Santa Barbara - 2008
Something was rotten in the Docks at Sandy Grove. The wood, specifically. This was problematic for boat docks, given the importance of keeping people out of the water and the nearby boats tethered. But it matched the neglected boathouse and the boats themselves that were kept there. Paint was chipped and rust formed like patchwork across many of the hulls. The boats varied in size and shape, as well as use, but there was a common theme of dull utility and practicality. No pleasure cruise would depart from there - unless the odd naive tourist counted. Unfortunately on that Thursday morning, something else was rotten in the Docks at Sandy Grove. A dead body, to be precise.
It was found by two men making their way to their fishing boat who were hoping to catch tuna. Their day would instead involve calling the police and giving witness statements.
Shawn Spencer trotted along the nearby street, remnants of snow cone in hand.
"Gus! What's the hold up? Hurry up, man, we're going to be late," he said.
"We're going to be late? I was here twenty minutes early! You're the one who decided to stop for snow cones on your way here." Gus walked at a brisk pace alongside him as they made their way to the docks.
Shawn followed, his steps languid, and shrugged. He bit off another piece of snow cone. "It was Tiger Blood Thursday, Gus. You know I can't resist that. And besides, it was a long way. It's a hot day, I have to keep up my fluids."
"It was barely 20 yards! I could see you from across the street!"
"No! It couldn't have been… Was it?" Shawn said as he chewed on the flavored ice.
"I saw you the entire time!" Gus said.
Shawn tilted his head, pondering. "Agree to disagree."
Gus made a sour face, but it was gone soon enough.
They made their way past the decrepit boathouse and towards the docks. Officers and witnesses stood all over, with crime scene tape blocking access to one dock in particular. Detectives Juliet and Lasseter could be seen among them.
Shawn grinned. "Hey, Jules!"
"Hi Shawn, Gus," She smiled, then paused. "...Is that a snow cone?"
"Why, yes it is. I apologize for not getting you one, Jules."
"No- That's okay, I'm fine. Thanks, though." She focused, all business once again. He managed to get a brief smile from her at least, which Shawn considered a win for the morning.
"We've got a body that was found on one of the piers. No sign of ID. We were wondering if you might sense anything that could tell us more about what happened," Juliet said.
"Aw, Jules. If you wanted to see us, all you had to do was say so," Shawn said.
She gave the slightest shake of her head, but he noticed her fend off the barest twitch of the corners of her mouth. Not quite a win, but close.
"Any signs of foul play?" Gus asked. "We don't know for certain, but the situation is suspicious enough that we're pursuing a full investigation. Two fisherman reported hearing someone take off in a boat moments before they stumbled upon the body. But since it was before dawn, it was too dark for them to make out anything. We noticed one of the boats seems to be missing- presumably by whoever tried to dump the body."
They moved along the dock towards an outstretched pier where a body was covered by a black tarp.
Boats were lined up on either side in the water. As they walked, Gus visibly recoiled with a hand raised to cover his mouth and nose. "Th- The smell…"
"Man, that nose of yours must be cranked up to eleven today."
"It's the heat. Today's been hotter than normal- it's made a number of the officers uncomfortable as well- The smell, I mean," Juliet said. "It's pretty unusual… Lasseter thinks this might be cult related. As far as the cause of death, there isn't anything we can tell yet. Hopefully the autopsy will answer that, but we thought you could sense something too."
"Unusual? Cult, you say?" Shawn was suddenly more interested. "Are there two small holes on the neck? Or the word 'redrum' written anywhere?"
Juliet rolled her eyes slightly, but once again Shawn spotted the faint tug of her mouth as she resisted a smile. Three for three. Not bad, Shawn thought.
"Nothing that obvious. But the tattoos are very unusual. It could be something." Then she paused, her mouth slightly open as if the next words wouldn't come. Conflicted, she finally said, "If I'm being honest… Something about this just gives me the creeps."
