Psych: Don't Touch my Maltese Falcon
Prologue
Shawn and his father patiently sat side by side on the old couch of the living room.
Shawn was about twelve years old and clutching the bowl of popcorn close to his chest.
Shawn carelessly dropped some of the salty buttered popcorn on the old couch and looked at his dad to see if he noticed.
Seeing that his father hadn't been looking, he stuffed the kernels between the seat cushions.
Once they hit the couch they were no good to him, Shawn was not about to eat food that fell were a thousand people had been sitting before him.
Shawn's greasy fingers eased from the fabric back to the bowl.
Shawn took another handful of popcorn and stuffed it in his mouth.
"Pick it up Shawn," Henry said stone-faced. His eyes never left the TV.
"How-"Shawn began.
"Always look for what you can't see," Henry said quietly.
"Huh?" Shawn asked. Shawn hated his father's metaphors.
Why couldn't he ever just say what he meant?
"Use your peripherals, Kid. I saw you out o the corner of my eye stuffing that greasy stuff between my couches. You better hope that doesn't leave a butter stain," Henry scolded.
"If you meant use my peripheral vision just say that," Shawn complained.
Henry turned to face Shawn for his approaching rebuttal.
But the sound of the TV drew both sets of eyes to the screen.
The TV played through the conversation and the immortal words of Humphrey Bogart could be heard.
"If you kill me, how are you gonna get the bird? And if I know you can't afford to kill me, how are you gonna scare me into giving it to you?"
"Now that is a prime example of good, old-fashioned police work. And a kind reminder of when movies actually made sense and had a point," Henry said, engrossed in the action.
"Yeah it's alright, but there's barely any kind of action in this stuff. It's hard to take this guy seriously when I know this is the same wimp who lost the girl at the end of that one movie…the one with the plane," Shawn said folding his arms.
"Casablanca is a classic, Shawn," Henry said defensively.
"A classic girl movie," Shawn grunted.
"Are you still bitter about watching that?" Henry asked looking at his son.
"I wanted to see something with guns and explosions and you and mom rent something with a guy walking around talking about a girl he doesn't even end up with," Shawn complained.
"It's about the symbolism and the guy making sacrifices to make Ilsa happy," Henry said.
"Who'd name they're kid Ilsa?" Shawn asked wincing.
"If you'd been a girl that's what your middle name would've been," Henry said calmly.
"You're kidding right?" Shawn asked with a scared look on his face
A gunshot sounded from the TV, making Shawn's eyes widen.
"FINALLY, there's some action in this movie at last!" Shawn squeaked
"I told you, this movie is the perfect representation of good old-fashioned police work," Henry reinforced.
"You're a good man, sister," Shawn said patting his dad on the back. Shawn flashed his most syrupy grin at his dad.
Henry looked down at Shawn and half-grinned.
The kid drove him crazy sometimes, but he had to admit, Shawn knew how to get his way…and he semi-admired that in his rambunctious twelve year old son.
Chapter one
It was a stormy, rainy day…or at least it was mildly drizzling…
Shawn and Gus were walking with his business partner into their offices; Shawn naturally had him holding the red umbrella he bought with his credit card as He ate a mint ice cream cone. Thankfully, Gus didn't know that he bought the umbrella with his credit card yet. Though, Gus did suspect a little bit.
"How can you eat an ice cream cone in this rain, Shawn?" Gus asked.
Shawn looked at him seriously for a moment and went back to eating his cone.
"It relaxes me. And there's no better time than when it's raining. When it's all sunny and hot, the ice cream melts onto my hands. And since it's already on my hands, I'm forced to wipe it on the back of your jacket and send you into situations where people can see the ice cream and point and laugh. Thus, making rain the best ice cream time ever. Lick?" Shawn asked holding out the cone to Gus as he put the umbrella down.
"Now you know I'm NOT gonna lick that! And I knew you had something to do with those stains on my suits! I can't believe you let me walk around the mall with that big strawberry smear on my suit." Gus snapped.
"Dude, chill out. You're just tense because we have way too much time on our hands. We just need a good case to take your mind off things," Shawn reasoned.
Shawn saw Gus staring over his shoulder with his eyebrows furrowed.
Following his gaze, Shawn saw a figure sitting in the front of their office. She had long, curled red locks and an awesome fedora hat…
"Note to self, buy that hat off of her," Shawn whispered.
She had on a long brown trench coat and her perfectly long legs were folded. They had black leggings covering the skin and nervously shook with anticipation.
Shawn and Gus exchanged glances and both ran for the mysterious girl.
Shawn made his way to the desk and greeted her with an outstretched hand. This kind of girl liked a gentleman, and Shawn was more than willing to pretend to be one.
Shawn noticed balled up tissues in the trash can and remembered how crazy Gus was about cleanliness, he had already taken out the trash. This girl had been crying…more important, she had something to cry about.
Shawn's hand still hung in mid-air as he saw a white cord poke from her air. Shawn tapped her shoulder and she looked up at him surprised.
She pulled the headphones from her ears and got up to shake his hand. She wore ruby-red lip stick which made her pale skin look like snow. Her dark yes brightened at the sight of Shawn.
"Are you Shawn Spencer?" The mysterious fedora girl asked.
"Why yes. Yes, I am. And you are?" Shawn asked letting her hand go.
"Jezzie Anne Bennett," She said smoothly.
"I'm sorry…Jessie?" He clarified.
"Jezzie, with two z's," She smiled.
She acted as mysterious as she looked.
Out of the corner of Shawn's eye he saw her left hand had never left her stomach.
"So Jezzie, with two z's…what can my associate and I do for you"?
"My boyfriend was murdered…he was driving home from the club and the next day I get a call that Billie's dead…shot right in his car," Jezzie said frantically.
"The club?" Gus asked.
"Oh, we work in a 40's club downtown. It's supposed to be completely authentic. He's really nice too. He was even letting Billie drive one of his cars while Billie's was in the shop," she explained.
"One of his cars?" Shawn asked
"The owner's rich." Jezzie explained.
"I see," Shawn shook my head.
"If you're boyfriend was murdered," Gus stepped in, "why don't you go to the police"?
"I did… but they only care about his money. Billie was always getting into some kind of trouble with the law. They didn't care about him dying. One less criminal on the streets, "She said.
"Was Billie having any kind of issues with people at work?" Gus intervened.
"Perhaps he was having an issue with your family?" Shawn said staring at Jezzie intently.
"Why would you ask that? I mean…why would anyone in my family be upset with him?" Jezzie breathed shakily.
"Because Billie wasn't just your lover…he was the baker of that bun in your oven," Shawn breezed, remembering the way Jezzie touched her stomach.