Chapter 5

After poking his head in the other two bedrooms and finding them completely trashed, he headed downstairs. Gus was waiting for him next to the front door.

"We're done, Shawn," he declared. "There's nothing else we're going to learn here. These people are even more dysfunctional than your family!"

Shawn opened his mouth to protest, but Gus had already turned away and walked to the door. Before he could say anything, Gus was twisting the handle on the front door.

It came off in his hand.

"That's it!" Gus cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. He gave the door a kick for good measure.

The door promptly fell outward.

Without looking back, Gus stalked off towards his car.

"Hey, Gus, wait up!" Shawn shouted as he bounded after his buddy.

"No, Shawn, I will not wait!" Gus yelled back as he pulled out his keys. "I am getting in my car, I am driving back home and I am drawing myself a hot, relaxing bath. Now I am leaving in 30 seconds, with or without you."

"You could do that," Shawn agreed. "Or we could go find the missing Bluths and get paid."

Gus stopped short. "You know where they are?" he asked incredulously.

Shawn grabbed the car keys while Gus was trying to get over his shock. "Of course I know where they are. Hop in and we'll go get them."

"No, Shawn. I'm not getting in the car until you tell me where they are," Gus argued

"Gus, get in the car!"

"Nuh-uh!"

Shawn sighed. "I can't tell you out here. The other PI they hired will hear us and could beat us to the reward."

Gus gaped at Shawn again. "What other detective?"

"You're telling me that you didn't notice the guy sitting over there dressed up as a cactus?"

Gus looked to the edge of the driveway, then did a double take. Without another word, he made a grab for his keys. Shawn was expecting it, though, so he nimbly dodged Gus, opened the driver's side door and hopped in. Grumbling the whole time, Gus stomped around the car and climbed in the passenger seat.

"OK, Shawn, where are we going?" he finally demanded after his partner had started the car and pulled out.

"Mexico!"

"You must be outta your damn mind, Shawn!" Gus exploded. "There's no way I'm going with you to Mexico again! You need to turn this car around right now!"

"But Gus, that's where our fugitives are hiding!" Shawn complained.

Gus crossed his arms over his chest. "How do you figure that, oh master charlatan?"

"Haven't you been paying any attention?" Shawn asked.

Gus continued to frown and gestured for Shawn to continue.

Heaving a martyred sigh, the psudo-psychic began his explanation. "Fine. First, we found the picture of the boat in GOB's trash can. Then Lucille told us about the house in Cabo. At the model home, there were additional pictures of the girl from the boat with both George Michael and GOB. The three men disappeared at the time of the boat party, which was when GOB moved from the yacht to the model home. So, obviously, George Michael and GOB fought over this girl. George Michael took the yacht and ran away to the beach house in Cabo. Michael went after his son and George went along, probably just to escape his crazy wife."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Gus derided.

"More ridiculous than Ted Logan as The One?" Shawn shot back. "Besides, we've gone on less."

"Not to Mexico!"

"Oh, don't be a derelict jumping bean, Gus!" Shawn whined. "You know I'm usually right about these things. And when I am again this time, we'll be rolling in the dough!"

"If we do this, Shawn, I'm setting some ground rules," Gus insisted. "First, I'm driving."

"Fine," Shawn agreed as he cut across traffic and pulled into a nearby Starbucks.

"Second, no fake names. Especially at the border," Gus stated emphatically.

"I promise not to create an international incident," Shawn agreed.

"Again," Gus added. Shawn rolled his eyes but let Gus continue. "Third, no stops to look for an El Pollo Loco."

"Are you almost done?" Shawn whined.

"No, Shawn, I'm not. I'm just getting started."

"Well, can you continue inside? I'm dying of thirst out here!" he said as he headed into the coffee shop without waiting for an answer.

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

"Number 47, no piñatas," Gus said as they walked back out of the cafe. "Any time they see a black man with a piñata, they assume he's smuggling drugs."

As they reached the car, Shawn realized that his partner had finally stopped listing rules. "Fine. Can we go now?"

Gus narrowed his eyes at his best friend as he unlocked the car. "Were you even listening, Shawn?"

"Of course, Gus," he replied tiredly as he took his seat in the car. "Rule 47, no piñatas or they'll think you're smuggling the drugs from your pharmaceutical case. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when we get to Cabo."

