Note: I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last update! Work has yet again been sucking me of all will to live, but I'm trying very hard to have this finished by Halloween. Many thanks to dracofiend for the beta! And as always to FCOL, for all of her help!
Lassiter dialed Shawn's number for the fifth time, but it went straight to voicemail again. Shawn either didn't have his phone on or he hadn't bothered to recharge it. He was pretty sure it was the latter.
He felt a little dizzy, with the image of Shawn driving off with McNab stuck like a jammed film reel behind his eyes. It all felt a little too much like watching Victoria drive away, sitting in the back of that limo her father had sent to pick her up, with her oversized black sunglasses and her stiff upper lip.
Victoria hadn't looked back, either.
"Carlton, what are you doing here?" Vick asked.
Lassiter glanced up with a frown. He hadn't even seen her walk up to him. "Chief," he said.
She crossed her arms as she looked him over. "You're supposed to still be on leave," she said. "I thought I was very clear."
Lassiter cleared his throat, and reluctantly slipped his phone back in his pocket. He knew Shawn wouldn't answer his call, even if he could. "I'm not here as an officer, but Eveline Graves hired Spencer," he said. "I've been assisting him."
Vick gave a laugh of disbelief. "You've been assisting him?" she echoed. "Jeez, Lassiter. If you're so desperate you're even working in Mr. Spencer's employ, I guess we can make an exception and let you come back from leave a few days early."
Lassiter had been meaning to go find Shawn, for once grateful that he wasn't on the clock, but he could work this to his advantage. "In that case, I'd like to be the one to question Holly Graves," he said.
Vick frowned. "She's been taken to the hospital for psychiatric evaluation," she said. "Frankly I think the court will find she isn't fit to stand trial, and this is most likely going to end up with a plea. I don't think we need to push for an interrogation right now. She needs help more than we need a quick confession."
"You're assuming she's guilty," Lassiter said.
Vick raised an eyebrow. "You think she isn't?"
"Spencer thinks she isn't," Lassiter said. "I think we should listen to him, or at least follow this through."
"You think Spencer is right?" Vick asked. "Maybe it's you I should have sent for psychological evaluation."
"It's not—" Lassiter started, but Vick moved past him up the steps to the house.
"Go ahead and question her. But I want a report on my desk by 5:00 PM with everything you know, including any of Mr. Spencer's divinations," she called behind her.
Lassiter considered going to find O'Hara for a moment before getting into his car alone. He couldn't handle his partner today; she was getting to know him far too well. She'd see something was wrong, and O'Hara being O'Hara, she'd want to do something crazy like talk about it.
He pulled out his cellphone again before starting the car, but this time he wasn't calling Shawn.
"McNab," a cheery voice said.
Lassiter squinted against an oncoming migraine, and considered not for the first time that he was allergic to cheerful people, except maybe Shawn. Or maybe especially to Shawn. "I need to talk to Spencer," he said.
"He's not here," Buzz said, his voice going to level and inflectionless, in a way Lassiter tried to tell himself he didn't find disturbing.
"Where is he then?" Lassiter demanded.
"He asked me to drop him off. He seemed…upset," Buzz said. "I'd never seen him like that."
"Where did you take him?" Lassiter asked.
"Are you asking me officially?" Buzz asked, sounding uncomfortable. "Because I know about the personal relationship you have with Shawn, and I'm not sure if I should be saying anything—"
"You know—" Lassiter broke off, holding a hand to his forehead. "I just need to find him, McNab. You know what he's like when he's on a case. He's going to get himself into trouble. I only want to help."
"The Psych office," Buzz said after a moment. "But you didn't hear it from me."
"Thanks," Lassiter said, ending the call and starting the car. Lassiter drove by the Psych office on his way to the hospital, but Shawn's bike was gone and the sign on the door said closed.
Lassiter wanted to turn around and try to track Spencer down, because something was niggling at the back of his neck that he was going to disappear—that same feeling he'd get with suspects sometimes, right before they took off running. A kind of look in the eye, something cornered.
