A/N: Thanks so much for the review for the previous chapter! I hope you like the second chapter.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

It had taken some skilful cohesion to get Gus to go the crime scene. He had finally relented when Shawn had assured him that there was no body and no excessive blood spillages. His friend had been slightly sceptical even upon entering the warehouse but Shawn had merely chuckled at him earning a rather hard slap on the back of the head.

"So where was the body?" Gus asked as he looked around the warehouse, no doubt taken aback by the lack of anything the room.

"Right about…here," Shawn said as he crouched down at the spot where Carla Norwick's body had been the day before.

Shawn opened up the police file he had brought with him, taking out the crime scene photos of Carla Norwick as he tried to recreate the scene from yesterday. He closed his eyes and thought back to the day before, seeing clearly the image of the woman's body. He remembered the unnatural look of her skin which had most likely been caused by the water deprivation. He remembered the bruised knuckles and a little too vividly he remembered the knife protruding from her chest, and the almost surreal lack of a heavy amount of blood.

The bruised knuckles.

Shawn quickly opened his eyes and looked back at the file he was holding. He hurriedly dug out the crime scene photos taken at the other scenes and flipped through, only interested in one thing.

"Aha!" Shawn cried out, getting the desired attention from Gus.

"You got something?" Gus asked as he crouched down next to Shawn and peered at the photos Shawn was holding, though he didn't look too pleased about that idea.

"Yes, and no, I'm not actually sure," Shawn rambled, "but look at this…"

"I'd really rather not," Gus commented and began to stand up but Shawn pulled him back down again.

"Look at the knuckles," Shawn prompted.

"What about them?" Gus questioned as he glanced at the photos out of the corner of his eye, clearly still reluctant to look any closer.

"Gus, you have to actually look at the pictures," Shawn commented as he shoved the pictures into Gus's eye line, "I mean, sure that completely bland wall over there does make for a lovely view but I'm trying to solve a case here."

Why was Gus glaring at him again?

"Fine, what is it?" Gus finally relented and looked at the pictures though he did not look happy about it.

"Thank you," Shawn said insincerely, "now, look at the knuckles. What do you see?"

"I don't know, Shawn," Gus huffed, clearly starting to get annoyed with his friend, "they're knuckles. So what?"

"Bruised knuckles," Shawn corrected excitedly as he shoved the pictures a little further under Gus's nose.

"Yeah, so? That doesn't mean anything, Shawn," Gus replied as he shifted his weight slightly back to avoid poking his eye out on the corner of the pictures.

"Oh, really?" Shawn commented in the tone that clearly said that he knew a lot more than what he was letting on, "All of the victims have bruised knuckles."

"There were signs of struggle from where they were taken, it probably just from that, it doesn't tell us anything," Gus retorted as he started to get up again, but Shawn pulled him down…again. Gus slapped him over the head that time.

"OW! Gus…" Shawn whined as he rubbed the back of his head, "that actually hurt."

"Good," Gus looked rather too pleased with himself as he got up off the floor. Shawn did not try to stop him this time but instead stood up himself, fixing Gus with a single glare for good measure.

"May I continue?" Shawn asked irritably and continued when Gus nodded smugly, "The knuckles were not bruised from hitting flesh, hence it was not from hitting their attacker. Unless of course we're looking for the Iron Man, which would actually be quite cool."

"The Iron Man was not made of iron, Shawn," Gus remarked as he frowned, looking at Shawn.

"Then why call him Iron Man?" Shawn inquired looking at Gus incredulously.

"I'm not going to explain this to you," Gus said as he turned his back on Shawn and started walking towards the exit of the warehouse.

"That means I'm right…right?" Shawn called after him before realising that Gus was actually about to leave him at the warehouse, "Gus! Wait up! I haven't told you about the knuckles yet."

"I don't care about the knuckles, Shawn," Gus commented irritably as Shawn reached him at the car, "You got everything wrong about Iron Man."

