Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any related characters. No infringement is intended.
AN: Just needed to deal with the conversation between Karen and Juliet during Lights, Camera, Homicidio.
Shawn Spencer Makes Two Month Olds Look Easy
No one would describe Karen Vick as patient, but by no means was she as bad as Carlton Lassiter, so the SBPD tended to cut her some slack on that point -- they tended to cut everyone some slack, assuming they weren't as bad as Carlton. But today Karen's patience was being taken to the limit. For a week they had been working on a high profile murder case and no one could crack it. Most of the department, including her, were sure it was the limo driver, but the revolver was missing and without it there was no proof, only coincidence. She hated to admit it, but she needed Shawn Spencer. Even Carlton was telling her so -- not outright, of course, but through hints and the occasional glare. She would have told him the truth, but she couldn't bear to.
She had called Shawn Spencer the first day of the case -- five times. The first four he didn't pick up and by the end she could swear she was becoming psychic because she could see him, sitting in that ridiculous office, playing some inane game involving pineapples, ping pong paddles, and duct tape. The fifth time he picked up, listened to her talk for two seconds, and said something about not speaking Italian. She was sure, as he hung up, that she heard Guster saying something about no new cases. Which meant this freeze out was all Shawn.
Karen rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking over the case notes again. Henry had warned her about this when she first brought Shawn in on a case. "Shawn will teach you patience, more patience than triplets ever could." He'd said it with a sidelong glance at her protruding belly and quickly apologized, saying that it was just his way of saying that she'd be completely prepared for the baby when it came -- because of Shawn. She'd let it go, but now she wished she'd asked the elder Spencer more about his son. Why wasn't he coming in?
"Lassiter!" she called. She had meant it to sound authoritative and just this side of angry, but it came out sounding defeated and desperate.
Carlton appeared in her office so quickly she wondered if he had been waiting for this. "Chief?" he asked, taking a seat.
She met his gaze for several seconds but he just kept staring at her in that pompous, egotistical -- She rubbed the bridge of her nose again. Shawn was really getting to her. "Lassiter, I need you to do something -- less than ethical."
Carlton raised an eyebrow and she quickly powered on. "I need you to bring me Shawn Spencer. He refuses to answer my calls and we are running out of options on this Gomez murder. Find him, bring him in, try not to kill him."
She had expected Carlton to smile wickedly, eager for an excuse to rough Shawn Spencer up, but he just stared at her.
"All right, Chief," he said quietly and stood. He walked out without any eagerness in his step and she had never been more confused.
An hour later Carlton walked Shawn Spencer into the office.
"He was in a soup kitchen," Carlton said, "enacting an animal cracker war with several of the transients."
"We were reenacting the video of the buffalos and the crocodiles and the lions from YouTube."
Karen ignored Shawn's surly tone and continued her study of the case file while giving him a lecture for good measure.
"Mr. Spencer, I don't think I have ever been this disappointed in you. This department has been very good to you in the past and yet when I called you to help on one of the most high profile cases we've every had you --"
Spencer grabbed the file off her desk and began flipping through it furiously. Karen looked up at him, her anger quickly melting into something just short of fear -- the interim police chief was never afraid. Shawn Spencer had inherited his father's glare of death. It had been the stuff of legend even before Karen joined the force and she had always tried to keep out of its path. Luckily, Shawn was looking down at the file in his hands. He threw it onto her desk and said, "It's the husband, the gun's hidden under the antique French desk in the foyer, it has a false bottom."
"What about the driver?" Lassiter asked, stepping forward and grabbing the file, trying to figure out where Shawn had seen all of this. "He's practically got a shrine to Mrs. Gomez and she even reported prior to her death that he was asking her personal questions."
"He's got a shrine to Mrs. Gomez's sister," Shawn said, turning his glare on Karen. "He's been in love with her ever since she visited last summer. Mr. Gomez couldn't have his sister-in-law marry because he's broke and has been using Mrs. Gomez and her sister's trust funds for years. So long as she stayed single he could claim he was funneling all her finances through his offices for her benefit, once she married her husband would want to take a look and find out that she was broke. Well? Isn't someone going to look for the murder weapon?"
Karen waved Lassiter out and the head detective raced from the office, eager to find if Spencer was right.
"Mr. Spencer --" Karen began.
"You can mail me the check," he said and turned to leave.
"Wait!" she called in her most commanding voice. "Sit down, Mr. Spencer."
