Keeper [6/14]
Title: Keeper
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Lassiter, Juliet/Shawn, Team Psych, OFC, OMCs
Warnings: Spoilers, non-graphic abduction of a child, violence
Spoilers: 1.01 Pilot, 1.04 9 Lives, 1.13 Game, Set . . . Muuurder
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Het, Family, Friendship, Casefile, Future!Fic
Chapters: 14
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2679 this chapter
Disclaimer: See Prologue or Master Post.
Notes: See Prologue or Master Post.
Awards: See Prologue or Master Post.
Summary: Lassiter finally gets the proof he needs to bring Shawn Spencer's psychic charade to a screeching halt. If only it was that simple...
P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 E
Arriving at the Santa Barbara Art Museum, Shawn parked the minivan rather conspicuously among the gaggle of black and white-and a single red-sedans. He was, of course, recognized, so the officer helping to keep the few onlookers back just nodded and let him and Gus past.
“Why is an art museum showing a display of jewelry?” Shawn asked as they entered the lobby and looked for the trail of cops that would lead them to the scene.
“It's an exhibition of jewelry from local craftsmen spanning the entire history of Santa Barbara. There are even a few pieces from Archibald Davis.”
“Wow,” Shawn said as he craned his neck to get a look in some of the galleries they were passing. Mostly he saw museum staff being questioned by police officers. “Who is that exactly and why do you say his name as if I should know it?”
Gus rolled his eyes. “Because I live in the vain hope that one of these days you'll reveal you actually have some culture.”
Shawn shot his friend a glare. “I have lots of culture.”
“The only culture you have is the yogurt Juliet keeps in the fridge.”
That earned him another look, but he returned it with one that dared Shawn to deny it.
“Oh look!” Shawn not so subtly changed the subject. “The crime scene . . . Split up and try not to let Lassie see you,” he warned Gus. “He's got a bad case of PMS.”
“Pissy Male Syndrome?”
“Like you wouldn't believe,” Shawn confirmed. Gus nodded and headed left while Shawn went for the right.
The spacious McCormick gallery at the rear of the building was the location of the jewelry exhibition. Glass cases and displays dotted the floor on pedestals designed to put their contents at optimal viewing level as well as conceal the security that was no doubt in place to protect them. In one instance at least it had failed and that was the large central stand if the number of crime photographers, forensics specialists, and officers-in and out of uniform-that were clustered around it was any indication.
At the moment the case was empty except for the velvet cushions that the contents had been resting on. Shawn counted thirteen fairly large pieces from the indentations left behind and arched an eyebrow. Unless their thief had had a sudden attack of greed this wasn't the next chapter in the Rimini case.
“Director?”
He turned to see a woman, probably close to his own age by her face but definitely in a higher tax bracket by her clothes, enter from the doorway to the right and approach the older woman who was currently talking with, ah yes, Detective Lassie-face.
Shawn took a step to the left so he wouldn't be so obviously in the line of sight, behind a couple of cops who were questioning a girl wearing the uniform of a local courier service, and perked his ears to focus on the conversation between the two women.
“We've finished verifying the rest of the stones are real. Only the Shining Star was replaced with a forgery.”
Ah. So not an attack of greed then.
“Thank you, Myra,” the director said and then turned back to Lassiter. “It appears that things are not as dire as it first appeared. But make no mistake, Detective, this is still a very serious crime.”
“And we are treating it that way,” Lassiter assured her. “I'm going to need a list of any and every employee who might have had access to the displays and contact information for the same, even if they're here right now.”
She nodded. “I assigned one of my assistants to that task as soon as we discovered there was a problem. If you'll come to my office I'll get you a copy.”
Lassiter gestured for her to lead the way, then paused to look over the room and give McNabb a few quiet instructions.
Shawn had to duck and sidestep quickly when his cover split up and moved on to other places, the cops going confer with some fellow officers while the courier headed for the lobby and-presumably-the exit.
He waited until Lassiter was out of sight, counted to five to give him a chance to come back, then continued his perusal of the room.