As they neared the body, she raised a handkerchief to cover her nose, and soon Shawn understood why. The smell hit him like a pack of unwashed dogs that ran through a slaughterhouse sprayed by skunks, with a hint of those white flower trees that bloom in the spring but smell bad when you walk past them. On a Monday, no less.
"Holy… Mother Teresa!" Shawn pulled up his shirt to cover his nose and mouth, fighting the urge to gag. The remains of his snowcone would sadly go to waste. "That's one bad smelling dude."
Gus was physically pinching his nose shut with a grimace. He tried to speak, then closed his mouth firmly in a bid to protect himself from the smell.
"We don't have much yet, but right now we think the time of death was about forty eight hours ago."
A nearby officer pulled back the covering to reveal the body underneath. Jules really undersold the unusual nature of the body. There was enough going on that it took a little longer for Shawn's skills to kick in and notice everything in full. "Could you take a step back, please? I will need my space to channel the spirits," Shawn said mysteriously with a handwave for good measure. Juliet and the nearby officers took a step backwards, then once more. "Further," He said. They complied. "Almost…" Another step. "There! Stay right there!"
Shawn and Gus were alone at the end of the pier, their backs turned to the body for protection. "Dude, this guy smells awful," Shawn said, low enough that the officers couldn't hear. "Even for two days… It's like that time the Fish Shack tried to do breakfast and ordered way too many eggs."
"That's not eggs- that's sulfur," Gus noted.
"Are you sure it's not rotten eggs?" Shawn said.
"I'm sure. Why would he smell like rotten eggs?"
Shawn considered. "Oh, I don't know. Why did Kelsey Grammar sing about them?"
"Those were scrambled eggs, Shawn. And it was a metaphor for the premise of Frasier," Gus said drawing upon his trivia knowledge.
"And yet we always lose at Trivial Pursuit," Shawn sighed.
"Sulfur is usually found in some volcanic processes, but sometimes used in chemical manufacturing."
"So… It's not poisonous?"
Gus shook his head. They turned towards the body hesitantly, bit by bit, like a lawn sprinkler might rotate. Gus held his nose shut by pinching two fingers over it, but it was with great effort that he looked at the body and kept his composure. Mostly.
With a squint of his eyes Shawn looked over the body.
First, there were the tattoos- three as far as he could see. All of them circular, geometric, complex designs with smaller symbols scattered throughout and writings in another language. One of them was different and looked like a star in a flaming circle. The man looked to be in his late thirties- no, scratch that. Older than that, he still had a cell phone case clipped to his belt. The case was for an older phone, and not the latest model. Ears were pierced with studs (someone didn't want to act his age) with older, simple clothes that looked well worn. His teeth were in dire need of a cleaning. Or… Any kind of care. The man wasn't a smoker, surprisingly, and lacked the yellow-green hue. He was fairly pale from a lack of sunlight, yet there was a faint impression on his left ring finger. Just enough to show a ring was worn somewhat recently. His fingernails chipped on his thumbs and some fingers, but not others. Then, along his collarbone, was a reddish-pink rash on either side of his neck. His hair was longer than it probably should have been. Due for a haircut, yet apparently didn't have the time, or the motivation. And he was in need of a shave… with at least three day's worth of stubble before he died. Someone wasn't taking very good care of himself. Marriage troubles.
Shawn turned his attention to the area around the body, then the dock and nearby boats. With the amount of money (or lack thereof) spent in maintaining the place, it wasn't surprising that a security system was one of many things the owners skipped spending money on. There seemed to be no gates for entering the docks, or any way of tracking people coming and going. Even his old man had better taste in boating arrangements, Shawn admitted only to himself.
There were only half a dozen boat spots on the pier beyond the body- but only five boats, and a conspicuous empty space next to them. No signs of rope left at the tethering post, which meant it was untied and taken with whatever boat was docked there. Then, a few feet from the body, there was a hole in the wooden planks about a foot wide.
