Title: A Job to Die for
Author: greenrandomness
Rating: K+
Warnings: None
Genre: Mystery/Humor
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize
Author's Note: Here you go :)
Chapter 7- Pantomining Death...Sounds like Fun, Right?
The members of the Psych agency quietly walked closer to the door. Once they were next to it, Shawn placed his ear against the wood. "They're gone." He whispered to Gus, as he opened the door and slipped inside.
"We'll have to be more careful this time." Gus replied, as he closed the door quietly behind him. "They could come back any minute."
"You keep watch." The psychic decided as walked over to a plaque on the wall. "I need to get another reading."
"Shawn," His friend groaned, rolling his brown eyes. "You know I know that you're not psychic."
"One must stay in character, Clark Clark." Shawn grinned, but the smile fell away as he stared at the tilted 'Most Dedicated' award on the wall.
"Whatever, Meriwether." Gus sighed, opening the door a crack so that he could see out. He didn't want them to have to sneak out again; the last time had been hard enough. Shawn practically being black-listed was making investigating way more difficult than it should be.
Meanwhile, his partner was still staring at the crooked plaque. Lifting it from the wall, he looked at it again. Something wasn't quite right, turning it over he spied a medium sized chip of wood missing from the back along with another large one. Turning around with the plaque still in hand, Shawn looked around the room.
'Where's the wood?' He silently wondered. Walking to the center of the room, he saw a small patch of unmatched timber near the very base of the desk. Crouching down, he picked it up from where it was wedged between the desk and the tilted chair's leg.
Gus glanced towards his friend and saw that he was studying something. As the man stood up, Gus asked, "What is it, Shawn?"
"The plaque he got last night…it's broken." Shawn mumbled as he held the previously missing piece up for Gus to see.
"That's weird. Maybe he dropped it, or something." Gus guessed as he glanced out the door again.
"All the way over here?" Shawn asked, pointing to the floor near the desk. "No…it must have been thrown before the chair was bumped."
"Did you only find one of the pieces?" His partner asked, pointing to the large empty space on the back of the award.
"Yeah only one. Someone must have missed this one when they were cleaning up because it was stuck between the chair and the desk." The fake psychic reasoned while he looked at the piece again.
"Someone threw the plaque, but cleaned up the pieces after the chair was bumped? If you're right, they were most likely here when Mathis died." Gus added, his voice louder than before as he turned away from the door.
"I'm always right, Gus." Shawn smirked cockily, before continuing his original thought process; "The murderer threw the plaque during an argument." Shawn stated as he set the wood and the award on the desk.
Crouching down, he studied the desk corner and the chair arm again. "Gus, go stand over there." He instructed, pointing to the empty place on the wall where the plaque had been moments before.
Shawn went to the left side of the desk, as opposed to the bloodied right, and stood a few feet in front of the corner. "Okay, pretend you just arrive and you're angry with me." He ordered his friend, despite the strange looks he received in return.
"Why?"
"I think I know what happened." Shawn beamed in response. When Gus still didn't do anything he sighed. "Just do it, Gus, or I really will start calling you Burton 'Twinkle toes' Guster, all the time."
"Fine." He huffily agreed, crossing his arms, "Uh…I hate you…this is really stupid."
"Good start. I can really feel the rage." The psychic teased good naturedly, "Come on, please! It's for the case, man."
"I can't believe you! This is ridiculous!" Gus raged as loudly as he dared, drawing off his own annoyance and discomfort to pull it off.
"Better. Hello mysterious murder, what can I do for you?" Shawn inquired from his place beside the desk. "Act like you're throwing the plaque at me." He added, and when Gus did, the fake psychic ducked in an effort to evade the imaginary award.
He placed his right hand on the desk, carefully avoiding the picture of Rick and his family. As he fell backwards slowly, he held onto the wood for support. He hit the chair lightly, making it nudge the desk. He then turned slightly as if trying to break the fall, only to stop right before his right temple would have hit the left corner of the desk.
"Shawn?" Gus asked, as he watched his friend sit down on the floor next to the desk.
"The bullet was used to cover up the real cause of death." Shawn announced as he stood up. "Rick Mathis hit his head accidentally during an argument, and died."
"Whoever killed him probably didn't mean too." Gus realized, his eyes going wide.