He watched the CSIs dust for fingerprints, vacuum the velvet in the case for any trace evidence, and take the panel off of the base for a closer inspection of the alarm circuitry and components hidden there.
Shawn doubted that any of those would turn up anything. Their thief was a lot more savvy than that. But he wasn't going to complain if they did their jobs with such focused dedication because it made it easier for him to do his without an audience-for now.
Once he'd made his way around to the far side of the room, observing and listening the whole way, he met up with Gus again.
“Our missing jewel was replaced with a forgery,” Shawn said. “Which means this crime could have been committed within days of the last one or before the first one or somewhere in the middle depending on how often they take a close enough look to know if the jewels are real.”
“They take them out for cleaning and inspection once a week,” Gus said, then explained when Shawn gave him a look. “I overheard one of the docents in her interview with the cops. Anyway, that's what Myra Lizak was doing this morning. Only when she got back to the lab where they do the cleaning, she found that something was wrong with the necklace.”
“The Shining Star is missing,” Shawn said.
Gus nodded. “Shawn, this is huge.”
“I know. That means that the MO is broken once again. It's like they're deliberately trying to keep a pattern from forming. From our thief's point of view it's smart but it's also risky. Familiarity with a routine means you're less likely to make mistakes.”
“That too,” Gus agreed. “But I was talking about the jewel itself.”
“Oh. What?” Shawn stopped watching the photographer and looked at his friend. “What about it?”
“The Shining Star is a star sapphire, the fourth largest in the world.”
“A star sapphire? Did it fall to Earth in a meteorite?”
Gus rolled his eyes. “It's called a star sapphire, Shawn, because it has a mineral called rulite in it that reflects the light in three rays making a six-pointed star in the jewel. The effect is called asterism and it's the defining characteristic of a star sapphire or ruby.”
“Where do you learn these things?”
“The Learning Channel. Anyway, the Shining Star weighs 374 carats and was found in Sri Lanka in 1927. Lora Knight bought it and had it set into a pendant for a necklace as part of a sapphire jewelry set she commissioned from Tiffany's. There were thirteen pieces with over eighty-five jewels, twenty-three of which were sapphires. Seven of those were star sapphires. The largest was the Shining Star and in 1935 the whole collection was valued at over half a million dollars.”
“Nowadays I bet that number's a lot bigger.”
“You know that's right. Easily in the multi-digit millions, not only because of the jewels themselves, but their history with Lora Knight.”
“And she is who exactly?”
Gus frowned. “How can you be from Santa Barbara and not know who Lora J. Knight is? Did you pay attention to anything in history class in school?”
“Does Allison Sorenson count?”
“Allison Sorenson?”
“The cute little blonde that sat in front of me in sixth, seventh, and eighth grade history. She wore pigtails every single day for three years,” Shawn recalled fondly.
Gus just continued to stare for a long moment.
“What?” Shawn asked when he realized it.
“Allison Sorenson does not count.”
“Well then, no. Gus. I didn't pay attention to anything in history class. Educate me.”
Gus snorted, but simply said, “Lora Knight was an heiress who lived here in the thirties. She was supposedly the wealthiest woman in the country at that time.”
“Mmm.”
"She built that Viking-style castle out at Lake Tahoe.”
“The one my dad dragged us to that one summer when we went to the south side of Lake Tahoe?”
“That's the one.”
“So if this collection is so valuable, why only steal a single gem?”
Gus shrugged. “That's not unusual in this case, Shawn, remember?”
“Of course I remember, Gus. I just . . .” His face twisted in frustration before he finally sighed. “None of this makes sense. There's something else going on here.”
“Like what?” Gus asked. “You think the thief has a secret agenda?”<
“That or the thief suffers from a serious multiple personality disorder. Each personality gets to pick a jewel, an MO, maybe even a motive.”
“What in the name of sweet justice are you doing here?” a voice said causing them to freeze, then slowly turn to find Lassiter looming behind them with a scowl on his face.
