"Dad! Dad!"
Shawn burst into the house, frantic and out of breath.
"Dad! Emergency!"
Henry ran out of the kitchen, expecting blood or severed limbs.
Instead, all he saw was one pissed-off twelve year old.
"What's the problem, Shawn?" He asked, his pulse slowing back to normal.
"Get your badge! Get your cuffs! Get your gun! Come on!" Shawn yelled, yanking his father's arm, doing his best to drag him out the door. Henry didn't budge.
"Why do I need my gun? Did Gus beat you at Scrabble again? I told you before, Kid. Shawntastic isn't a word."
"No! It's even worse than that! My bike is gone! Someone stole my bike!"
Shawn's cheeks were flushed with rage. Henry raised his eyebrows.
"Oh? Did you lock it up?"
Shawn hesitated, then glanced at his sneakers.
"Of course!" He insisted.
"Shawn."
"What?"
Henry sighed and sat on the couch. He patted the seat next to him. Shawn rolled his eyes, but reluctantly plopped down next to his father.
"One way to know when someone is lying is that they won't make eye-contact. It's an old police trick. So, let's try this again. Did you lock up your bike like I told you to?"
"No," Shawn mumbled.
"Then whose fault is it it's gone?"
"The parents who raised a son who doesn't listen when they tell him to lock up his stuff?" Shawn replied hopefully.
"Try again."
"Mine."
"Bingo."
Shawn stood up angrily.
"But, Dad! Someone stole it! That's a crime!"
"Yes, it is. So, why are you here?"
"What do you mean?"
"Police Academy, day 1, Shawn. The longer you wait to pursue a crook, the colder the trail gets. If you want your bike back, I suggest you stop whining and start using some of those scatterbrains. Your teachers keep insisting you're bright. Now's the time to prove it."
"You want me to get it back? By myself?" Shawn asked disbelievingly.
"You have to grow up sometime. This is as good a time as any to start."
"If I find the guy, can I shoot him?"
"No."
"Arrest him?"
"No."
"Punch him?"
"Only if you can run faster than he can."
"Okay," Shawn agreed, heading out the door. "I'm gonna get my bike back!"
His first stop was Gus' house.
Gus was up in his tree house, happily reading his Superman comic books.
"Hey, Gus!" Shawn greeted, poking his head in the door.
"Hey, Shawn."
Gus scooched over to make room without even glancing up from his comics.
"Whatcha doing?" Shawn asked.
"Reading."
"Oh…wanna solve a crime?"
"Nope."
Gus turned the page, still not even looking at Shawn.
"Come on, Gus! Someone stole my bike. I have to get it back!"
Gus finally glanced up.
"Did you lock it up?" He asked.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"You shoulda locked it up," Gus shook his head.
"Gus!"
"I'm reading! This is good one."
"I can tell you what happens! Lex Luthor gets some Kryptonite and tries to kill Superman, but Superman gets away at the last minute."
Gus threw the book down angrily.
"Shawn! I've been waiting to read that for a month! When did you even read it?"
"I didn't. Gus, that's what always happens. Come on! Help me find my bike!"
"No."
"I'll give you my Trapper Keeper."
Gus suddenly looked interested.
"The Incredible Hulk one?"
"Fine."
"Okay."
Shawn grinned and started back down the rope ladder. Gus followed.
"But I'm not doing anything stupid or crazy, Shawn. Okay?"
"Gus, it's me." Shawn sounded offended. "I would never ask you to do anything crazy or stupid."