Chapter 4: I'm not Afraid of the Dark...I'm Afraid of Light
Author's Notes: Short reference and spoilers about a restaurant featured in Season 2, episode 6, episode "Meat is Murder...But Murder is Also Murder".
Lassiter pulled up his sleek red car to a stray parking space on the third level of the parking deck in downtown Santa Barbara. He opened the door, standing out to survey his surroundings. The deck seemed to be empty, old police tape surrounding the area where the recent car thefts, and more pertinently, the last attempt ending in murder, had taken place. The taped area, however, wasn't where Lassiter was headed.
The Santa Barbara sky grew darker by the minute, and he didn't want to be out here more than he had to. To make matters more complicated, he was carrying a little more baggage than he wanted in his car.
Baggage...that didn't seem to want to move out of his car.
"Spencer...I'm not going to tell you twice to get out of my car," he uttered through clenched teeth.
Lassiter bent his head to look back at Shawn Spencer, who didn't seem to budge from his seat in the back of the car. Lassiter wasn't in the mood to let Shawn sit in the front passenger seat, he had a headache that had lasted from morning up until now. He didn't feel like talking much today, much less being on the receiving end unless he had to.
Last night had been a rough one for Lassiter. He had been at Antonio's restaurant with O'Hara and a witness who claimed to have seen a suspicious person...or thing...wandering around the parking deck the evening of the murder, at about 9:00 at night, shortly after the murder had taken place. The victim was found in his car, blunt force taken to his skull. Lassiter had heard from the autopsy that the victim died from internal injuries suffered from the head wound. The witness couldn't give them a clear description of the killer, only that a strange occurrence had happened before the murder: a strange flash of light.
The old man mentioned some crock about the murder being committed by a vengeful spirit. Heh, I won't believe that nonsense, Lassiter recalled.
Yet, that wasn't the first odd thing of the night. Lassiter knew he should have not agreed to go to Antonio's no matter who the witness was, even if it was a free dinner. The restaurant had been at the center of a murder a while back. While the food was not prepared at the restaurant, it had been the setting for a poisoned risotto, causing the death of a community food critic. While Lassiter had not ordered anything close to a risotto, his chicken dinner gave him a severe case of food poisoning. He travelled home only to be sick most of the week and not had a wink of sleep..or much less than he was used to. You wouldn't have been able to tell his illness that morning, save for a pair of bright, yet "uber tired, baggy bottom Irish eyes", something Spencer had pointed out to him that afternoon.
That comment ticked him off, but he resisted the urge to respond, as it would have given more fuel to feed Spencer's fire, and he didn't need the psychic detective riling his nerves. But it didn't take much from Spencer to rile him, as he saw the psychic detective presently snug in the backseat.
Shawn stirred, opening one eye with a sheepish grin on his face.
"Lassie, these seats totally rock. You redid all the furnishings, didn't you? Is this...mink?"
"Spencer..."
"All right, all right, I'm out. Have a chill pill. Think happy thoughts."
Lassiter rolled his eyes as he shut the driver's side door and looked around. The lights around the deck were dimly lit, good on his eyes and head, but in the darkening sky, he knew it would be hard to see if they didn't hurry to look around.
He walked along the edge of the ramp, looking for any clues that remained. He didn't know what was missing, and provided the witness had seen the same light just the previous day, Lassiter felt that something wasn't quite right...something on the deck could have been giving off the strange light the witness may have seen, but what was it, and where did it come from?
"Sweet Mocha Jellybeans." Shawn suddenly said out-loud.
"Spencer, we don't have time for this. Unless you've got something to tell me, cut the crap."
"I had a vision," Lassiter could faintly see Shawn putting his finger to his temple as he knelt down in the middle of the square of police tape. "A vision about the light. No, I'm too young! Don't take me! I can't see the light now! Gus, Gus, where are you?"
"He's not here, you said he went home after his deliveries." Lassiter said tersely, clicking his tongue. He actually expects me to believe this nonsense he's pulling off. And who says "Sweet Mocha Jellybeans"? Seriously? I know I say sweet justice, but he's totally ripping that one off.
"No, I can't see the light now, ahh." Shawn placed one hand on his chest, dropping to his knees, his forehead touching the ground. As Lassiter was about to march over there and drag him from his place, Shawn sat back up, a concerned look on his face.