Lassiter knew he'd smothered Victoria. He'd always wanted to know where she was. It wasn't that he was controlling, exactly—it was for his own peace of mind. Seeing the kinds of things he saw everyday, it got pretty easy to imagine that person beneath the white sheet was someone he loved. He knew better than most that it could happen to anyone.
But Victoria hadn't been able to put up with that for long, and Shawn wouldn't put up with it at all, so he put the car in drive and started back to the hospital instead.
He had to start trusting him, Shawn was right about that. This seemed as good a place as any to start, because if there was one thing that could be counted on when it came to Spencer, it was that he wouldn't leave a case unsolved.
And he trusted Shawn enough to know that if he said this one wasn't over yet, it wasn't.
x x x x x x
The door swung open on only the second knock, and Shawn stuck his hands deep in his pockets and stared at the ground instead of looking up.
"Hi, Dad," he said. "Mind if I come in?"
It was Shawn asking and not just coming in that really tipped Henry off that something was wrong. Henry moved aside at once to let him in. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Where have you been?"
"I've been driving around for awhile," Shawn said, as he walked past him. "It should make you happy to know you were right."
"Right about what?" Henry asked.
"You called it brilliantly," Shawn said. "First fight with Lassiter and I was running." Shawn sat down at the table, crossing his arms on it and then burying his head in them.
Henry ruffled his hair as he walked by him to the fridge. "I'm proud of you," he said.
"You're proud of me?" Shawn demanded, voice muffled from his arms. "For doing exactly what you said I would?"
"You didn't," Henry said. "I said you'd be heading out of town, but you haven't. You came here instead."
"Which just goes to show how much my judgment has been impaired," Shawn argued, reluctantly lifting his head.
Henry dropped a tub of ice cream in front of Shawn, and he eyed it dubiously. "Leftovers from the Gus bribe?" Shawn asked petulantly.
"Be nice, or you won't get any sprinkles," Henry said, and sat across from him.
Shawn narrowed his eyes at his father, where he sat with his out of character, calm, neutral behavior. "I thought you'd be happy this was falling apart," he said. "Why aren't you gloating?"
"Look, you may not exactly be a wilting flower the rest of the time, but when Lassiter's around you kind of—you light up," Henry said, stumbling over his words in embarrassment. "I haven't ever seen you like that with anyone else."
"Yeah, but I figured you were holding out hope I was going to toe the line, get the picture perfect life you wanted for me," Shawn protested. "I mean, except for the whole being a real cop thing, which we both know isn't all it's cracked up to be. I know you thought I was going to grow out of this."
"Please, Shawn, I've known this wasn't just some phase since you watched Top Gun and told me you planned to marry Val Kilmer," Henry said, but the exasperation in his voice was, if anything, fond. "That's not the problem. I kind of figured out awhile back that you were never going to end up with some picket fence, a wife and kids. Frankly the thought of you having kids terrifies me, though you'd more than deserve everything they'd put you through."
Shawn rolled his eyes. Henry leaned forward, forcing Shawn's eyes to focus back on him. "What it comes down to is this," he said. "You're my kid. As long as you're happy, and safe, then I'll learn to live with anything else."
"Seriously?" Shawn asked. "Because your track record does not reflect this."
"Maybe you're not the only one who's changed," Henry said. "I've learned what's important to me, Shawn. Maybe it's time you figure out what's important to you."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Shawn demanded.
"You could start by asking yourself why you're still here," Henry said.
"I couldn't leave, even if I wanted to. I've got a case to finish," he said, and slouched in the chair.
"Like you've never left a job unfinished before?" Henry asked.
"This is different," Shawn said.
"Yeah," Henry said, and pushed the bottle of sprinkles across the table to Shawn. "Welcome to being a grown-up, kid, you finally made it. Whether you meant to or not."
"I certainly didn't mean to," Shawn said miserably. "Being a grown up sucks."
"There are consolations," Henry said gently. "Being a grown up means you get to be in a grown up relationship. What happened with Lassiter?"
"I'm not talking about this with you," Shawn said. "That's not why I came here."
"Then why did you come here?" Henry asked.
