Lassiter followed the group grumpily down the hall. What was the point of going into the only room in the house open to them? They weren't going to find anything out this way. He resolved to do as thorough of a search as possible after everyone else had gone to bed.

The game room was dominated by a giant billiards table, but Lassiter found his eyes drawn to a smaller table with a chess board set up on it. It was a beautiful wooden board with what appeared to be crystal pieces, but strangely there were only five pieces on the board – the King, Queen, Knight, Bishop, and Rook – and the Knight was broken in half.

"It's like the bed," Shawn said.

"What?" Lassiter asked, seeing that Spencer was also peering at the board with interest, while across the room Frank appeared to be trying to talk Claire into a game of pool.

"Everything in this place is meticulous," Shawn explained, "except for the lumpy bed and now the broken chess piece."

"You're saying it was left like this on purpose?"

Shawn shrugged and half-heartedly waved a hand near his head. "I'm sensing that it was, yes."

Lassiter ignored the psychic malarkey and went back to studying the chess board. "Why?" he wondered. "What would be the purpose?"

"I dunno. The horsey pieces were always my favorites."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "It's a Knight, Spencer. It…" he trailed off, struck by a sudden realization. "Knights are defenders. Robert Daly was a defense attorney."

"That's a pretty crazy leap, Lassie," Shawn said, but Lassiter noticed that he sounded approving, which should have been irritating, because the last thing he needed was Spencer's approval, but which was instead somehow gratifying.

"We need to search this place," Lassiter said. "It's the only way we're going to find any answers."

"Later," Shawn said dismissively, his attention apparently riveted on something else. "Right now, I have to go stop Frank from hitting on Claire any more tonight before she shoots him."

Lassiter looked over at the other two occupants of the room to see Frank leaning too close to Claire, apparently attempting to correct the way she was holding her pool cue; Claire looked like she was about five seconds away from stabbing him in the gut with it.

"Hey Frank," Shawn said "how about a game of darts? Lassie here won't play with me because he says my psychic powers give me an unfair advantage."

"That's not true!" Lassiter started to snap, but stopped when he realized that Frank was moving away from Claire, looking at Shawn with a competitive gleam in his eyes.

"I'm not afraid of your hocus pocus bullshit," he sneered, shooting a derisive look Lassiter's way. Lassiter forced himself to ignore it, even though he was dying to insist that he could beat them both at darts with one hand tied behind his back. Instead, he went over to stand beside Claire at the billiards table. She was watching Shawn make a production of choosing which dart to throw first, while Frank grew visibly more agitated.

"So Carlton, what's the story on Mr. Spencer? Is he really psychic?"

"Good god Claire, I can't believe you're even asking me that. There is no such thing as psychic powers. He's a fraud."

She raised her eyebrows at him dubiously. "If that's true, then why haven't you arrested him? I know you, Carlton. You love to arrest people."

"I can't prove it," Lassiter admitted, "and as much as I hate to say it, he does have a knack for solving cases. But that doesn't make him any less of a conman."

"I thought the two of you were friends," she said, looking surprised. "Well, actually I thought you might be more than friends. He's here this weekend, staying in the same room, and just the way he teases you, it's obvious that he likes you."

"He's not my friend, and he's certainly not anything more! I can't believe you would think something like that. He's just…" A nuisance? A guy who occasionally shared the same goals? Competition? Colleague? Person who was making him question his sexuality? "He's useful sometimes."

"He's cute," Claire said with a smile. "Since he's not dating you, do you know if he's dating anyone else?"

Lassiter stared at her in disbelief. "Are you insane? I just told you that he's a liar!"

She patted his arm soothingly. "I'm not planning on marrying him Carlton. I was just thinking he might be fun."

"Fun," he scoffed. "You deserve better, Claire."

Claire eyed Shawn as he threw a dart that was a perfect bullseye. "I don't know. I think he might be pretty good." She laughed at the expression on Lassiter's face. "Come on, Detective. Let's play some pool."

He played two games with Claire, winning the first and losing the second because he found himself increasingly distracted by watching Spencer annoy Frank.

"How do you keep winning?" Frank snapped in frustration, as Shawn's final dart landed in the middle of a tight cluster near the bullseye.

"I'm in complete harmony with the vibes in this room," Shawn said. "Claire must be too, because she just beat Lassie. Hey Claire, I propose a winner's match-up, just as soon as I return from the little boy's room."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Lassiter asked, thinking that he shouldn't let Spencer wander off alone.

Shawn raised his eyebrows. "To help me pee? Nah, I think I've got it."

