FIC: Two Dead Guys, a Girl, and a Psychic (5/18)
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.
Flashback
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Not What It Seems
Wednesday
“OK, sorry to bother you ma'am,” Shawn said loudly, trying to make himself heard over the yelling. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, trying to track down Nikki's mother. Gus was sitting at his own desk, memorizing new asthma medications and being no help to Shawn whatsoever.
Apparently he was serious when he said he was taking no part in this case.
Shawn hung up the phone, grateful for the silence. With the Sanders' case pretty much wrapped up, he had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon working on Nikki's case. He had been able to find out a little bit more about her but not much. Knowing Nikki was going to come by the office today, he decided to go directly to the source for answers. Her mom obviously knew the identity of the father. All he had to do was track her down. He knew her name was Sarah; a fact he had discovered in his research. A fact Nikki had neglected to tell him, which made him all the more eager to meet this woman. Unfortunately none of the Sarah Petersons listed in the phone book for the Santa Barbara area were Nikki's mother. He had then widened his search to include most of Santa Barbara and Ventura counties. He had just finished calling the last name on the list.
“Not having any luck?” Gus asked, looking up from a pamphlet on Dupilumab.
In response, he balled up his list and tossed it at the trash can. He missed. Sighing, he looked over at Gus. “What I could gather from all the yelling was that she suspected her daughter was dating behind her back and someone is in a lot of trouble when they get home. Unfortunately, her daughter's name is Annabelle, not Nicole.” He opened a drawer and started digging through it. “So no, I'm not having any luck.” He slammed the drawer shut in frustration. “Did you eat all my red vines?”
“I don't touch your candy, Shawn. Not after the Snickers snafu of '07.” Gus shuddered at the memory.
“I could have sworn I had more in here,” he said, opening another drawer. He paused, staring into it. “Have you been messing with my magazines?” he asked, looking up at Gus with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not the one who digs through other people’s things,” Gus said pointedly.
He gave Gus a disbelieving look before reaching into the drawer. He pulled two magazines out and set them on the desk. “Someone has,” he said, closing the drawer and looking intently at Gus. “I always leave a copy of Time magazine sitting on top of the stack.” He held up the magazine in question by one corner. “That way it's easily accessible if there's a client I need to impress.” He put it down and picked up the other magazine. “Someone,” he glared at Gus, “left last month's People magazine on top.” He shook the magazine accusingly at Gus.
“Dude, for the last time, I didn't touch your stuff,” Gus said in exasperation. His look turned to one of confusion as Shawn put the magazine down and pulled a fingerprinting kit out of another drawer. “What are you doing?”
“Gathering evidence,” he said. He had bought the kit just for this purpose. Although 'bought' may not be the right word. Actually, he had found the kit in his father's attic while looking for his old Thundercats. Maybe it was better to say 'liberated,' as in he 'liberated' it from his father's house without his knowledge. Either way, it was his now and he had been waiting for the right time to test it out.
He laid the two magazines side by side. Very gently, he brushed powder over the covers of both magazines, then blew it off just as carefully. The Time magazine only yielded a couple of smudges, but the People magazine was covered in clear markings. He could make out two distinct sets of prints. He used lifting tape to pull two prints and secure them to separate white index cards. One card he glanced at and tossed, recognizing his own fingerprint. The other card he compared to a copy of Gus's fingerprints (which he had 'liberated' from the police station).
They didn't match.
“Well, the good news is, you're off the hook,” he said, looking at Gus sheepishly. “The fingerprints don't match.”
“I told you,” Gus said, looking smug. Shawn saw him pause as the rest of what he said sunk in. “What do you mean good news?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “What's the bad news?”
“The bad news is that someone still went through my desk.” Shawn held up the index card. “This print doesn't match either of ours. Someone came in and moved the magazines around.” He carefully placed the card down and pouted at Gus. “They also ate all my candy,” he whined.
“So someone was really in here last night,” Gus said, focusing on the important details. Not that stolen candy was unimportant. Just unimportant to Gus. After all, Shawn thought childishly, it wasn't his candy that was stolen.
Gus started looking around the office worriedly. “What else did they take?” He got up and went over to the DVDs and started looking through them.
“Relax, nothing was taken,” Shawn said reassuringly. “I didn't notice anything different in here until I looked in my desk.”
“My desk!” Gus explained. Shawn rolled his eyes as Gus raced across the room to his desk. He yanked open a drawer and started riffling through it. Amused, Shawn got up and went over to get a better look.
“How are you going to know if something was moved if you dig through it like that?” he asked after a moment. Gus was throwing most of the contents of the drawer to the ground. Papers scattered everywhere. A box of paper clips burst open when it landed, shiny bits of metal sliding across the floor. A marble bounced out and rolled away under the couch. “What are you so worried about?”
“I keep an emergency stash of money hidden in this drawer, Shawn,” Gus said, pushing more papers on the floor. “What if the intruder found it?”
“Relax,” he said. “They would have to reach all the way to the back of the drawer and twist the secret panel 90 degrees counterclockwise while simultaneously pressing the hidden button on the outside of the desk. They would never figure that out.” Gus stopped digging through the drawer and turned to glare at him. “If you keep making that face it will stick that way.”
“How do you know that?” Gus asked. “Never mind,” he said before Shawn could answer. “The money better still all be there.” He started putting the papers back in the drawer.
“Of course it is,” Shawn said reassuringly. “All $582 of it. Besides,” he said as Gus muttered in annoyance about 'fake psychics' and 'deadbeat friends' “I never steal from you.”
“You steal from me all the time, Shawn.” Gus put the last of the papers away and slammed the drawer. “You're the one who steals my candy. I have a separate stash just for you now.”
“OK, let me rephrase that,” Shawn said, tacitly acknowledging his candy thievery. “I never steal money from you.”
“What about my credit card?” Gus asked. “You steal that all the time. That's why I keep having to replace them.”
“First of all, I 'borrow' your credit card. Remember, sharing is caring.” Gus did not seem impressed by that argument, so Shawn quickly moved on. “Secondly, it's a credit card, not money. And thirdly, I always help pay the bills. I don't see why you keep getting new cards. Do you really need another Venture card?”
“You get free miles for signing up - .” Gus paused, looking at him. “How do you know I have a new Venture card?” He pulled out his wallet and started looking through it.
“Lucky guess?” Shawn asked, mentally hitting himself on the head. Why hadn't he slipped Gus's credit card back last night like he had planned?
Gus pocketed his wallet and glared at him. “Where is it Shawn?” he asked in an eerily calm voice.
“I have it right here,” Shawn said, pulling out his wallet. He slipped out Gus's credit card and handed it to him. “See, nothing to worry about.” He gave Gus a reassuring grin.
Gus grabbed it from him. “You better not have used it.”
“Of course not,” Shawn said, pretending to be insulted. “I only use your credit card for emergencies.”
“Like the romantic weekend with Juliet?” Gus asked. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.
“That romantic weekend was as much for you as it was for me,” he argued. “You said you wanted some 'Gus time.' I was just respecting your wishes.” He thought back to the events of that weekend. A couple had robbed their room, then been accused of murder. “Besides, we ended up working a case. That weekend practically paid for itself.”
“How about the 300 lbs of kangaroo paste?” Gus asked.
