spirits are a little swamped right now.”
“It's okay,” she said with a sigh. “I know you can't control what visions you have.” He hated disappointing her, but between the setback on the Sanders’ case and still no progress finding Nikki’s father he didn’t have time to work on the robbery as well.
Gus leaned over to him again. “Tell her,” he whispered, though thankfully not in his ear. Shawn elbowed him in the side.
“Tell me what?” Juliet asked, looking from him to Gus.
“How lovely you look today,” he said, giving Gus a pointed look to keep quiet. “And that I have some new information on the Sanders case.” He put his hand to his head as he said, “I'm getting a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer.”
“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because last night you said anyone that looks like Noah Vosen from the Bourne Ultimatum had to be the killer.”
“I did, but I realized this morning he looks more like Dr. Lee Rosen from Alphas.”
“Weren't both characters played by the same actor?” Gus asked. “And Rosen wasn’t exactly a saint himself.”
“Exactly,” Shawn said. “Which is why my psychic cross-hairs were tangled. That makes Pratt an ass, but not a murderer.” He looked at Juliet. “We just need to talk to Pratt and I'll prove I'm right.”
“Carlton just brought him into Interrogation Room B,” she said. The guys tried to walk towards the stairs but she stopped them. “He's not going to let you talk to Pratt.”
“Jules, Lassie loves us,” Shawn protested. Next to him, Gus rolled his eyes. “What makes you think he won't let us talk to Pratt?”
“Because he said he doesn't want you talking to Pratt,” Juliet said. “He doesn't want you to muck up the case. His words, not mine,” she added defensively at his look.
“Muck up? Really?” Shawn asked incredulously. “Who says 'muck up' anymore?” He turned to Gus. “Someone please get Lassie to use slang from the 20th century.”
“It's the 21st century, Shawn,” Gus said.
“Really?” he asked, confused. “Since when?”
“Since 13 years ago,” Gus said with exasperation.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Shawn complained. “Did we at least win Y2K?”
Gus elbowed him in the side. “Focus Shawn.”
Shawn turned back to Juliet. She was used to his exchanges with Gus and didn't seem fazed by the random tangent they had veered off on. “Jules, sweetie. Do you think you can get us in to see Pratt?” He gave her his most pleading, puppy dog look.
Unfortunately, constant exposure had made Juliet immune to his look. “Sorry Shawn,” she said. “But I'm too busy to arbitrate between you and Carlton. If you want to talk to Pratt, you're on your own.” She turned and headed to her desk.
“What are we going to do now?” Gus asked.
“Plan B,” Shawn said with a grin. He went down the stairs Juliet had just come up, heading for the interrogation rooms.
Lassiter stood in the middle of Interrogation Room B, arms crossed, glaring at Pratt. He liked to start every interrogation with a steady, unwavering glare. It always left suspects feeling nervous and unsettled, sometimes even frightened. Using this method, he'd had perps break before he asked the first question.
Pratt, however, seemed to be made of sterner stuff than the usual lowlifes off the street. Lassiter had been glaring for five minutes already and Pratt hadn't so much as bated an eyelash, returning the detective’s gaze with an eerie intensity. What had started as an intimidation technique had turned into a battle of wills between himself and the suspect. Neither man was willing to back down. The tension was mounting and soon one of them would break. Lassiter was determined it would not be him.
Spencer's voice rang out in the silent room, causing both him and Pratt to jump. “As much fun as it is watching you two gaze into each other's eyes, perhaps Detective Lassiter should ask a question.”
“Spencer!” Lassiter yelled, glaring at the two-way mirror. He couldn't see the annoying pseudo psychic but he knew he was there, and probably making faces at him too. “This is an official interrogation. Stop interfering.”
“How can I interfere in an interrogation if you aren't actually interrogating him?” Spencer asked. “Unless you were planning on wooing him with your baby blues to get him to confess.” Lassiter didn’t need to see his face; he could hear the smirk in Spencer's voice.
Lassiter heard a snort behind him. Turning, he saw Pratt sitting there with a smirk of his own. “Boyfriend trouble?” the doctor asked snidely.
He could feel his control of the situation slipping. He had to get rid of Spencer before this whole thing got out of hand. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said to Pratt through clenched teeth.
“Take your time,” Pratt said, waving his hand. “I was growing bored anyway.”
Growling under his breath, Lassiter stormed out of the interrogation room. In the hallway, he took a minute to compose himself. He would not let Spencer see how much this was getting to him. Once he felt calmer, he opened the door to the observation room.
Spencer and Guster were standing at the window looking at Pratt. They turned as he entered the room. “I don't think you have a chance with him,” Spencer said. “He's way out of your league.”
“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Lassiter asked, trying his best to stay calm.
“Here in this room? The station? This town? Or did you mean more philosophically on this earth? Really, Lassie, you need to be more specific.” Spencer grinned at him.
“Spencer,” he growled, his temper rising once more.
“I have a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer,” Spencer said in his usual cocky way.
Lassiter clenched his hands at his side to keep himself from giving in to the impulse to strangle the consultant. It would be a bad idea; Guster would be sure to make a fuss and attract attention before he could hide the body. “He had motive, means, and opportunity. We have his fingerprints on the lab equipment that was tampered with. The only thing we don’t have is a signed confession but if you leave me alone and let me do my job I will have that as well.”
