FIC: The Detective and the Psychic (1/?)
Title: The Detective and the Psychic
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Carlton
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Not long after Yin's attack, a body is found disguised as a suicide. With Juliet still on desk duty and Gus out of town, Shawn and Carlton must work together to solve the case. Both men are still struggling to deal with the aftermath of Yin. Working so closely together causes tempers to flare while also revealing long buried feelings towards each other. SLASH
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: I was hoping to have at least the first three chapters ready to post but being sick the last two weeks left chapter two only have finished. I'll post more as I finish it but I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.
Chapter 1
Carlton Lassiter loved being a cop. He really did. He didn't mind the long hours, the lack of a social life, or having to deal with the worst that Santa Barbara had to offer. He loved the thrill of a good chase and the satisfaction of getting the filth of humanity off the streets. He especially loved any time he could discharge his weapon.
What he hated was all the paperwork that came with it. Piles and piles of endless forms and requests. Even once a case was wrapped up, there were still hours of paperwork to be done. He'd rather be out on the streets, facing a hailstorm of bullets, than stuck behind a desk acquiring paper cuts.
He sighed, looking up from his latest report. That was what real police work was to him. Not this mind-numbing waste of time. He gazed around the police station, letting his mind wander for a moment. Paperwork had never been this bad before, but that was when he used to have someone to share it with.
Before the Yin case.
His gaze fell on an empty desk. Detective O'Hara's desk. His partner had taken a leave of absence after that case. He couldn't blame her. Yin had kidnapped her and suspended her from the clock tower. She had literally been seconds away from death before he had managed to stop the clock. Anyone would need a break after that. He just wished she would come back soon.
“Detective Lassiter.”
He jumped, just now noticing Chief Karen Vick standing next to his desk, a concerned look on her face. She must have come over while he was distracted. “Sorry, Chief,” he said, straightening up. “Must have let my mind wander. It won't happen again.”
“I'd like to talk to you in my office,” she said.
He stood up, trying not to look too eager. Maybe she had a case for him; anything that would take him away from all the damn paperwork. “Certainly,” he said crisply. He followed the Chief into her office, taking a seat in front of her desk. He waited patiently as she sat down and pulled a pile of files towards her.
“Over the past five weeks, you have closed an impressive number of cases,” Vick said.
Carlton puffed up his chest proudly. “Thank you, Chief.”
“You have also gone through six different partners in the same time period,” Vick added.
Carlton looked at her levelly. “I only have one partner.”
“Who is still out on leave.” Vick sighed and clasped her hands together over the files. “Until she comes back, you need a temporary partner.”
“I can handle things on my own,” Carlton said.
“I'm not letting you out into the field without some form of backup,” Vick said. “Unfortunately, you have gone through all the available officers we have right now.”
“What are you saying?” Carlton asked warily.
“You are on desk duty until I can find someone willing to partner with you.” She lifted the stack of files and held them out to him. “You can start by reviewing these cases to make sure nothing was missed.”
“Chief, you can't be serious,” Carlton protested indignantly. He didn't think he was that hard to work with. Yes, he had been a little harsh with Roberts but how hard was it to make a cup of coffee? McNab never messed it up that bad. And Johnson had almost let a suspect get away; it wasn't Carlton's fault the man wasn't thick-skinned enough to stand a little yelling. He didn't find it fair for him to be punished for the poor quality of his temporary partners.
“I am very serious, detective,” Vick said. “I've cut you some slack after the Yin case, but frankly you have been even more rude and abrasive than normal. I would seriously think about an attitude adjustment if you want to get back into the field.”
Carlton bristled at the insult but the look in Vick's eyes told him it would be career suicide to argue right now. Without another word, he took the files and left the office.
He kept a leash on his temper long enough to get out of the Chief's eye line, then he stormed over to his desk and threw the files down, growling under his breath. Desk duty. He was Head Detective and had been for over a decade. He had solved twenty-three cases in the last five weeks alone. He was too good for desk duty.
He eyed the pile of files with distaste. Just what he needed; more paperwork. He grabbed his coffee mug, needing a fresh infusion of caffeine if he was going to stay awake.
There were a couple of officers in the break room when he entered. They took one look at him and headed out, making up some flimsy excuses as they left. He sighed as he walked over to the coffeemaker, feeling some of his anger deflating. Maybe Vick was right. He had been more irritable lately. Though who could really blame him? He had almost lost his partner a few weeks ago and while he understood her need to take some time off, it meant he was saddled with one incompetent jackass after another. But until she came back, he was going to have to relearn how to rein in his temper if he wanted back out into the field.
Until then, he would just have to stay on the Chief's good side and that meant doing more paperwork.
Coffee in hand, he headed back to his desk. Grabbing the first file off the stack with a sigh, he opened it and started going over the details of the case.
***************
Shawn Spencer was bored. Really bored. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, feet up, tossing a tennis ball in the air. It had been slow the last couple of weeks. Slow enough that Gus had decided to go to that work conference thing in Sacramento, leaving Shawn all alone to fend for himself.
He had already rearranged their DVD collection by degree of awesomeness (anything with Val Kilmer being rated highest of course), checked Gus’s desk for his hidden stash of snacks (Werther’s Originals? Really?), and hit up every food cart that had passed by the office. He wished the police department would call with a case, but with his dad in charge of hiring consultants, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
Especially after the Yin case.