"I need help with the case," Shawn said, getting to his feet to pace. "I'm missing something, I know it. It's right there in front of me—but I—"
"You should be talking to Lassiter," Henry said.
"You think I didn't try?" Shawn snapped. "He doesn't believe me. I told him Holly wasn't responsible, and he—he doesn't care."
"I don't buy that," Henry said. "What proof did you give him?"
"What is with this obsession with proof? With evidence?" Shawn asked. "I know she didn't do it."
"Shawn," Henry said wearily. "You have this fight with Lassiter all the time, and you know he needs proof before he can act on anything, you know that."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but there's nothing written that you can't solve the case first and then find it," Shawn protested. "I do things a certain way."
"And so does Lassiter," Henry interrupted. "He follows police procedure and the law and you know it all by heart. Why is this any different?"
Shawn turned on his heel, pacing away from Henry. "It's not," he said reluctantly.
"Shawn," Henry said, shaking his head. "Lassiter's just doing his job."
"Yeah, I know, and he needs the proof, the evidence," he said. "But it isn't going to be found by going after the wrong person, and Lassiter doesn't believe me, he doesn't believe in me, and I told him, Dad—I told him everything, and he still doesn't."
"Did he say that?" Henry asked.
"He didn't have to say it. It's what he didn't say—" Shawn broke off, his eyes going wide. "That's it. She's been right there all along, it's just no one's said a word about her—"
"What are you talking about?" Henry demanded.
"The maid!" Shawn shouted, as he started for the door. "That's what I've been missing, and it's been right there in front of me all this time. I must be completely off my game. I keep thinking about—"
"Lassiter?" Henry asked quietly.
"Among other things," Shawn said, avoiding his father's eyes as he opened the door.
Henry grabbed his arm to tug him back. "Slow down a minute, this isn't about the case, and you know it."
"I told you, I came here because of the case, not Lassiter, and I've got it, you've been a great help as always, see you Wednesday," Shawn said.
"Shawn," Henry snapped. "You look exhausted, just stay for lunch, okay? We'll talk. You been sleeping at all lately?"
"No time to sleep," Shawn said, and slipped out of his grip. "I've got to go solve this case."
"Shawn," Henry called after him. "Shawn, I thought we agreed this wasn't about the case!"
"When you're working a case, it's everything," Shawn said, not stopping or even slowing down. "You taught me that!"
Henry sighed and leaned against the door, watching Shawn hop on his bike and drive off. It just figured that would be the one lesson he'd listen to.
x x x x x x
Lassiter had only been in a psych ward twice before. Back when he'd still be on the beat he'd had to drag a guy here, who had been half out of his mind, shouting about the creatures that lived under the ground. He'd handed him off at the door and they'd taken him inside and that was that.
The second time he'd been here, it was to interview the only witness to a brutal murder. That hadn't taken very long either, because she refused to speak. The last time Lassiter had checked on her progress, she still hadn't spoken a word.
These places were always white and too clean. There was a subtle switch in atmosphere when he went from the main hospital into that locked ward. There were no longer abstract pictures on the wall, there were no splashes of color at all. Lassiter supposed the doctors knew what they were doing, but he figured anyone who didn't go in crazy would end up that way, because all that white had to drive any sane person mad.
"I don't recommend this," the doctor told him, not for the first time since Lassiter had arrived. He was an older man, and with his shock of white hair and that long lab coat, he blended into the scenery like those camouflaged bugs on the nature channel.
"She hasn't confessed to anything," Lassiter told him. "If she's not responsible for what happened we need to know, because that means there's someone still out there who is."
"I understand that," he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. His nametag said Dr. Blakely, and Lassiter vaguely recognized him from some case or another. He'd been on the stand, claiming a suspect was not fit to stand trial.
Lassiter hadn't liked him then, either.
The doctor pursed his lips when Lassiter made no further comment, and unlocked the door with his key card. "Fifteen minutes," he said. "Not a moment more."
Lassiter moved past him into the room, and tried not to wince as the door clicked locked behind him. He moved his eyes across the tile floor and then up, until they came to rest on Holly.