“Come on, I can prove it,” Spencer said, practically whining. “Just give me five minutes with him.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Pretty please with ice cream on top?”
“No Spencer.”
“OK,” Spencer said, holding up his hands in surrender.
“OK?” Lassiter asked, suddenly suspicious. Spencer never gave in that easily.
“If you don't want me to talk to Pratt, there's nothing I can do,” Spencer said with a shrug. He sounded oddly innocent, which made Lassiter even more worried. Spencer patted Guster on the shoulder, who looked just as suspicious as Lassiter at Spencer’s capitulation. “I guess we can go back upstairs and talk to Jules. We can talk about Val Kilmer, John Landis films. Or,” Spencer said with a shit eating grin, “tap dancing.”
Lassiter froze. “Tap dancing?” he asked hesitantly. Guster had taught him some tap moves during a case and he had found it oddly relaxing. He had started taking tap lessons in an effort to control his anger (at the insistence of his therapist, not because he enjoyed it). He had been very careful to make sure no one found out about it. He had signed up under a false name and never took the same route to the studio. He paid for the lessons in cash to prevent a paper trail. O’Hara didn’t even know he was taking them. There was no way Spencer knew.
“Tap dancing,” Spencer confirmed. “Specifically the Tuesday night class at Dance Unlimited.” His mouth went dry as Spencer grinned at him. “I hear someone is getting good.”
“No one would believe you,” he said weakly. He knew this was a lie; everyone believed whatever ridiculous thing the psychic said. But as long as Spencer didn't have proof, he could still deny it.
“I have pictures,” Spencer said, shattering his hopes.
He let out a frustrated growl as he glared at Spencer. Guster looked nervous but Spencer just smiled back, knowing he had the detective beat. “Five minutes?” he asked, reluctantly giving in to Spencer's request.
“That's all I'll need.” Spencer patted him on the shoulder and left the room.
“Tap lessons?” Guster asked cautiously.
“I find it relaxing,” he said grudgingly. Guster was one person who wouldn't tease him about the tap classes; the man took them himself after all.
“If you ever need someone to practice with - ”
“Stop talking,” Lassiter groaned. He could feel a headache coming on, the kind he only seemed to get whenever Spencer was around. At least Guster would stay quiet; unlike his friend, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Lassiter watched as Spencer sauntered into the interrogation room. He took a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat in it backwards. He leaned on the back of the chair as he addressed Pratt. “Hey Pratt, how's it hanging?” He held out his hand. “Shawn Spencer, psychic. We met yesterday.”
“That's Dr. Pratt to the likes of you, charlatan,” Pratt said, ignoring Spencer's hand.
“Again no handshake? You wound me good sir,” Spencer said, putting his hand to his heart.
“You’re wasting my air,” Pratt said disdainfully. “Leave.”
“Harsh man,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “You should be nicer to the people trying to help you.”
“You?” Pratt asked with a laugh. “I'd have better luck with a vagrant off the street. Who are you going to call as witnesses? Tinkerbell and Bigfoot?”
“Everyone knows Tinkerbell isn't real,” Spencer said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Although I can check on the availability of Bigfoot.”
“My tolerance for stupidity ran out with the so-called detective in here earlier,” Pratt said haughtily. “Go con somebody else. I don't need your help.”
“Even with all the evidence against you? Even with your known rivalry with the victim?” Spencer snorted. “Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want my help.”
“You have to be equals to be rivals,” Pratt said. “Sanders was a joke. He wasn't even worth a second glance until six months ago. I go on sabbatical and he manages to publish seven papers while I'm gone, but even that just brings him up to mildly annoying. Certainly not important enough to kill.”
“Even though funding was being cut from one of the labs?” Spencer asked.
“I wasn't worried,” Pratt said with a smug grin. “Now, you're giving me a headache.” So I'm not the only one, Lassiter thought. “Leave.”
“If that's what you want,” Spencer said with a shrug. He got up and headed for the door. “Just make sure to tell Lassie about that sweet new government job.”
“Wait!”
Spencer stopped with his hand on the door knob. He threw a grin at the two-way mirror before heading back to the table.
“What job?” Lassiter asked, turning to Guster. He had done the background check himself on Pratt. There had been no mention of a new government job, or any new job for that matter.
“Shawn had a vision,” Guster said. Of course he did, Lassiter thought sourly. “He was offered a job at the Department of Defense.”
“Then why couldn't I find out anything about it?” Lassiter asked. Guster just shrugged. Grumbling, he brought his attention back to the interrogation room.
Spencer was once again sitting in front of Pratt. “What do you know?” Pratt was asking.
“I know someone got a very cushy government job recently,” Spencer said. “Someone who wouldn't need to kill over university funding.”
“Nice theory,” Pratt said evenly.
“Nice theory?” Spencer exclaimed. “I'm totally right! You should be jumping for joy. Or at least smiling. Maybe a little giddy?” He looked at Pratt's face, which showed no emotion whatsoever. “This totally gets you off the hook,” he explained. He kept looking at Pratt, waiting for some kind of reaction.
“I'm not saying another word,” Pratt said. He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.
“But this clears you,” Spencer said again, confused.
Pratt said nothing.
“This one of those secret government jobs no one is supposed to know about, isn’t it?” Spencer asked, pointing at Pratt. Pratt's gaze didn't waver an inch.