"Dude, you say that like it's the worst crime anyone could possibly commit," Shawn answered before he hurriedly got into the car, refusing to be left behind at the crime scene, "Personally, I think this case that we got is slightly more important than the issue of whether or not the Iron Man is made of iron."

"He was not made of iron, Shawn," Gus said slowly but angrily as he stuck the key in the ignition, though he turned it rather gently as he probably remembered that this was his company car after all.

Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose and reluctantly realised that the best way out of this to get Gus to listen would be to tell him he was right.

"Fine, the Iron Man was not made out of iron," Shawn said calmly and collected, "Now, can I tell you about my Knuckle Theory?"

And, yes, that totally did have to be in capital letters.

"I guess," Gus relented as he started driving away from the warehouse.

Shawn sighed deeply before fixing a smug look on his face. He could just as well make Gus think that Shawn had just won their little battle.

"As I was saying prior the silly discussion," Gus shot him a dark, threatening look but Shawn ignored him, "the bruises were not from hitting flesh. In case you don't believe me it even says so in the Autopsy report from the first three victims. What does that tell you?"

Gus glared at him again. Okay, maybe it had been a bad idea to bring up Iron Man, but wasn't he overreacting a little bit? Shawn continued to stare right back at him until Gus was forced to break eye contact to look back at the road. This time Shawn had no need to draw a deep breath in order to look smug.

"It tells you," Shawn continued when it was obvious Gus was not going to play along, "that all four victims were taken to the same place."

"It doesn't tell you that, Shawn," Gus pointed out tonelessly.

"It makes it a possibility," Shawn defended.

"Whatever," Gus sighed, but Shawn was not willing to let this go so he continued to stare at his friend knowing it would make Gus elaborate. Well, sometimes it did, sometimes it just made him slap really, really hard. Today, he was in luck, "It doesn't tell us anything. It's all circumstantial."

Shawn looked away from Gus to stare out of the window, feeling the thrill from discovering a possible clue dissipating rapidly. Gus was right, it wasn't enough. It didn't necessarily mean that they were all taken to the same place or even that the bruises had been caused by the same experience. It told him next to nothing.

"It's something though," Gus said, his tone a whole lot softer and calmer than before, "What do you want to do now?"

"Do you want to visit dead people's relatives?" Shawn asked solemnly as he looked back at Gus.

Gus was Lamaze breathing for roughly thirty seconds before he answered.

"That's a great idea; where do you want to go first?"

Half an hour and a smoothie later found Shawn and Gus sitting in the late Michael Stuarts' living room. Shawn had thought it appropriate to offer his condolences to the first victim's wife first as it gave him a chance to start from the beginning. He was going to find the stupid little black wormhole that would solve this case.

"Mrs Stuarts," Shawn addressed the widow in his best professional, yet compassionate, tone, "did your husband have any enemies?"

"No," Mrs Stuarts sniffed as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

They always had to cry. Crying people made him extremely uncomfortable and Shawn Spencer did not do uncomfortable. He was a comfortable, life-loving being by nature and he was not about to change that.

"Are you sure?" Shawn asked her, momentarily taken aback when she glared rather evilly at him.

"Yes, I'm sure," Mrs Stuarts hissed at him before dabbing her eyes again. She was a very stately looking young woman, who, though roughly the same age, made Shawn feel like a little kid in the naughty corner every time she glared at him and she seemed to be doing it a lot. "My husband was a lovely man. He had his routine way of doing things, sure, but that does not exactly qualify as motive for murder, does it now?"

"No, no it doesn't," Shawn agreed quietly as he stored away the information he had just received for later cross examining. "Was there anywhere specifically he liked to go?"

"Mike was a family man. Our daughter is five years old, he spent as much time as he possibly could at home with us," Mrs Stuarts informed them though when it did not seem as if she was going to continue, Shawn took that as a clue for him to begin talking. You snooze, you lose, right?

"When you say that he had a routine, what exactly do you mean by that, Mrs Stuarts?" Shawn asked as he leant forward in his seat with a serious expression colouring his features.

She glared at him again.