He sighed and pulled his feet off the desk. He turned and started bouncing the ball off the wall instead, the ‘thwock-thunk’ of the ball providing a steady counterpoint to his turbulent thoughts. That case was the real reason Gus wasn’t here. His friend had said it was because he had been neglecting his real job lately, but Shawn knew that was just an excuse to leave town for a while. Gus needed a break from murders and bodies and constantly being in danger. He couldn’t blame his friend; the idea of leaving had crossed his mind too. The problem was he knew if he left now, this time he wouldn’t come back.
His last throw was a little too hard. The ball veered off the ball and hit the shelves behind Gus’s desk, knocking several items to the floor. Shawn contemplated leaving the mess to clean up later. After all, Gus wasn’t here to lecture him. Yet somehow his friend would know and find some way to yell at him about it.
He glanced at his phone, half expecting a text from Gus. It remained silent, just as it had for the last two hours. Gus was in some kind of important lecture and had ignored every one of Shawn’s texts since it started. He should leave the mess just to spite him.
However, he was bored enough he was almost glad to have a mess to clean up. He stood up and went over to Gus’s desk to survey the damage. A few knickknacks had been knocked to the floor but nothing seemed to be broken. As he started cleaning, he thought back to Gus’ trip. His friend might have decided to take a break, but not him. As long as he kept busy he would be fine. Busy and awake and with no time to dwell on the nightmares that had been terrorizing his sleep for the last few weeks.
He ignored the slight shaking of his hand as he put the last item into place. Perfect. Gus would never know what happened. He picked up his tennis ball and bounced it as he walked back to his desk. He sat down only to jump back up again. The office suddenly felt too confining. He needed to get outside for some fresh air. The ringing bell of a food cart going past gave him the perfect excuse and reminded him it had been at least twenty minutes since he last ate anything.
Three churros, and some bright SoCal sunshine later, and he was feeling more like himself again. He decided to head down to the station and see what everyone was up to. He knew Lassiter was still working; maybe he had a case Shawn could help with. Not that he missed the detective or anything. Why would he miss a man that constantly looked down on his skills, tried to keep him off every case, and always looked displeased to see him? Sure, he looked pretty good in his suits and Shawn had always found the way he handled a gun sexy but he had to draw the line somewhere, right?
Shawn sighed. Who was he kidding? Of course he missed Lassiter. If he was lucky, he could sneak in without his dad noticing him and get himself onto a case. Then he could get his daily fix of grumpy detective that had been seriously lacking these last few weeks.
It was a long shot, but it beat moping around the office all day. He grabbed his keys and helmet and headed out to his bike.
*******************
Carlton glared at the file. Kevin Johnson had died of an insulin overdose two days ago. He was a long time diabetic with a history of depression. There was no evidence of a significant other in his life and he wasn’t close with his family. There was no note, but all the evidence collected at the scene pointed to suicide. It was an open and shut case.
Carlton knew he should move on to one of the other dozen cases he had to review, but there was just something about it that didn’t sit right with him. He had been a cop for fifteen years and had learned to trust his instincts and they said Kevin Johnson was murdered.
He glanced over at the Chief’s office. She was still in a meeting and he knew better than to disturb her without any physical proof of foul play. All he had right now was a gut feeling and, unlike a certain psychic, he wasn’t about to argue a case solely on that. He’d find some concrete proof and then go to Vick. He put the file aside for now, knowing he would have a better chance of convincing Vick to let him investigate if the rest of the files were done.
He worked his way steadily through the files, only glancing at the Johnson case occasionally. He finished up the review of a murder downtown (jealous ex) when he remembered Johnson’s death had been called in by a female coworker. She had stopped by to check on him after missing a single day of work; more concern than was usually displayed between coworkers. It could be a sign of a guilty conscious. He had no official reason to call her in for questioning, especially since he had not been assigned to the case. He could, however, stop by her home later to express his condolences and see if she confessed to anything.
Feeling he had made sufficient progress to deserve a break, he grabbed his empty coffee mug and went to the break room.
The coffee pot was empty.
It was a small thing, and most days he would just bitch about it as he made a fresh pot. Though really, considering there were officers coming in all day for coffee, it would be considerate for whoever finished the last of it to make a new pot. That way the next person coming in for a fix of caffeine wouldn’t have to stand around and waste valuable department time waiting for the coffee to brew. Not to mention the number of times he had been forced to run off to a crime scene without an invigorating cup, leaving him tired and irritable. It could have caused him to miss valuable evidence and let a killer go free. So it was justifiable that he was pissed off to find the damned pot empty again.
He slammed his mug down on the counter and looked around but there was no convenient person nearby for him to berate. It seemed everyone was still giving him a pretty wide berth. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Vick wouldn’t let him back in the field if he lost it over a cup of coffee. He would let it go, this time, and make a fresh pot himself. He opened the cabinet to grab the can of coffee grounds and discovered they were out of filters.
The rage he felt on discovering this scared him. He clenched his hands tightly at his sides to avoid the temptation to smash everything in reach, breathing hard through gritted teeth. When the worst of it had passed, he leaned forward against the counter, arms locked and head bowed. He concentrated on taking deep, even breaths as he got himself back under control. He had always had an anger problem but he had learned to control it over the years. These days, everything seemed to have the potential to send him into a murderous rage. He hadn’t been this out of control since he was a teenager.
Thoughts of his teenage years did not help his efforts to calm down. He switched instead to reciting California Penal Code Section 146 regarding impersonation of a peace officer. Eventually, his heart rate slowed as the anger passed. He slowly straightened, glad nobody had been in the room to witness him lose control like that. He felt shaky and weak from the aftereffects of the adrenaline that had flooded his system. Coffee was the last thing he needed right now but he decided to continue to make a new pot anyway. His hands were shaking enough he almost ripped the paper towel in half as he tried to create a makeshift coffee filter and he spilled coffee grounds all over the counter. The mess didn’t help his mood any but he forced himself to stay calm as he set the coffee to brew and cleaned up the counter.