"Any visions?" Juliet called from her place several feet away.
Shawn and Gus looked at each other, then back at the body (for good measure), then looked at Jules and the other officers. With a nod they strode back down the pier. Detective Lasseter had joined the other officers by then, and he stood with his arms folded while giving a contemptuous look.
"Whew! That's better," Shawn said. He placed a hand to his right temple, his face the picture of focus and concentration. His voice became deeper, mysterious.
"I'm starting to get something. I'm seeing…"
Dramatic pause.
"I'm seeing… dancing. Belly buttons." He swayed from side to side and brought his arms up to chest level, in less of a dance and more of a motion with slight arm flailing. "I hear.. singing… From Bing…" Another arm flail, this time on the other side. "It's… Christmas…!"
Juliet watched with a focused gaze, fully watching for clues to his performance. "Bing…?" She asked.
Shawn grit his teeth and let out a yell. His dance ended abruptly with both hands clasped on his head. "Bing Crosby! And… Christmas! The Brady Bunch… Vacation! They're on a vacation! Beaches! Sand! But the ground… Pele is angry…"
"Oh! Hawaii!" Juliet called excitedly.
"Yes! Gah…!" Shawn puffed air into his mouth and cheeks to release a 'Boom!' sound and a rumble. His arms thrown upwards into the air, fingers twitching up above. "Volcanoes," Gus said. "Pele is the Hawaiian God of volcanoes!"
Shawn froze, his arms outstretched, and suddenly his arms were limp at his sides. He sniffed in an exaggerated, loud way. Then he sniffed again. It was a large sniff that contorted his entire face and scrunched up his nose.
"You're smelling something," Juliet said.
"Yes… Yes!" Shawn exclaimed. "Soot! No, wait. Lava! Wait…" He paused once more for good measure. "Sulfur! This man… he was around sulfur before he died. And that's not all. I hear… wedding bells. There was a lover. A neglected lover. And a ring of power." He paused to bring a hand to his temple. "It caaalls to us…" He almost whispered.
"You know I don't like your Gollum impression, Shawn!" Gus said sharply.
"So, he might have worked around sulfur, and he was unhappily married," Juliet said. "But we didn't find a ring, so either he wasn't wearing it when he died, or it was stolen off of him after. Possibly by the killer."
Shawn's body shook and shuddered in a loose wave as if his muscles had all gone lax, before finally answering, "Yes!" He stopped, panting slightly. "That's right- our victim was married. Whether the ring was stolen or left behind, I cannot say. Perhaps he had some Hobbit friends…?"
"And you just… sense that he was unhappily married?" Lasseter said almost with a sneer.
"Wait!" Shawn yelled abruptly. "I'm getting… Gah!" He jerked around violently. "This man didn't merely die. No, someone was trying to hide it. They were… trying to move him! To unite him with Davy Jones' Locker! But something's wrong… The wood is weak. It's unkind to them. His right foot… Yes, it's gone through the wood, and he now walks with a limp. Then someone caught them in the act! But there was no time, they had to go and save themselves…!" He held a hand to his temple in mock pain and flapped his elbow back and forth like a dilapidated bird. He jerked to a stop, arm going limp and exhausted. "Whew!"
"Gee, you're saying the dead body we found with two possible perps fleeing the scene might be a homicide?" Lasseter asked with an excited sarcasm.
"Those are still some leads, though," Juliet said.
"O'Hara, get a copy of the records for the boats kept along this pier," Lasseter said. He regarded Shawn and Gus with only the briefest look before walking off.
"Really? That's it?" Shawn asked.
She gave them an apologetic look. "I've gotta go. Look- If you find out anything else, let us know. Hopefully we can ID the body from the prints. Either way they should have the autopsy done tomorrow." She left to follow her partner.
They watched her go. "Bye, Jules." Shawn and Gus waved.