She too seemed to have adapted to her surroundings, and she looked washed out and faded. Her skin was pale and her light blonde hair hung limply down to frame her face. She'd had her torn white dress traded in for clean white hospital scrubs. The only color left was the blue of her eyes.
"Hello," she said. "How are you today?"
She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and wrist restraints lay unlatched along the sides. Lassiter had never been comfortable in places like this. He liked suspects he could yell at, the ones he didn't doubt himself about.
Someone had given Holly a notepad and a purple crayon. She'd drawn at least twenty perfect circles side by side. "You're supposed to answer," Holly told him without looking up. "You say, I'm fine today, and you?"
Lassiter cleared his throat. "I'm fine today," he said softly. "And you?"
"Very well, thank you," she said. "But it's cold here and they took my clothes. Harvey always said I'd end up here without him. In the funny house, he said. It's not very funny though, is it?"
"No, it's not," Lassiter said. "Holly, I need to ask you a question."
"You've already asked me one," she said. "That means you've only got nineteen left."
"I only have one more," Lassiter said. "Who is Andie?"
Holly's hand stilled, the crayon halfway to closing circle number twenty-one. "That's a strange question to ask," she said. "I thought you were here about Harvey. That's what everyone keeps asking me. They want to know how I did it."
"How you did what?" Lassiter asked.
"How I killed him," she said.
"Did you?" he asked. "Kill him?"
"I saw him in the pool. He was floating on a raft, and I thought, that's strange, because he doesn't like to be still, you see, that's the thing you notice first about him, the way he won't sit still, and he always said, mind your manners, keep your elbows off the table, but that's the second thing you notice about him, he never follows his own rules." Holly ran the crayon along the page in a meandering twirling path that seemed to follow the flow of her words, and Lassiter fought the urge to take it from her and protest that she hadn't given an answer to his question at all.
"You saw him die?" he asked.
"No, I didn't see him die," Holly said. "I couldn't see him at all because Andie was holding him under the water. It's so hard to see through water at night. It's black, have you ever noticed that? Water's always the same color as the sky."
"Andie killed Harvey?" Lassiter asked intently, stepping forward.
Holly closed her eyes, and let the crayon slip from her hands. "He just disappeared into the water, and Andie's hands ran along the surface of it like she was sealing him in," she said. "It was odd how quiet it all was. I went to pull him out after she left. He was very heavy though, and I got all wet."
"You don't sound too concerned," Lassiter said slowly. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"I don't speak to strangers usually, if I can help it, and the doctors say I don't see things quite right," Holly said. "Maybe they're right to say that, because I feel as sad for her as for him. Is she going to be in trouble?"
"Yeah," Lassiter said gently, and he kneeled by the bed. "Can you tell me where she is?"
"No," Holly said. "You should ask the psychic."
Lassiter frowned. "Shawn?"
"He said it was going to be okay," Holly said, "except it's not, is it?"
"Someone has to answer for what happened," Lassiter said. "Do you understand that?"
"Of course I understand," Holly said. "If my father taught me anything it's that everyone has to answer for something. There's a right response to everything, and we should always be polite."
"Where's your mother, Holly?" Lassiter asked again.
"All I know is that she isn't here," Holly said. "That's all I can say for certain. I'm almost sure I'd know, if she were." She picked up the crayon again, and started to turn the circles into flowers.
"Holly, I need you to look at me," Lassiter said gently. "You have to tell me about her, so we can find her."
"She used to read to me from Lord Byron's Don Juan. Isn't that a strange thing to read to a child? But it's beautiful, I knew that even then," she said, focused on her drawing. "Do you know Stanza 30, in Canto 1? 'No doubt this patience when the world is damning us is philosophic in our former friends. 'Tis also pleasant to be deemed magnanimous, the more so in obtaining our own ends, and what the lawyers call a malus animus, conduct like this by no means comprehends. Revenge in person's certainly no virtue, but then 'tis not my fault, if others hurt you.'"
"That's some memory," Lassiter said. "I've never read it myself."
"You should," Holly said. "It has something for everyone. My mother's favorite line was this: 'I don't much like describing people mad, for fear of seeming rather touched myself.'"