“That was an emergency,” he explained. “My hair was completely flat and without style. That paste saved it.” Gus snorted, which he decided to interpret as a comment on how his hair looked before the paste. “Dude, this morning blows. Let's go get some smoothies.”
“In a minute,” Gus said. He was staring intently at his computer screen.
“Since when do you pass up smoothies?” he asked. He came around Gus's desk. “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to peer at the screen.
“I'm checking the transactions on my credit card,” Gus said. “I'd rather know how much you spent now then wait for the bill and be surprised.” He started clicking away at the screen.
“Why worry now when you can worry later?” Shawn asked quickly. He'd rather wait for Gus to get the bill before he yelled at Shawn. That would give him time to plan a counterargument. Or flee the country. “Come on, let's get those smoothies.” He grabbed Gus's arm and tried to pull him out of the chair.
“Let go Shawn!” Gus said, breaking free. “We can get smoothies after I check. And you're paying.”
“I believe it's your turn to pay,” he said, momentarily distracted. “I paid the last time,”
“No,” Gus said, not looking up. “You pretended to forget your wallet so I had to pay. It's your turn.”
“Agree to disagree,” he said. He watched warily as Gus peered at the screen.
“Well, that's not as bad as I thought. You only used the card twice,” Gus said, causing Shawn to relax. Luckily the charge for the new air hockey table hadn't gone through yet. Gus did some typing, then looked up at Shawn. “How did you manage to spend $115 dollars at a diner?” he asked in bewilderment.
“I was really hungry,” he said hurriedly. “How about those smoothies?” He sighed as Gus looked back at the screen.
“There's also a charge on here from Smoothie Shack,” Gus said, pointing at his computer. “The charge is for two smoothies.” He looked suspiciously at Shawn. “Who were you with yesterday?”
“Who says I didn't drink both smoothies myself?” he asked defensively.
“You only had one when you came into the office,” Gus said. “Besides, you never get two. The second one gets all melty by the time you finish the first.” He crossed his arms and stared at Shawn. “What are you hiding?”
He hated when Gus got all detective-y. Resigned to the fact the conversation couldn't be postponed, he crossed the room and sat at his desk. The distance would be better in case Gus tried to hit him. “I may have taken someone out to breakfast,” he said slowly.
“Does this someone have a name?” Gus asked.
“Don't be silly Gus,” Shawn said evasively. “Of course she does. Everyone has a name.”
“Shawn,” Gus said sternly. He gave Shawn the Look.
“Okay,” he said after a minute. He could never stand up to the Look. “It was Nikki.”
It took Gus a second to place the name. “Nikki, as in Nikki the girl who wants us to find her father?” Gus asked in surprise. “How did you end up buying breakfast for her?”
“I don't know,” he whined. “She came by to see how the case was coming. I asked some questions. She ate my bag of Doritos. I was hungry. She was hungry. I offered to buy her breakfast.”
“That was nice of you but that is still a lot to pay for breakfast for two people,” Gus said.
“She was really hungry. You should have seen the way she inhaled everything I put in front of her,” Shawn said.
“I thought teenage girls were supposed to be picky eaters. You know, eat a grape and their done,” Gus said.
“I guess nobody told her that.” Shawn picked up the index card and fiddled with it as he thought. Gus had said he didn't want to get involved, but that was just when it was a missing person's case. Shawn was starting to feel that something more was going on. “I think she's in trouble,” he said, staring at the wall. Seeing Gus's questioning look, he continued. “Besides the paranoia of us going to the police, there are a few other things I’ve noticed. She tenses up every time I mentioned her mom, even in passing. More than would be expected from the typical rebellious teen. When I bought her breakfast yesterday she acted like it was the first real food she's had in weeks. Again, even for a girl not normal behavior.” He put the index card down and turned to face Gus. “She also gets nervous if anyone gets too close to her and freezes at any physical contact.” He remembered her startled look when he had grabbed her arm yesterday. There had been fear in her eyes, quickly hidden, but still visible for a moment. He worried about what could have caused her to react that why. “What do you think?”
Gus slowly closed his laptop and turned to face Shawn. “I think you might be right,” he said. “You need to go to the police.”
“But she specifically asked us not to go to the police,” Shawn reminded Gus. “She was very clear about that.”
“All the more reason you should,” Gus said emphatically. “You said yourself she's hiding something, and you couldn't find her mom within a 100 miles of here. Maybe she's a runaway. Or maybe,” he said, lowering his voice, “Nikki isn't even her real name.” He leaned back and nodded mysteriously.
“Of course it's her real name,” he scoffed. Gus was starting to sound paranoid. “Otherwise how would she expect me to find her father?”
“Think about it Shawn,” Gus said, still talking in a low voice. “It's all a ruse. You haven't been able to find any information on her. Why? Because she gave you a fake name. She's probably been playing you from the start.” He was starting to get agitated. Shawn knew he needed to stop this rant now before Gus became completely irrational.
“Gus, dude, you’re sounding a little crazy here,” Shawn said calmly. It always felt weird when he had to be the voice of reason. “Take a deep breath and think about this logically.”
Gus was already too wound up in his theories to hear him. “Maybe someone hired her to find out if you're really psychic.” He looked worriedly at Shawn. “Has she been asking you questions about how your psychic abilities work? Has she let slip any leading hints implying she thinks you're not really psychic?”
“Gus - “ Shawn started, before Gus cut him off again.
“Or maybe she's part of a gang of thieves,” Gus said, abandoning his earlier theory. He got up from his desk and came to stand in front of Shawn. “She's casing out the joint so they can come back and rob us later.” He pointed to the index card still in Shawn's hand. “Maybe that's her fingerprint.”
“Gus, don't you think your overreacting a little?” he asked, finally able to get a word in. “All I did was buy her breakfast.” He decided not to mention the fact that Nikki had questioned his psychic-ness. It was just curiosity; nothing else.
“That's how it starts with con artists,” Gus said, nodding wisely. “They get on your good side and gain your trust. Then three days later we come in to find the office cleaned out and the headline 'Local Psychic a Fake.'”
“Do you hear yourself right now?” he asked incredulously. This was a little extreme, even for Gus. “She was just hungry. She was not trying to con me.” He held up the index card. “This is not her fingerprint.”
“You don't know that for sure,” Gus stated stubbornly.
“Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll have Jules run the print,” Shawn snapped. Being the voice of reason was not fun. No wonder Gus was always so grumpy. He took out his wallet and slipped the index card inside. Putting his wallet away, he said, “She's not a con artist.”
“Who's not a con artist?”
Shawn jumped. Turning, he saw Nikki standing in the doorway. She was wearing what looked to be the same ripped jeans of the past two days and a plain black t-shirt. Gus threw him a disgruntled look and went back to sit at his desk.
Nikki came into the room and stood near his desk. “Who's not a con artist?” she repeated.
He didn't think Nikki would appreciate being called a con artist, so he said the first thing to pop into his head. “Kate from Lost.” He heard Gus snort behind him. Ignoring it, he said “I think she was just trying to find her way out of a bad situation.” He looked pointedly at Gus.
“Well, I think it was her own fault she was in that bad situation in the first place,” Gus replied, staring right back.
“Maybe she just made a few mistakes,” Shawn argued.
“Maybe they weren't mistakes,” Gus shot back.