“But if you don't say anything, you'll go to jail and they won't know I'm right,” Spencer whined. “They have motive, means, and opportunity. Your prints were on the chemicals in the lab. Plus you were sabotaging Sanders' experiments.” He sighed gustily when Pratt continued to sit there silently.
“Sabotage, uh,” Lassiter said. Spencer had proven useful after all. He didn't believe for a second the bogus job offer. Pratt wasn't the type of man to keep it a secret, even if it was a matter of national security. However, if Pratt really was sabotaging Sanders’ experiments, he would have a virtually airtight case. He made a mental note to talk again with the lab staff and see if anyone noticed anything suspicious.
“Come on, you have to talk sometime,” Spencer said pleadingly. Clearly the silent treatment was getting to him.
Pratt opened his mouth. “I want a lawyer.”
Spencer threw up his hands. “Fine. Do it the hard way. I'm going to go find the real killer.” He got up and stomped out of the room, reminding Carlton of a five year old throwing a tantrum.
Grinning, Lassiter went to meet Spencer in the hallway. “Good going Spencer,” he said. “Not only did you not prove his innocence, you got him to lawyer up.” He slowly clapped his hands mockingly.
“I got him to say more than you did with your staring contest,” Spencer said petulantly.
“Unfortunately, none of it was useful,” Lassiter said, enjoying Spencer's failure. “In fact, you provided more useful information than the suspect did.” He grinned at Spencer's confusion. “Sabotaging experiments certainly looks guilty to me.” He patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past him. He was going to get started on this new lead right away.
“But he's not the killer.” he heard Spencer yell after him.
Lassiter just kept walking, smiling to himself. As he headed up the stairs, he realized that Spencer could be useful, on occasion. When he wasn't mucking things up or running around like an overgrown child. “O'Hara,” he said as he reached his desk. “Pull up the list of staff for Sanders' and Pratt's labs. I want to talk to them again.”
“Well, that didn't go as planned,” Shawn muttered as he and Gus followed behind Lassiter up the stairs and back onto the main floor of the station. “We have no leads and I think I made the case against Pratt stronger.” He stopped in the foyer and watched as Lassiter went to his desk and immediately called for Juliet. “I almost wish Pratt did do it. He's kind of a prick.”
“There's no ‘kind of’ about it,” Gus replied. “What do we do now?”
“Grab some Del Taco and reexamine the case,” Shawn said. He had been working all morning and skipped breakfast again. If he didn't eat soon, he was thinking of turning cannibal. “Come on.”
“Aren't you forgetting something?” Gus asked. Shawn turned around to find Gus still standing where he had left him, arms crossed.
“Let's see.” Shawn started counting points off on his hand as he walked back to Gus. “I said hi to Jules and annoyed Lassie. We got nowhere with Pratt.” He thought for a moment, recounting the points on his fingers. “Nope, that's it. Nothing forgotten.”
“What about the fingerprint?” Gus asked. “You said you would have Juliet check it out.”
“Dude, I thought we agreed to drop this,” Shawn said with frustration. He always went with his gut when deciding whether people were trustworthy, and his gut trusted Nikki. His gut was also complaining how empty it was and didn't like the delay in filling it.
“I never agreed to anything,” Gus said. “You, on the other hand, agreed to have Juliet check the print. Someone was in our office and I want to know who it was.” He looked at Shawn intently.
“Fine,” Shawn snapped irritably. “If it means we can finally get out of here and get some food, I'll show Juliet the print.” He looked around for the detective and saw her heading towards the evidence room. “Hey Jules!” he called, waving her over.
“What is it, Shawn?” she asked when she reached them. “Lassiter wants to re-interview most of the lab staff and I still have made no progress on the robbery. So keep it quick please.” She looked harried by all the interruptions.
“Real quick,” he promised. “I just need you to check something for me.” He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, but it wasn't there. “Just a second.” He quickly check his other pockets but came up empty. “Damn, my wallet is missing.” He tried to think back to the last time he had seen it.
“I don't have time right now,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts. “When you actually have something to show me, then you can bother me.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “See you tonight.” She hurried off back towards the evidence room.
“You lost your wallet? Where have I heard that excuse before?” Gus asked sarcastically. He tsked and shook his head.
“What? I really lost it,” Shawn complained. He turned out his pockets to show Gus they were empty. “I must have left it at the office.”
“I saw you put it back in your pocket before Nikki showed up,” Gus said. He frowned at Shawn. “This isn't just a ploy to make me pay for the food, is it?”
“Gus, you know you were going to pay anyway,” he said absentmindedly. He was going over in his head the last time he remembered having his wallet. He put the fingerprint card in the wallet, then put the wallet in his pocket. He didn't remember taking it out after that. “Let's go. Maybe it fell out in the car.” He headed for the door, checking his pockets again like the wallet would magically appear in one of them.
“I hope you find it soon. That print is a key piece of evidence,” Gus said, following Shawn out of the police station.
“Did you find your wallet?”
“What?” Shawn asked, looking up from his dinner. He had been thinking about the Sanders' case. Gus had had a route that afternoon, so he was left with reexamining the case so far. He was thinking of stopping back at the school tomorrow to talk to the students working in the lab. Maybe they knew something that would point to the killer. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard what Juliet said. “Sorry, the spirits are a little loud tonight. Could you repeat that?”
Juliet rolled her eyes but repeated the question. “Did you find your wallet?”