“Lassie!” Shawn said. Before he could say anything else he and Gus were both seized in what bore a painful resemblance to a Vulcan Nerve Pinch and then dragged towards the exit.
“Ow-ow-ow-ow-OW! Lassiter, STOP! That hurts!”
“It's less painful than a gunshot wound, believe me,” Lassiter growled as they made their way through two more galleries. Everyone they passed paused to watch, but no one said anything. They all liked Shawn, but not even he was worth crossing the head detective when he was in this kind of mood.
He turned at the entrance and continued to propel them into the locker area off to the left of the lobby. It was empty, a fact that pleased Lassiter, though it did nothing to reassure Shawn and Gus.
He released them with a shove and got straight down to business.
“How did you find out about this?”
Shawn was rubbing at his neck and returning the scowl aimed at him.
“I had a vision, okay? Geeze. Last time I checked I was still working this case.”
“You had a vision of what?” Lassiter demanded. “The thief? Can you give us a name? A face? Can you even tell us the gender?”
“Dude, what is your problem?” Shawn snapped.
“What is my problem, Spencer?” he shot back. “You are my problem.”
“Excuse me? I've been trying to help you and all I'm getting in return is your bad attitude.”
“Oh I'm sorry,” Lassiter sneered. “You're right. You've been such a big help on this case. As soon as I finish booking our thief, I'm putting you in for a commendation. I might even nominate you for an award. 'Impediment of the Year'. Would you prefer cherry or walnut for the plaque?”
Gus watched this whole scene play out, his brow furrowed in confusion. Shawn hadn't been kidding about the PMS, but the question was, why?
Shawn just stared in utter disbelief and so Lassiter just kept on going.
“You say you're trying to help us, but so far you've given us nothing. Not a single clue has come out of your twisted little mind. What's the matter? Your psychic powers suddenly not working?”
“Well your negative attitude isn't helping,” Shawn retorted, having recovered from his shock at the outburst, if not the confusion. “If I've told you once I've told you a thousand times that negativity dampens the transmissions from the spiritual planes. You need to lighten up, Lassiter.”
The detective made a rude sound that indicated exactly what he thought of that.
“Yeah, I hate it when my spiritual plane transmissions are dampened by negativity,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm so thick you could almost see it. “Why don't you just admit that whatever source you've been tapping for seven years has dried up?”
“My source hasn't 'dried up', Lassiter,” Shawn said. “It's as wet as the Pacific Ocean in a monsoon.” Lassiter made a sound of disgust as he turned away.
“Right.”
“And I can prove it,” Shawn added.
“Oh really?” Lassiter said, turning back.
“You asked what was in my vision before. You still want to know?”
“Sure,” the detective said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Enlighten me. What does the spirit world have to say today?”
Shawn closed his eyes and started to bring his hand up to his temple.
“Without the theatrics if you don't mind.”
Shawn opened his eyes and glared, but he didn't lower his hand.
With a gasp and a steady stare he recounted his 'vision'. “I'm seeing the display case. Inside are the thirteen pieces of the sapphire jewelry collection that belonged to Lora J. Knight, Santa Barbaran heiress. Someone's reaching inside . . . is it the thief? No . . . She's performing the weekly inspection and cleaning . . . but this time there's a problem. Something's not right . . . The Shining Star, the crown jewel of the collection . . . it's a fake. It's been replaced with a decent look alike, the museum patrons would never notice, but it's not good enough to fool the museum's expert on staff, Myra Lizak. She's the one who reported the theft to the museum director who then called the police.” Cocking his head in challenge as he dropped his hand, he arched an eyebrow.
“Did I get anything even close?”
Lassiter listened in silence to the information being spouted out-the correct information, he thought bitterly-and wondered again how Shawn did it. But even if he was right, he still didn't know who did it. He hadn't told them anything that Lassiter himself hadn't learned already.
“You're reading the wrong mind, Spencer,” he said dryly. “Assuming that's what you're doing anyway.”