As he waited impatiently on the coffee, he looked around the station. Everyone was busy working, either at their desks or going back and forth to fetch files or evidence for a case. It was a familiar sight and soothing in a weird way. Just as long as he avoided the looks from a couple of officers too nervous to enter the break room while he was in here.
His calm contemplation was shattered when he caught sight of an unfortunately familiar brown-haired individual sauntering into the station. The psychic had been scarce the last few weeks, ever since the elder Spencer became head of the consultants, giving Carlton a welcome break from his nonsense. It figured that with everything else going wrong today, he’d have to deal with Spencer as well.
Coffee done, he slowly prepared a cup, trying to think of a way to get away before Spencer spotted him. If he could get to his desk and grab his files, he could hide out down in the interrogation rooms until Spencer left. He watched as Spencer stopped to talk to McNab, his back towards Carlton. Now was his chance to slip away and avoid an afternoon of obscure references, annoying ‘visions,’ and jokes at his expense. He grabbed his coffee and quickly headed for the door.
However, the universe seemed determined to make him suffer. Just as he was exiting, McNab pointed towards the break room, causing Spencer to turn and spot him. He sighed as Spencer clapped McNab on the shoulder and bounded over to him. “Hey Lassie. Did you miss me?” Spencer asked with a grin.
“No,” Carlton said shortly, brushing past him to get to his desk.
Unsurprisingly, Spencer followed him. “Wow, that’s a lot of files.” He dropped into the chair next to Carlton’s desk, ignoring the detective’s dirty look. “Vick have you stuck doing paperwork again?”
Carlton very carefully put his coffee down. “Did you come here just to annoy me?”
“Gus is out of town and I’m bored.” Spencer glanced around the station then reached over and plucked the Johnson file off his desk.
Carlton yanked it out of his hand. “Go bother someone else.”
“Everyone else is busy doing real work,” Spencer said, waving at the station around him.
The comment stung and he glared at Spencer. “Get. Out.”
“But I can help.” Spencer glanced around again before leaning closer to Carlton. “I know something about that case is bothering you. Why not let me take a look and see if I get any vibes?” He grinned. “Come on, Lassie. I know you want you.”
Carlton regarded him for a long moment. The man may be a nuisance but he had to admit Spencer had proven his worth on more than one case. He knew if there was any truth to his feeling that this was murder, Spencer would pick up on it as well and wouldn’t be afraid to go to the Chief with nothing more than that. Still, he hated asking anyone for help. With a heavy sigh, he handed Spencer the file.
“Cool.” Spencer flipped quickly through the file, pausing when he reached the crime scene photos. After less than a minute he closed the file and handed it back to Carlton. “That guy was murdered.”
“Are you sure?” He wanted it to be murder but Spencer had barely glanced at the file. There was no way Spencer could have come to that conclusion in so short a time based on actual evidence. Not when Carlton had been staring at the file all morning without finding anything.
“Positive. There is a bitterness around this case that comes from more than low blood sugar or your grumpier than usual attitude.” Spencer glanced around the room before leaning in towards Carlton. “Let me in on the case and I’ll prove it to you.”
“Prove it to me and I might consider letting you on the case,” Carlton countered.
Spencer tilted his head. “You haven’t gone to the Chief about this yet, have you?”
“No,” Carlton said shortly. “Unlike you, I won’t bother her until I have actual evidence.”
“So what you’re saying is that you need me,” Spencer said with a grin. “Why Lassie, I’m touched.”
Carlton glared at him. “I don’t need you.”
“So you are going to go to the Chief and tell her what, exactly? That you have a ‘feeling’ that it’s murder?” Spencer smirked at him. “Sorry, Lassie, I just don’t see that happening.”
Carlton ground his teeth. The damn consultant was right; as much as he was loathe to admit it he did need Spencer’s help. “Fine,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” Spencer asked nervously. “Maybe we should wait until the Chief is a little less busy. It’s not like the dude is getting any deader.” He got up and slowly backed away from the detective, glancing anxiously towards the Chief's office.
Carlton didn’t know what Spencer’s problem was but having committed to accepting the man’s help, he wasn’t about to let the consultant get away. “We’re doing this now,” he said, grabbing Spencer’s arm and dragging him towards the Chief’s office. He paused briefly to knock on the door before opening it and shoving Spencer inside.
The Chief looked up as Spencer stumbled into the room and Carlton closed the door behind him. “Can I help you, gentleman?” she asked, sounding annoyed at the interruption.
“Shawn?” The man sitting in front of Vick’s desk turned, revealing himself to be Henry Spencer.
Spencer sighed heavily and shot Carlton a dirty look before shoving his hands into his pockets and nodding stiffly at his father. “Dad. Haven’t seen you in a while, what with you refusing to hire us for any cases.”
“We haven’t had a case that required your talents,” Henry said.
Spencer snorted. “Please. There have been at least five cases you could have used our help on and you know it.”
“And all five cases were solved without your showy theatrics.” Henry sighed. “What is it you want, Shawn?”
“Nothing you’ll give me,” Spencer muttered.
Clearly there were issues the two of them needed to work out but Carlton didn’t care. Right now he needed Spencer to be his usual, crazy self and convince the Chief to open an investigation into Johnson’s death. “Spencer had a vision.”
“Is that so,” Henry said, looking between the two of them suspiciously.