“Yeah, I left it at the Psych office,” he lied. She nodded and went back to her food. In truth, he still hadn't found his wallet. It wasn't in the Blueberry or at the office. He hadn't been anywhere else before he noticed it was missing. Gus had been annoyed he had to pay for the food again but that was normal. He hoped it turned up soon, before Gus noticed the other credit card he had borrowed.
“You're awfully quiet tonight,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts again.
“Am I?” he asked, surprised. He hadn't realized he was spending that much time brooding over the case. “I'm sorry. I know you cherish our delightful dinner conversation.”
“Quiet is nice too,” Juliet said. “Especially compared to the time you decided to describe the Saw movies to me over dinner. In detail.” She made a face and shuddered. “I don't think I can ever eat ravioli again without remembering that conversation.”
“You asked what Gus and I did all day,” he said in defense. “I was just explaining what we were watching.”
“It was still gross,” Juliet said, wrinkling her nose.
He laughed at her expression and Juliet stuck her tongue out at him. The conversation turned to safer, less appetite ruining topics. He was able to keep both the Sanders' case and his missing wallet off his mind for the rest of the meal.
Later, they sat on the couch watching Miss Congeniality. It wasn't really his type of movie but Juliet liked it. A light rain was falling outside, the gentle pattering adding a cozy feel to the evening. Relaxed and bored, his mind started to wander. He thought again of his missing wallet. He mentally retraced his every step since the last time he saw it. He put it in his pocket. Nikki came in. He moved in front of his desk. She choked. They talked. He escorted her out of the office. She tripped and fell into him on the way to the door -
He groaned, realizing what must have happened. Juliet looked over at him with concern. “Is everything OK?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just imagining what a bikini wax must feel like,” he said.
Juliet looked at him strangely. “That was twenty minutes ago.”
“Yeah, my mind is a little behind tonight,” he said. It was the last scene he remembered watching before his mind wandered. “But keep watching. I know you enjoy it.” She gave him another strange look before turning back to the movie. He tried to keep his face calm but inside he was kicking himself. Gus was right; Nikki was nothing but a thief. She had picked his pocket when she fell into him. That's why he couldn't find his wallet. He was upset he hadn't seen it before. He was usually a better judge of character.
Juliet looked back over at him. “Are you sure everything is all right? You're awfully tense.”
“Yeah, just thinking about a case,” Shawn said. He hated to do it, but maybe it was time to get some outside help. “Remember that girl I was telling you about?”
“The one looking for her father?” Jules asked.
He nodded. “That's her, I'm having a real hard time tracking him down.” He sighed and put on his pitiful look. “I think there's too much interference on the psychic wavelengths from the Sanders' case. I don't want to disappoint her.” He looked down as if defeated.
Just as he knew she would, Juliet jumped at the opening. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, looking sympathetic.
“Well, if you could run her name, see what you find out, it would be really helpful,” he said, still keeping up the sad act. “Maybe then I can clear my psychic channels and track her father down.”
“Of course,” Juliet said. “Anything to help a poor girl.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Don't worry, it will all turn out OK.” She smiled as he looked up at her.
“Thanks Jules,” he said sincerely. He hated lying to her, but if she knew Nikki was stealing she would want to bring her in. He wasn't ready to turn her over to the police just yet. He still felt there was more going on with the case.
“Now stop worrying and watch the movie,” Juliet ordered.
He obediently snuggled in closer to her, shoving both cases to the back of his mind, and just tried to enjoy spending time with the woman he loved.
The next chapter will be posted on Monday like usual.
Chapter 6
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Juliet
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Life is great for Shawn Spencer. He has a cool job, a smart, beautiful girlfriend, and gets to hang with his best friend all day. What more could a guy want? When he gets his next two cases, a dead chemistry professor and a girl looking for her father, it looks like business as usual. Too bad things never go that simply when Shawn is involved. REWRITE OF TWO DEAD GUYS AND A GIRL!
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Sorry I'm late posting this. I haven't had the energy to think the last few days, let alone fight with the various fanficiton sites to get this up.
This chapter is the first time I ever wrote Lassiter and when I started falling in love with that character. There is just so much hidden behind his gruff exterior that we don't get to see in the show. Anyone who is familiar with my stories knows how big a role he often plays and this is where it all started.
Flashback
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Two Wrongs Make a Dead End (Unless You Ask For Directions)
True to his word, Gus didn't let it go. He spent the entire drive to the police station trying to convince Shawn to turn Nikki in. Gus's arguing strategy had two stages. Stage 1 was to try to convince the victim (ie. Shawn) through logic that Gus was right. Since his friend had tried that at the office and failed, he was now on Stage 2; list all the reasons he was right until the victim (ie. Shawn) gave in.
Since Stage 2 required very little input on his part, Shawn tuned Gus out. Instead, he used the ride to think about Nikki. He wasn't too worried about her breaking into the office. She hadn't taken anything valuable, just eaten some candy and read a magazine or two. While Gus may not agree, it all seemed harmless to him. What was more worrying was Nikki's reaction to any mention of her mom. She hadn't asked if he had talked to her. Rather, she asked what Shawn had found out about her mom. That, combined with all the other little things he had picked up over the last two days, made him wonder if he should get the police involved.
“Reason 7,” Gus was saying. “If Nikki cons us, it proves you’re not a psychic. What psychic wouldn't pick up on a conman, or woman? We'll end up in prison for defrauding the police.” He glared at Shawn. “I don’t want to go to prison Shawn. I won’t do well in there.”
