Chapter 1

"I HAVE AN UNCLE?"

Shawn Spencer's voice cut across the little suburban neighborhood like gunfire. The neighbor's dog whimpered and trotted back into his doghouse.

"Keep your voice down," said Henry Spencer, retired policeman. He glared at his son. "Yes, you have an uncle, and your cousin is flying in for a visit tomorrow."

"Cousin?" asked Shawn. "I have a cousin? Somehow you struck me as the only child kinda dude."

"His name is Jacob and he's an accountant."

"An accountant? He sits in front of a calculator all day? How the heck did he get married?"

"Look, Shawn," said Henry, clearly frustrated. "The kid's name is Lisee, and she'll be getting here tomorrow, so I need you to pick her up."

"Lisee? Who names their kid Lisee?" asked Shawn.

"It's Dutch. Her flight is in at noon and you will be there to pick her up, do I make myself clear?" asked Henry.

"Yes, fine," said Shawn.

"And not in that motorbike, either, you will bring her here in a real car!" said Henry.

"Okay, okay," said Shawn. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do."

"Really?" asked Henry sarcastically.

"Yes, really, and it's very important," said Shawn.

"Oh? What is it then."

"I have to sit in front of a pencil sharpener and throw the pointy ones at the ceiling," said Shawn.

"Shawn!"

"Goodbye, Dad," said Shawn. He turned and walked out the door. Shawn got on his motorcycle and rode back to his office, the Psych Detective Agency.

"Shawn. Where have you been?" asked Gus.

"Having a chat with my dear old Dad," said Shawn. "It turns out I have an uncle, and my cousin is coming to visit tomorrow at noon and I'm picking her up."

"Which means?" asked Gus.

"Which means I have to attach the side car to my bike. You can bring the car to carry the luggage."

"I am not going to be this kid's bellboy, Shawn," said Gus.

"What am I going to do, strap her dozen suitcases to my bike?" asked Shawn.

"A dozen suitcases?" asked Gus.

Shawn sat down at his desk. "She's a teenage girl; she'll have a ton of stuff. Mostly make-up bags, probably."

"I refuse to carry a car full of make-up from the airport," said Gus.

"Suit yourself," said Shawn. "Give me your keys, then."

"You are not going anywhere with my car," said Gus. "I'm driving." He stalked out of the room.

Shawn put his feet on the desk, picked up his sharpest pencil, and threw it at the ceiling, where it stuck fast.