“Yes, I did,” Spencer said defiantly. He turned to face the Chief. “I had a terrible vision of death and bitterness. I’m getting black coffee, my father’s apple pie, Lassie’s outlook on life. I’m also getting a feeling of being drained, lifeless, without a granule of energy.
“The diabetic suicide?” Vick asked, glancing at Carlton.
“Except it wasn’t a suicide,” Spencer said. He paused in what Carlton assumed was a ploy to create dramatic tension. “It was murder.”
Vick was well-used to Spencer’s theatrics and barely batted an eye. “Do you have any evidence to support your theory?”
Carlton looked at Spencer, hoping for once the man had something to back up his wild claims.
“He didn’t leave a note,” Spencer said. “If he killed himself, wouldn’t he have left one final message to those he left behind? A tear stained message for his loved ones to remember him by or a guilt-inducing accusation to those he blames for his actions?”
“Most suicides don’t have notes and there was no indication of anyone he was close to he would have left a note for.” Carlton shook his head. “I hope you have something better than that.”
“I’m just getting started.” Spencer put his hand to his head. “I’m sensing you had to break the door down to get in. All the doors were locked and bolted and the ground floor windows had bars on them. Clearly this guy was worried about a break in. So why then did he only lock two of the locks on his front door?”
Carlton opened the file and checked the crime scene photos. Sure enough, only two of the seven locks had been engaged when the police broke in. “He’s right.”
“Maybe he wasn’t too worried about safety since he was planning to kill himself,” Henry suggested.
“Then why lock any of them? He would have either locked all of them, following his usual paranoia, or not locked any.” Spencer shook his head. “Just locking two doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s unusual but not enough to make this murder,” Vick said. “Do you have anything else, Mr. Spencer?”
Spencer paused and Carlton was worried for a moment he didn’t have anything else. He did not need to look like an idiot in front of the Chief.
Spencer glanced at him and winked before turning back to Vick. “What about the insulin pens? It would take a long time to overdose with those, especially since none of them were set to the maximum dosage.” Spencer shrugged at their surprised looks. “Gus was preparing for a conference on diabetes this last week. I picked up a few things.”
“He could have used a different source of insulin to overdose,” Henry said.
“But then why leave the used pens on the table?” Carlton asked. He looked over at Vick. “I think it’s at least worth looking into.”
Vick gave him a long look before nodding. “Very well. I’ll have Dobson recheck the home to look for more definitive evidence as soon as he gets back from questioning a witness.” She looked at the ex-cop. “Henry?”
The older man sighed. “Shawn can consult as long as he stays supervised.” He glanced at his son. “He’s going to get himself involved anyway.”
Spencer shrugged. “I can’t help where the spirits take me. I am a slave to their whims.”
“Just as long as their ‘whims’ keep you out of trouble this time,” Henry warned.
Spencer grinned innocently at him. “Of course.”
“You know, Chief,” Carlton said, getting her attention. “I’m not working on anything at the moment. I could head over there right now.” He was glad Spencer had convinced her to look into the death but he was hoping to have an active role in the investigation.
“You don’t have a partner,” Vick said. “If Spencer is right, you’re looking for a killer and I don’t want you in the field without backup.”
“I don’t need it,” Carlton said. “I have the best shooting record in the department and have taken all mandatory self-defense classes. I can handle myself.”
“The answer is still no, detective,” Vick said. “Like we discussed earlier, you are to remain on desk duty until I find you a new partner.”
“What about Shawn?” Henry asked suddenly.
Vick frowned thoughtfully. “What are you suggesting, Henry?”
“Lassiter needs a partner and he’s the best one to handle Shawn out in the field,” Henry said. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Vick looked at Carlton and nodded slowly. “No, I think you may be right.”
“All right!” Spencer said excitedly. He thumped Carlton hard on the back. “Dude, we’re going to be partners!”
“There must be someone else,” Carlton pleaded with Vick.
The Chief shook her head. “It is either partner with Shawn or I’ll have to give this case to Dobson and Rodriguez.”
Carlton sighed heavily. “Fine.” He turned to Spencer. “You better cut back on your usual nonsense or I promise you'll wish you had stayed home playing tiddlywinks.”
“Relax, Lassie, it will be fun,” Spencer said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “With the two best detective minds in the department working together, we’ll have this closed in no time.”
“Get off me,” Carlton snapped, pushing Spencer away. “Rule number one for working with me: no bodily contact.”
Spencer held his hands up and made a show of putting them behind his back. “No problem. I’ll just cancel the new partner Jell-O wrestling match.” He tilted his head. “Can we still go for celebratory smoothies?”
Carlton glanced at Henry and Vick. Vick was trying to hide a smile but Henry was smirking openly at them. “Play nice, boys,” the ex-cop said.
“I expect a report by the end of the day to determine whether we open an official investigation or not,” Vick said.
Carlton nodded curtly. “Can do Chief.” He turned and left the office.
Spencer followed him back to his desk. “So, smoothies, yes or no?”
Carlton turned around and stepped back quickly when he realized how close Spencer was standing. “Rule number two: no talking unless absolutely necessary.” He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for the door. “Now let’s go.”
“Coming Lassie.” Carlton glared at him. “Oops.” Spencer mimed zipping his mouth shut and gave him a thumbs up.
As soon as Carlton turned around, Spencer started to hum. He clenched his keys hard enough they dug painfully into his palm as he resisted the urge to punch his newest and most annoying excuse for a partner yet. He had gone from being Head Detective to a baby sitter.
He hoped they found the killer quickly, before Spencer forced him to do something that would add to the body count. Better yet, he wished O’Hara would come back so he could stop dealing with temporary partners and everything could go back to the way it was before.