“Nobody is going to prison, Gus,” Shawn said in exasperation. Gus just shook his head and moved on to the next reason on the list. Shawn let his mind drift back to Nikki. She hadn't done anything criminal yet; at least nothing major. He really didn’t want to involve the police unless he absolutely had to. Beside his promise, things tended to get complicated and bogged down with all the bureaucracy and paperwork (which was half the reason he got cases solved before they did). No, until he found out more or something changed, it would be best to wait before bringing her to their attention.
Gus was still arguing as they walked inside. “Reason 23,” he said as they stopped in the middle of the station. “Nikki already broke into the office once. Who’s to say she won’t do it again, or break into someone else’s office? This could be the first step towards becoming a career criminal. In a year she could be robbing banks and on the lam. We should turn her in for her own good.” He paused. “Are you listening to me?”
“Not even a little.” Shawn scanned the station, looking for Juliet. He finally spotted her coming up the stairs from the interrogation rooms, her arms full of files. He waved until she spotted them.
“You have to tell her about Nikki,” Gus said quietly as Juliet headed towards them.
“I'm not telling her.”
“Dude, you have to,” Gus said, voice dropping to a whisper.
“I'm not telling her,” he hissed to Gus.
Juliet was almost up to them. Gus leaned in close to his ear. “Tell her,” he whispered slowly.
“Dude!” Shawn exclaimed, pushing Gus away. “Stop spitting in my ear.” He pulled up the edge of his shirt and bent sideways to wipe his ear clean.
“Hey guys.” Juliet frowned as she watched him contort his body as he dried his ear. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” he said, dropping the edge of his shirt. He gave Gus a glare before turning a smile on the detective. “And how is my lovely Juliet today?”
“Swamped,” she huffed, shifting the files in her arms so she could brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I have six cases, including the robbery downtown yesterday.” She eyed him hopefully. “You didn't have any visions about the robbery, did you?”
Shawn shook his head. “Sorry Jules. The spirits are a little swamped right now.”
“It's okay,” she said with a sigh. “I know you can't control what visions you have.” He hated disappointing her, but between the setback on the Sanders’ case and still no progress finding Nikki’s father he didn’t have time to work on the robbery as well.
Gus leaned over to him again. “Tell her,” he whispered, though thankfully not in his ear. Shawn elbowed him in the side.
“Tell me what?” Juliet asked, looking from him to Gus.
“How lovely you look today,” he said, giving Gus a pointed look to keep quiet. “And that I have some new information on the Sanders case.” He put his hand to his head as he said, “I'm getting a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer.”
“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because last night you said anyone that looks like Noah Vosen from the Bourne Ultimatum had to be the killer.”
“I did, but I realized this morning he looks more like Dr. Lee Rosen from Alphas.”
“Weren't both characters played by the same actor?” Gus asked. “And Rosen wasn’t exactly a saint himself.”
“Exactly,” Shawn said. “Which is why my psychic cross-hairs were tangled. That makes Pratt an ass, but not a murderer.” He looked at Juliet. “We just need to talk to Pratt and I'll prove I'm right.”
“Carlton just brought him into Interrogation Room B,” she said. The guys tried to walk towards the stairs but she stopped them. “He's not going to let you talk to Pratt.”
“Jules, Lassie loves us,” Shawn protested. Next to him, Gus rolled his eyes. “What makes you think he won't let us talk to Pratt?”
“Because he said he doesn't want you talking to Pratt,” Juliet said. “He doesn't want you to muck up the case. His words, not mine,” she added defensively at his look.
“Muck up? Really?” Shawn asked incredulously. “Who says 'muck up' anymore?” He turned to Gus. “Someone please get Lassie to use slang from the 20th century.”
“It's the 21st century, Shawn,” Gus said.
“Really?” he asked, confused. “Since when?”
“Since 13 years ago,” Gus said with exasperation.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Shawn complained. “Did we at least win Y2K?”
Gus elbowed him in the side. “Focus Shawn.”
Shawn turned back to Juliet. She was used to his exchanges with Gus and didn't seem fazed by the random tangent they had veered off on. “Jules, sweetie. Do you think you can get us in to see Pratt?” He gave her his most pleading, puppy dog look.
Unfortunately, constant exposure had made Juliet immune to his look. “Sorry Shawn,” she said. “But I'm too busy to arbitrate between you and Carlton. If you want to talk to Pratt, you're on your own.” She turned and headed to her desk.
“What are we going to do now?” Gus asked.
“Plan B,” Shawn said with a grin. He went down the stairs Juliet had just come up, heading for the interrogation rooms.
Lassiter stood in the middle of Interrogation Room B, arms crossed, glaring at Pratt. He liked to start every interrogation with a steady, unwavering glare. It always left suspects feeling nervous and unsettled, sometimes even frightened. Using this method, he'd had perps break before he asked the first question.
Pratt, however, seemed to be made of sterner stuff than the usual lowlifes off the street. Lassiter had been glaring for five minutes already and Pratt hadn't so much as bated an eyelash, returning the detective’s gaze with an eerie intensity. What had started as an intimidation technique had turned into a battle of wills between himself and the suspect. Neither man was willing to back down. The tension was mounting and soon one of them would break. Lassiter was determined it would not be him.
Spencer's voice rang out in the silent room, causing both him and Pratt to jump. “As much fun as it is watching you two gaze into each other's eyes, perhaps Detective Lassiter should ask a question.”
