Sam took a deep breath and reentered the dining area. As he made his way back to the table, he decided he'd at least try to participate in the conversation. The others were already confused; he could at least roll with it and try to slip into the correct personality.

"Jules is going to check out the pro-shop tomorrow," Shawn informed him as he took his seat. "There might be evidence in there."

"Would you check out the other league bowlers?" Juliet asked Sam. "Judging from those background checks you did, it seems likely that some of them are involved in trafficking the drugs."

"Fine," Sam replied. He glanced around the table and was glad to see no confusion at his response. Apparently Lassiter was a bit of a gruff individual. "Is someone going to check out the shoes? Maybe there's traces of stuff there that'll give us a lead."

"Um … Lassie, we did that last night, remember? Gus used his key, and we went through all the shoes."

"Oh …"

"I'm just surprised you didn't remember. You were complaining about it the whole night," Gus informed him.

"Carlton," Juliet began.

"Yes?"

"We, um, we were talking while you were gone and decided that it would be a good idea for you to work this case from the station."

"What?"

"What she's trying to say," Shawn jumped in, "is that you're a little too out of it. It would be dangerous for you to keep trying to work it undercover. You can be the point man instead!"

"The point man?"

"Yeah! You can be our source and work leads and all that jazz!"

"Look, Shawn, I appreciate it –"

"There you go again." Shawn tossed down his napkin.

"What?"

"Calling me Shawn! Not that I don't like it. In fact, I think you're starting to warm up to me. How about a hug?" he asked, jumping up.

"Uh, I don't think so."

Shawn huffed and put his arms down, flopping back into his chair. "Fine. I guess we're back to me being 'Spencer,' huh?"

"Right, Spencer. Don't forget it."

"I won't. I won't."

"Are you all right with this, Lassiter? I mean, you do understand it'd be better for the case, right?" Gus asked, looking worried that they'd over-stepped their bounds with the head detective.

"I suppose."

"Good." All three looked relieved.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Once they'd finished their meal, Gus and Shawn scampered off towards a small blue car, chattering about the movie they were going to see. Shawn extended an invitation to the detectives as well. Something told Sam that Lassiter wouldn't be the type to accept, so he told them no and hurried to his own vehicle.

As he stuck the key into the ignition, Al popped up in the passenger seat.

"Nice ride."

"There you are! Do you mind telling me why you deserted me earlier?"

The other man shrugged. "I didn't want to mislead you."

"Well, did you get Ziggy's problems all worked out? Please tell me you did, because I'd like to actually find out what I'm doing here."

"Calm down, Sam. It's not like you were on your own for that long."

"It was long enough for me to get kicked off of the case."

Al's eyebrow went up. "You what?"

"Yeah. Lassiter was too 'out of it' to participate in the undercover work."

"This sure mixes things up," Al mused.

"It sure does. So?" Sam prompted. "Did Ziggy tell you why I'm here?"

"Oh, that. Yes."

"Good. Why?"

Al pressed a few buttons on the blinking object in his hand. "At approximately 8:49 PM on May 16, 2009 – that's tomorrow – Detective Juliet O'Hara is going to slip and hit her head at the beach and drown. Apparently, she was in pursuit of a criminal when it happened. There were no witnesses to the accident itself, but witnesses at the bowling alley say they saw her run out chasing someone – which would be the crook."

Sam sighed.

"What? All you have to do is –"

"Right, Al, I know. All I have to do is keep Detective O'Hara from being at the beach tomorrow night, and I can leap out of here. There's just one small problem."

"What?"

"I'm not exactly on the case anymore."

"Right, right, that. Well, we have time to figure it out. Why don't we go back to your place."

"My place?"

"Well, Detective Lassiter's place."

"Right. Could you direct me there?"

"Just use your GPS."

"GPS … What is that?"

"This." Al gestured to the device on the windshield. "That's right; you don't know what it is, do you?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Oh. Well then," Al shrugged, "it's a global positioning device. Tells you how to get places. Nearly everyone has one."

"You know, these would come in handy in all my leaps. Too bad I can't take it with me when I go."

Al chuckled. "Let's just get home. You've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Yeah, that should be loads of fun."