The two stared at each other across the office, neither willing to give in. Nikki looked back and forth between them with confusion.
“Wasn't Kate on the run because she killed her stepfather?” she asked. When both men turned to look at her, she blushed and said quietly “Maybe I remembered it wrong.”
“You're absolutely right,” Shawn said, recovering quicker than Gus. “She did put herself in that situation. In that respect Gus was right. But she only lied to get away from her past, like I said. So we were both right.” He looked over at Gus and said carefully, “No need to discuss this anymore, right?”
“For now, Shawn,” Gus said, eyeing Nikki suspiciously.
“OK,” she said slowly, still looking confused. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Soda and juice in the fridge,” Shawn said, pointing out the fridge in the corner. As she headed over to it, he got up and walked around to the front of his desk. “Dude, knock it off,” he whispered to Gus.
“I don't trust her Shawn,” Gus whispered back.
“She's not a con artist,” he said, watching her dig through the fridge.
“Then prove it,” Gus retorted. “Ask her about her mom.”
“What?” he asked, a little too loudly. Gus shushed him as Nikki looked back over at them. He gave a little wave. She returned it hesitantly and went back to looking through the fridge.
“You said she was hiding something about her mom,” Gus said, making sure to keep his voice low. “So ask her about it.”
“I can't just ask her about it,” Shawn exclaimed softly. He saw her straighten up, examining a can of soda in her hand.
“If you don't I will,” Gus said with finality.
“Fine,” he snapped, as she closed the fridge and headed back over to them.
“What are you guys whispering about?” she asked, cracking open the soda.
“Ninjas,” he said quickly. She just rolled her eyes. He debated how to ask Nikki about her mother. Slowly ease into the subject? Or just ask her outright? He could see Gus urging him on over Nikki's shoulder. She glanced behind her, only to see Gus casually reading a pamphlet on Xolair. Turning back, she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged and leaned against his desk. Going for the outright approach, he asked, “So how's Sarah?”
He couldn't have had better timing. Nikki had just taken a gulp of her soda and immediately started choking on it. He leapt in to grab the can from her flailing hand before it went flying. He glanced worriedly at Gus, wondering if he should do something.
Gus didn't seem too concerned. He nodded at Nikki and raised an eyebrow. He obviously thought her reaction proved he was right about her.
Shawn ignored Gus for now, watching Nikki carefully. She had finally stopped coughing and was trying to catch her breath. He noticed how pale she had become. Since most people turned red when choking, he assumed it was from the shock of his question.
Or fear of him learning something she didn't want him to know. He wondered what was so bad that the mention of her mom would scare her this much. When she was breathing normally again, he handed gave her back the soda.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice raspy. She took a few sips to clear her throat, pausing between each one to make sure it wouldn't trigger another coughing fit. Noticing Shawn and Gus watching her, she said quickly, “It just went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine.” She cleared her throat and looked warily at Shawn. “How did you find out my mom's name?”
“The spirits came across it while looking for information about you,” Shawn said. He knew this was a delicate subject and, while Nikki didn’t believe in his psychic act, it was a useful buffer in this situation.
“Did they tell you anything else?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit towards the end.
“No, just her name.” Shawn saw her visibly relax at the news. He glanced at Gus, who nodded. His friend had noticed it too.
She took a deep, steadying breath. “So, any news on my father?” she asked, changing the subject. She was trying to keep her tone light, but he could still hear a slight tremble in her voice. He had obviously upset Nikki by asking about her mother. He made a mental note to look more in-depth into her mother later. Something was definitely going on.
“Not yet,” he said, adopting the same light tone. He could see the disappointment on her face. “But I'm getting closer. I'm sure I'll find him soon,” he said reassuringly.
“It's fine,” she said with a sigh. “But if I'm going to be waiting around, maybe I can help out.” She walked behind Shawn's desk, sat in his chair and propped up her feet. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Her spunkiness was refreshing and he was curious to hear what she had to say. “Did you figure out who killed Sanders yet?” she asked.
“You told her about the case?” Gus said accusingly.
“Of course I didn't tell her about the case,” Shawn said, giving Gus a haughty look. “I never discuss open police cases. That would be unethical.”
“You tell the woman at the coffee shop about your cases all the time,” Gus pointed out.
“She's eighty-two,” Shawn explained. “Everyone knows old people don't count.” He gave Gus a pitying look for not knowing this obvious fact.
“It's still talking about the case,” Gus argued. “And what about your dad? You talk to him about cases all the time.”
“My dad is an ex-cop, so he doesn’t count either. He’s also old, so that makes him count even less.” Shawn crossed his arms and looked stubbornly at Gus. “Not of that proves I told Nikki.”
“Then how does she know about the case?” Gus asked, sounding smug.
“She figured it out on her own.” Shawn turned to give Nikki a grin. “It was rather impressive.”
“You really expect me to believe that a fifteen year old girl figured out not only that we had a case but the details of the case?” Gus asked incredulously. “Without you saying anything?”
“Shawn's telling the truth,” Nikki said. “I did figure it out on my own.” She smirked at Gus. “Not bad for a fifteen year old, huh?”
“How exactly did you figure it out?” Gus asked suspiciously.
“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Nikki said, a touch defensively. She looked at Shawn. “So what happened? I heard someone got arrested.” She dropped her feet and leaned forward eagerly to hear what he had to say.
“Someone did,” Shawn said with satisfaction. “Dr. Lyle Pratt.”
“Really?” She sounded surprised at Pratt's arrest. “Are you sure it was him?” she asked doubtfully.
“Positive,” he said confidently. “Pratt and Sanders have been rivals for years. They were always fighting for grants because they were doing similar research. Pratt was even sabotaging Sanders' experiments. Now the school is planning on closing one of their labs down. We believe Pratt killed Sanders' in order to keep his lab.” It was a short wrap-up, but it was an open and shut case.
“What about his job offer?” she asked.
Shawn tilted his head. “What job offer?”
“You're the psychic, shouldn't you already know?” she asked mockingly.
“Sometimes my psychic channels get blocked, letting key pieces of information elude me,” he said. It was his favorite excuse to use for the Chief when he had missed some vital clue although she never really seemed to buy it.
“Yeah, sure,” Nikki said. She didn't seem to buy it either. She put down her soda and pulled an envelope out of her pocket.
Shawn took it and looked it over. “A phone bill?” he asked skeptically.
“Look inside,” she said. She picked up her soda again and took a sip.
Shawn pulled out the contents of the envelope and unfolded them. “It's still a phone bill.”
She sighed. “Flip the page.”
Shawn flipped to the next page and studied it. “Well, that sucks.”
“What is it?” Gus asked. He got up and came around his desk to have a look.
He handed Gus the paper. “It seems Pratt was offered a job by the Department of Defense,” he said as Gus glanced over the letter. “Six figure salary, full funding for all his projects. With such a sweet deal on the table, he had no reason to kill Sanders.” Worse, he had missed it. He better up his game before he missed anything else. He turned to Nikki. “Where did you find this?”
“Pratt's desk,” she said. “After the police arrested him, I snuck into his office to have a look around.” She pointed to the letter. “I found that in his desk drawer. I used to hide letters the same way.”
