The door of the apartment stayed closed for a moment after David knocked. He rapped on it again.
"Mr. Monroe? FBI. Open up."
The sound of a deadbolt being undone came through the door, then a face with a heavy dose of blonde stubble came into view.
"Yeah?"
"We're with the FBI. Can we ask you a few questions?" Colby showed his badge.
Monroe shrugged. "Can't imagine why." He pulled the door open all the way.
The two agents and Shawn entered. Shawn's eyes scanned the room, taking in everything. He noticed a pair of muddy work boots in the corner near the front door.
As they walked into the sitting area, they passed Monroe's desk. Shawn's eye landed on a business card with the words "Roger York Construction".
These observations took but a second. Shawn turned to face the others.
Monroe had seated himself in an old yellow chair and crossed his arms. "So, you wanted to talk to me?" he demanded more than asked. His expression was more one of boredom than fear or of being impressed.
"Yeah." David nodded. "Mr. Monroe, what do you know of the Snow Cap Hotel?"
"What, that big ol' fancy one downtown? Not much."
"Okay, how about the medical conference scheduled there this weekend?"
Monroe's face stayed blank. "I had no idea anything was happening."
"A bomb went off there this morning. You have any idea who set it?"
"So, someone finally leveled it, did they?" Monroe laughed. "I know a lot of people had a bone to pick with that there building."
"Why's that?" Colby asked.
He shrugged. "A lot of local workers got passed over for some fancy out-of-town outfit when the hotel went up. They wasn't too happy 'bout it."
"Do you know anyone in particular who would have been able to set a bomb there?"
"None right off. Are you done?"
"Mr. Monroe, please give us a call if you come up with anything." David handed Monroe a card.
"Yeah, sure," the man shrugged.
"We'll be in touch," Colby promised as they rose.
The man's muscled shoulders rose in another shrug. "Well, I ain't got a choice, so fine." He slammed the door behind them with more force than necessary.
The deadbolt relocking clicked behind them as they walked down the hall.
"You surprised me, Shawn," David told him with a small smile. "You actually kept quiet the whole time."
"I was absorbing it all. I'm not always so well-behaved."
"Yeah we've noticed."
Shawn grinned at Colby. "I'll take that as a compliment."
wmwmw
Back at the office, Don looked up as Colby, David, and Shawn entered. "Any luck?"
David shook his head at his boss. "Not much. Monroe seems to know who it could've been - or at least some possible names - but he wouldn't give them up."
"Do you think he has anything to do with it?" Don asked, setting down the file he had been reading.
"Not sure. There's no reason that we know of yet."
"Okay." Don turned to Shawn. "Did you get anything when you were there?"
"Nothing specific. I did get some buzzing about something, but it was just too vague."
"We may have something," Charlie offered, sending a pointed glare Shawn's way.
"Yeah?" Don turned as his brother joined them. "What's up?"
"Well, we were able to come up with a filtering system to go through the files of the people on Monroe's phone records. The only thing they have in common are the fact that they've all worked in construction, their criminal records, and that they were all arrested around the same time several years ago."
Shawn's memory flashed back to the business card in Monroe's apartment and the work boots in the corner. They were a type commonly used in construction. And that mud …
"Were they arrested together?" Don inquired.
"I wondered that, too, but the arrests were in several different states: California, Oregon, New Mexico, and Utah. However," he continued, "there was a connection we found between the prisons: an employee, James York, transferred between all four during the sentences."
Don's brow rose at that. "Does he work in any of them now?"
"No, actually, he's gone into real estate. He owns the Snow Cap Hotel."
wmwmw
Less than half an hour later, and David and Nikki were in an interrogation room with James York.
Nikki folded her hands on the tabletop as she launched into their questions. "So, Mr. York, what can you tell me about your hotel? Were you making money on it?"
"Well," the man stuttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "yeah, I was. Not a million dollars or anything, but I was making … uh, some."
"You don't know any numbers?"
He shook his head at David's question. "My accountant did all that."
"So you own a hotel but have no idea of your profits?" Nikki asked.
"I just owned it in name. It was a lucky win in a card game is all. I'm not quite cut out for business. I just let everyone else take care of it all."
Nikki raised an eyebrow. "Winning a hotel in a poker game. You must play some pretty high stakes."
"It was more like I won the title to the land. And I don't do it that often; I was just on vacation in Vegas. Anyway, I decided to build a hotel; some associates told me it was a good deal. Honest, I'm not much of a businessman."
