"Ah, Mr. Chandlers, I thought we might find you skulking about here."
"Oh, hi guys! H-how'd you find me?"
"Gus did something with a thing that did something with some other thing."
"T.C.L.G.F.P. Totally and Completely Legal Gadgets for Finding–"
"Stop it, Gus."
"Wow. I…it's really that easy to find me?"
The young solicitor hooked his hands in his lab coat pockets and hunched his shoulders uncomfortably, his blond hair sweeping lightly over his forehead in the Santa Barbara breeze. To Shawn he looked a bit like a Golden Oreo Cakester, a suspiciously suspicious Golden Oreo Cakester. He laughed and clapped his hands together.
"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? My friend 'Hello' Hoover and I just wanted to see how the whole fuzzy-animals-for-kids thing was going."
"Hello Hoover?" the young man gave a forced laugh, "A minute ago you called him Gus. I thought his name was 'Hollaback' Hoover."
"I thought your name was Mr. Chambers." The man looked at Gus with a fresh kind of fear, "If you're going to have multiple aliases then you might as well focus on getting them right."
At that moment, Shawn and Gus found it very appropriate to bump fists.
The young man, meanwhile, was looking quite panicked. His blue eyes searched between Shawn and Gus's face with fevered energy. "A-a-all right," he stuttered, "My name isn't Chandlers or Chambers, for that matter. It's…Keri…Hilson."
"Keri Hilson's a singer," said Gus, appalled.
Suddenly, he made a break for it. He shoved past Shawn and was halfway down the dock before either man could run after him. Shawn was all for chasing him all the way to Czechoslovakia if he had to, but before he could start running Gus stopped him with a firm hand on the chest.
"Wait, Shawn, wait a minute. Why do you want to chase that man?"
"What do you mean why do I want to chase him, let's go! He's getting away!" He tried to push past him but Gus pushed him back with more force than before. Shawn looked at him in surprise, "What are you, a black gladiator? When'd you get those 'ceps?"
"Shawn, why do you want to chase after this guy? I mean, I know he's a suspicious, twitchy-eyed, alias-mixing, lab coat wearing blond dude but so what? We can't go running after a man based off of that!"
Shawn shook his head in frustration, "I just have a feeling, Gus! The woolen blanket of murder and mystery is slowly unraveling and I, Shawn Spencer, am the one at the end tugging on the fuzzy little multicolored strings," Shawn paused, "that was good. That was really good. You mind if I do that again?"
"Shawn…"
"Look, Gus. That man has something to do with it. I just…feel it, okay?" he sighed in exasperation and looked towards the gasping bay "Now I don't know who he is or what he's done, but I think that I'm finally starting to understand what's happened here. Richard Kusnick's death might not have been caused by some bloodthirsty murderer roaming the streets of Santa Barbara strangling people with tassels. That sounds too much like John Lebar from that one British TV show. Come on, help me out here, you know the one," Gus gave him The Look, "just…just trust me here. Okay? Come on, buddy."
Gus paused. Of all the times to give his friend the usual no- because,-you-see-Shawn,-unlike-you-I-actually-have-a-real-job-and-don't-exactly-have-time-to-go-chasing-confused-little-blond-kids-around-town-when-I-should-be-getting-on-with-my-routes-or,-better-yet,-getting-deep-tissue-massages-for-the-muscle-aches-and-cramps-that-you-caused, Gus could see that this was not the time. He placed his hands on his hips and sighed, resolved. "Fine. I believe you. But we don't even know where he's headed."
"I think I do," Shawn said distractedly as he opened the passenger door to Gus's car. But before he got in a rather ingenious idea popped into his abundantly sexy-hair-covered head. "Dude," he said excitedly, making Gus look up at him in suspicion, "say 'the woolen blanket of murder and mystery is slowly unraveling and I, Shawn Spencer, am the one at the end tugging on the fuzzy little multicolored strings' in a Jamaican accent."
"Shawn, no," Gus tried to get in the car.
"Aw, come on, please? Gus, I'm begging you."
"I said no, Shawn!"
"Come on, do it. You know you want to."
"I am not going to do it!"
"Doitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoi-"
"Da woo-len blang-ket uv mwoo-urda and mis-dir-ee ee-is sloe-lee un-rav-eh-lehn and I, Shawn Spen-sar, am da wun at da inds tuh-ging on da fuzzy lit-tole strings, mon."
Needless to say, Shawn felt very in the groove.
Approximately, I dunno, an hour or so later?
About an hour later or so later found the boys parked once again in the driveway of Ms. Harris's enormous home, still holding their empty donut bags. "Oh Anna of Anna's bakery," Shawn said reminiscently, looking up at the huge house, "we would be lost without you and your sweet little charm…and your donuts."
"You know that's right."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Shawn said before Gus could get out of the car, "Give your keys,"
"Why?!"
"Because you said that I'd get to drive when we headed back for winning that date with Anna's great-great-great granddaughter in under six minutes."
Gus hmphed and handed him the keys. The two got out of the car and climbed the dusty staircase, but on the way up Shawn noticed something funny about the pattern in the dirt leading up to a particularly large ledge on their right. "Tire tracks," he said thoughtfully. "Dude, either she just got in or somebody else is here."
"She probably just got in,"
"But why would she park her car behind a hedge when she has a three-car garage?" Gus looked at him and shrugged, at a loss. There seemed to be a sudden chill in the muggy summer air that hinted of a deeper mystery mixed with subtle lies and deception. He knocked on the door.
"Oh, you guys," Tsia's smiling face peeked out at them through a crack between the double doorway, "what do you want?"
"Do you mind unlocking that double-lock? My partner here just wants to ask you a few more questions," Gus said amiably.
"Oh, um...okay!"
"Is it just me or does she seem way too overly-happy," Shawn whispered as Tsia closed the door and undid the latch. "It's a defense mechanism some people use," Gus whispered back, "she's obviously doing something she's not supposed to be doing, and when we-"
"Gus, I know that! By saying, 'Is it just me or does she seem way too overly-happy,' I was implying -"
The door was thrown open and Tsia looked at them with darting (albeit quite pretty) eyes. She wrung her hands nervously. "Look, I already answered all of your questions. My brother died years ago. Someone got ahold of his paintings and tried to sell them for quick cash. End of story, right?"
"Um, Ms. Harris, these are just a few follow up questions that we'd like to ask before we officially close the case. May we come in? Maybe sit upon your pink velvet couches, fiddle around with your fifty inch flat screen TVs, maybe even wear your sixty thousand dollar apiece golden monocles?"
"Shawn!"
"Oh, Gus would like to wear the little black one. You know, like the one that Mr. Peanut wears."
"…thank you."
If Tsia Harris was freaked out before that was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. She wrung her hands harder in front of her flower-print dress, looking for the world like she might say no, but with a sigh and flutter of the eyelids she nodded and led them inside.
"Now, I really only have one question for you, if that's okay," said Shawn as he balanced a cup of raspberry tea on its plate. He blinked smartly at her through his monocle, "Do you mind telling me about your family?"
"Well," she said, picking fretfully at a vase of flowers. Everything about her screamed of agitation, so different from the Tsia that they had met yesterday. "My father was a lawyer and my mother was a banker for a famous company that collapsed sometime after her death. I dabbled in medical school. Right now I'm applying for work as a trauma surgeon in a hospital. I inherited this house from them when they died. I mean, I could never afford to buy a house like this on my own. Not as a student or on a surgeon's payroll. But I didn't just inherit the house. I inherited everything in it. But I'm learning to manage."
"What about…your siblings,"
"Oh, Jimmy use to work for the government. He was a trainee, if you will, an apprentice, but the big boys at the top had plans for him. He had the potential to be an ambassador someday, so he was often granted permission to travel with government officials on their business trips around the world. Point is, he was never really at home and my parents thought it would've been useless to give the house to him if he wouldn't have been here to appreciate it. It wasn't until later that he started this whole agony art thing. One day he just announced that he would travel the world promoting art instead of politics. I suspect around that time he found out about the cancer but just never told anybody about it."
Shawn smiled, "I see…mostly out of one eye, but I still see. Excuse me while I confer with my partner," Shawn and Gus held their teacups in front of their faces and leaned towards each other conspiratorially. "Dude, did you see how she didn't even react when I said the word siblings, plural," he whispered.