He recalled the glimpse of someone in blue with brown hair he had seen at the school yesterday. Nikki must have followed them, then stuck around to do some snooping. He couldn't really blame her. He often did the same himself.
“So what are we going to do now?” she asked. She looked expectantly at him and Gus as she drank her soda.
“We are not going to do anything,” Gus said, circling the three of them with his finger. “You,” he pointed to Nikki, “are leaving while we” he gestured to himself and Shawn, “try to find out who the killer is.”
“Come on, I can help,” Nikki pleaded. She looked at Shawn. “I did find the letter.”
“She does have a point,” he said to Gus.
“No, Shawn,” Gus said sternly. “Besides, how can we explain who she is to the police?”
“I can pretend to be a psychic,” Nikki said. “I know how Shawn does it, so I bet I can fake it just as well.”
“Fake it?” Gus asked. He turned angrily to Shawn. “You told her?”
“OK Nikki, time to go,” he said quickly. He walked around the desk and grabbed the now empty soda can from her. He threw it at the trash can and missed. Sighing, he waved towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.” Nikki frowned but stood up and let Shawn usher her from the room. He could feel Gus's angry stare burning into his shoulder blades as they left.
He followed closely behind Nikki, but hopefully not close enough to make her nervous, as they quickly crossed the outer office to the door. A little too quickly; she tripped over a stuffed pineapple on the floor and fell into him. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor. “Sorry,” he said, setting her back on her feet. He kicked the pineapple out of the way. “You okay?”
“I'm fine,” she said hastily, quickly putting some distance between them. Her hands shook slightly as she straightened her clothes. “Any more surprise fruit I should worry about?” she said, forcing a light-hearted tone.
He checked the path from there to the door. “All clear,” he said. They made it to the door without incident. He let Nikki through first, following her out and shutting the door behind him.
“What was all that about?” she asked, turning to face him. “Why did you rush me out of there so fast?”
“Gus tends to worry when anyone figures out my secret,” he said, checking to make sure Gus wasn't peeking through the blinds. “Especially when that person is an underage kid we met two days ago and know nothing about.” Satisfied Gus wasn't around, he leaned back against the door. “It's best to give him some time to cool off.”
“Tell Gus not to worry. I won't tell anyone.” She gave a snort. “I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.”
“You'd be surprised.” He knew of one headstrong detective in particular who would be fascinated by what she could tell him. He crossed his arms, looking at her carefully. “I noticed you didn't just say I was a fake psychic. You said you knew how I do it.” Several people had known he was a fake, yet no one had ever claimed to know the real secret behind his gift.
“I just thought about how I would do it if I was in your place,” she said. “It couldn't be simple detective work, or the other cops would have figured out how you do it already. Then I realized we have the same gift.” She closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “On Gus's desk, there is a medical dictionary to the left and a laptop to the right. A pile of pamphlets for what looks like asthma medication lies in the center of the desk; I'm not even going to try to pronounce the names of the drugs. Under that is a large calendar. Friday's date is circled but nothing is written there. There is another calendar in front of the dictionary. Two blue tickets are sticking out from under it. I can make out the word 'planet' on it. Next to that is a container of pencils, a nameplate, a box of tissues, and a stuffed frog.” She opened her eyes and looked at Shawn. “How'd I do?”
“Perfect,” Shawn said, causing Nikki to grin widely. He had never come across a person with his near perfect recall before. His dad came close, but only after years of looking for clues while on the force. This girl could put even Henry Spencer to shame and, like him, seemed to have been born with it. It might be fun to introduce her to his dad, just to see what would happen.
“Since I'll be hanging around for awhile, how about making me your fake psychic apprentice?” she said in a playful tone. He couldn't tell if she was serious or not. It would be nice to work with someone who saw things the way he did, and she had already proven valuable on the case.
Unfortunately, the Chief wasn't big on letting him bring adults into crime scenes, let along underage girls. That wasn't even considering the problem of Gus. “Love the idea, but I don't think it will work,” he said regretfully. “Gus has trust issues. He even keeps his candy locked in a desk drawer so no one steals it.” He could imagine how Gus would react if he suggested Nikki start helping them out on cases. 'Not well' would be an understatement.
“As long as it's not red vines, he has nothing to worry about,” she said. She started walking down the boardwalk. Right before she reached the end of the block, she looked back and shouted, “At least think about it.” Then she turned the corner and was gone.
Red vines huh. Maybe Gus wasn't that far off, thinking Nikki had broken into the office. He decided to keep the observation to himself for the time being. No reason to upset Gus any further.
Going back inside the office, he saw Gus sitting at his desk. “I don't trust her,” Gus said as soon as he entered the room.
Shawn sat at his desk and sighed. “You've already made that abundantly clear,” he said, pulling a yellow legal pad toward him. He quickly started jotting things down.
“And now she knows your secret.” Gus glared angrily at him. “What were you thinking, telling her that?”
“I didn't tell her.” Shawn kept his focus on the pad, not looking at Gus.
“Oh, and I suppose she just figured out that on her own too,” Gus said sarcastically.
“Yes, she did.” Glancing up, he met Gus's disbelieving look. “She has a photographic memory.”
“Really?” Gus asked, still not believing him.
“While we were outside, she was able to recite every item on your desk. Including tickets for the new planetarium exhibit opening Friday.” Gus frantically dug around on his desk. “Under the calendar.” Gus grabbed the offending tickets and put them away in a drawer. “Really, Gus? The planetarium? That's your idea of a big date for Rachel?” He tsked at Gus in disappointment.
“So, what you're saying,” Gus said, quickly changing the subject. “Is that she's like you.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “No one's like me. She just uses details she remembers about the scene to recreate what happened.” He paused, thinking about what he just said. “OK, somewhat like me,” he amended.
“So that's what you were talking about outside?” Gus pressed.
“Pretty much,” he said, focusing once again on the pad. He circled something, then sat contemplating what he had written.
“Pretty much?” Gus asked suspiciously. “What else did you talk about?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding something?”
“Me? Hiding something from you?” Shawn asked, feigning hurt. “When do I ever keep secrets from you?” Seeing Gus about to open his mouth, he stopped him. “Don't answer that.” He fiddled with his pen, as Gus continued to stare at him. “OK, she may have said something else.” He took a deep breath. “She wants to be my fake psychic apprentice and I think she may have been the one to break into the office last night,” he said in a rush. He figured it was better to get the news out quickly, like ripping off a band aid.
Gus just sat there silently for a minute, absorbing the news. “We need to go to the police,” he said finally.
“All right,” he said, throwing down the legal pad. “Let's go.” He got up and started heading for the door.
“Wait a minute,” Gus said, causing him to stop. He turned to look at Gus as he continued. “I thought you didn't want to turn her in.”
“I don't,” he said. “But if she's right about Pratt, there's a killer on the loose. Since the only evidence the police have points to Pratt, I'm betting he was framed. Talking to him is our best chance of finding out who the killer is.” He grabbed the legal pad and handed it to Gus. On it was two lists; did it and didn't do it. The did it list was significantly longer. At the bottom the word 'framed' was circled.
“I still think we should turn Nikki in,” Gus said, handing back the pad.
“Dude, give it a rest,” he said with a sigh. He turned and headed out the door.
Gus followed after him, making a point to lock the door behind him. “I'm not letting this go, Shawn.”