"Lassie, the man wasn't murdered in or near the car. Think about it."
"I already know that Spencer, he was hit on the head with some murder weapon...we just need to find it."
"No, that's not it. He was blinded, by a sudden light, then someone must have shoved him, into something. Think about the injury."
Lassiter thought about Shawn's words, at first in disbelief, then with a sudden realization.
"That's right...there was no blood. But his injury didn't break the skin, and this is paved concrete. If his head hit the concrete, that would have been a broken skin injury, and we would have found skin on the pavement."
"How indeed, Lassie, how indeed." Shawn stood up, scratching his chin for a second while looking around him. "The metal bars...over here. I sense the victim's head hit the metal bars here, forehead first, before his body dropped to the ground. But it didn't hit, not fully. The murderer caught him somehow, dragging his body into the car, but it was sloppily done."
"And you know this because..."
"I've seen the light."
Lassiter clinched his teeth again, his head pounding as Shawn was really grating on him. "The only light you're going to be seeing next is the flash of metal from these cuffs if you don't..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. It's too dim in this parking deck to see any flashes."
"But you just said you saw the light..."
"I saw the light, not a light. Big difference my fine, Irish, yet feeling the burn of a hangover, friend."
"Spencer...this headache, I can assure you, is not from a hangover. It's from you, and I'm just one step away from taking you away in that car over there in these cuffs. Are we clear?"
"Clear as the big floodlight over that-a-way." Shawn pointed to the east.
"Where? I don't see any floodlights."
"No, not there, over there. Way, way over there." Shawn continued to point as Lassiter walked beside him, by now the sky was pitch black, and the two of them stood at the ledge peering over the streets below, dim lights surrounding them. Lassiter could barely see in front of him, so he took his steps carefully and peered over the ledge to see a lone flickering streetlamp. It was bright, bright enough to make him blink as he peered down to it, causing his head to hurt a little.
"Spencer, a streetlamp is not going to blind a man to his death."
"You're still looking the wrong way. It's right there, right there." Shawn jumped excitedly in the same place, pointing upward...and to a stray, teetering lantern...which seemed like it was put there. Lassiter could barely make it out in the dark, but the curve of the metal along the lantern, and specifically the angle Shawn pointed out, he could barely make out its shape in the night.
"Where the devil did that come from? I see the edges of it, but it's hard to make out."
"Well, wherever it came from, it was put there intentionally. Motion sensor, Lass, The killer knew his victim would be up here, and wouldn't be able to see it from this angle, but if you walk to the ledge, either by hearing a sound or something, then it'll turn on. I bet if I did something like this..."
"Spencer, don't you dare..."
Shawn shimmied to the side of the ledge, and the light came on, fully in Lassiter's eyes. The headache Lassiter had grew by tenfold and the light flooded his eyes. He squinted, and nearly doubled over to hit the concrete.
"Whoa, look out!" Shawn made a dive in Lassiter's direction, preventing the head detective from falling backward head first, but both tumbled to the ground behind them as the motion-sensor floodlight switched off.
"Spencer, if you don't let go of me right now..." Lassiter shoved off Shawn's hands, which had grabbed him from behind to keep him from hitting the pavement, but to no avail. Shawn lay on the ground, Lassiter couldn't tell if he was whimpering or laughing...or both.
"That hurt, Lassie. Next time don't stand directly in the line of the light. " He said, in somewhat of a mockly injured voice. Lassiter didn't pay much mind as he regained his footing. Shawn sat on the ground, giving Lassiter what seemed like a grin.
"Or did you stand in the light cause you're afraid of the dark?"
Lassiter peered down at him, ignoring Shawn's outstretched hands in a plea to help him up. "I'm not afraid of the dark, Spencer. Now unless you want to be left behind, I suggest you make your way to my car, by yourself. We're going back to the station, and reporting this for the file. No talking, no singing, and no psychic episodes until we get back. Waste of my time."
Lassiter could hear Shawn coming to his feet behind him, but knew one thing.
I'm definitely not afraid of the dark...but if I see another light right now, or hear any sudden sounds, I'll go crazy. He thought, gingerly touching his head between forefingers.