"We need to find her," Lassiter said. "She might hurt someone else."
"That's the problem with keeping madness to yourself," Holly said. "It isn't like you don't still know it's there, and it always finds a way out somehow."
"You'd tell me, wouldn't you, if you knew where she was?" Lassiter asked.
"I've already told you so much," she said. "I've said more than I should."
"Holly—"
The door opened, and Dr. Blakely stepped in. "That's enough for now, detective. Holly needs her rest."
"No rest for the weary," Holly said. "Though the wicked sleep just fine."
"Goodbye, Holly," Lassiter said, and started towards the door.
"Have a nice day now. Come again soon," Holly said, before finally looking up. "And tell Shawn, I hope he starts dreaming again soon."
"I will," Lassiter said, and then shut the door.
x x x x x x
Shawn got Gus's key out of the fake rock and slipped inside. He found Gus on the couch in his train pajamas, drinking a cup of coffee and watching cartoons.
"I can see you've been very productive today," Shawn told him, dropping down beside him. "While you've been sleeping in and watching cartoons, I've gone and solved our case."
"Where's Lassiter?" Gus asked, glancing at him sideways. "I thought we established that weekends are Lassiter days. I want to enjoy my coffee and finish this Sponge Bob, Shawn."
"Lassiter and I had a fight," Shawn said, grabbing Gus's coffee and drinking what was left. "I think we may have broken up."
"You what? Already?" Gus demanded. "Wait, what do you mean you think? Don't you know?"
"No one's ever broken up with me before, and I've never broken up with anyone," Shawn explained. "So I'm not really clear on the rules."
"That's not possible, Shawn," Gus said. "You've been with a lot of people. You can't still be dating all of them."
"No, of course not, but we always drift apart, or I end up setting them up with someone who's really a lot better suited to their needs," Shawn explained. "I've never had a fight with someone I was sleeping with before."
"Are you serious?" Gus asked.
"Yes!" Shawn said. "Most people don't fight with me, Gus, most people find me adorable and want to take care of me. I don't know what's wrong with you and Lassiter and my dad, you guys yell at me all the time."
"We yell because we care, Shawn," Gus said.
Shawn rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't see how that makes sense," he said. "And definitely not in Lassiter's case. He yells at everyone."
"It's always a little louder when it's you," Gus said.
"Well, it doesn't matter right now," Shawn said. "What matters is that I totally solved the case, so we have to go catch a murderer and get Holly free."
"You're always wanting to go catch murderers," Gus said. "I wish you'd get a different hobby. We're private investigators, we're not bounty hunters."
"I totally could be, though, I still have the vest and everything," Shawn said. "But don't worry, I think we can take this one. Our unsub is a woman between the ages of 40 and 55. She likes to bake cookies and drown people in pools. She has—"
"Stop talking like you're on Criminal Minds, Shawn," Gus snapped. "Just tell me who it is."
"The maid!" Shawn shouted, flashing a grin. "We were right. Harvey was totally sleeping with his maid. I knew he was the type."
"Sani?" Gus asked in disbelief. "She's got no motive, and she seemed pretty sure about not sleeping with him. Anyway, there's no way she's over forty."
"No, not Sani," Shawn said, closing his eyes. He took his mind back to that picture on Holly's dresser. The woman was wearing a dress, it was blue instead of grey, and she'd taken off the apron, but it was the same style as Sani's. "I've been so stupid. I've been so sure that it was someone living in the house, but what if it was someone that used to live there?"
"What are you talking about?" Gus asked.
"Eveline told us that Sani's only been the maid there two weeks," Shawn said. "And I never even thought to ask who had worked there before her."
"And so that makes their former maid a murderer?" Gus asked. "I'm not sure I'm following the logic."
"You'll get there," Shawn said, "but first you need to change out of your ridiculous pajamas and put on some grown up clothes. We need to talk to Eveline. We need to find out who the maid was before Sani, and why she was fired."
"You sound like you already know," Gus said.
"I've got a pretty good guess," Shawn said. "I bet when we ask who the maid was, Eveline's going to say her name was Andie."
"The one in Holly's note?" Gus asked.