They began the trek back to the Blueberry. Shawn contemplated making another stop at the snowcone stand, while Gus unknowingly did the same. "Man, that guy was a walking geometry textbook," Shawn said. "I was having flashbacks to Ms. Perkins' geometry class with all the lines and circles."
"You never paid attention in her class. You just drew robots in your notebook," Gus accused.
"Yes, I did pay attention, thank you very much." Shawn insisted defensively. There was something about the writing and symbols in the tattoos that seemed familiar.
"Pig Latin," Shawn declared. "It's Pig Latin. That's cultish, right?"
Gus scoffed at the uncultured display. "That was Latin. Pig Latin is what kids learn in fifth grade. And Latin isn't that unusual, Latin phrases are used all the time. Maybe they picked words they liked."
"Maybe," Shawn thought. "Man, that guy sure was weird."
"That's an understatement. This whole thing gives me the creeps," Gus said.
Shawn felt a rumble in his stomach, which seemed decidedly Winnie the Pooh-like. "You know what I could go for? Some taquitos."
"You know that's right."
Three grande combos worth of taquitos, tortilla chips, rice, and beans were consumed within the next hour. Shawn and Gus arrived back at the Psych office with full stomachs. It was the best way to start a case- or anything, for that matter.
"That's ridiculous, Shawn. Everyone knows the Chupacabra never goes this far west," Gus said as he sat at his desk.
"Unless the weather's acting up and it needs to look further for food. Everyone knows that!" Shawn made a beeline for a bag of chips that was left on the sofa.
"I know Chupacabras, Shawn. And besides, the body still had blood in it. Chupacabras would drain all of it."
Shawn thought for a moment. "This is true."
Gus opened his laptop and began his search. "So where do we start? There's got to be dozens of parlors in the greater Santa Barbara area. How do we know which one?"
Shawn plopped down on the sofa with the bag of chips resting on his chest. He looked up at the ceiling, only half paying attention to his surroundings. "We start with the scariest looking ones first. The more Hot Topic apparel involved, the closer we are to the right one."
"Or we could start by researching those tattoos. Do you remember what any of them looked like?"
Shawn thought for a moment, squinting his eyes unconsciously in concentration. In his mind he could see the body from earlier, looking at the detailed images engraved on the skin. There were a lot of them, and it took more focus to pick out the details. "…Yeah. There was one…" The mental picture came into focus, one of the circles with smaller symbols scattered within it. Shawn sprung up from the sofa and walked over to the nearby clear board. Grabbing a bright green marker, he tried his best at recreating the image.
"It was something like… this." He added another symbol off to the side, still within the larger circle with crisscrossing lines. It almost formed a star, but not quite. "And this one here looked like the female symbol. Maybe he was trying to summon a lady." Shawn chuckled slightly at his joke.
"Summoning isn't funny. That's some pretty dark stuff." Gus said soberly.
"Oh, come on, Gus. Like you can summon something with a bunch of lines and squiggles." Shawn continued adding details to the drawing as he remembered. Another line here, connect the points there… Add another small symbol in that spot, another bigger circle around everything else… Soon he had them drawn out as best he could match to the clear images in his head. The final tattoo was the most striking of them all, the five-pointed star that sat within a flaming circle. With the final strokes he finished drawing it on the board.
"That's a pentagram," Gus noted. "Lassie might have been right. Maybe this was cult related."
"So they believed in a bunch of magic mumbo jumbo. And had poor taste in tattoos. It's just another case, Gus."
Gus shook his head, adamant. "This is serious stuff, Shawn. Summoning, latin, pentagrams- most spells are supposed to be in latin."
"Maybe he decided to tattoo them on himself so he wouldn't forget them. Like cheating during the spelling bee. Or a Chinese princess on her way to the matchmaker."
Gus shook his head and looked back at the laptop screen. "Think what you want, but I know better than to mess with any of that stuff. "
Shawn sighed. He looked at the drawn images again trying to parse them for clues. Nothing jumped out at him to indicate a location or person. Nay, not even a favorite color. Across the room Gus was still focused on his laptop, typing away and checking sites thoroughly.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm finding all the tattoo parlors in Santa Barbara. They might recognize who made the tattoos."
