Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The West Wing. This is post Deez Nups. I know that the combination is totally weird, but I had an idea, I'm bored, sick and have nothing better to do, so here it is.

"Yesterday, at 2:53 P.M, a young woman was shot here in D.C. Her name was Katrina Harris. Age 27, daughter of Eileen and Chasten Harris. She was on the White House Communications staff. She was engaged, her fiancé is a man Christian Emerson. Neither Mr. Emerson or her parents are commenting at this time."

"C.J.!" Her name echoed through the press room.

"Okay, Steve?"

"Has the shooter been apprehended?"

"Not yet, but we're doing everything in our power to see that they are brought to justice."

"C.J.! C.J.!"

"Danny?"

"Do you have a ballistics report?"

"Not at this time. Chris?"

"Where was she?"

"On a walk with a friend, the friend got away, or at least, so we believe. No one has seen the friend since the incident. The police believe that the friend, whose name won't be released at this time, retreated on a long drive, something like that. The police are putting her on the back burner, for the time being. We'll cover the rest of this at the 2:00 briefing." C.J. walked out to the sound of her name being called.

"Carol, what do I have next?"

"Sam wants you to come to his office."

"Now?"

"Yeah, he said right when you finished the briefing."

"Okay, I'm on my way." She veered off toward the Deputy Communications Director's office. She almost collided with him.

"Oh, C.J., I was just looking for you."

"So I heard. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you in a second. How was the briefing?"

"Typical."

"Oh. Sounds fun."

"Yeah."

They came to his office. "C.J., I have an idea."

"A good one?"

"There's no way of telling this early, but hear me out. You know the whole thing with Katrina?"

"I just did a briefing about it."

"Okay, good. And you know how it's an incredibly evidence-less case?"

"I do now."

"Yes, you do. Anyway, I think I know someone who should be brought onto it."

"Sam, that's not our job. That's up to the Police, you know that."

"I know, I know, but I know this guy. He works for the Santa Barbara police department. He's a...well, he's a psychic."

C.J. snorted. "And you believe that?"

"I didn't at first, until I looked at his record. He's solved hundreds of cases; he hasn't let a killer go free yet. He specializes in cases with little to no evidence; he would be perfect for this."

"Did you know her well?"

"Who?"

"Katrina."

"We weren't close, but I worked with her a lot."

"Do you think she would like a psychic working on her case?"

"Yeah."

"Then I say, go for it. How do you know him?"

"Friend of a friend."

"What's his name?"

"Shawn Spencer."

"And he claims to be a psychic?"

"Yeah."

"If you really think he's right for this case, talk to the Police; see if they'll fly him down."

"I will. Katrina deserves this. Oh, and C.J.?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

O00oo00oo00O

An Hour Later, at the SBPD...

"Carlton?" Juliet called from her desk. "You won't believe who's on the phone."

"If it's Santa Claus, I'm not here. I owe him some money..."

"Carlton, it's Sam Seaborn, the Deputy White House Communications Director. He says he knows Shawn."

"Spencer?"

"Yes, he wants to talk to you."

Carlton reached out and snatched the phone. "Listen, punk, I'm the Head Detective of the SBPD, you shouldn't waste my time. I don't tolerate silly, pointless phone calls from jerks like you who have too much time on their hands. Who are you, really?"

"I'm Sam Seaborn. You're Carlton Lassiter?"

"Yes, I am. Tell me your real name, I will track this call!"

"Detective Lassiter, you absolutely have a right to be suspicious, but I guarantee that I am, in fact, Sam Seaborn. Please remember, I work for the President, and can cause a lot of trouble."

"Okay, whatever." Carlton grumbled. "What do you want?"

"I want to know about Shawn Spencer."

"Jackass, about 5'10, is never seen without his sidekick."

"No, I mean is he good?"

"For a fake."

"Whether he's a fake is neither here nor there. There was recently a murder here in D.C., a friend of mine, and I would like to fly a few people out here to help with the case."

"Who did you have in mind?"

"I'm going to need you, Detective Juliet O'Hara, Burton Guster, and Shawn. All of your expenses will be paid until the case is solves, then we'll send you back home. It's simple, really. Should I fax over the tickets?"

"I'll get back to you." He hung up. "O'Hara, call Psych."