Shawn did as ordered, but kept his arms petulantly crossed the entire time.
"What is going on? You refuse to take my calls and I know you don't pull in much money with the other detective work you do. Did something happen with your father?" she added gently.
Shawn looked at her, indignation etched into his face. Before he could respond though, Juliet O'Hara walked in.
"Sorry, I'm late with these, Chief," she said, handing Karen a folder, "we've just been so swamped with the Gomez case."
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem anymore," Karen said, "Mr. Spencer here may have just solved it."
O'Hara whirled, giving Shawn her dazzling smile. "Shawn, long time no see."
"Jules," he said, leaning forward with a change in attitude so quick that it gave Karen whiplash. He was looking up at her with an intent gaze, almost like a dog trying to comfort its owner. "How have you been? You been eating well?"
"I've been fine, Shawn," O'Hara said with a laugh. "And I'm eating just fine." She walked past him out of the office, giving Karen a confused look when she reached the hall.
"Okay!" Shawn called. "You keep it up!" The second O'Hara was out of sight he turned back to Karen, the glare of doom back on his face.
"All right, Spencer, what is going on? You don't make fun of Lassiter, you act like a worried mother hen when O'Hara walks in, and you look like you're about to leap across the desk and attack me. I want answers."
"How could you even face Jules after what you did?"
Karen had never been so shocked. "What exactly did I do?"
"You made her cry, Chief, you made her cry."
"How did I make O'Hara cry?"
"You told her that she couldn't be her usual friendly self anymore."
"I did not tell her she couldn't be friendly, just to watch herself around the female detectives. She made the woman a personalized cupcake, for heaven's sake."
"Take a poll, Chief, Jules has made everyone in this office a personalized cupcake."
Karen rubbed the side of her head, she could feel a migraine coming on. "Granted, but I highly doubt I made her cry."
"Maybe not actual tears, Chief. But she did cry, in her heart --" he put his index fingers to his chest and drew a heart -- "in her heart."
"How do you even know about all of this?"
"Hello, I'm psychic. My one true love and I are psychically bonded. I know when she hurts."
"Right. Listen, Spencer, I highly doubt that my little lecture hurt O'Hara's feelings all that much."
Spencer held up a finger and moved it slowly to his left. He was exactly following O'Hara's current path down the hall. "I think I'll get some coffee," he said in a ridiculously high pitched voice that sounded nothing like Detective O'Hara. But she was indeed stopping at the coffee maker. "And I'll put it in my favorite mug-- oh!" Juliet pulled her hand back from the mugs, her smile falling into a frown. "No," Shawn sighed, "my mug is pink and girly and has a smiley face on it with the words 'tell me about your day' printed on it. I should use one of the boring black or white mugs." Juliet grabbed one of the boring black mugs. Shawn tilted his head to the side, his lips pursed and his eyebrows raised.
Karen did not want to explain her reasoning regarding her youngest detective to anyone, especially Shawn Spencer, but he was leaving her no choice. "This is a hard job, Spencer, it wreaks havoc on your social and personal lives. If O'Hara is going to keep her cheery exterior and not end up like your father --" Shawn shuddered and Karen smiled, glad her point was coming across -- "she needs to keep the two separate. She needs friends outside work and denying her friendships here seemed like a good way to do that."
Spencer glared at her for a moment. He nodded gruffly and stood. "Just don't make her cry again. My psychic-ness can't help you solve cases if it's clogged by her sorrow."
Karen shook her head as Spencer disappeared down the hall. That boy would drive her mad. At least little Iris wouldn't be nearly as bad. And anyway, Shawn Spencer was much more concerned with forming a relationship with Juliet O'Hara than teaching her to value the three a.m. feedings. Karen sat up quickly. The image of Spencer and O'Hara, happily married with a litter of children filled her mind. One of those children would surely be a boy. She would have to remember to keep Iris away from them. And contact Henry to make sure he didn't have any young great-nephews hidden away. Juliet O'Hara's sunny, friendly mind may be able to handle joining the Spencer family, but over Karen's dead body would little Iris marry a Spencer.
O'Hara ducked her head in, pulling Karen out of her terrifying thoughts, and asking if she'd had a chance to look at the files she'd given her. Karen shook her head and watched, horrified, as Juliet walked away. The poor, poor girl. Psychically bonded at such a young age. She really needed friends outside the office.