“Spencer!” Lassiter yelled, glaring at the two-way mirror. He couldn't see the annoying pseudo psychic but he knew he was there, and probably making faces at him too. “This is an official interrogation. Stop interfering.”
“How can I interfere in an interrogation if you aren't actually interrogating him?” Spencer asked. “Unless you were planning on wooing him with your baby blues to get him to confess.” Lassiter didn’t need to see his face; he could hear the smirk in Spencer's voice.
Lassiter heard a snort behind him. Turning, he saw Pratt sitting there with a smirk of his own. “Boyfriend trouble?” the doctor asked snidely.
He could feel his control of the situation slipping. He had to get rid of Spencer before this whole thing got out of hand. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said to Pratt through clenched teeth.
“Take your time,” Pratt said, waving his hand. “I was growing bored anyway.”
Growling under his breath, Lassiter stormed out of the interrogation room. In the hallway, he took a minute to compose himself. He would not let Spencer see how much this was getting to him. Once he felt calmer, he opened the door to the observation room.
Spencer and Guster were standing at the window looking at Pratt. They turned as he entered the room. “I don't think you have a chance with him,” Spencer said. “He's way out of your league.”
“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Lassiter asked, trying his best to stay calm.
“Here in this room? The station? This town? Or did you mean more philosophically on this earth? Really, Lassie, you need to be more specific.” Spencer grinned at him.
“Spencer,” he growled, his temper rising once more.
“I have a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer,” Spencer said in his usual cocky way.
Lassiter clenched his hands at his side to keep himself from giving in to the impulse to strangle the consultant. It would be a bad idea; Guster would be sure to make a fuss and attract attention before he could hide the body. “He had motive, means, and opportunity. We have his fingerprints on the lab equipment that was tampered with. The only thing we don’t have is a signed confession but if you leave me alone and let me do my job I will have that as well.”
“Come on, I can prove it,” Spencer said, practically whining. “Just give me five minutes with him.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Pretty please with ice cream on top?”
“No Spencer.”
“OK,” Spencer said, holding up his hands in surrender.
“OK?” Lassiter asked, suddenly suspicious. Spencer never gave in that easily.
“If you don't want me to talk to Pratt, there's nothing I can do,” Spencer said with a shrug. He sounded oddly innocent, which made Lassiter even more worried. Spencer patted Guster on the shoulder, who looked just as suspicious as Lassiter at Spencer’s capitulation. “I guess we can go back upstairs and talk to Jules. We can talk about Val Kilmer, John Landis films. Or,” Spencer said with a shit eating grin, “tap dancing.”
Lassiter froze. “Tap dancing?” he asked hesitantly. Guster had taught him some tap moves during a case and he had found it oddly relaxing. He had started taking tap lessons in an effort to control his anger (at the insistence of his therapist, not because he enjoyed it). He had been very careful to make sure no one found out about it. He had signed up under a false name and never took the same route to the studio. He paid for the lessons in cash to prevent a paper trail. O’Hara didn’t even know he was taking them. There was no way Spencer knew.
“Tap dancing,” Spencer confirmed. “Specifically the Tuesday night class at Dance Unlimited.” His mouth went dry as Spencer grinned at him. “I hear someone is getting good.”
“No one would believe you,” he said weakly. He knew this was a lie; everyone believed whatever ridiculous thing the psychic said. But as long as Spencer didn't have proof, he could still deny it.
“I have pictures,” Spencer said, shattering his hopes.
He let out a frustrated growl as he glared at Spencer. Guster looked nervous but Spencer just smiled back, knowing he had the detective beat. “Five minutes?” he asked, reluctantly giving in to Spencer's request.
“That's all I'll need.” Spencer patted him on the shoulder and left the room.
“Tap lessons?” Guster asked cautiously.
“I find it relaxing,” he said grudgingly. Guster was one person who wouldn't tease him about the tap classes; the man took them himself after all.
“If you ever need someone to practice with - ”
“Stop talking,” Lassiter groaned. He could feel a headache coming on, the kind he only seemed to get whenever Spencer was around. At least Guster would stay quiet; unlike his friend, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Lassiter watched as Spencer sauntered into the interrogation room. He took a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat in it backwards. He leaned on the back of the chair as he addressed Pratt. “Hey Pratt, how's it hanging?” He held out his hand. “Shawn Spencer, psychic. We met yesterday.”
“That's Dr. Pratt to the likes of you, charlatan,” Pratt said, ignoring Spencer's hand.
“Again no handshake? You wound me good sir,” Spencer said, putting his hand to his heart.
“You’re wasting my air,” Pratt said disdainfully. “Leave.”
“Harsh man,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “You should be nicer to the people trying to help you.”
“You?” Pratt asked with a laugh. “I'd have better luck with a vagrant off the street. Who are you going to call as witnesses? Tinkerbell and Bigfoot?”
“Everyone knows Tinkerbell isn't real,” Spencer said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Although I can check on the availability of Bigfoot.”
“My tolerance for stupidity ran out with the so-called detective in here earlier,” Pratt said haughtily. “Go con somebody else. I don't need your help.”
“Even with all the evidence against you? Even with your known rivalry with the victim?” Spencer snorted. “Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want my help.”
“You have to be equals to be rivals,” Pratt said. “Sanders was a joke. He wasn't even worth a second glance until six months ago. I go on sabbatical and he manages to publish seven papers while I'm gone, but even that just brings him up to mildly annoying. Certainly not important enough to kill.”