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Carlton
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Not long after Yin's attack, a body is found disguised as a suicide. With Juliet still on desk duty and Gus out of town, Shawn and Carlton must work together to solve the case. Both men are still struggling to deal with the aftermath of Yin. Working so closely together causes tempers to flare while also revealing long buried feelings towards each other. SLASH
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: I was hoping to have at least the first three chapters ready to post but being sick the last two weeks left chapter two only have finished. I'll post more as I finish it but I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.
Chapter 1
Carlton Lassiter loved being a cop. He really did. He didn't mind the long hours, the lack of a social life, or having to deal with the worst that Santa Barbara had to offer. He loved the thrill of a good chase and the satisfaction of getting the filth of humanity off the streets. He especially loved any time he could discharge his weapon.
What he hated was all the paperwork that came with it. Piles and piles of endless forms and requests. Even once a case was wrapped up, there were still hours of paperwork to be done. He'd rather be out on the streets, facing a hailstorm of bullets, than stuck behind a desk acquiring paper cuts.
He sighed, looking up from his latest report. That was what real police work was to him. Not this mind-numbing waste of time. He gazed around the police station, letting his mind wander for a moment. Paperwork had never been this bad before, but that was when he used to have someone to share it with.
Before the Yin case.
His gaze fell on an empty desk. Detective O'Hara's desk. His partner had taken a leave of absence after that case. He couldn't blame her. Yin had kidnapped her and suspended her from the clock tower. She had literally been seconds away from death before he had managed to stop the clock. Anyone would need a break after that. He just wished she would come back soon.
“Detective Lassiter.”
He jumped, just now noticing Chief Karen Vick standing next to his desk, a concerned look on her face. She must have come over while he was distracted. “Sorry, Chief,” he said, straightening up. “Must have let my mind wander. It won't happen again.”
“I'd like to talk to you in my office,” she said.
He stood up, trying not to look too eager. Maybe she had a case for him; anything that would take him away from all the damn paperwork. “Certainly,” he said crisply. He followed the Chief into her office, taking a seat in front of her desk. He waited patiently as she sat down and pulled a pile of files towards her.
“Over the past five weeks, you have closed an impressive number of cases,” Vick said.
Carlton puffed up his chest proudly. “Thank you, Chief.”
“You have also gone through six different partners in the same time period,” Vick added.
Carlton looked at her levelly. “I only have one partner.”
“Who is still out on leave.” Vick sighed and clasped her hands together over the files. “Until she comes back, you need a temporary partner.”
“I can handle things on my own,” Carlton said.
“I'm not letting you out into the field without some form of backup,” Vick said. “Unfortunately, you have gone through all the available officers we have right now.”
“What are you saying?” Carlton asked warily.
“You are on desk duty until I can find someone willing to partner with you.” She lifted the stack of files and held them out to him. “You can start by reviewing these cases to make sure nothing was missed.”
“Chief, you can't be serious,” Carlton protested indignantly. He didn't think he was that hard to work with. Yes, he had been a little harsh with Roberts but how hard was it to make a cup of coffee? McNab never messed it up that bad. And Johnson had almost let a suspect get away; it wasn't Carlton's fault the man wasn't thick-skinned enough to stand a little yelling. He didn't find it fair for him to be punished for the poor quality of his temporary partners.
“I am very serious, detective,” Vick said. “I've cut you some slack after the Yin case, but frankly you have been even more rude and abrasive than normal. I would seriously think about an attitude adjustment if you want to get back into the field.”
Carlton bristled at the insult but the look in Vick's eyes told him it would be career suicide to argue right now. Without another word, he took the files and left the office.
He kept a leash on his temper long enough to get out of the Chief's eye line, then he stormed over to his desk and threw the files down, growling under his breath. Desk duty. He was Head Detective and had been for over a decade. He had solved twenty-three cases in the last five weeks alone. He was too good for desk duty.
He eyed the pile of files with distaste. Just what he needed; more paperwork. He grabbed his coffee mug, needing a fresh infusion of caffeine if he was going to stay awake.
There were a couple of officers in the break room when he entered. They took one look at him and headed out, making up some flimsy excuses as they left. He sighed as he walked over to the coffeemaker, feeling some of his anger deflating. Maybe Vick was right. He had been more irritable lately. Though who could really blame him? He had almost lost his partner a few weeks ago and while he understood her need to take some time off, it meant he was saddled with one incompetent jackass after another. But until she came back, he was going to have to relearn how to rein in his temper if he wanted back out into the field.
Until then, he would just have to stay on the Chief's good side and that meant doing more paperwork.
Coffee in hand, he headed back to his desk. Grabbing the first file off the stack with a sigh, he opened it and started going over the details of the case.
***************
Shawn Spencer was bored. Really bored. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, feet up, tossing a tennis ball in the air. It had been slow the last couple of weeks. Slow enough that Gus had decided to go to that work conference thing in Sacramento, leaving Shawn all alone to fend for himself.
He had already rearranged their DVD collection by degree of awesomeness (anything with Val Kilmer being rated highest of course), checked Gus’s desk for his hidden stash of snacks (Werther’s Originals? Really?), and hit up every food cart that had passed by the office. He wished the police department would call with a case, but with his dad in charge of hiring consultants, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
Especially after the Yin case.
He sighed and pulled his feet off the desk. He turned and started bouncing the ball off the wall instead, the ‘thwock-thunk’ of the ball providing a steady counterpoint to his turbulent thoughts. That case was the real reason Gus wasn’t here. His friend had said it was because he had been neglecting his real job lately, but Shawn knew that was just an excuse to leave town for a while. Gus needed a break from murders and bodies and constantly being in danger. He couldn’t blame his friend; the idea of leaving had crossed his mind too. The problem was he knew if he left now, this time he wouldn’t come back.