Shawn wondered if maybe he started crying she would feel enough compassion to stop glaring at him for only asking a few questions concerning her late husband.

"We are very sorry for you loss," Gus cut in before Shawn or Mrs Stuarts could get a word in, "anything you could tell us would be greatly appreciated to aid our investigation."

Why exactly was it she did not feel the need to glare at Gus? Instead she actually nodded and looked suddenly very upset.

"He would get up in the morning, fix his breakfast and then go to work. He always told me that he ate lunch at this little café, I think it's called The Coffee Mug; he said they had really great coffee and donuts," Shawn wasn't really sure how that was helpful for the investigation but it was useful for when he and Gus had to decide where to go for lunch. "Then he would go back to work and come back home at five. We would have dinner at seven. Anything else?"

No! Shawn wanted to get out of this house, with this creepy weepy widow – that actually had quite a nice ring to it – and carry on investigating.

"That will be all, Mrs Stuarts," Shawn said politely as he stood up, not even waiting for her to speak he strode towards the door, hearing Gus offer the polite and expected condolences.

Shawn was already waiting by the car by the time Gus came out of the house, looking a little bit mad.

Uh-oh.

"Are you mad?" Shawn asked carefully as Gus arrived at the car.

"No, how could I possibly be mad?" Gus said, his tone seeping with sarcasm, "Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"

"Obviously not," Shawn said rather irritably. This was not good. It was fine that he and his dad argued, that was normal and he could deal with it. He and Gus arguing was not something he ever wanted, and he knew that one of them had to end it before they got too far along. Mostly because Gus was the one with the car after all and Shawn really did not want to be left outside the widow's house. "Alright, I'm sorry I wasn't all touchy feely with her."

"Or considerate," Gus added already looking less angry.

"Definitely that too," Shawn agreed quickly as he and Gus got into the car.

"What now? Lunch?" Gus asked hopefully and Shawn almost felt sorry to rain on his parade.

"Nah, I want to hit one more dead person's home before we eat," Shawn said offhandedly as he leant back in the car seat and testing whether or not his feet could reach the dashboard.

It turned out that the person to talk to concerning Jade Peterson was her older brother. He was a lot more forthcoming than Mrs Stuarts, or at least Shawn thought so, and he had been very happy to help in any way possible to bring his sister's killer to justice. Malcolm Peterson had not had a long time to talk to them seeing as he was on lunch break, but he quickly told them what he knew.

"I can't think of anybody who would want to hurt Jade."

In other words, he told them absolutely nothing. Shawn had almost been about to tear his hair out, but thought better of it considering his hair was a little more important than that.

"I'm sure she was quite lovely," Shawn commented, putting as much sympathy into his voice and features. She just didn't look so lovely from the crime scene photos that I've seen, Shawn thought but decided wisely not to voice that out loud.

Gus shot him a warning glare but Shawn merely looked at him innocently, trying to assure his friend with a single look that he had no idea why he was looking at him because he certainly was not doing anything wrong…right now. That was not important though.

"She worked in a nursery; I mean you don't get much nicer than that, right?" Malcolm continued sadly, and Shawn really hoped he was not about to cry too. Shawn just nodded and then shook his head, unsure which was actually the appropriate response. "We would meet up sometimes during the week either for lunch or dinner, but mostly dinner as it fitted the best with her schedule."

"That's very nice," Shawn piped up. He was starting to regret deciding to talk to more people before eating lunch because the way this was going it would be dinnertime by the time they were done.

"She liked flowers, and the ocean. I suppose that's why she loved to live here so much; because of the ocean."

This was torture. Shawn was absolutely sure of it. Maybe everybody who had lost someone to this serial killer had spoken with his dad to make absolutely certain they had the best possible ways to make this as hard for Shawn to behave himself as possible.

Shawn just smiled kindly at the man allowing him to continue, which he did…sadly.

"Growing up I always used to pull her hair and hide her toys."

"That was very mean, but I'm sure you meant it in a loving and kind way," Shawn said compassionately.

