The Next Day, at Mackenzie Abel's House

"Okay…"

Shawn walked over to the nearest cabinet and ran his hands over it inquiringly. Nothing there. He then walked over to the messy desk and ruffled some papers. An 'Actors Needed' ad, a couple of doodle-ridden manuscripts, a 'Buy one Get the Second one Free' coupon for Togos…ooh. Casually, and totally not-suspiciously, he glanced behind him. The forensics people were busy bagging evidence and dusting for prints. No one was looking at him. He slipped the coupon in his pocket.

"Shawn!"

Damn it.

He sighed and turned towards Gus, who had just walked in. "All right look, dude. It was just lying right there. Nobody saw me take it and, truthfully, I think this is something that we can keep between ourselves. Besides," he added defensively, "it's not like she's going to use it anyway - she's dead. I mean, maybe she could've used it in heaven, but I didn't think they had Togos in heaven. Subways, maybe–"

"You stole something from the dead woman?"

"…would I still have to split it with you if I said no?" Gus shook his head.

"Shawn, I told you about stealing stuff from dead people. One day, their spirits are going to come back and haunt you."

"And I will be eating a delicious Togos sandwich when they do."

"Whatever," Gus turned towards the desk that Shawn had been looking over and began to rifle through some of the papers, "have you found anything yet?"

"If by find you mean psychically glean something that'll convince the chief that the woman didn't hang herself? No."

"Well keep looking. Here, I'll help."

Gus began pulling out cabinets and files while Shawn wandered into the next room. He didn't want to tell Gus the real reason why he couldn't pick up on anything because even he didn't want to think about it. The truth was, every time he tried to focus, really set his mind on this case, Lassie would be there. The handsome Detective was all he ever thought about now – there simply was no more room in his brilliant mind for trivial, by comparison, observations and deductions/speculations into other peoples' lives. To top it all off, Shawn still had his worries and doubts about the whole relationship. How long until the Chief found out about them? What would happen when she did? How long would he be able to avoid talking to Lassie about…that? Why did Agent Moran have to be so gosh darn handsome? Well…the latter just pissed him off.

Shawn sighed, staring vacantly at the heavy bureau that had been shoved away from the front door so that the forensics team could come in and out of the house. But he did love Lassie. God, it was undeniable. Never had he known what it felt like to want to talk to, smile at, and kiss a man every minute, every second. Now that he was away from the department building where Lassie was no doubt working right now (probably cursing over some three page document or bragging about some police exploit or another,) he desperately wanted to get back and start a round of playful banter and faux-annoyed teasing with him, then go home and kiss him 'till they were both breathless. He stared at the bureau.

And stared at the bureau.

And stared at the bureau a little bit more.

And cocked his head at the bureau.

And squinted at the bureau.

And framed the bureau between two hands, picture style.

And walked up and began to do push-ups on the side of the bureau. Gus looked up and immediately became worried. "Shawn, what are you doing to that poor bureau?"

"Gus, come here and try to push this thing." Gus, rolling up his sleeves in what he believed to be a really manly way, walked up and braced his palms against the faded wood. "Watch this, Shawn. Get ready to see a play-ya at work." Gus cackled (like a play-ya) and pushed….and pushed….but he could not budge the bureau. Shawn joined him and even with their combined weight they could not move it. Panting, they stood back and looked at the thing, perplexed. "Excuse me," Shawn said to a passing forensic woman. She looked up.

"Yes?"

"How many people did it take to move this thing?"

"Ooh, two men pushing on one side and another man pulling from the other. One of them hurt their back while trying to do it." But Shawn wasn't listening to her. He was looking at the floor beneath the bureau. "And you guys dragged it to the…left, am I right?"

"Yes."

"I knew it. Gus, come here. Look at this. You see this drag mark over here leading to the left. There are two sets of foot prints there on either side."

"The forensics people,"

"Right. Now look at the drag marks leading to the right. There are two sets of footprints there: one of the forensics guy pulling the bureau backwards and one of the person who pushed the bureau forward in the first place to block the door in case anyone should walk in while they were trying to commit suicide…or murder. Now answer me this: do these footprints look like they belong to either the suspect or the dead woman?"

"No!"

Shawn clapped his hands together. "That's it! Someone else was here! These footprints are size 9, 10, maybe in men's! Gus, think about it…only an incredibly strong man could have moved this bureau on his own and, unless mine eyes deceive me, our suspect is definitely not an incredibly strong man…. that would be kind of hot, though."

"And check this out. I did a little digging, too, and turns out the dead woman was married to a famous caster who's currently casting in Santa Barbara," Gus pulled out a bundle of papers and showed them to Shawn, "apparently, she was trying out for a part in his movie. And look at this. She has a copy of the list of people trying out and there's a page missing."

Shaw gasped theatrically. "Somebody didn't want us to know that they're on that list. Dude…we are awesome."

"What?"

"What?"

"What?" They bumped fist and, much to everybody's surprise, begin to perform a wild kind of dance right beneath the spot where the dead woman had hung herself. "Dude, let's go tell Lassie!"

"We're supposed to report to the chief first…"

"Yeah, but now I have an excuse to go and bother him at his desk. Come on, come on, let's go!"

oOoOoOo

Somewhere, only a couple of blocks away, a man was being held at gunpoint, praying for his life.

xXxXxXx

Author's Note: *screams* Aah, this eye-gouging *bleep-bleep*ing, *bleeper-bleep*ing writer's block! Gah, I need to bite something *looks at cat* *cat looks back* Sorry if my writing is kinda-eh-wobbly at places. I think I slowly broke out of writer's block while Shawn was staring and staring and cocking and squinting and framing the bureau, so what I'm trying to say is excuse any grammar/structure mistakes. Ooh, stay tuned though, next chapter is really important. (Spoiler alert: the chief finds out)