His last throw was a little too hard. The ball veered off the ball and hit the shelves behind Gus’s desk, knocking several items to the floor. Shawn contemplated leaving the mess to clean up later. After all, Gus wasn’t here to lecture him. Yet somehow his friend would know and find some way to yell at him about it.
He glanced at his phone, half expecting a text from Gus. It remained silent, just as it had for the last two hours. Gus was in some kind of important lecture and had ignored every one of Shawn’s texts since it started. He should leave the mess just to spite him.
However, he was bored enough he was almost glad to have a mess to clean up. He stood up and went over to Gus’s desk to survey the damage. A few knickknacks had been knocked to the floor but nothing seemed to be broken. As he started cleaning, he thought back to Gus’ trip. His friend might have decided to take a break, but not him. As long as he kept busy he would be fine. Busy and awake and with no time to dwell on the nightmares that had been terrorizing his sleep for the last few weeks.
He ignored the slight shaking of his hand as he put the last item into place. Perfect. Gus would never know what happened. He picked up his tennis ball and bounced it as he walked back to his desk. He sat down only to jump back up again. The office suddenly felt too confining. He needed to get outside for some fresh air. The ringing bell of a food cart going past gave him the perfect excuse and reminded him it had been at least twenty minutes since he last ate anything.
Three churros, and some bright SoCal sunshine later, and he was feeling more like himself again. He decided to head down to the station and see what everyone was up to. He knew Lassiter was still working; maybe he had a case Shawn could help with. Not that he missed the detective or anything. Why would he miss a man that constantly looked down on his skills, tried to keep him off every case, and always looked displeased to see him? Sure, he looked pretty good in his suits and Shawn had always found the way he handled a gun sexy but he had to draw the line somewhere, right?
Shawn sighed. Who was he kidding? Of course he missed Lassiter. If he was lucky, he could sneak in without his dad noticing him and get himself onto a case. Then he could get his daily fix of grumpy detective that had been seriously lacking these last few weeks.
It was a long shot, but it beat moping around the office all day. He grabbed his keys and helmet and headed out to his bike.
*******************
Carlton glared at the file. Kevin Johnson had died of an insulin overdose two days ago. He was a long time diabetic with a history of depression. There was no evidence of a significant other in his life and he wasn’t close with his family. There was no note, but all the evidence collected at the scene pointed to suicide. It was an open and shut case.
Carlton knew he should move on to one of the other dozen cases he had to review, but there was just something about it that didn’t sit right with him. He had been a cop for fifteen years and had learned to trust his instincts and they said Kevin Johnson was murdered.
He glanced over at the Chief’s office. She was still in a meeting and he knew better than to disturb her without any physical proof of foul play. All he had right now was a gut feeling and, unlike a certain psychic, he wasn’t about to argue a case solely on that. He’d find some concrete proof and then go to Vick. He put the file aside for now, knowing he would have a better chance of convincing Vick to let him investigate if the rest of the files were done.
He worked his way steadily through the files, only glancing at the Johnson case occasionally. He finished up the review of a murder downtown (jealous ex) when he remembered Johnson’s death had been called in by a female coworker. She had stopped by to check on him after missing a single day of work; more concern than was usually displayed between coworkers. It could be a sign of a guilty conscious. He had no official reason to call her in for questioning, especially since he had not been assigned to the case. He could, however, stop by her home later to express his condolences and see if she confessed to anything.
Feeling he had made sufficient progress to deserve a break, he grabbed his empty coffee mug and went to the break room.
The coffee pot was empty.
It was a small thing, and most days he would just bitch about it as he made a fresh pot. Though really, considering there were officers coming in all day for coffee, it would be considerate for whoever finished the last of it to make a new pot. That way the next person coming in for a fix of caffeine wouldn’t have to stand around and waste valuable department time waiting for the coffee to brew. Not to mention the number of times he had been forced to run off to a crime scene without an invigorating cup, leaving him tired and irritable. It could have caused him to miss valuable evidence and let a killer go free. So it was justifiable that he was pissed off to find the damned pot empty again.
He slammed his mug down on the counter and looked around but there was no convenient person nearby for him to berate. It seemed everyone was still giving him a pretty wide berth. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Vick wouldn’t let him back in the field if he lost it over a cup of coffee. He would let it go, this time, and make a fresh pot himself. He opened the cabinet to grab the can of coffee grounds and discovered they were out of filters.
The rage he felt on discovering this scared him. He clenched his hands tightly at his sides to avoid the temptation to smash everything in reach, breathing hard through gritted teeth. When the worst of it had passed, he leaned forward against the counter, arms locked and head bowed. He concentrated on taking deep, even breaths as he got himself back under control. He had always had an anger problem but he had learned to control it over the years. These days, everything seemed to have the potential to send him into a murderous rage. He hadn’t been this out of control since he was a teenager.
Thoughts of his teenage years did not help his efforts to calm down. He switched instead to reciting California Penal Code Section 146 regarding impersonation of a peace officer. Eventually, his heart rate slowed as the anger passed. He slowly straightened, glad nobody had been in the room to witness him lose control like that. He felt shaky and weak from the aftereffects of the adrenaline that had flooded his system. Coffee was the last thing he needed right now but he decided to continue to make a new pot anyway. His hands were shaking enough he almost ripped the paper towel in half as he tried to create a makeshift coffee filter and he spilled coffee grounds all over the counter. The mess didn’t help his mood any but he forced himself to stay calm as he set the coffee to brew and cleaned up the counter.