"Yeah, of course, man, she was my sister. I had to do that," Malcolm answered as though that of course was part of the package of being a big brother.

"Of course you did," Shawn agreed in his best fake-sympathy tone.

"You want to hear a story about her sixth birthday?"

"No," Shawn said maybe a little too quickly but he covered his horror hurriedly when he continued, "you're on your lunch break, dude, and I just need to ask you a few things, but maybe another time."

As in never, Shawn added inwardly.

"Ah, man, you're right, I'm so sorry," Malcolm apologised quickly but both Shawn and Gus waved off the apology.

"Malcolm, did Jade mention anything suspicious going on lately?" Gus asked before Malcolm had time to say anything else.

"Now that you mention it, there was something."

"What?" Shawn questioned quickly, suddenly very interested in what had caused the thoughtful frown to appear on the other man's forehead.

"They didn't have her favourite donut at that café she goes to on Saturdays with her friend, Sally."

The man had looked so sincere that Shawn didn't have the heart to tell him that missing donuts, though disastrous, was not criminal.

Shawn looked up at the man again. What had he just said?

"What was the name of that café?" Shawn asked as he started to get up from the chair he had previously been occupying in Malcolm's office.

"The Coffee Mug."

Shawn and Gus looked at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. They really had to go and get some donuts.

Shawn looked around the small café which was slightly less impressive than he had first anticipated. Both Mrs Stuarts and Malcolm Peterson had spoken so highly of the place on their dead relatives' behalf that he couldn't help but dream slightly of oversized donuts of delicious flavour. It turned out that the donuts were pretty much like your average donut, though Shawn swore that his had a higher dosage of sprinkles than the last one he had had.

The café was made out of one room which looked to have once been several where some of the walls had been knocked down to give more room. The little nooks created a rather cosy atmosphere, the dull colour of the walls contrasting with the few colourful pictures which hung around the room. Shawn had already spent a great deal of time trying to decipher what exactly the picture by his and Gus's table was supposed to represent.

From where the two friends were sitting, the door to the café was located just behind them, and their table was lined up against the wall directly opposite the bar where various donuts were also on display.

"This place doesn't exactly scream bloody murder," Gus commented in a hushed tone as he eyed his donut almost suspiciously as though the donuts were the cause of the murders.

"No, I agree, it's more of a subtle whisper," Shawn replied wryly before taking a large bite of his donut, earning a disgusted glare from Gus.

Shawn looked around the café as he tried to get a better feel of the place. He eyed the waiters but none of them seemed to be the serial killing type. Then again, looks could be deceiving, though he seriously doubted they were looking for pretty, petite girls or beer-bellied, middle-aged men.

"Maybe our killer picked his victims here," Shawn thought out loud as he frowned thoughtfully, his donut momentarily forgotten. "Why this place of all places to pick your victims?"

"I don't know, maybe he didn't like their coffee," Gus said with his trademark smirk that clearly said that he thought he had just said something incredibly funny. Shawn had no idea how he had ever developed that particular smirk, because no one had ever laughed when he had donned that smirk after saying something.

"Or maybe he liked it too much," Shawn said after taking a sip of his own. "Dude, this is like the seventh heaven of coffee."

"You're not getting another one," Gus warned though he had to agree that the coffee was good. When Shawn snorted into his coffee, Gus looked quizzically at him, "What?"

"I just had this thought," Shawn said around chuckles of laughter, "you know this place is called The Coffee Mug?"

"Yeah, so?" Gus answered, clearly worried that Shawn had already had too much coffee.

"If the serial killer is linked to this place do you think they'll call it," another snort of laughter, "The Coffee Mugshot?"

"Mug shot is two words, Shawn," Gus corrected though he too smirked at the joke that Shawn clearly found incredibly funny.

That thought amused Shawn for quite a while as he continued to survey the café for anything suspicious. He had been hopeful at first that this place would give him the epiphany he had been looking for, but so far he had been rather disappointed in terms of the case.

"Run through this with me, alright," Shawn said after he had sobered up again, "so the first victim comes here almost every day for lunch."