“Even though funding was being cut from one of the labs?” Spencer asked.
“I wasn't worried,” Pratt said with a smug grin. “Now, you're giving me a headache.” So I'm not the only one, Lassiter thought. “Leave.”
“If that's what you want,” Spencer said with a shrug. He got up and headed for the door. “Just make sure to tell Lassie about that sweet new government job.”
“Wait!”
Spencer stopped with his hand on the door knob. He threw a grin at the two-way mirror before heading back to the table.
“What job?” Lassiter asked, turning to Guster. He had done the background check himself on Pratt. There had been no mention of a new government job, or any new job for that matter.
“Shawn had a vision,” Guster said. Of course he did, Lassiter thought sourly. “He was offered a job at the Department of Defense.”
“Then why couldn't I find out anything about it?” Lassiter asked. Guster just shrugged. Grumbling, he brought his attention back to the interrogation room.
Spencer was once again sitting in front of Pratt. “What do you know?” Pratt was asking.
“I know someone got a very cushy government job recently,” Spencer said. “Someone who wouldn't need to kill over university funding.”
“Nice theory,” Pratt said evenly.
“Nice theory?” Spencer exclaimed. “I'm totally right! You should be jumping for joy. Or at least smiling. Maybe a little giddy?” He looked at Pratt's face, which showed no emotion whatsoever. “This totally gets you off the hook,” he explained. He kept looking at Pratt, waiting for some kind of reaction.
“I'm not saying another word,” Pratt said. He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.
“But this clears you,” Spencer said again, confused.
Pratt said nothing.
“This one of those secret government jobs no one is supposed to know about, isn’t it?” Spencer asked, pointing at Pratt. Pratt's gaze didn't waver an inch.
“But if you don't say anything, you'll go to jail and they won't know I'm right,” Spencer whined. “They have motive, means, and opportunity. Your prints were on the chemicals in the lab. Plus you were sabotaging Sanders' experiments.” He sighed gustily when Pratt continued to sit there silently.
“Sabotage, uh,” Lassiter said. Spencer had proven useful after all. He didn't believe for a second the bogus job offer. Pratt wasn't the type of man to keep it a secret, even if it was a matter of national security. However, if Pratt really was sabotaging Sanders’ experiments, he would have a virtually airtight case. He made a mental note to talk again with the lab staff and see if anyone noticed anything suspicious.
“Come on, you have to talk sometime,” Spencer said pleadingly. Clearly the silent treatment was getting to him.
Pratt opened his mouth. “I want a lawyer.”
Spencer threw up his hands. “Fine. Do it the hard way. I'm going to go find the real killer.” He got up and stomped out of the room, reminding Carlton of a five year old throwing a tantrum.
Grinning, Lassiter went to meet Spencer in the hallway. “Good going Spencer,” he said. “Not only did you not prove his innocence, you got him to lawyer up.” He slowly clapped his hands mockingly.
“I got him to say more than you did with your staring contest,” Spencer said petulantly.
“Unfortunately, none of it was useful,” Lassiter said, enjoying Spencer's failure. “In fact, you provided more useful information than the suspect did.” He grinned at Spencer's confusion. “Sabotaging experiments certainly looks guilty to me.” He patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past him. He was going to get started on this new lead right away.
“But he's not the killer.” he heard Spencer yell after him.
Lassiter just kept walking, smiling to himself. As he headed up the stairs, he realized that Spencer could be useful, on occasion. When he wasn't mucking things up or running around like an overgrown child. “O'Hara,” he said as he reached his desk. “Pull up the list of staff for Sanders' and Pratt's labs. I want to talk to them again.”
“Well, that didn't go as planned,” Shawn muttered as he and Gus followed behind Lassiter up the stairs and back onto the main floor of the station. “We have no leads and I think I made the case against Pratt stronger.” He stopped in the foyer and watched as Lassiter went to his desk and immediately called for Juliet. “I almost wish Pratt did do it. He's kind of a prick.”
“There's no ‘kind of’ about it,” Gus replied. “What do we do now?”
“Grab some Del Taco and reexamine the case,” Shawn said. He had been working all morning and skipped breakfast again. If he didn't eat soon, he was thinking of turning cannibal. “Come on.”
“Aren't you forgetting something?” Gus asked. Shawn turned around to find Gus still standing where he had left him, arms crossed.
“Let's see.” Shawn started counting points off on his hand as he walked back to Gus. “I said hi to Jules and annoyed Lassie. We got nowhere with Pratt.” He thought for a moment, recounting the points on his fingers. “Nope, that's it. Nothing forgotten.”
“What about the fingerprint?” Gus asked. “You said you would have Juliet check it out.”
“Dude, I thought we agreed to drop this,” Shawn said with frustration. He always went with his gut when deciding whether people were trustworthy, and his gut trusted Nikki. His gut was also complaining how empty it was and didn't like the delay in filling it.
“I never agreed to anything,” Gus said. “You, on the other hand, agreed to have Juliet check the print. Someone was in our office and I want to know who it was.” He looked at Shawn intently.
“Fine,” Shawn snapped irritably. “If it means we can finally get out of here and get some food, I'll show Juliet the print.” He looked around for the detective and saw her heading towards the evidence room. “Hey Jules!” he called, waving her over.