"Probably not." The psychic agreed, "The other person in this room when he died made it look like a suicide so that they would not be suspected."
"Who was it?"
"I don't know yet…" Shawn stated as he fixed the chair. Putting the piece of wood back where it was, he went over to the empty space on the wall with the award in hand. "I just know that whoever threw this plaque killed Professor Mathis."
"The spirits are telling me that you have a vision coming." His friend announced, watching while he placed the plaque back where it belonged.
"We better go find Lassie and Jules, then." Shawn smirked and opened the door for his partner. Once Gus was out, he followed and closed the door.
Walking across the building, they found the two detectives outside Westen's office. They were bringing another officer up to speed when Shawn and Gus reached hearing distance.
"According to the autopsy, Mathis most likely died around eleven pm last night." Carlton informed the young officer.
"It's terrible that he died on his twentieth anniversary." Juliet sighed, her thoughts not exactly in sync with her partners. "He probably didn't even get to see his wife."
"Shawn's having a—" Gus tried to tell them, but another voice interrupted him.
"A great day!" He smiled, throwing an arm around Gus's shoulder. "We'll be right back." He grinned again at the trio's shocked and confused faces before he began to pull Gus away.
"What?" Gus gaped as Shawn hauled him away, "What're you doing?"
"It finally clicked." Shawn whispered, "I know who did it."
"Who?" Gus asked in a hurried whisper as his friend steered him towards a very familiar classroom once again. Gus wasn't really sure why Shawn was taking him there, but the idea made his stomach churn
"Jenifer Mathis killed her husband accidentally last night, and she tried to cover it up." The psychic proclaimed, his hand on the History classroom doorknob. He had to give her a chance; he couldn't just turn her in without mercy. She was his seventh grade English teacher's wife after all.
"Shawn! We can't go in there!" Gus cried, "We have to go tell Lassiter."
"I have to give her a chance to turn herself in." Shawn whispered as he opened the door to the semi-lit room.
"Shawn!" Gus whispered harshly to his friends retreating back. "Shawn, you can't be serious."
"Gus," He turned around slightly looking at his friend, "I have to."
The determination in his best friend's eyes drove Gus to enter the room, a second later he was almost bowled over by an extremely agitated Bridger.
"Spencer," He growled, turning back to the pair to give them a view of his now soggy shirt, "I will get you for this." He swore before he stalked out of the room and slammed the door.
Shawn surveyed the room and saw, Mrs. Mathis wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry about him, Mrs. Mathis. How are you feeling?" He asked taking a few steps closer to the front of the room where she was sitting at the professor's desk.
It was very similar to her husband's desk except that it lacked the personal touches that he had on his. The only non-paper item on the entire desk was a decorative medieval knife displayed at the very front.
She smiled slightly when she saw Shawn and said, "I actually calmed down a long time ago, but Mr. Bridger was one of the rudest men I have ever met." She stood up from her chair and continued; "I decided that if my crying made him uncomfortable, he deserved to be that way."
"I agree completely." Gus voiced from the back of the room where he was still standing by the door.
"So do I, Mrs. Mathis." Shawn smiled, having a hard time believing that the woman in front of him was a murderer.
"Is it time to go to the station now?" She asked, dabbing her blue eyes with a tissue, in an effort to dry them.
"No, actually." Shawn informed her as he took a small step forward. "My partner and I would like to ask you a few questions first."
"Oh." She replied with a watery smile, "What kind of questions?"
"One's concerning the murder of your husband, Mrs. Mathis." Gus responded, also taking a small step forward.
"I thought that was why I was going to the station?" Jenifer asked, her eyes growing suspicious. They both seemed like nice guys, but something wasn't quite right. They knew something, or thought they knew something that wouldn't be good for her.
"Our questions are slightly different." The psychic informed her, trying to keep off the subject as long as possible. He wanted to confront her, but he knew this could turn out bad.
"Okay, ask away then." She smiled again, but this time it seemed forced. She knew something unpleasant was coming.
"Did you accidentally kill your husband, Jenifer Mathis?" Gus inquired, and both he and Shawn watched as her body tensed and her slightly hysterical eyes grew wide. This definitely could turn out bad.
TBC
Author's Note: Please review!