"Yeah, so? She might not have heard that part. The woman has other things on her mind."
"What? Like you melting your chocolate goodness all over her raspberry china?"
"Get to the point, Shawn!"
"Gus, the picture. On the mantel in the corridor there's a picture of her, the father, the mother, the dad, and her brother. But there's somebody else in the picture, except their side has been folded over so you can't see anything of them except a bit of their hair. I'll bet you anything that's the third sibling. And I know who he is," Shawn sat up and put a hand to his head.
"Gus…Gus, I'm getting something," he got up and staggered about the room, running his hands along desks and knocking stuff down. Tsia gasped and stood up. "I'm…I'm…I'm seeing something….yes, yes I can see…Holy moly! It's a man! Magic monocle, don't fail me now! "
"A man!" Tsia exclaimed, frightened.
"Yes, he's…he's calling out to me. Oh…he's saying…Brady Bunch…Mary Kate and Ashley…Kim…Cuckoo…Kourtney Kardashian!"
"Uh…they're all siblings!?"
"Yes! No! Yes! Oh, God, the spirits of the psychic world are so contradicting…there's…there's…" Shawn opened his eyes and looked at her, "there's another sibling that you haven't told us about."
"How did you know that?"
"He contacted me, psychically, and asked me not to forget about him in a deep, rhythmic Jim Kerr kind of way…"
Tsia stumbled backwards, shocked, the teacup rattling dangerously in her hand. Gus stood up and gently took it from her. "Yes, yes, that's true," she ran into the corridor and returned unfolding a piece of paper, "this is him. Mickey Harris. B-b-but I haven't seen him in years!"
"Shawn," Gus recognized the smiling blond face in the picture immediately. Without a doubt, it was the traveling salesman, "it's…" But Shawn wasn't listening. Unbeknownst to the other two, Shawn had spotted a distant movement in the yard. At first he thought it was just a strange animal (you know, like the ones that rich people buy to roam around uselessly in their yards,) yet whatever it was had dilated eyes like a frightened human that once met his before the creature hurriedly turned and ducked behind a bush.
"I…I gotta go check something," Shawn said distractedly. He put his monocle down on a side desk and exited the house, leaving Gus alone with the shaking girl.
"Ms. Harris," he said.
"Call me Tsia."
"Tsia, where is this man?"
"I told you, I don't know. Look, I know he's my brother and all and I'm supposed to know where he is at all times, but he disappeared a few years ago and never came back. I mean, I assumed he was dead."
"That's not possible. We saw this man today."
"What?! That's –"
"GUS! GUS! HEEEEELP!" Gus needed no prompting. He was out of the house faster than a speeding bullet, following the sound of Shawn's high-pitched cry. "WHERE ARE YOU, BUDDY?!"
"I'M…mmm-mmm-m!...OVER HE…I…mmm-mmm-m-m!…mmmm! GUUUUUUUSS! Mmmmmph-mmmmm!" Shawn's cries became muffled, as if something or someone was pressing something against his mouth. Gus crashed through the bush nearest the sound but couldn't see Shawn anywhere. Panting, panicking, he crashed through the next one and the next one as Shawn's muffled cries faded into a worrisome silence.
"Damn this maze," Gus cursed as he rounded a corner of yet another hedge. "SHAWN WHERE ARE YOU?!" And then, Gus heard a sound that made him freeze.
The gunning of a car engine, so unmistakable in the empty silence of the yard.
"SHAWN!"
Gus doubled back to the courtyard just in time to see a blue Toyota speed off and round a corner in the opposite direction. "Don't just stand there! Call the police!" Gus called to an awe-struck Tsia. She jumped and ran inside the house. He could hear her yelling franticly into the phone as he searched his pocket for his keys.
"Yes? Hello?! A man has been kidnapped…right from in front of my house! Um, 221 Avery lane….please hurry….yes, okay, it was a red Toyota-"
"Damn it," Gus cursed, still searching his pockets. Whoa, whoa, whoa…Let me see your key…Because you said I'd get to drive when we headed back for winning that date with Anna's great-great-great granddaughter in under six minutes! Shawn had his keys. He looked up and stared at the road where the grimy Toyota had sped off with his friend. "Don't worry, buddy. We're coming after you."