“What is it, Shawn?” she asked when she reached them. “Lassiter wants to re-interview most of the lab staff and I still have made no progress on the robbery. So keep it quick please.” She looked harried by all the interruptions.
“Real quick,” he promised. “I just need you to check something for me.” He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, but it wasn't there. “Just a second.” He quickly check his other pockets but came up empty. “Damn, my wallet is missing.” He tried to think back to the last time he had seen it.
“I don't have time right now,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts. “When you actually have something to show me, then you can bother me.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “See you tonight.” She hurried off back towards the evidence room.
“You lost your wallet? Where have I heard that excuse before?” Gus asked sarcastically. He tsked and shook his head.
“What? I really lost it,” Shawn complained. He turned out his pockets to show Gus they were empty. “I must have left it at the office.”
“I saw you put it back in your pocket before Nikki showed up,” Gus said. He frowned at Shawn. “This isn't just a ploy to make me pay for the food, is it?”
“Gus, you know you were going to pay anyway,” he said absentmindedly. He was going over in his head the last time he remembered having his wallet. He put the fingerprint card in the wallet, then put the wallet in his pocket. He didn't remember taking it out after that. “Let's go. Maybe it fell out in the car.” He headed for the door, checking his pockets again like the wallet would magically appear in one of them.
“I hope you find it soon. That print is a key piece of evidence,” Gus said, following Shawn out of the police station.
“Did you find your wallet?”
“What?” Shawn asked, looking up from his dinner. He had been thinking about the Sanders' case. Gus had had a route that afternoon, so he was left with reexamining the case so far. He was thinking of stopping back at the school tomorrow to talk to the students working in the lab. Maybe they knew something that would point to the killer. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard what Juliet said. “Sorry, the spirits are a little loud tonight. Could you repeat that?”
Juliet rolled her eyes but repeated the question. “Did you find your wallet?”
“Yeah, I left it at the Psych office,” he lied. She nodded and went back to her food. In truth, he still hadn't found his wallet. It wasn't in the Blueberry or at the office. He hadn't been anywhere else before he noticed it was missing. Gus had been annoyed he had to pay for the food again but that was normal. He hoped it turned up soon, before Gus noticed the other credit card he had borrowed.
“You're awfully quiet tonight,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts again.
“Am I?” he asked, surprised. He hadn't realized he was spending that much time brooding over the case. “I'm sorry. I know you cherish our delightful dinner conversation.”
“Quiet is nice too,” Juliet said. “Especially compared to the time you decided to describe the Saw movies to me over dinner. In detail.” She made a face and shuddered. “I don't think I can ever eat ravioli again without remembering that conversation.”
“You asked what Gus and I did all day,” he said in defense. “I was just explaining what we were watching.”
“It was still gross,” Juliet said, wrinkling her nose.
He laughed at her expression and Juliet stuck her tongue out at him. The conversation turned to safer, less appetite ruining topics. He was able to keep both the Sanders' case and his missing wallet off his mind for the rest of the meal.
Later, they sat on the couch watching Miss Congeniality. It wasn't really his type of movie but Juliet liked it. A light rain was falling outside, the gentle pattering adding a cozy feel to the evening. Relaxed and bored, his mind started to wander. He thought again of his missing wallet. He mentally retraced his every step since the last time he saw it. He put it in his pocket. Nikki came in. He moved in front of his desk. She choked. They talked. He escorted her out of the office. She tripped and fell into him on the way to the door -
He groaned, realizing what must have happened. Juliet looked over at him with concern. “Is everything OK?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just imagining what a bikini wax must feel like,” he said.
Juliet looked at him strangely. “That was twenty minutes ago.”
“Yeah, my mind is a little behind tonight,” he said. It was the last scene he remembered watching before his mind wandered. “But keep watching. I know you enjoy it.” She gave him another strange look before turning back to the movie. He tried to keep his face calm but inside he was kicking himself. Gus was right; Nikki was nothing but a thief. She had picked his pocket when she fell into him. That's why he couldn't find his wallet. He was upset he hadn't seen it before. He was usually a better judge of character.
Juliet looked back over at him. “Are you sure everything is all right? You're awfully tense.”
“Yeah, just thinking about a case,” Shawn said. He hated to do it, but maybe it was time to get some outside help. “Remember that girl I was telling you about?”
“The one looking for her father?” Jules asked.
He nodded. “That's her, I'm having a real hard time tracking him down.” He sighed and put on his pitiful look. “I think there's too much interference on the psychic wavelengths from the Sanders' case. I don't want to disappoint her.” He looked down as if defeated.
Just as he knew she would, Juliet jumped at the opening. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, looking sympathetic.
“Well, if you could run her name, see what you find out, it would be really helpful,” he said, still keeping up the sad act. “Maybe then I can clear my psychic channels and track her father down.”
“Of course,” Juliet said. “Anything to help a poor girl.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Don't worry, it will all turn out OK.” She smiled as he looked up at her.
“Thanks Jules,” he said sincerely. He hated lying to her, but if she knew Nikki was stealing she would want to bring her in. He wasn't ready to turn her over to the police just yet. He still felt there was more going on with the case.
“Now stop worrying and watch the movie,” Juliet ordered.
He obediently snuggled in closer to her, shoving both cases to the back of his mind, and just tried to enjoy spending time with the woman he loved.
The next chapter will be posted on Monday like usual.
Chapter 6