If it had been up to Lassiter, he would have grabbed a power bar for lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon attending lectures, by people who were less qualified then himself. Then he would have finished the night in the hotel bar, sipping a beer and debating the finer points of a hostage situation with an officer old enough to not have been going through puberty when Lassiter was starting his career. However, thanks to this charade that Spencer had concocted, Lassiter was being forced to be social. He had managed to get out of going to the Chinese restaurant with Spencer and the band of incompetents who called themselves policemen. Unfortunately Lassiter had been cornered by a very curious rookie officer who had a million questions about what being a police psychic was.
"So, do you actually have visions about the victims?" She was hanging onto every word that Lassiter spoke as if they were precious gems of knowledge.
Lassiter could practically feel his skin crawling as he looked at the girl. She couldn't be more then two or three years out of police academy. Her dark hair was pulled back in a perfect bun and her glasses were a very strong prescription. It hadn't been that long since Lassiter had been on a date, and the rookie was obviously flirting with him. If Lassiter was honest with himself, it was a little disturbing. She was going on about how she hadn't really gotten to solve any cases, but she really wanted to, as well as, how she hadn't really fired a gun, but she really wanted to.
"I've also never arrested anyone," The rookie continued, not noticing that her question from earlier hadn't ever been answered.
"But let me guess." Lassiter interrupted her, speaking for the first time since she sat down. "You've always wanted to?"
"Detective Lassiter?" The rookie missed his barb, she'd been distracted by a new comer.
Lassiter jerked his head up. Spencer was walking quickly across the lobby. He hadn't even been gone for an entire hour.
"Hey, L-Spencer." Shawn tried to be gruff as he came up to the set of comfy chairs the rookie had forced Lassiter to sit in. "I need to talk to you over here," He reached out to grab Lassiter's arm and pull him towards a more private area.
Lassiter was torn. He really didn't want to talk to the rookie officer any more, but he also had no inclination to talk with Spencer, about anything.
"But Mr. Spencer hasn't gotten through telling me about how he reads a crime scene." There was a slight edge of a whine in the rookie's voice now and she actually reached out her hand to touch Lassiter's arm.
That settled it. Lassiter sprang up from his chair and followed Spencer over to the wall.
"Way to put the moves on the slightly cute, but really more adorable in a pug puppy kind of way officer," Shawn gave Lassiter an almost affectionate pat on the arm.
Lassiter scowled and shrugged him off. "Shut it," He gave a small glance over his shoulder and saw the rookie still watching them. "I didn't put the moves on her, and the only reason she likes me is because she thinks I'm you. What did you want to talk to me about anyway?"
Spencer ducked his head. "Well, you know, I was at lunch with the guys, and they're really nice. So I kind of sort of," He back away out of Lassiter's reach and he talked. "I invited them up to our hotel room for some drinks tonight."
Lassiter managed to grab the sleeve of his blazer that Spencer was still wearing. He pulled the younger man close. "One problem with that, Spencer. It isn't iour/i hotel room. My name is on the reservation, not yours."
"Technically for the weekend, it is my name," Shawn slowly eased Lassiter's hand from it's iron grip on the sleeve. "Easy, Lassifrass, you're going to wrinkle your suit."
"If there are any charges to my room, you can bet that you'll be paying for them." Lassiter informed Shawn. "Remember the last time you paraded around pretending to be me."
"Don't worry about it," Spencer promised, making a ridiculous salute.
Lassiter headed in the opposite direction. Not because he had anything he wanted to do, but because it was the direction away from the rookie, who had waited for them to finish their conversation.
Lassiter grumbled to himself as he headed for the elevator. It was nearly two in the morning and Spencer had just texted him that the party was over. Going to bed this late the second night in a row was going to mess with his sleep schedule. As Lassiter turned the corner from the lobby he quickly ducked through the door to the stairwell. The older detective Spencer had been talking to earlier that day was also waiting for the elevator. It wasn't that Lassiter didn't want to talk to him. Lassiter just hadn't gotten his exercise for the day. At least that's what Lassiter told himself as he started climbing up the four flights of stairs to his room.
Three flights up, Lassiter tripped up the stairs. "Damn it," He swore under his breath and straightened, gingerly flexing his hands. Lassiter had used them to brace his fall. As he turned them over to look at the palms, to see if they were scraped at all, Lassiter involuntarily flinched. There were smears of blood on them. Lassiter looked up and swore again. The rookie from that afternoon, the one Lassiter had been calling Chatty Cathy in his head, was lying on the landing above him. Judging from the blood on his hands and the sizable wound on her head, she'd fallen. This late at night, no one would have been looking for her.
With a little grin self-satisfaction, Lassiter wiped one of his hands on Spencer's shirt. He then pulled out his cell phone and dialed the psychic's number.
"Lassikitten!" Spencer's overly cheery voice greeted him. No doubt the psychic had been drinking.
"Spencer," Lassiter made his voice as serious as possible. "I need you to come see me in the stairwell."
"I don't meet men in the stairwells at night," The grin at the end of that statement was audible.
"Shut it, Spencer, this isn't a joke." Lassiter snapped, staring above him at the corner where the wall and ceiling met, to avoid having to look at the glassy eyes of the rookie.
"I know, I know," This time Spencer's voice came both over the phone and from the stairs above Lassiter. "Woah! Who is the dead person?"
"It's the rookie I was talking to earlier. Don't step any closer." Lassiter held up a hand as Shawn walked down a couple of more steps.
"That's my shirt!" Shawn protested as he saw the blood smear across Lassiter's stomach.
"I'll buy you a new one," Lassiter snapped at him. "Let me call the front desk." He shook his head. "Stupid way to die, falling down the stairs."
Shawn raised his hand to his temple. "She didn't fall,"
"No! None of that," Lassiter pointed a finger at him. "You are not psychic this weekend."
"Lassie, this girl didn't fall, she was murdered."
"I don't see any indications that she was pushed."
"That's because I'm higher up then you."
Lassiter sighed. He wiped the remainder of the blood off his hands and carefully avoiding the body, hoisted himself up over the railings. Once he was standing next to Shawn he looked at the body.
"Don't you see it?" The younger man prodded. "C'mon, Lassie, my dad's not psychic and he's one of the best detective's the department ever had. He'd be able to see it."
Lassiter glared at him, and then focused on the body. "She didn't brace her fall." He looked back to Shawn. "She was hit from behind, that's where the wound came from. This was murder."
"So now's when we call the cops," Shawn gave him a grin. "Then I have a couple of visions, we find the killer and get paid for it."
"Hold your damn horses, Spencer." Lassiter snapped. "Unless you've forgotten already, you're not a psychic this weekend, I am. You're Carlton Lassiter, head detective for the SBPD."
A snort of laughter escaped Shawn as he shook his head. "You're going to solve this case as a psychic? Lassifrass, you have no idea how this works." He waved a hand around his temple.
Lassiter glared at him. "I think after five years, I've picked up on how to fake being a psychic." He pulled out his cell phone.
"Before you call it in," Shawn held up a hand. "Let's just get this straight. We're going to solve this crime, you as a psychic and me as a detective."
"That's exactly how this is going to be solved."
Shawn nodded. "I just wanted you to hear the idea out loud, you might have decided it was crazy."
Lassiter rolled his eyes and called down to the front desk. "Yes this is C- Shawn Spencer. I'm in the east stairwell and there's a dead body here. You should call the police."