"Uh-huh. Let me ask you, Mr. York, how do you feel about the bombs?"
"How …? Well, bad. I mean," he pushed his glasses up again, "I'm glad that no one got hurt and for the insurance, but it's going to be a pain to repair." He looked between the agents. "It made good money, so I don't see why not. I already have someone lined up to start on as soon as you guys let me."
Okay," David spoke up. "Now, I want to ask you something about when you worked in the prisons a few years ago."
James looked surprised but nodded. "Go ahead."
"Did you come into any contact with the prisoners?"
"Some." James nodded. "It's kind of hard to work in a prison and not come into contact with any of the guys there."
"What did you talk about?" David inquired.
"I would just talk, you know," James answered, pushing his glasses up his nose again. "I mean, some of them just wanted a friendly ear."
"Just talked?" Nikki asked.
"Yeah. And I helped some of them find jobs after they got out. Just to be helpful, you know."
"Uh-huh. What sort of jobs?" she prompted.
"Mainly construction. A lot of them had already had jobs in that field before."
Shawn, listening with Don and Colby, perked up at this.
"You getting anything?" Don wanted to know, seeing Shawn's look.
"Oh, um ..." Shawn trailed off and put a hand to his head. He began humming, closing his eyes for a few seconds before popping them open. "James is innocent. Monroe, however ... knows more than he let on. You should question him some more."
Colby nodded. "He definitely seemed to have been hiding something."
"Exactly!" Shawn grinned in satisfaction. "Also, you should look into the local construction companies that were passed over for the job. I'm detecting a slight supernatural vibration that they may have been upset about it. Upset enough to plot for years and finally take it out when they had the chance!"
"It's certainly worth looking into," Don agreed.
wmwmw
It was already late in the evening, so the agents called it a night, planning to pick the investigation up again in the morning, starting with questioning Monroe again. Less than an hour later, Shawn and Gus were on the doorstep of a house in a quiet Los Angeles neighborhood. Shawn's knock was answered by an older man.
"You must be Shawn and Gus," the man smiled. He offered his hand in greeting. "Alan Eppes. Why don't you boys come in? The others haven't arrived yet."
"Thank you," Gus returned the smile.
Once the trio had taken seats in the living room, Alan turned to Shawn. "So, Charlie said you were a psychic?"
"Yes, I am."
"And you work with the Santa Barbara police?" Alan asked. "How'd you get involved with this investigation? Charlie wasn't all that specific on the phone."
"Well, Gus here was attending the medical conference at the hotel, and I came along for fun. When the bomb went off, I had a vision about another bomb and stopped another explosion."
"You helped stop the explosion, Shawn," Gus corrected. "You had a vision and pointed Don and Nikki in the right direction."
"But that stopped the explosion," Shawn persisted, not taking Gus' hint.
Alan interrupted their bickering. "Wouldn't that have made you a suspect?"
"It did, but he was cleared," Gus replied, shooting Shawn a stern look. "With our record at the SBPD, we were asked to help out."
Shawn just ignored him and continued to fiddle with the throw pillow he had pulled onto his lap.
"Ah." Alan nodded. His brow furrowed. "You were staying at the hotel?"
Gus nodded. "We were, but now we'll be putting up at another one - at least for tonight."
"Hmm. You know, that's not really all that necessary."
Shawn cocked his head to the side. "Are you inviting us to stay here?"
"Why not? There's enough room, and it'll keep you from having to go through the trouble of finding another place so late in the day."
"What about -" Gus began to protest.
"Thanks!" Shawn accepted. "We'd be happy to."
Gus opened his mouth to voice his concerns again but was interrupted for the second time by the front door opening.
"Hello? Dad?"
"In here, Don," Alan called back.
"Oh, hi, Shawn, Burton. I didn't realize you two had beat us here," Larry greeted as he entered with Don.
"Where's Charlie?" Alan asked.
"He and Amita stopped off at the store for drinks on the way," Don told his father.
"Good. The pizza should be here any minute."
"I see you three had a chance to get acquainted," Larry noted.
"Your dad's great, Don," Shawn spoke up. "Very hospitable."
"Shawn -" Gus was again interrupted, this time by the doorbell.
"Ah, pizza's here." Alan rose from his seat.
Charlie and Amita arrived a few minutes later, and everyone moved into the dining area. There were a few moments of silence while everyone served themselves, but the conversation soon started up again.