Frank laughed while Lassiter frowned in embarrassment but ultimately let it roll off his back. Assuming Shawn would be going back to their room, he fished the key out of his pocket. "Here," he said, holding it out to Shawn, who looked at it for a moment as if he had no idea why he would need it, before taking it with a quick "Thanks, Lassie."

Frank refreshed his drink – as he had been doing throughout the night – and came to stand next to Lassiter. "I don't see how you can work with that guy," he grumbled.

"He can be annoying," Lassiter agreed, but felt compelled to add, "He does solve cases, though."

"Someone oughta teach him a lesson," Frank muttered, and Lassiter felt his temper rise.

"Watch it," he said sharply. "Spencer's a smartass, but he's also part of my team."

"Sorry," Frank said grudgingly after a moment, and Lassiter nodded curtly, wondering when the hell he had gotten so protective of Spencer. Oh right, probably about the time he had watched Drimmer clock him on the head with a gun.

Claire touched his shoulder lightly and Lassiter looked down at her, his expression softening. "Hey Carlton, before Shawn gets back, can you show me how to throw darts? I've never actually played before."

"Sure," Lassiter said, though he had the distinct feeling that Claire was more interested in lessening the tension in the room than in learning to play darts.

Shawn was gone longer than Lassiter expected, and he was just starting to wonder if it had been a mistake to let him go out on his own after all when he bounded back into the room, tossing the key at Lassiter, who caught it neatly while asking "What took you so long?"

"Got turned around when I came back downstairs and went down the wrong hall," Shawn said, which Lassiter knew immediately had to be a lie because Spencer had always seemed to have an excellent sense of direction.

He played two increasingly competitive games of pool with Frank while doing his best to ignore Shawn and Claire flirting with each other, before Claire yawned and admitted that she was ready to turn in for the night.

All four of them trooped upstairs, and Lassiter took a moment to reflect on how strange it was that they hadn't seen Sloane or Casey again after dinner as first Frank, then Claire opened the doors to their rooms.

"Lock your doors," Lassiter advised. Frank's only response was a grunt and to shut his door, but Claire lingered for a moment.

"Do you really think we're in some kind of danger?"

"I don't know," Lassiter admitted, "but everything about this weekend is making me uneasy. Just…keep your gun close at hand tonight, and if you don't mind, don't leave your room in the morning until Spencer or I come to get you."

She hesitated, clearly not loving that last recommendation, but nodded after a moment. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you in the morning, Carlton."

Back in their room, Shawn began a stream of mindless chatter designed, Lassiter realized, to keep whoever was listening in from getting suspicious.

"Andrew Ridgley was the heart and soul of Wham!, Lassie, and George Michael knew it. I think it's why he turned to drugs later," Shawn said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out two Snickers candy bars, one of which he tossed to Lassiter, who tore into it like a starving man, which he kind of was at that point.

"Here," Shawn said, after swallowing a mouthful of delicious chocolate and nougat, "I have their first album on my iPod. You listen and tell me if you hear the genius of Ridgley."

He pulled the iPod and a pair of tiny speakers out of the backpack (Lassiter was starting to think that it was like Mary Poppins's bag, endlessly producing whatever Spencer needed) and set it up right next to the lamp, turning up the volume.

Feeling that he needed to contribute to the conversation, Lassiter said "Spencer, I don't give a crap about Wham!."

"Oh, but you will, Lassie," Shawn said, gesturing for them to go into the bathroom, "Just listen."

After the bathroom door closed behind them, Shawn reached into his pocket and produced a key. "I think this will open most of the doors in the building."

Lassiter stared at it in disbelief. "Where did you get that?"

"I, uh, borrowed it from Casey."

"You mean you stole it from him."

Shawn shrugged. "Potato, poh-tah-to."

"Wait, when did you even have the opportunity?"

"You didn't really think I left to go to the bathroom, did you? Lassie, you should know better! I went on a little scouting mission. Casey was in the kitchen, washing the dishes, which was good because I wanted to ask him about how Sloane is a big lying liar."

"What did you find out?"

"Remember at dinner when Sloane said that this was only one of several events she was organizing? Not so much. Casey says that he was only hired a week ago, and that we're the first guests who have been here, and as far as he knows, we're the only guests scheduled to be here. He says most of the rooms don't even have furniture in them."

"So the key to figuring out what's going on is finding out who Sloane is. Good work, Spencer. I'm going to wait another hour, so that it's after midnight and hopefully everyone will think that we're asleep, and then I'm going to start searching the house."

