Chapter One: And the mildly crazy detective seems to love me why?
Washington,1992
Her first day of sixth grade at the middle school, and already Melanie had managed to get herself into trouble. She sat by the door to the principal's office, swinging her feet and feeling generally guilty.
"Okay, Miss Howell. Come in here."
Melanie slipped off the seat and opened the door, hesitating. The voice didn't sound overly inviting.
"Don't be shy. Let's get to know each other, Melanie. I'm guessing we'll be seeing a lot of each other these next few years."
She slunk into the room and headed straight for the chair that was waiting for her in front of the principal's desk. Once she had sat down, she chanced a glance at the man behind the desk. He had piercing blue eyes, greying black hair, and appeared to be very tall, even sitting down. Melanie swallowed nervously, automatically checking her peripheral vision for an escape route if the tall man went suddenly crazy.
"Hello, Melanie. I'm Principal Burke." His smile had a hint of being warm, but his eyes weren't so cuddly. "Would you like to tell me why you felt it necessary to super-glue all of Miss Barrow's erasers to her chalkboard?"
Melanie did her best to look offended. "She assigned me to eraser-beating duty, Principal Burke! I hate that job! I asked her not to, and I was real nice about it…. Those erasers had it coming. Besides…I only glued them to the far sides of the board. Miss Barrow still has plenty of room to write on it."
"But no erasers to wipe the chalk away," Principal Burke added.
"She can use her hand like the boys do."
To her surprise, the tall man chuckled, and when he spoke, his voice was suddenly much warmer. "All right, you've made your case, Melanie. But you're not getting off scot-free. You'll have to scrape the glue and erasers off the board, and you'd better get Miss Barrow some new erasers. And why don't you get her some new chalk while you're at it, to pay up a little bit?"
Melanie nodded fervently. "Sounds fair, Principal Burke."
"Okay, you can go. And how about next time you visit, it's not because you're in trouble?"
"Okie-dokie, Principal Burke!" she agreed, scurrying out of the room before the strange man had a chance to change his personality on her again.
California, 2008
"Shawn? What's this charge on here for? This one for a hundred-couple dollars?"
"Oh, I sent the police department a fruit basket. Mainly pineapples. A few bananas. Y'know, to break up the citrusy-ness," the non-psychic replied nonchalantly as he tossed a bouncy ball up in the air and caught it again, over and over.
Melanie sighed as she jotted down "pointless fruit" in her notes next to the charge. She had been working at the office for almost a month now, but none of the cases had really been able to hold her interest. A missing dog, a few marital problems, some reckless teenagers and worried parents, missing money…boring stuff. Of course, nothing could compare to the tedious secretarial work….
"Hey, Shawn, you'll never believe who just pulled into our lot," Gus said suddenly, peering past the bright green letters that spelled out the name of their business.
Shawn slipped his feet off the desk and spun around in his swivel chair to look out the window. "Lassie?"
Melanie glanced up from her paperwork. Approaching the building was a tall, lanky man, apparently in his mid to late thirties, wearing a black suit and looking to be in a very foul mood. "Lassie?" she questioned without thinking, but she was ignored by the two men.
The door was suddenly shoved open more forcefully than necessary, and "Lassie" entered the office, scowling. Melanie barely had time to take in his angry features before he started barking at her bosses.
"Spencer, Guster, before anything is said, I want it to be very clear that no one will know I'm asking for your help!"
"Lassie! So glad you could stop in! Pineapple?" Shawn said, ignoring the man's previous comment and lifting a Tupperware container of diced pineapple toward him. "Freshly sliced."
"I should've known it was you that sent O'Hara that ridiculous fruit basket. She's been passing those stupid things out like mints."
Melanie snorted as she added "for a girl" to her previous notation. She should've known….
"What is it that you need, Detective Lassiter?" Gus asked, his tone business-like in an attempt to cover his chuckles.
The man pursed his lips before responding. "I was framed for a murder."
Melanie watched in surprise as the goofy smile slipped off Shawn's face for the first time since she had met him. It was several very long seconds before his slack jaw snapped shut again and he was able to speak.
"What happened?" he choked.
"Some punk stole my gun and used it to shoot some other punk." The lanky man sank into a chair and glared at the opposite wall during the pause that followed his brief and mostly unhelpful explanation.
Melanie couldn't help but feel pity for the detective, even though what she had seen of him so far indicated that his personality wasn't exactly pleasant. "Er, Detective…Lassiter, was it? Could I get you something to drink?" Well, he seemed to be a decent enough person, despite his crankiness.
All three men looked at her as if they had forgotten she was there; or, in the detective's case, never noticed her at all.
"Who's this?" Detective Lassiter snapped at Shawn and Gus.