Chapter 5
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.
Flashback
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Not What It Seems
Wednesday
“OK, sorry to bother you ma'am,” Shawn said loudly, trying to make himself heard over the yelling. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, trying to track down Nikki's mother. Gus was sitting at his own desk, memorizing new asthma medications and being no help to Shawn whatsoever.
Apparently he was serious when he said he was taking no part in this case.
Shawn hung up the phone, grateful for the silence. With the Sanders' case pretty much wrapped up, he had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon working on Nikki's case. He had been able to find out a little bit more about her but not much. Knowing Nikki was going to come by the office today, he decided to go directly to the source for answers. Her mom obviously knew the identity of the father. All he had to do was track her down. He knew her name was Sarah; a fact he had discovered in his research. A fact Nikki had neglected to tell him, which made him all the more eager to meet this woman. Unfortunately none of the Sarah Petersons listed in the phone book for the Santa Barbara area were Nikki's mother. He had then widened his search to include most of Santa Barbara and Ventura counties. He had just finished calling the last name on the list.
“Not having any luck?” Gus asked, looking up from a pamphlet on Dupilumab.
In response, he balled up his list and tossed it at the trash can. He missed. Sighing, he looked over at Gus. “What I could gather from all the yelling was that she suspected her daughter was dating behind her back and someone is in a lot of trouble when they get home. Unfortunately, her daughter's name is Annabelle, not Nicole.” He opened a drawer and started digging through it. “So no, I'm not having any luck.” He slammed the drawer shut in frustration. “Did you eat all my red vines?”
“I don't touch your candy, Shawn. Not after the Snickers snafu of '07.” Gus shuddered at the memory.
“I could have sworn I had more in here,” he said, opening another drawer. He paused, staring into it. “Have you been messing with my magazines?” he asked, looking up at Gus with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not the one who digs through other people’s things,” Gus said pointedly.
He gave Gus a disbelieving look before reaching into the drawer. He pulled two magazines out and set them on the desk. “Someone has,” he said, closing the drawer and looking intently at Gus. “I always leave a copy of Time magazine sitting on top of the stack.” He held up the magazine in question by one corner. “That way it's easily accessible if there's a client I need to impress.” He put it down and picked up the other magazine. “Someone,” he glared at Gus, “left last month's People magazine on top.” He shook the magazine accusingly at Gus.
“Dude, for the last time, I didn't touch your stuff,” Gus said in exasperation. His look turned to one of confusion as Shawn put the magazine down and pulled a fingerprinting kit out of another drawer. “What are you doing?”
“Gathering evidence,” he said. He had bought the kit just for this purpose. Although 'bought' may not be the right word. Actually, he had found the kit in his father's attic while looking for his old Thundercats. Maybe it was better to say 'liberated,' as in he 'liberated' it from his father's house without his knowledge. Either way, it was his now and he had been waiting for the right time to test it out.
He laid the two magazines side by side. Very gently, he brushed powder over the covers of both magazines, then blew it off just as carefully. The Time magazine only yielded a couple of smudges, but the People magazine was covered in clear markings. He could make out two distinct sets of prints. He used lifting tape to pull two prints and secure them to separate white index cards. One card he glanced at and tossed, recognizing his own fingerprint. The other card he compared to a copy of Gus's fingerprints (which he had 'liberated' from the police station).
They didn't match.
“Well, the good news is, you're off the hook,” he said, looking at Gus sheepishly. “The fingerprints don't match.”
“I told you,” Gus said, looking smug. Shawn saw him pause as the rest of what he said sunk in. “What do you mean good news?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “What's the bad news?”
“The bad news is that someone still went through my desk.” Shawn held up the index card. “This print doesn't match either of ours. Someone came in and moved the magazines around.” He carefully placed the card down and pouted at Gus. “They also ate all my candy,” he whined.
“So someone was really in here last night,” Gus said, focusing on the important details. Not that stolen candy was unimportant. Just unimportant to Gus. After all, Shawn thought childishly, it wasn't his candy that was stolen.
Gus started looking around the office worriedly. “What else did they take?” He got up and went over to the DVDs and started looking through them.
“Relax, nothing was taken,” Shawn said reassuringly. “I didn't notice anything different in here until I looked in my desk.”
“My desk!” Gus explained. Shawn rolled his eyes as Gus raced across the room to his desk. He yanked open a drawer and started riffling through it. Amused, Shawn got up and went over to get a better look.
“How are you going to know if something was moved if you dig through it like that?” he asked after a moment. Gus was throwing most of the contents of the drawer to the ground. Papers scattered everywhere. A box of paper clips burst open when it landed, shiny bits of metal sliding across the floor. A marble bounced out and rolled away under the couch. “What are you so worried about?”
“I keep an emergency stash of money hidden in this drawer, Shawn,” Gus said, pushing more papers on the floor. “What if the intruder found it?”
“Relax,” he said. “They would have to reach all the way to the back of the drawer and twist the secret panel 90 degrees counterclockwise while simultaneously pressing the hidden button on the outside of the desk. They would never figure that out.” Gus stopped digging through the drawer and turned to glare at him. “If you keep making that face it will stick that way.”
“How do you know that?” Gus asked. “Never mind,” he said before Shawn could answer. “The money better still all be there.” He started putting the papers back in the drawer.
“Of course it is,” Shawn said reassuringly. “All $582 of it. Besides,” he said as Gus muttered in annoyance about 'fake psychics' and 'deadbeat friends' “I never steal from you.”
“You steal from me all the time, Shawn.” Gus put the last of the papers away and slammed the drawer. “You're the one who steals my candy. I have a separate stash just for you now.”
“OK, let me rephrase that,” Shawn said, tacitly acknowledging his candy thievery. “I never steal money from you.”
“What about my credit card?” Gus asked. “You steal that all the time. That's why I keep having to replace them.”
“First of all, I 'borrow' your credit card. Remember, sharing is caring.” Gus did not seem impressed by that argument, so Shawn quickly moved on. “Secondly, it's a credit card, not money. And thirdly, I always help pay the bills. I don't see why you keep getting new cards. Do you really need another Venture card?”
“You get free miles for signing up - .” Gus paused, looking at him. “How do you know I have a new Venture card?” He pulled out his wallet and started looking through it.
“Lucky guess?” Shawn asked, mentally hitting himself on the head. Why hadn't he slipped Gus's credit card back last night like he had planned?
Gus pocketed his wallet and glared at him. “Where is it Shawn?” he asked in an eerily calm voice.
“I have it right here,” Shawn said, pulling out his wallet. He slipped out Gus's credit card and handed it to him. “See, nothing to worry about.” He gave Gus a reassuring grin.
Gus grabbed it from him. “You better not have used it.”
“Of course not,” Shawn said, pretending to be insulted. “I only use your credit card for emergencies.”
“Like the romantic weekend with Juliet?” Gus asked. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.
“That romantic weekend was as much for you as it was for me,” he argued. “You said you wanted some 'Gus time.' I was just respecting your wishes.” He thought back to the events of that weekend. A couple had robbed their room, then been accused of murder. “Besides, we ended up working a case. That weekend practically paid for itself.”
“How about the 300 lbs of kangaroo paste?” Gus asked.