"Gus! Man…" Shawn grinned. "Look at you, our regular Ricardo Tubbs."
"You know that's right," Gus nodded with a smooth confidence. "There's about a dozen places in Santa Barbara. Assuming he didn't get the tattoos done somewhere else."
Shawn rounded the desk to look over Gus' shoulder at the listings on the screen. He thought back to the body they found- the clothing, the man's health, the chipped condition of his fingernails-
"Are there any shops located near an oyster bar?"
Somewhat surprised, Gus checked the listings again. He looked at the map listings and ran a separate search for oyster bars. At least a dozen of them popped up- most of them on State St.
"There!" Shawn shouted as he jabbed a finger forcibly towards the screen. "The Showy Hearts tattoo shop. I think we found our lead."
They looked at the website together, a dark-colored page with gothic and macabre imagery. It was poorly designed with bright cyan text over a detailed background of a brick wall. Animated gifs of talking skulls sat on either side of the page. "This looks like the kind of place to give someone a creepy tattoo," Gus noted with a shudder. "And someone needs a better designer. Since when was cyan an acceptable title color? And Impact font? Please."
"And it is there where our mystery man received his marks," Shawn said in a dramatic, low voice. "The way to channel the evil spirits of the unknown."
"It's not funny, Shawn. Look at this," He changed the browser window to another site that detailed occult and mystic symbols. "One of those symbols relates to demons. This is dark stuff. What if he was cursed and someone else tries to curse us? I'm not dying in a freak gardening accident, Shawn!"
"You won't be the drummer from Spinal Tap, Gus."
Shawn knew, without a doubt, there was nothing mystical about this case. There was no curse, no demon, and no magic involved whatsoever. Gus was not so easily convinced. His poor friend had trouble letting go of an idea once decided upon, and it looked like this John Doe and his geometry tattoos was no exception. But Gus would come to the right conclusion eventually- he just needed a push in the right direction.
And, admittedly, Shawn found it fun to mess with him.
"What's this? I'm… sensing something from the board…" He swayed on his feet and moved away from the desk in a jittering motion, finally leaning back towards the board. He jerked his hand back and forth before slamming it next to one of the circular symbols. "It's… It's summoning something, Gus! I can't control it…!"
"That's not funny, Shawn! You know this stuff freaks me out! That's not something you should joke about!"
"The spirits! They're coming! They're coming-"
Something moved at the other end of the office, in the kitchenette.
They froze.
The color drained from their faces as they shot each other questioning glances.
"…Did you hear that?" Gus asked, afraid of the answer.
Shawn managed to scoff while ignoring the feeling of dread that began to creep over him. "It- It was just a noise, Gus. That doesn't mean anything."
They listened. Not a sound was made, and nothing moved. It was still and quiet within the office. They waited long enough until Shawn's patience started to run out, which was about a minute. The tension began to ease. Then it was violently interrupted by a sliding and grinding sound that made one grit their teeth, then a clatter. Finally a loud 'crash!' was heard from the kitchenette, the unmistakable sound of porcelain breaking against the floor.
They looked at one another in silent understanding, communicating wordlessly in a way honed only through years of friendship. Gus silently tilted his head to the side to indicate their plan. Shawn nodded. Gus grabbed a nearby broom to brandish as a weapon. Slowly, carefully, they began tip-toeing around the corner towards the kitchen. It was with great effort they kept from trembling. Gus had a grimace on his face, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment and chose to brace himself for the pain. Shawn felt the same.
Shawn paused as he noted the broom in Gus' hand. "What are you going to do, clean it to death?" He whispered. Gus waved away his comment, figuratively in his scoff, then literally with a quick motion of his hand side to side.