Shawn frowned. “What?”
“I don't know who the thief is.”
Shawn exchanged a confused glance with Gus. “I'm confused. What just happened here? This was some kind of test? You do think I'm psychic?”
“Not even a little teeny tiny bit. But if you were, I'd tell you to read the mind of someone who can tell us something useful. Like say, the thief's. Divine what they're thinking-and where the jewels and, if you can swing it, their residence is-and you'll really impress me. Until then I'm going to leave you to practice your next vision and go do some real detective work.” He started to leave, then swung back and pointed a finger at Shawn.
“And if I catch you at my crime scene without my express permission again I'll have you arrested so fast your head will spin.”
“On what charges?” Shawn demanded.
“Disturbing the peace.”
With that Lassiter left, stunned silence following in his wake.
It was broken when McNabb ducked in the room, checking over his shoulder as he went.
“I'm really sorry about that, Shawn,” he apologized. “I probably shouldn't have called you.”
“No, Buzz, you did fine. I'm glad you did. This is . . . something between me and Lassiter,” he said, though he had no idea if he was being honest or not. “It isn't your fault.”
“Okay, well, I have to go back in there, but . . . I can call you later and let you know if we find anything else. And if you come by the station after eight I'll even get you the witness statements from today.”
“Don't worry about it, Buzz. I don't want you to get in any trouble.”
“Are you sure? I feel really bad about this.”
Shawn half laughed but it was without mirth. “Yeah, me too.” He wiped a hand over his face, then shook it off and looked at Gus.
“Come on. Let's go. I'm not going to get anything else here. I need to find a place to think free of all the bad vibes.”
Gus nodded and followed Shawn out of the museum.
o.o
The drive to the Psych office was silent, Shawn and Gus each lost in their own thoughts.
When they entered Shawn shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up, looked at his desk chair, then reconsidered and plopped down in one of their more comfortable squishy chairs. He let his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling, though no answers were written up there. Unfortunately.
Gus did sit down in his chair and even swiped a finger over the touchpad of his computer to wake it up from the screensaver. But after that he just looked to Shawn. “Okay, what was that?” he said.
“Lassiter's attitude?” Shawn asked. “I don't know. It has me worried though.”
“That wasn't Pissy Male Syndrome, Shawn. That was . . .” He shook his head. “I don't know what that was.”
“He's been like that all week. I told Juliet and she said she thought it was stress from the case, but I don't know that I agree. The chief's not putting that much pressure on us to solve the case.”
“If that was about the case then he needs a vacation or he's going to have a heart attack or a stroke or something. That was scary.”
“There's got to be something else going on, Gus. This is Lassiter. He pushes himself and he takes a lot of responsibility on his shoulders when he works on a case but this is extreme even for him. And it's not like lives are at stake. Do you remember that serial killer case we worked with him two years ago?”
“The Copycat?”
“Yeah. Sixteen people died before he was stopped. Chief Vick was the guy's next intended victim and he even managed to kidnap her and hold her for three days before we caught him. Lassie was interim chief and heading up the investigation and working against the clock to save her . . . he wasn't this stressed then.”
“Even if it's not the cause of his stress, this case going unsolved can't be helping. Did you get anything that we might be able to use?”
Shawn leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists, and shook his head. “No. I mean, I'm sure I saw things that would be helpful if I just had one clue. There's something, some element that would tie all this together and not just break it open but smash this case into oblivion. If only I could just . . .” He closed his eyes and let his head drop with a sigh.
“If only I could just figure out what it is.”
Gus let the silence stretch until it grew to be uncomfortable while he searched for something to contribute.
“You'll get it, Shawn,” he finally said lamely. “You'll figure it out.”
Shawn barked out a laugh. “Thanks, Gus,” he said wryly. “Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”
Gus scowled, but Shawn just stood and stretched, twisting his torso and rolling his neck.
“Okay,” he said and went to his desk to grab the files with everything they had on the case. “Let's go over this one more time."
Next