“That was an emergency,” he explained. “My hair was completely flat and without style. That paste saved it.” Gus snorted, which he decided to interpret as a comment on how his hair looked before the paste. “Dude, this morning blows. Let's go get some smoothies.”
“In a minute,” Gus said. He was staring intently at his computer screen.
“Since when do you pass up smoothies?” he asked. He came around Gus's desk. “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to peer at the screen.
“I'm checking the transactions on my credit card,” Gus said. “I'd rather know how much you spent now then wait for the bill and be surprised.” He started clicking away at the screen.
“Why worry now when you can worry later?” Shawn asked quickly. He'd rather wait for Gus to get the bill before he yelled at Shawn. That would give him time to plan a counterargument. Or flee the country. “Come on, let's get those smoothies.” He grabbed Gus's arm and tried to pull him out of the chair.
“Let go Shawn!” Gus said, breaking free. “We can get smoothies after I check. And you're paying.”
“I believe it's your turn to pay,” he said, momentarily distracted. “I paid the last time,”
“No,” Gus said, not looking up. “You pretended to forget your wallet so I had to pay. It's your turn.”
“Agree to disagree,” he said. He watched warily as Gus peered at the screen.
“Well, that's not as bad as I thought. You only used the card twice,” Gus said, causing Shawn to relax. Luckily the charge for the new air hockey table hadn't gone through yet. Gus did some typing, then looked up at Shawn. “How did you manage to spend $115 dollars at a diner?” he asked in bewilderment.
“I was really hungry,” he said hurriedly. “How about those smoothies?” He sighed as Gus looked back at the screen.
“There's also a charge on here from Smoothie Shack,” Gus said, pointing at his computer. “The charge is for two smoothies.” He looked suspiciously at Shawn. “Who were you with yesterday?”
“Who says I didn't drink both smoothies myself?” he asked defensively.
“You only had one when you came into the office,” Gus said. “Besides, you never get two. The second one gets all melty by the time you finish the first.” He crossed his arms and stared at Shawn. “What are you hiding?”
He hated when Gus got all detective-y. Resigned to the fact the conversation couldn't be postponed, he crossed the room and sat at his desk. The distance would be better in case Gus tried to hit him. “I may have taken someone out to breakfast,” he said slowly.
“Does this someone have a name?” Gus asked.
“Don't be silly Gus,” Shawn said evasively. “Of course she does. Everyone has a name.”
“Shawn,” Gus said sternly. He gave Shawn the Look.
“Okay,” he said after a minute. He could never stand up to the Look. “It was Nikki.”
It took Gus a second to place the name. “Nikki, as in Nikki the girl who wants us to find her father?” Gus asked in surprise. “How did you end up buying breakfast for her?”
“I don't know,” he whined. “She came by to see how the case was coming. I asked some questions. She ate my bag of Doritos. I was hungry. She was hungry. I offered to buy her breakfast.”
“That was nice of you but that is still a lot to pay for breakfast for two people,” Gus said.
“She was really hungry. You should have seen the way she inhaled everything I put in front of her,” Shawn said.
“I thought teenage girls were supposed to be picky eaters. You know, eat a grape and their done,” Gus said.
“I guess nobody told her that.” Shawn picked up the index card and fiddled with it as he thought. Gus had said he didn't want to get involved, but that was just when it was a missing person's case. Shawn was starting to feel that something more was going on. “I think she's in trouble,” he said, staring at the wall. Seeing Gus's questioning look, he continued. “Besides the paranoia of us going to the police, there are a few other things I’ve noticed. She tenses up every time I mentioned her mom, even in passing. More than would be expected from the typical rebellious teen. When I bought her breakfast yesterday she acted like it was the first real food she's had in weeks. Again, even for a girl not normal behavior.” He put the index card down and turned to face Gus. “She also gets nervous if anyone gets too close to her and freezes at any physical contact.” He remembered her startled look when he had grabbed her arm yesterday. There had been fear in her eyes, quickly hidden, but still visible for a moment. He worried about what could have caused her to react that why. “What do you think?”
Gus slowly closed his laptop and turned to face Shawn. “I think you might be right,” he said. “You need to go to the police.”
“But she specifically asked us not to go to the police,” Shawn reminded Gus. “She was very clear about that.”
“All the more reason you should,” Gus said emphatically. “You said yourself she's hiding something, and you couldn't find her mom within a 100 miles of here. Maybe she's a runaway. Or maybe,” he said, lowering his voice, “Nikki isn't even her real name.” He leaned back and nodded mysteriously.
“Of course it's her real name,” he scoffed. Gus was starting to sound paranoid. “Otherwise how would she expect me to find her father?”
“Think about it Shawn,” Gus said, still talking in a low voice. “It's all a ruse. You haven't been able to find any information on her. Why? Because she gave you a fake name. She's probably been playing you from the start.” He was starting to get agitated. Shawn knew he needed to stop this rant now before Gus became completely irrational.
“Gus, dude, you’re sounding a little crazy here,” Shawn said calmly. It always felt weird when he had to be the voice of reason. “Take a deep breath and think about this logically.”
Gus was already too wound up in his theories to hear him. “Maybe someone hired her to find out if you're really psychic.” He looked worriedly at Shawn. “Has she been asking you questions about how your psychic abilities work? Has she let slip any leading hints implying she thinks you're not really psychic?”
“Gus - “ Shawn started, before Gus cut him off again.
“Or maybe she's part of a gang of thieves,” Gus said, abandoning his earlier theory. He got up from his desk and came to stand in front of Shawn. “She's casing out the joint so they can come back and rob us later.” He pointed to the index card still in Shawn's hand. “Maybe that's her fingerprint.”
“Gus, don't you think your overreacting a little?” he asked, finally able to get a word in. “All I did was buy her breakfast.” He decided not to mention the fact that Nikki had questioned his psychic-ness. It was just curiosity; nothing else.
“That's how it starts with con artists,” Gus said, nodding wisely. “They get on your good side and gain your trust. Then three days later we come in to find the office cleaned out and the headline 'Local Psychic a Fake.'”
“Do you hear yourself right now?” he asked incredulously. This was a little extreme, even for Gus. “She was just hungry. She was not trying to con me.” He held up the index card. “This is not her fingerprint.”
“You don't know that for sure,” Gus stated stubbornly.
“Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll have Jules run the print,” Shawn snapped. Being the voice of reason was not fun. No wonder Gus was always so grumpy. He took out his wallet and slipped the index card inside. Putting his wallet away, he said, “She's not a con artist.”
“Who's not a con artist?”
Shawn jumped. Turning, he saw Nikki standing in the doorway. She was wearing what looked to be the same ripped jeans of the past two days and a plain black t-shirt. Gus threw him a disgruntled look and went back to sit at his desk.
Nikki came into the room and stood near his desk. “Who's not a con artist?” she repeated.
He didn't think Nikki would appreciate being called a con artist, so he said the first thing to pop into his head. “Kate from Lost.” He heard Gus snort behind him. Ignoring it, he said “I think she was just trying to find her way out of a bad situation.” He looked pointedly at Gus.
“Well, I think it was her own fault she was in that bad situation in the first place,” Gus replied, staring right back.
“Maybe she just made a few mistakes,” Shawn argued.
“Maybe they weren't mistakes,” Gus shot back.