"So," Amita turned to Gus and Shawn, "are you going to be back at the FBI tomorrow?"
"Of course," Gus assured her. "We're planning to stick around for the rest of the investigation to help however we can."
"Glad to hear that," Don joined the conversation. "You know what time to be there?"
"Yeah," Shawn replied, starting in on another slice. "But even if not, we could always just wait and leave when Charlie does."
There was a confused pause shared between four of the room's occupants.
"How would you know -" Charlie began. His eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on him. "Dad, you didn't …"
wmwmw
"Shawn, that was bad, even for you!" Gus scolded later that night. The two were settling into the guestrooms for the night - or at least Gus was. Shawn had simply dumped his bag on the floor and joined his friend.
"What?" he asked, crossing his legs underneath himself on the bed.
"You know what I mean. You and Charlie don't exactly get along, and you accepted to stay here for the night?"
"I couldn't disappoint Alan! Besides, you're the one who's always saying we need to cut back on our expenses."
"Don't put this on me, Shawn! The 'expenses' I mean are all those extra things you buy for our office."
"Those are fun!"
"Exactly; they're unnecessary for the management of our agency," Gus frowned.
"Are you hungry?"
"Have you even been paying attention to our conversation? And, no, we just had dinner less than two hours ago."
Shawn shrugged. "Well, I am. Let's go find something."
"You're not going to bug our hosts, are you?"
"Not necessarily."
"Shawn, don't you dare give Charlie another reason to kick us out!" Gus called after his friend.
Shawn just ignored him. Downstairs, he started rummaging through the cabinets. Charlie walked into the kitchen but stopped short at the sight before him.
Shawn had heard him come in and turned with a grin. "Hey, Chuck! What's up?"
"Don't call me Chuck," Charlie corrected. "And what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? Trying to find a snack."
"You're hungry? Didn't you get enough pizza?"
"I did then. But not now." Shawn shut the fridge. "You don't have any pineapple," he stated matter-of-factly.
"What …? No, I don't. Why does that matter?"
"Are you kidding, Chuckie? Pineapple is awesome!"
" I already have a nickname," Charlie corrected in frustration. "Charlie is short for Charles." He reached past Shawn, pulled a few ice cream bars from the freezer, and exited the room.
Shawn followed on his heels. "Could you go get some? I'd drive, but I don't have a car."
"What about Gus?"
"He's busy." Shawn shrugged.
"Yeah, well, so am I. I have work to do." Charlie opened the door to the garage, where several chalk boards were hanging. Various equations and number systems took up the green space.
Shawn's eyes widened. "Wow. That's a lot of math. You actually do this in your spare time? Like, for fun?"
"Yes, I do. Is that a problem for you?" Charlie responded. "But this is for the FBI."
Shrugging his shoulders, Shawn grinned and turned to Larry and Amita. "Hey, either of you two free?"
Charlie sighed and picked up a piece of chalk. "They're working with me."
"I don't suppose you'd want to take a break for a little trip to the store?" Shawn looked around hopefully.
"As much as that sounds like fun, I'll have to say no," Larry replied in a voice that clearly said he'd much rather stay where he was.
Amita just smiled and shook her head, unwrapping her ice cream. "Sorry, Shawn, but we have to work this out for the case. We can't put off federal business."
"Fine." Shawn muttered, retreating back into the house. "Have fun with your algebra."
"It's actually higher than that," Larry called after him.
Wandering through the house, Shawn finally found Alan and Don intent on a pool game.
"Hi, guys," Shawn greeted them.
"Hey there, Shawn," Alan responded.
Don didn't say anything until he'd finished his shot. He winced as the ball bounced off the side without hitting any others.
"Are either of you interested in going to the store?" Shawn asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.
"Why?" Alan studied the balls as he lined up his shot.
"For snacks."
"Charlie has plenty in the kitchen," Don said.
"Not enough," Shawn protested. "There's no pineapple!"
"Pineapple?"
"Yes, pineapple. Has no one around here heard of it?"
Alan chuckled. "Yes, we've heard of it. We just don't have any."
"Why don't you go yourself?" Don asked.
"I don't have a car, and Gus got mad the last time I stole his."
"Sorry, Shawn," Alan smiled apologetically. "I guess you'll just have to find something else."
Sighing, Shawn returned to Gus' room. It was going to be a long night. How was he ever going to survive it without his favorite fruit?