"She's our secretary," Gus answered. "Melanie, Detective Lassiter. Detective Lassiter, Melanie."
"Head Detective," Lassiter growled.
"Sorry," Gus muttered.
"Oh, it's nice to meet you, uh…Head Detective Lassiter," Melanie said awkwardly. "How about that drink?"
When she addressed him by "Head Detective," he focused on her, inspecting her face. After a long minute, he muttered, "Whatever you've got." As an after-thought, he added, "As long as it doesn't involve pineapple. Or fruit of any kind, really."
She nodded. "Sure thing, Head Detective." Addressing him by his full title seemed to make the pulsing vein in his forehead relax a little, so she figured it would be a good idea to continue the practice, especially with Shawn around. She guessed Shawn wasn't good for anyone with a vein like that.
As she rooted in the fridge for something that wasn't fruit-related, she listened intently to the men's conversation. It seemed as if Psych finally had an interesting case….
"Details, Lassie. I need details," Shawn was saying.
"Details? I thought you were supposed to be a psychic, Spencer." Detective Lassiter's tone indicated that he didn't really buy into Shawn's antics; it made Melanie grin.
"Yes, well, it's hard to see things when I've got such negative energy blocking me," Shawn retorted. Melanie had to give him credit--that excuse would be fairly believable for a real psychic.
"Fine," Detective Lassiter said, sounding slightly smug. "Two nights ago this punk broke into my house in the middle of the night. I was asleep, but a gunshot woke me up. When I reached for my gun on my bedside table, it wasn't there, so I grabbed a golf club--"
"You golf?" Shawn interrupted.
"No, I don't golf, Spencer. Victoria thought it would be a good hobby for me. I'd rather go down to the shooting range."
"So why do you still have them?"
Detective Lassiter ignored Gus's question and continued with his story. "Anyway, I grabbed a golf club and headed down the stairs. When I went into the kitchen, there was a dead punk on the floor and my police gun beside him. I grabbed the gun, checked to see he was dead, and then cleared the rest of the house. When I didn't find anyone else, I called the chief. Ballistics matched my gun to the two bullets in the dead guy, and there were no prints on the gun but mine."
Melanie grabbed a Coke from the fridge and stepped back into the main room of the office. "But, it's self-defence, right? I mean, he broke into your house…" she said, unable to stop herself.
The detective shook his head as he accepted the soda with a muttered "Thanks." "There was no sign of forced entry and nothing had been messed with."
"Who was the guy?" Shawn questioned.
"This punk I picked up for drug possession a few years ago. He just got out of rehab apparently and decided to pay me a visit."
As Shawn fell into what appeared to be deep thought over the new information, Detective Lassiter noticed Melanie again. He was staring hard at her, as if trying to figure out something.
"What was your name again?" he asked.
"Melanie," she answered slowly, holding out a tentative hand that he shook almost pensively.
He continued to stare at her, looking perplexed, until Shawn interrupted.
"I'm going to need to see crime scene photos," he said as he stood and began pacing in front of his desk. "Oh, and I'm going to need to see your house."
"What? You are not coming near my house, Spencer!" Detective Lassiter snapped at him.
"But, Lassie, I have to connect with the spirit of the victim! The best place to do that is to be at the spot he died," Shawn argued, back to his typical childish self. "Trust me, Lassie, the last place I want to be is your house. It's probably just crammed full of dark, doubting, negative energy." He made an odd hand-motion, like he was squeezing Play-doh in his hands.
Detective Lassiter glared at Shawn for several long moments before he muttered reluctantly, "Fine. But she's coming with you."
Melanie was startled when he pointed at her. "Me? But, I'm just the secretary--"
"Okay, deal," Shawn said enthusiastically.
"Why me?" Melanie repeated, still bemused by the detective's insistence.
"You look trustworthy," Detective Lassiter replied. "I want you to help me keep an eye on these two, especially Spencer." He cast her one last sidelong glance before glowering at Shawn. "I'm warning you now, Spencer. If you touch anything in my house without permission, I will finally rid the world of your nuisance." With that, he turned and marched from the building, leaving Melanie in a haze of bewilderment that at least Gus seemed to share.
"Sure thing, Lassie!" Shawn called after the detective, grinning. Then he turned to Melanie and gave her a hearty thump on the shoulder. "Well, Mels, looks like you're part of the Psych investigative team now. Congratulations!"
Gus snorted. "I don't know, Melanie. I've never seen Lassiter like anyone he's just met before. Well, aside from Chief Vick's sister, but that was just creepy."
"Should I be scared?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Possibly," Shawn answered. "I'll let you know when you really need to worry. Until then, I think we've discovered a valuable asset in you, Mels."
"How's that?" she inquired sceptically.
"I think you've just become Lassie Control," Gus responded, grinning.
She didn't like the way that sounded.