The two stared at each other across the office, neither willing to give in. Nikki looked back and forth between them with confusion.
“Wasn't Kate on the run because she killed her stepfather?” she asked. When both men turned to look at her, she blushed and said quietly “Maybe I remembered it wrong.”
“You're absolutely right,” Shawn said, recovering quicker than Gus. “She did put herself in that situation. In that respect Gus was right. But she only lied to get away from her past, like I said. So we were both right.” He looked over at Gus and said carefully, “No need to discuss this anymore, right?”
“For now, Shawn,” Gus said, eyeing Nikki suspiciously.
“OK,” she said slowly, still looking confused. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Soda and juice in the fridge,” Shawn said, pointing out the fridge in the corner. As she headed over to it, he got up and walked around to the front of his desk. “Dude, knock it off,” he whispered to Gus.
“I don't trust her Shawn,” Gus whispered back.
“She's not a con artist,” he said, watching her dig through the fridge.
“Then prove it,” Gus retorted. “Ask her about her mom.”
“What?” he asked, a little too loudly. Gus shushed him as Nikki looked back over at them. He gave a little wave. She returned it hesitantly and went back to looking through the fridge.
“You said she was hiding something about her mom,” Gus said, making sure to keep his voice low. “So ask her about it.”
“I can't just ask her about it,” Shawn exclaimed softly. He saw her straighten up, examining a can of soda in her hand.
“If you don't I will,” Gus said with finality.
“Fine,” he snapped, as she closed the fridge and headed back over to them.
“What are you guys whispering about?” she asked, cracking open the soda.
“Ninjas,” he said quickly. She just rolled her eyes. He debated how to ask Nikki about her mother. Slowly ease into the subject? Or just ask her outright? He could see Gus urging him on over Nikki's shoulder. She glanced behind her, only to see Gus casually reading a pamphlet on Xolair. Turning back, she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged and leaned against his desk. Going for the outright approach, he asked, “So how's Sarah?”
He couldn't have had better timing. Nikki had just taken a gulp of her soda and immediately started choking on it. He leapt in to grab the can from her flailing hand before it went flying. He glanced worriedly at Gus, wondering if he should do something.
Gus didn't seem too concerned. He nodded at Nikki and raised an eyebrow. He obviously thought her reaction proved he was right about her.
Shawn ignored Gus for now, watching Nikki carefully. She had finally stopped coughing and was trying to catch her breath. He noticed how pale she had become. Since most people turned red when choking, he assumed it was from the shock of his question.
Or fear of him learning something she didn't want him to know. He wondered what was so bad that the mention of her mom would scare her this much. When she was breathing normally again, he handed gave her back the soda.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice raspy. She took a few sips to clear her throat, pausing between each one to make sure it wouldn't trigger another coughing fit. Noticing Shawn and Gus watching her, she said quickly, “It just went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine.” She cleared her throat and looked warily at Shawn. “How did you find out my mom's name?”
“The spirits came across it while looking for information about you,” Shawn said. He knew this was a delicate subject and, while Nikki didn’t believe in his psychic act, it was a useful buffer in this situation.
“Did they tell you anything else?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit towards the end.
“No, just her name.” Shawn saw her visibly relax at the news. He glanced at Gus, who nodded. His friend had noticed it too.
She took a deep, steadying breath. “So, any news on my father?” she asked, changing the subject. She was trying to keep her tone light, but he could still hear a slight tremble in her voice. He had obviously upset Nikki by asking about her mother. He made a mental note to look more in-depth into her mother later. Something was definitely going on.
“Not yet,” he said, adopting the same light tone. He could see the disappointment on her face. “But I'm getting closer. I'm sure I'll find him soon,” he said reassuringly.
“It's fine,” she said with a sigh. “But if I'm going to be waiting around, maybe I can help out.” She walked behind Shawn's desk, sat in his chair and propped up her feet. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Her spunkiness was refreshing and he was curious to hear what she had to say. “Did you figure out who killed Sanders yet?” she asked.
“You told her about the case?” Gus said accusingly.
“Of course I didn't tell her about the case,” Shawn said, giving Gus a haughty look. “I never discuss open police cases. That would be unethical.”
“You tell the woman at the coffee shop about your cases all the time,” Gus pointed out.
“She's eighty-two,” Shawn explained. “Everyone knows old people don't count.” He gave Gus a pitying look for not knowing this obvious fact.
“It's still talking about the case,” Gus argued. “And what about your dad? You talk to him about cases all the time.”
“My dad is an ex-cop, so he doesn’t count either. He’s also old, so that makes him count even less.” Shawn crossed his arms and looked stubbornly at Gus. “Not of that proves I told Nikki.”
“Then how does she know about the case?” Gus asked, sounding smug.
“She figured it out on her own.” Shawn turned to give Nikki a grin. “It was rather impressive.”
“You really expect me to believe that a fifteen year old girl figured out not only that we had a case but the details of the case?” Gus asked incredulously. “Without you saying anything?”
“Shawn's telling the truth,” Nikki said. “I did figure it out on my own.” She smirked at Gus. “Not bad for a fifteen year old, huh?”
“How exactly did you figure it out?” Gus asked suspiciously.
“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Nikki said, a touch defensively. She looked at Shawn. “So what happened? I heard someone got arrested.” She dropped her feet and leaned forward eagerly to hear what he had to say.
“Someone did,” Shawn said with satisfaction. “Dr. Lyle Pratt.”
“Really?” She sounded surprised at Pratt's arrest. “Are you sure it was him?” she asked doubtfully.
“Positive,” he said confidently. “Pratt and Sanders have been rivals for years. They were always fighting for grants because they were doing similar research. Pratt was even sabotaging Sanders' experiments. Now the school is planning on closing one of their labs down. We believe Pratt killed Sanders' in order to keep his lab.” It was a short wrap-up, but it was an open and shut case.
“What about his job offer?” she asked.
Shawn tilted his head. “What job offer?”
“You're the psychic, shouldn't you already know?” she asked mockingly.
“Sometimes my psychic channels get blocked, letting key pieces of information elude me,” he said. It was his favorite excuse to use for the Chief when he had missed some vital clue although she never really seemed to buy it.
“Yeah, sure,” Nikki said. She didn't seem to buy it either. She put down her soda and pulled an envelope out of her pocket.
Shawn took it and looked it over. “A phone bill?” he asked skeptically.
“Look inside,” she said. She picked up her soda again and took a sip.
Shawn pulled out the contents of the envelope and unfolded them. “It's still a phone bill.”
She sighed. “Flip the page.”
Shawn flipped to the next page and studied it. “Well, that sucks.”
“What is it?” Gus asked. He got up and came around his desk to have a look.
He handed Gus the paper. “It seems Pratt was offered a job by the Department of Defense,” he said as Gus glanced over the letter. “Six figure salary, full funding for all his projects. With such a sweet deal on the table, he had no reason to kill Sanders.” Worse, he had missed it. He better up his game before he missed anything else. He turned to Nikki. “Where did you find this?”
“Pratt's desk,” she said. “After the police arrested him, I snuck into his office to have a look around.” She pointed to the letter. “I found that in his desk drawer. I used to hide letters the same way.”
He recalled the glimpse of someone in blue with brown hair he had seen at the school yesterday. Nikki must have followed them, then stuck around to do some snooping. He couldn't really blame her. He often did the same himself.