As he waited impatiently on the coffee, he looked around the station. Everyone was busy working, either at their desks or going back and forth to fetch files or evidence for a case. It was a familiar sight and soothing in a weird way. Just as long as he avoided the looks from a couple of officers too nervous to enter the break room while he was in here.
His calm contemplation was shattered when he caught sight of an unfortunately familiar brown-haired individual sauntering into the station. The psychic had been scarce the last few weeks, ever since the elder Spencer became head of the consultants, giving Carlton a welcome break from his nonsense. It figured that with everything else going wrong today, he’d have to deal with Spencer as well.
Coffee done, he slowly prepared a cup, trying to think of a way to get away before Spencer spotted him. If he could get to his desk and grab his files, he could hide out down in the interrogation rooms until Spencer left. He watched as Spencer stopped to talk to McNab, his back towards Carlton. Now was his chance to slip away and avoid an afternoon of obscure references, annoying ‘visions,’ and jokes at his expense. He grabbed his coffee and quickly headed for the door.
However, the universe seemed determined to make him suffer. Just as he was exiting, McNab pointed towards the break room, causing Spencer to turn and spot him. He sighed as Spencer clapped McNab on the shoulder and bounded over to him. “Hey Lassie. Did you miss me?” Spencer asked with a grin.
“No,” Carlton said shortly, brushing past him to get to his desk.
Unsurprisingly, Spencer followed him. “Wow, that’s a lot of files.” He dropped into the chair next to Carlton’s desk, ignoring the detective’s dirty look. “Vick have you stuck doing paperwork again?”
Carlton very carefully put his coffee down. “Did you come here just to annoy me?”
“Gus is out of town and I’m bored.” Spencer glanced around the station then reached over and plucked the Johnson file off his desk.
Carlton yanked it out of his hand. “Go bother someone else.”
“Everyone else is busy doing real work,” Spencer said, waving at the station around him.
The comment stung and he glared at Spencer. “Get. Out.”
“But I can help.” Spencer glanced around again before leaning closer to Carlton. “I know something about that case is bothering you. Why not let me take a look and see if I get any vibes?” He grinned. “Come on, Lassie. I know you want you.”
Carlton regarded him for a long moment. The man may be a nuisance but he had to admit Spencer had proven his worth on more than one case. He knew if there was any truth to his feeling that this was murder, Spencer would pick up on it as well and wouldn’t be afraid to go to the Chief with nothing more than that. Still, he hated asking anyone for help. With a heavy sigh, he handed Spencer the file.
“Cool.” Spencer flipped quickly through the file, pausing when he reached the crime scene photos. After less than a minute he closed the file and handed it back to Carlton. “That guy was murdered.”
“Are you sure?” He wanted it to be murder but Spencer had barely glanced at the file. There was no way Spencer could have come to that conclusion in so short a time based on actual evidence. Not when Carlton had been staring at the file all morning without finding anything.
“Positive. There is a bitterness around this case that comes from more than low blood sugar or your grumpier than usual attitude.” Spencer glanced around the room before leaning in towards Carlton. “Let me in on the case and I’ll prove it to you.”
“Prove it to me and I might consider letting you on the case,” Carlton countered.
Spencer tilted his head. “You haven’t gone to the Chief about this yet, have you?”
“No,” Carlton said shortly. “Unlike you, I won’t bother her until I have actual evidence.”
“So what you’re saying is that you need me,” Spencer said with a grin. “Why Lassie, I’m touched.”
Carlton glared at him. “I don’t need you.”
“So you are going to go to the Chief and tell her what, exactly? That you have a ‘feeling’ that it’s murder?” Spencer smirked at him. “Sorry, Lassie, I just don’t see that happening.”
Carlton ground his teeth. The damn consultant was right; as much as he was loathe to admit it he did need Spencer’s help. “Fine,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” Spencer asked nervously. “Maybe we should wait until the Chief is a little less busy. It’s not like the dude is getting any deader.” He got up and slowly backed away from the detective, glancing anxiously towards the Chief's office.
Carlton didn’t know what Spencer’s problem was but having committed to accepting the man’s help, he wasn’t about to let the consultant get away. “We’re doing this now,” he said, grabbing Spencer’s arm and dragging him towards the Chief’s office. He paused briefly to knock on the door before opening it and shoving Spencer inside.
The Chief looked up as Spencer stumbled into the room and Carlton closed the door behind him. “Can I help you, gentleman?” she asked, sounding annoyed at the interruption.
“Shawn?” The man sitting in front of Vick’s desk turned, revealing himself to be Henry Spencer.
Spencer sighed heavily and shot Carlton a dirty look before shoving his hands into his pockets and nodding stiffly at his father. “Dad. Haven’t seen you in a while, what with you refusing to hire us for any cases.”
“We haven’t had a case that required your talents,” Henry said.
Spencer snorted. “Please. There have been at least five cases you could have used our help on and you know it.”
“And all five cases were solved without your showy theatrics.” Henry sighed. “What is it you want, Shawn?”
“Nothing you’ll give me,” Spencer muttered.
Clearly there were issues the two of them needed to work out but Carlton didn’t care. Right now he needed Spencer to be his usual, crazy self and convince the Chief to open an investigation into Johnson’s death. “Spencer had a vision.”
“Is that so,” Henry said, looking between the two of them suspiciously.