"Oh, that's right," Shawn said, as Gus stood to change. "I forgot to tell you. Andie's Holly's mother. That's where the whole sleeping with the maid thing comes in. Sometimes when I get things so right without even meaning to, I kind of scare myself."
"Well, if it's any comfort, you scare me most of the time, whether you're right or wrong," Gus said, before heading down the hall.
Shawn slouched down and tilted his head to watch the show. The pineapple under the sea briefly brought back his dream of opening a pineapple shaped smoothie hut, but Gus was like one of those stage actors who could exit backstage and come right back out wearing something else—he only had a moment to muse before Gus was standing in front of him in a neatly pressed suit, impatiently taping one of his hundred dollar shoes (sixty if you subtracted for the gift certificate).
"Shawn! I thought this was urgent?" Gus demanded.
Shawn turned off the television and jumped to follow him. "It is! How did you manage to come out so wrinkle free that quickly?" Shawn demanded.
"I iron all my suits before I hang them up," Gus said. "It's just good sense."
"I think you need to rethink your idea of 'good,'" Shawn said. "And maybe 'sense'? You're going about it all wrong."
Gus rolled his eyes as he unlocked the Echo. "Whatever, Shawn, I know I look good," he said. "You look like a college drop-out."
"I can live with that," Shawn said. "At least I look like I had some college."
"Which of course, you haven't," Gus said.
Shawn joined him in the car. "That's a lie!" he said. "I've taken a number of classes at the SBCC! Theater, remember? I was Othello."
"The Santa Barbara City College? And you were not Othello, you were Iago, and you were a terrible Iago," Gus said.
"That show sold out, Gus, and everyone loved me," Shawn protested. "I got more laughs than anyone."
"Othello is a tragedy, Shawn!" Gus protested. "They're not supposed to laugh!"
"That's besides the point," Shawn said. "Anyway, I also took Underwater Basket Weaving and Economics. I'm sure I was only a few credits away from some kind of degree."
"You took Economics?" Gus said in disbelief.
"Home Economics," Shawn said. "I wanted to make a good wife someday, but they expected me to cook something, so I had to drop it after the second class."
"You made it to the second class?" Gus asked. "I'm impressed."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Shawn said. "I have hidden depths."
"Clearly," Gus said. "I'm sure you explored them in your underwater basket weaving class."
"I'm sensing sarcasm in your tone, but I'll forgive you because of the awesome pun," Shawn told him.
Gus just shot him an irritated sideways glance and gave the Echo more power, going nearly sixty miles per hour. Shawn started chewing on one of his nails as they made it to Padaro Lane. "Stop it, Shawn," Gus said. "You know onychophagia freaks me out. Do you even realize how much bacteria you're ingesting by putting your fingers in your mouth?"
"No, because I'm a normal person," Shawn said. "As evidenced by the fact that I call people nail-biters, not onychophagiacs."
Gus reached over to pull Shawn's hand down. "What are you so nervous about anyway?" Gus demanded, as they pulled to a stop in front of the gate. The gate pulled open on its own again, and Gus gunned the Echo inside.
"The police probably told Eveline they caught the killer," Shawn explained. "She's going to be off her guard, especially considering the murderer is most likely someone she knows. We've got to warn her, and we've got to find out where Andie is."
"You think she's going to try and go after Eveline again?" Gus asked.
"I think she was unstable before, and Holly's just been taken from her again," Shawn said. "She's going to need someone to blame."
The Echo pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. "That's a good point," Gus said. "But Shawn, what if she's already here?"
"Then we'd better hurry," Shawn said, jumping out of the car.
"That's not what I meant," Gus snapped, but followed him. "What are we supposed to do if we find her?"
"Congratulate ourselves on a job well done?" Shawn said, as he took the steps two at time and reached out to ring the bell. The door swung open before he could reach it, and Aldis stared down at them with narrowed eyes. "Alfred! Nice to see you again. We need to see Vicki Vale."
Aldis moved aside, and Shawn went inside. Gus stepped in behind him, watching Aldis warily. "Wait here," Aldis said, and the door swung closed behind them. He disappeared down the hallway, and Eveline came back out of it a few moments later.