"What about the border, Shawn? Shawn? Shawn!"

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

"Wake up, Shawn. We're in Cabo," Gus said as he shook his friend awake. "I can't believe you slept the whole way here!"

"In my defense, there were some truly fascinating infomercials on last night," he said. "Well, let's go to the house."

"How are we supposed to do that? We don't know where it is!" Gus objected.

"Easy, Gus," Shawn replied as he hopped out of the parked car. "We'll ask someone."

"It might take us forever to find someone that knows them!" Gus shouted at the retreating back of his partner.

Stopping the first person he met on the street, Shawn said, "¡Buenos días! ¿Sabe usted George Bluth?"

"Please, Shawn. That'll never-"

"Si! Señor Cornballer y los combatientes del niños!" the man said excitedly.

Shawn snapped his fingers. "Oh! Those Bluths!"

Gus frowned. "What, Shawn?"

"George Bluth is the guy who invented the Cornballer and did that infomercial with Richard Simmons. And he filmed the "Boy Fights" video series," Shawn explained.

"I don't even want to know why you know that," Gus declared.

"Dude, you know how much late night TV I watch," Shawn justified.

"Whatever, Shawn. Let's just get some directions and get this over with," Gus said testily.

After a few moments of struggling to understand the directions being given by the Mexican man, they finally figured out where to go. Mere minutes later, they pulled up in front of the beach house.

"Well, this looks familiar," Shawn said as they parked.

"Mmhmm," Gus agreed. If they had previously harbored any doubts as to whether or not they were at the right house, the McMansion and the yacht anchored out back removed any doubts. "Well, shall we?"

"We shall, Gus, we shall," Shawn answered as he climbed out of the car and headed up the front walk. He pushed the button for the doorbell and heard a crash from inside the house.

A few moments later, the door was opened by a dark haired man in his late thirties. "Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Michael Bluth?" Gus questioned.

"Yes," Michael replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm psychic detective Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Epic Fail," Shawn quickly said.

"Shawn! What did I say about fake names?" Gus complained.

"Why are you here?" Michael quickly interjected, showing his experience at breaking up arguments before they started.

"We were hired by the Bluth Company to bring you back home," Gus explained.

"I'll pay you double if you forget that you ever found us," Michael offered.

"Oh, no," Gus objected. "We couldn't-"

"Done," Shawn interrupted, sticking out his hand to shake.

"Shawn!" Gus yelled as he slapped Shawn's arm down. "We can't just break our word like that!"

"Sure we can," Shawn said as he sidestepped his partner to reach for Michael's now outstretched hand. "For one thing, we never actually signed anything, so technically we won't be reneging."

Gus raised an eyebrow.

"Besides, can you honestly say they're better off back there than they are here?" he continued. When Gus shrugged, he made his kill shot. "Besides, no one deserves to be sent back to that madhouse."

"You know that's right," Gus agreed.

"Ah, I see you've met my family," Michael commented. He stepped aside and gestured them in. "Well, come inside and I'll get you a check."

"Who is it, Dad?" came a voice from inside. A sandy-haired boy appeared on the landing from upstairs.

"No one, George Michael," his father answered.

"Well, it's obviously not no one, because someone's here," George Michael reasoned.

"Don't worry about it, son," he said. He pointed to a doorway off one side of the front entryway. "My office is right in there. If one of you would let me know the details so we can finish this up, I'll let you get back on your way."

Gus followed Michael through the doorway, leaving Shawn with the teenager.

"So," George Michael said before realizing he didn't have anything to say and stopping.

"Your wife really misses you," Shawn stated.

George Michael's eyes went comically wide. "She does? What? How? When? Wait, how could you know I'm..."

"I'm a psychic, and I'm getting a major crush of emotions from both of you," he explained. "Just thought you should know."

George Michael's face lit up. "Thanks!"

Shawn smirked. "No problem," he said as Gus and Michael reentered the room. "Ready to go, Gus?"

"It was nice to meet you," Gus said as they left the house. "Good luck in the future."

"Let's step on it, Gus," Shawn said as they climbed in the car. "I think I saw a Del Taco on the way here, and I'm starving!"

Gus gave him a fist bump. "I hear that."

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Posted 2016-04-08