“So what are we going to do now?” she asked. She looked expectantly at him and Gus as she drank her soda.
“We are not going to do anything,” Gus said, circling the three of them with his finger. “You,” he pointed to Nikki, “are leaving while we” he gestured to himself and Shawn, “try to find out who the killer is.”
“Come on, I can help,” Nikki pleaded. She looked at Shawn. “I did find the letter.”
“She does have a point,” he said to Gus.
“No, Shawn,” Gus said sternly. “Besides, how can we explain who she is to the police?”
“I can pretend to be a psychic,” Nikki said. “I know how Shawn does it, so I bet I can fake it just as well.”
“Fake it?” Gus asked. He turned angrily to Shawn. “You told her?”
“OK Nikki, time to go,” he said quickly. He walked around the desk and grabbed the now empty soda can from her. He threw it at the trash can and missed. Sighing, he waved towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.” Nikki frowned but stood up and let Shawn usher her from the room. He could feel Gus's angry stare burning into his shoulder blades as they left.
He followed closely behind Nikki, but hopefully not close enough to make her nervous, as they quickly crossed the outer office to the door. A little too quickly; she tripped over a stuffed pineapple on the floor and fell into him. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor. “Sorry,” he said, setting her back on her feet. He kicked the pineapple out of the way. “You okay?”
“I'm fine,” she said hastily, quickly putting some distance between them. Her hands shook slightly as she straightened her clothes. “Any more surprise fruit I should worry about?” she said, forcing a light-hearted tone.
He checked the path from there to the door. “All clear,” he said. They made it to the door without incident. He let Nikki through first, following her out and shutting the door behind him.
“What was all that about?” she asked, turning to face him. “Why did you rush me out of there so fast?”
“Gus tends to worry when anyone figures out my secret,” he said, checking to make sure Gus wasn't peeking through the blinds. “Especially when that person is an underage kid we met two days ago and know nothing about.” Satisfied Gus wasn't around, he leaned back against the door. “It's best to give him some time to cool off.”
“Tell Gus not to worry. I won't tell anyone.” She gave a snort. “I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.”
“You'd be surprised.” He knew of one headstrong detective in particular who would be fascinated by what she could tell him. He crossed his arms, looking at her carefully. “I noticed you didn't just say I was a fake psychic. You said you knew how I do it.” Several people had known he was a fake, yet no one had ever claimed to know the real secret behind his gift.
“I just thought about how I would do it if I was in your place,” she said. “It couldn't be simple detective work, or the other cops would have figured out how you do it already. Then I realized we have the same gift.” She closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “On Gus's desk, there is a medical dictionary to the left and a laptop to the right. A pile of pamphlets for what looks like asthma medication lies in the center of the desk; I'm not even going to try to pronounce the names of the drugs. Under that is a large calendar. Friday's date is circled but nothing is written there. There is another calendar in front of the dictionary. Two blue tickets are sticking out from under it. I can make out the word 'planet' on it. Next to that is a container of pencils, a nameplate, a box of tissues, and a stuffed frog.” She opened her eyes and looked at Shawn. “How'd I do?”
“Perfect,” Shawn said, causing Nikki to grin widely. He had never come across a person with his near perfect recall before. His dad came close, but only after years of looking for clues while on the force. This girl could put even Henry Spencer to shame and, like him, seemed to have been born with it. It might be fun to introduce her to his dad, just to see what would happen.
“Since I'll be hanging around for awhile, how about making me your fake psychic apprentice?” she said in a playful tone. He couldn't tell if she was serious or not. It would be nice to work with someone who saw things the way he did, and she had already proven valuable on the case.
Unfortunately, the Chief wasn't big on letting him bring adults into crime scenes, let along underage girls. That wasn't even considering the problem of Gus. “Love the idea, but I don't think it will work,” he said regretfully. “Gus has trust issues. He even keeps his candy locked in a desk drawer so no one steals it.” He could imagine how Gus would react if he suggested Nikki start helping them out on cases. 'Not well' would be an understatement.
“As long as it's not red vines, he has nothing to worry about,” she said. She started walking down the boardwalk. Right before she reached the end of the block, she looked back and shouted, “At least think about it.” Then she turned the corner and was gone.
Red vines huh. Maybe Gus wasn't that far off, thinking Nikki had broken into the office. He decided to keep the observation to himself for the time being. No reason to upset Gus any further.
Going back inside the office, he saw Gus sitting at his desk. “I don't trust her,” Gus said as soon as he entered the room.
Shawn sat at his desk and sighed. “You've already made that abundantly clear,” he said, pulling a yellow legal pad toward him. He quickly started jotting things down.
“And now she knows your secret.” Gus glared angrily at him. “What were you thinking, telling her that?”
“I didn't tell her.” Shawn kept his focus on the pad, not looking at Gus.
“Oh, and I suppose she just figured out that on her own too,” Gus said sarcastically.
“Yes, she did.” Glancing up, he met Gus's disbelieving look. “She has a photographic memory.”
“Really?” Gus asked, still not believing him.
“While we were outside, she was able to recite every item on your desk. Including tickets for the new planetarium exhibit opening Friday.” Gus frantically dug around on his desk. “Under the calendar.” Gus grabbed the offending tickets and put them away in a drawer. “Really, Gus? The planetarium? That's your idea of a big date for Rachel?” He tsked at Gus in disappointment.
“So, what you're saying,” Gus said, quickly changing the subject. “Is that she's like you.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “No one's like me. She just uses details she remembers about the scene to recreate what happened.” He paused, thinking about what he just said. “OK, somewhat like me,” he amended.
“So that's what you were talking about outside?” Gus pressed.
“Pretty much,” he said, focusing once again on the pad. He circled something, then sat contemplating what he had written.
“Pretty much?” Gus asked suspiciously. “What else did you talk about?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding something?”
“Me? Hiding something from you?” Shawn asked, feigning hurt. “When do I ever keep secrets from you?” Seeing Gus about to open his mouth, he stopped him. “Don't answer that.” He fiddled with his pen, as Gus continued to stare at him. “OK, she may have said something else.” He took a deep breath. “She wants to be my fake psychic apprentice and I think she may have been the one to break into the office last night,” he said in a rush. He figured it was better to get the news out quickly, like ripping off a band aid.
Gus just sat there silently for a minute, absorbing the news. “We need to go to the police,” he said finally.
“All right,” he said, throwing down the legal pad. “Let's go.” He got up and started heading for the door.
“Wait a minute,” Gus said, causing him to stop. He turned to look at Gus as he continued. “I thought you didn't want to turn her in.”
“I don't,” he said. “But if she's right about Pratt, there's a killer on the loose. Since the only evidence the police have points to Pratt, I'm betting he was framed. Talking to him is our best chance of finding out who the killer is.” He grabbed the legal pad and handed it to Gus. On it was two lists; did it and didn't do it. The did it list was significantly longer. At the bottom the word 'framed' was circled.
“I still think we should turn Nikki in,” Gus said, handing back the pad.
“Dude, give it a rest,” he said with a sigh. He turned and headed out the door.
Gus followed after him, making a point to lock the door behind him. “I'm not letting this go, Shawn.”
Chapter 5