"Shawn, Gus," she said, rushing up to them. She didn't look anymore together than she had on their first meeting. She was wearing an expensive maroon blouse, but an old oversized grey sweater was pulled over it, and Shawn guessed it had been Harvey's. She didn't seem comfortable with expensive things, which was certainly a rare quality in a trophy wife. "I can't believe this. First I find out I have a step-daughter, and then that she—well, I just, I can't—"
"You don't believe it because it's not true," Shawn said, closing his eyes, one hand held up to his temple. "Holly didn't do it, I'm quite sure of that, there's someone else, someone that's been out of the picture for awhile." Shawn opened his eyes again and aimed them at Eveline. "Who was the maid before you hired Sani?"
Eveline frowned. "Andie Delahoy?" she asked. "Surely you don't believe she has anything to do with this?"
"Why was she fired?" Gus asked.
Eveline bit her lip, and pulled the sweater around her. "Harvey fired her," she said. "She'd worked for him almost her whole life, too. Practically grew up with Harvey, you know, her mother was the maid for his parents. It was very sudden. He said she was stealing, but he never said what she'd taken."
"Do you have any idea where she'd be?" Shawn asked.
Eveline nodded. "Yes, I think so. I set her up in a little apartment, just until she could get on her feet. I never told Harvey, of course."
"We're gonna need that address," Gus said.
Eveline walked to the entry table and slid a notepad towards her. She wrote down the address and handed it to Shawn. "I don't know why I never thought of Andie before," she said. "Because I liked her so well, I suppose, but after the way Harvey dismissed her, I can see where she'd be angry. I always tried to help her, though, I—" Eveline broke off, shaking her head. "Do you know why?"
"She's Holly's mother," Shawn said. "But if it's any consolation, I'm pretty certain that Harvey stopped his relationship with her when he married you."
Eveline let out a disbelieving laugh. "Small consolation," she said. "Since that's probably what started all of this." She brought a hand to her head. "I'm sorry, I think I need a moment to collect myself. Did you need anything else?"
"No, you've been a great help, thanks," Shawn said.
"Please, stay as long as you need, and call Aldis or Sani if you need anything," she said, before heading up the stairs towards her bedroom.
Shawn glanced around, but Aldis seemed to have disappeared as well. "Do you see Lurch anywhere?" he asked Gus.
"No, he went down the hall," Gus said. "I think he was giving me the evil eye."
"Could we focus on the case please?" Shawn demanded. "Did you hear what Eveline said? That's why Andie couldn't do it."
"Couldn't do what?" Gus asked.
"Couldn't kill her," Shawn said. "That's why she couldn't kill Eveline. Eveline was nice to her, but she was in the way, it explains both the motive to want her dead and the hesitation in carrying it out."
"You really think she's the murderer?" Gus asked.
"He made her live in this house with their kid, still working as his maid. And with Harvey and Eveline out of the way, Holly would get everything, this house, all the money. She would have known about Eveline's pills—it wouldn't have been hard to grab a couple, and she knows this place, she's lived her nearly her whole live. The code to the security system is her daughter's birthday, so she can come and go as she pleases," Shawn said, ticking everything off on his fingers. "That's motive, means, and opportunity, Gus!"
"We should call Lassiter," Gus said.
"Yeah, we should," Shawn said.
"Shawn," Gus started.
"He still doesn't trust me," Shawn snapped. "Say I do call him, what then? You think he'd actually come?"
"Yeah, Shawn, I think he would," Gus said.
Shawn bit his lip and looked down at his cellphone. Everything inside of him was itching to run and confront Andie, catch her off her guard and get a confession. He was good at it.
But trust went both ways, and Lassiter had his reasons for thinking Shawn wasn't telling him everything. He knew they had to start somewhere. Shawn sighed and hit the speed dial.
"Hey, Lassie?" Shawn said, when the call picked up. "I solved the case."
Shawn didn't hear Lassiter's response, because it was swallowed in the sound of the safety unlatching on a gun.
"You're gonna want to hang up now," someone said.