"Yeah, you know I'm going with you, right?"

Lassiter had known this was going to happen, but he felt that it was still his job to try and dissuade Spencer, even if in the end it was useless. So he fixed Shawn with his sternest glare and said "You are going to stay here, lock the door behind me after I leave, and not open it again until I come back."

Shawn gave him a skeptical look. "Seriously Lassie, what do you think the likelihood of that happening is?"

Lassiter sighed in defeat. "Fine. I should have known better than to waste my breath. Stay close to me, and keep quiet."

"Yeah, I'll do what I can to be useful," Shawn said, stressing the last word, "even if I am just a conman."

Lassiter, who had been checking his gun, froze and looked up to see Shawn leaning against the door with his arms crossed, regarding him coolly. Shit.

"You heard that? How? You were on the other side of the room!"

Shawn smirked. "I must have heard it with my third ear."

"Don't you mean third eye?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lassie, I can't hear anything with my eyes." His tone was flippant, but he actually looked a little hurt, which immediately made Lassiter feel defensive.

"You didn't hear me say anything that I haven't said to you before. If you're mad because you think I screwed up your chances with Claire, don't be. She thinks you're fun," he said, and he couldn't help it that the word "fun" came out sounding derisive and insulting.

"I know how opposed to fun you are, Lass, but some people actually like it. For the record, I think Claire would be fun too, even though she would be too high maintenance for me in the long run."

Lassiter snorted in contempt. "Why would that matter? Have you ever had any relationship that might be considered long term? Guster doesn't count."

Shawn leveled a look at him. "Owning Psych is long term, and without it your own case closure rate would be a little less impressive, which I guess is what makes me so useful. Think about that before you call me a conman again."

Lassiter blinked at him, taken aback by his uncharacteristic vehemence, and bit back the urge to argue with him. "We don't have time for this, Spencer."

Shawn took a deep breath as if to calm himself and said "You're right, we don't. We've been gone too long. I guess…we pretend to go to sleep?"

"Right. Remember to watch what you say out there."

"Yeah, I'll try not to fuck up," Shawn snapped, and went back out into the bedroom, leaving Lassiter to stare after him in mild bewilderment. He usually considered the fact that Spencer wasn't quick to anger to be one of his better qualities, so he was confused as to what had triggered his temper tonight. Just because Lassiter had called him a fraud? He did that on at least a weekly basis, and besides, it was true and they both knew it. Even now, it struck him as notable that Spencer hadn't denied being a con artist, just that he seemed pissed on being called out for it.

Shaking his head, he followed Shawn back into the bedroom. "So what do you think, Lassie?" Shawn asked loudly. "Did Wham! completely blow your mind?"

"I think I have a headache now," Lassiter grumbled. "Can you please turn that off? I want to get some sleep."

"There's nothing better than to drift off to sleep to the dulcet sounds of 'Careless Whisper'," Shawn said, but turned off the iPod. "So, which side of the bed do you want? Or do you just want to cuddle in the middle?"

Forgetting temporarily that neither of them planned on sleeping, Lassiter gaped at him for a moment before replying "You're the one who invited yourself along. You're going to sleep on the floor. I'll give you a pillow and a blanket."

"No can do Lassie, that would throw my back out. I have a very delicate system, you know. Don't worry, I've been told that I only steal some of the covers and I only snore after a big meal." Even as he spoke, Shawn was stretching out on top of the covers and pulling out his phone.

"Still no cell service," he said sadly. "I wanted to tell Gus about my epic wrestling match with the rattlesnake."

"There was no wrestling match, Spencer. You screamed like a girl. I shot it."

"Agree to disagree," Shawn said, opening up a game on his phone as Lassiter gingerly sat down on the other side of the bed.

"Where is Guster this weekend?" he asked, genuinely curious. "You two are usually joined at the hip."

"He's with Joy in San Francisco. He didn't want me to come along. Something about how my hotness was too dangerous to have around his sister."

Figuring that it wouldn't hurt to lie down for a few minutes, Lassiter made himself more comfortable on the bed, or at least as comfortable as he could be while still staying as far away from Shawn as possible.

"You did sleep with her once, didn't you?"

"How did you know about that?" Shawn demanded, and then backtracked quickly. "What I mean is, a gentleman never kisses and tells."

"I must have heard about it with my third ear," Lassiter muttered, and from the corner of his eye he could see the corner of Spencer's mouth turn up in a half smile, which pleased him, then immediately irritated him, because there was no reason for why he might feel good about making Spencer smile. No reason at all.