They readied themselves just out of view of the kitchen. Braced up against the wall GI Joe style, they exchanged silent words once again. Gus looked at Shawn. Shawn looked at Gus. Shawn mentally prepared himself and tried not to see his life flashing before his eyes. Gus held out his fingers- three fingers. Two. One.
In a surge of faux-courage the two rounded the corner to face the kitchen- and found a rat crawling on the counter next to the stack of plates.
They screamed.
Clutching each other's sleeves for support, they jumped backwards while yelling incoherently. Babbling, yelling, shrieking, they took a moment to add wailing to the symphony of surprise. Gus bolted for the front door and dropped the broom. Shawn quickly followed.
They panted heavily from their positions on either side of the entrance. The four yard sprint was a lot to take on without warning. Neither of them were ready for the exercise. They needed a proper warmup for that sort of thing, Shawn thought. Gus leaned forward with his hands braced on his knees.
Shawn took the time to catch his own breath, the adrenaline subsiding and his mind clearing. "So… That was… Just a… rat…" He managed between breaths.
Gus nodded. "That… thing… was…" Another breath. " ...Disgusting!"
"Okay, so…" Shawn paused and began to collect his thoughts. There was no real demon, obviously. Nothing was summoned and there was nothing supernatural about the situation. Granted, it was still terrifying to have rodents within the Psych office. But it was a very-natural situation nonetheless. Shawn shook his head- it was silly for him to entertain the possibility in the first place. That sort of thing didn't exist, and he knew it.
Gus was calming down as well, but only slightly. "I am not going back in there. Not until that thing is gone."
"I hear ya, buddy," Shawn agreed. "Guess we'll just have to burn the place down."
"Not with our lease. Our insurance wouldn't cover it. Besides, if you did the dishes like you were supposed to, it wouldn't have come in the first place."
"I've had a lot on my plate, Gus. Figuratively speaking. The actual plates are sitting on the counter, of course," Shawn said. Gus shot him a look in reply.
The fact that the rodent was now safely trapped behind the door of the Psych office was enough to alleviate their fear. Rodents couldn't get through human doors, that would be silly.
Unless they had a Secret of NIHM situation on their hands- No, that was highly, highly unlikely.
"We need to call an exterminator." Gus took out his phone and started to dial a number.
"Wait… I've got an idea. I know someone else we can call," Shawn said.
Gus shot him an inquisitive look. "Like who?"
"I need your phone."
Gus held his phone slightly closer to himself. "Why? What's wrong with yours?"
"I left it inside. Just- Let me borrow it." Shawn made a move to take it.
Gus took a step backwards. "Just tell me who to call, Shawn. I'll make the call."
"You can't give it to me for one second?"
"I said, I'll make the call," Gus said firmly.
"Fine. It's-" Shawn was cut off by the sound of a nearby engine. It was the purr of an older car- the kind his old man would recognize, similar to the Model T's from his youth, Shawn thought. A sleek, black vintage car cruised down the street in front of them. It rumbled and growled as it passed in the way only a pristine old car could.
The moment passed, and Shawn and Gus turned their attention back towards one another. "Just call my dad. He'll take care of it," Shawn said.
Gus was skeptical. "He will? I don't know if he'll agree to help out that easily. You know what happened when you called him about that busted pipe."
"Gus, the man's old. He needs mental stimulation. Remember what happened to the first bartender from Cheers? He only lasted a couple of seasons. And then Woody Harrelson came along, and no one remembers the old man anymore. "
Gus shook his head, dismayed for the man that everyone forgot. "And then it was Woody from then on out."
"Will you just make the call? I'm starting to get all sweaty out here."
"You think you're sweaty? At least you're wearing short sleeves." Gus pointed out as he dialed the phone. Shawn leaned forward in hopes of listening in. He heard it ring once, twice, three times, then five- It went to voicemail.
"Hello, Mr. Spencer? This is Burton Guster. We're here at the Psych office, and Shawn and I were wondering if you could help us with a problem- Please call us back when you have the chance."