“Yes, I did,” Spencer said defiantly. He turned to face the Chief. “I had a terrible vision of death and bitterness. I’m getting black coffee, my father’s apple pie, Lassie’s outlook on life. I’m also getting a feeling of being drained, lifeless, without a granule of energy.
“The diabetic suicide?” Vick asked, glancing at Carlton.
“Except it wasn’t a suicide,” Spencer said. He paused in what Carlton assumed was a ploy to create dramatic tension. “It was murder.”
Vick was well-used to Spencer’s theatrics and barely batted an eye. “Do you have any evidence to support your theory?”
Carlton looked at Spencer, hoping for once the man had something to back up his wild claims.
“He didn’t leave a note,” Spencer said. “If he killed himself, wouldn’t he have left one final message to those he left behind? A tear stained message for his loved ones to remember him by or a guilt-inducing accusation to those he blames for his actions?”
“Most suicides don’t have notes and there was no indication of anyone he was close to he would have left a note for.” Carlton shook his head. “I hope you have something better than that.”
“I’m just getting started.” Spencer put his hand to his head. “I’m sensing you had to break the door down to get in. All the doors were locked and bolted and the ground floor windows had bars on them. Clearly this guy was worried about a break in. So why then did he only lock two of the locks on his front door?”
Carlton opened the file and checked the crime scene photos. Sure enough, only two of the seven locks had been engaged when the police broke in. “He’s right.”
“Maybe he wasn’t too worried about safety since he was planning to kill himself,” Henry suggested.
“Then why lock any of them? He would have either locked all of them, following his usual paranoia, or not locked any.” Spencer shook his head. “Just locking two doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s unusual but not enough to make this murder,” Vick said. “Do you have anything else, Mr. Spencer?”
Spencer paused and Carlton was worried for a moment he didn’t have anything else. He did not need to look like an idiot in front of the Chief.
Spencer glanced at him and winked before turning back to Vick. “What about the insulin pens? It would take a long time to overdose with those, especially since none of them were set to the maximum dosage.” Spencer shrugged at their surprised looks. “Gus was preparing for a conference on diabetes this last week. I picked up a few things.”
“He could have used a different source of insulin to overdose,” Henry said.
“But then why leave the used pens on the table?” Carlton asked. He looked over at Vick. “I think it’s at least worth looking into.”
Vick gave him a long look before nodding. “Very well. I’ll have Dobson recheck the home to look for more definitive evidence as soon as he gets back from questioning a witness.” She looked at the ex-cop. “Henry?”
The older man sighed. “Shawn can consult as long as he stays supervised.” He glanced at his son. “He’s going to get himself involved anyway.”
Spencer shrugged. “I can’t help where the spirits take me. I am a slave to their whims.”
“Just as long as their ‘whims’ keep you out of trouble this time,” Henry warned.
Spencer grinned innocently at him. “Of course.”
“You know, Chief,” Carlton said, getting her attention. “I’m not working on anything at the moment. I could head over there right now.” He was glad Spencer had convinced her to look into the death but he was hoping to have an active role in the investigation.
“You don’t have a partner,” Vick said. “If Spencer is right, you’re looking for a killer and I don’t want you in the field without backup.”
“I don’t need it,” Carlton said. “I have the best shooting record in the department and have taken all mandatory self-defense classes. I can handle myself.”
“The answer is still no, detective,” Vick said. “Like we discussed earlier, you are to remain on desk duty until I find you a new partner.”
“What about Shawn?” Henry asked suddenly.
Vick frowned thoughtfully. “What are you suggesting, Henry?”
“Lassiter needs a partner and he’s the best one to handle Shawn out in the field,” Henry said. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Vick looked at Carlton and nodded slowly. “No, I think you may be right.”
“All right!” Spencer said excitedly. He thumped Carlton hard on the back. “Dude, we’re going to be partners!”
“There must be someone else,” Carlton pleaded with Vick.
The Chief shook her head. “It is either partner with Shawn or I’ll have to give this case to Dobson and Rodriguez.”
Carlton sighed heavily. “Fine.” He turned to Spencer. “You better cut back on your usual nonsense or I promise you'll wish you had stayed home playing tiddlywinks.”
“Relax, Lassie, it will be fun,” Spencer said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “With the two best detective minds in the department working together, we’ll have this closed in no time.”
“Get off me,” Carlton snapped, pushing Spencer away. “Rule number one for working with me: no bodily contact.”
Spencer held his hands up and made a show of putting them behind his back. “No problem. I’ll just cancel the new partner Jell-O wrestling match.” He tilted his head. “Can we still go for celebratory smoothies?”
Carlton glanced at Henry and Vick. Vick was trying to hide a smile but Henry was smirking openly at them. “Play nice, boys,” the ex-cop said.
“I expect a report by the end of the day to determine whether we open an official investigation or not,” Vick said.
Carlton nodded curtly. “Can do Chief.” He turned and left the office.
Spencer followed him back to his desk. “So, smoothies, yes or no?”
Carlton turned around and stepped back quickly when he realized how close Spencer was standing. “Rule number two: no talking unless absolutely necessary.” He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for the door. “Now let’s go.”
“Coming Lassie.” Carlton glared at him. “Oops.” Spencer mimed zipping his mouth shut and gave him a thumbs up.
As soon as Carlton turned around, Spencer started to hum. He clenched his keys hard enough they dug painfully into his palm as he resisted the urge to punch his newest and most annoying excuse for a partner yet. He had gone from being Head Detective to a baby sitter.
He hoped they found the killer quickly, before Spencer forced him to do something that would add to the body count. Better yet, he wished O’Hara would come back so he could stop dealing with temporary partners and everything could go back to the way it was before.