"Yeah, and the second victim comes here on most Saturdays with her friend," Gus added as he looked thoughtfully at Shawn.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Shawn inquired mirroring his partner in crime's look.

"A sincerely hope not," Gus said seriously, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Shawn continued, clearly taking no offence to Gus's comment, "that we need to check if the other two victims had any connections to this café."

"That's what I'm talking about," Gus replied gravely as he quickly got up from his seat.

"So, does that mean you were thinking what I was thinking?" Shawn asked as they left the café.

"I didn't say that, Shawn," Gus countered as he got into the car.

"But you were thinking it," Shawn pressed on, though his phone annoyingly cut off Gus's possible reply.

It was his dad.

Again.

Didn't he have dinner there just last night?

"Hello, Father," Shawn answered his phone in his very serious tone.

"Shawn, when are you going to come and clean out your room?" Henry asked and Shawn was quite sure he could hear him rummaging around in his kitchen.

"You first asked me yesterday," Shawn retorted, shooting a look of irritation at Gus when he realised his friend was watching him intently instead of driving, but Gus merely grinned at him. Shawn punched him in the shoulder.

That was a bad idea because Gus punched back. Harder.

"Yes, I know I asked you yesterday, Shawn, I'm not an idiot," Henry continued and Shawn couldn't help but wonder if there was someone out there that really hated him. His dad was calling him because he wanted him to clean, and Gus kept hitting him. Maybe he should ask Jules if he could press charges for child abuse, "I called to make sure you would remember."

"Of course I remembered," Shawn shot back irritably, "it was the last thing you said before I walked out the door after all."

"Don't be a smartass," Henry scolded him before quickly continuing, "just don't forget."

"Alright, Dad, I'll do it later this week," Shawn said hoping that would satisfy his dad enough to make him leave him alone.

"This week, Shawn," his dad answered in a warning tone before hanging up.

Shawn contemplated what his father had said as he stuffed his phone back in the pockets of his jeans. Was it really necessary to treat Shawn as an irresponsible child? Shawn frowned. Okay, maybe he did act like an irresponsible child every now and then, but he was capable of remembering what he had been told some twelve hours previously, give or take a few hours.

"Who's next on the list?" Gus asked and Shawn realised they had yet to leave The Coffee Mug's car park.

"What list?" Shawn asked as he looked at Gus with a bewildered expression.

"Weren't we going to check if the other victims had a connection to the café?" Gus questioned as he turned the key and the car rumbled to life.

"Oh that, yes," Shawn caught on, happily shaking his head free of any Henry-thoughts, "yes, you're absolutely right. Good thinking there, buddy."

Gus smirked a little at that, but Shawn would allow that for now. Who knew what Gus would do if Shawn made him angry again. Maybe he would actually make good on the threat he had made the previous day about the 80s movie marathon. Shawn knew that a whole month without one would be definite Shawn torture.

"We have a Stanley Elkhorn up next," Shawn continued as he dug out the file again to look foe Stanley's next of kin. "It looks like we'll be talking with his roommate and co-worker, Patrick Abel."

Getting hold of Patrick Abel had proven a little more difficult than Shawn had first anticipated but they had finally managed to locate him at a construction site where he had been allowed to take a ten minute break in order to talk to them. Ten minutes was not long, but it was more than enough to ask one very simple question.

"Did Stanley ever mention a café called The Coffee Mug?" Gus asked as soon as they were far enough away from the other construction workers to not risk eavesdroppers, because as Gus had said, you could never be too careful as you could never know who was listening. Shawn had to remember to ask him later if he had gotten that from Henry.

"Mention it?" Patrick said looking slightly confused, "He didn't have to mention it. We went there every Friday at around eleven in the morning. We start…well; I start work later on a Friday so it was a good time to go. We'd known each other since college…"

Shawn didn't listen as Patrick continued talking. He was only interested in the fact that he now potentially had a lead that the police hadn't figured out yet. True, he was still grasping at lose ends, but it was more than he'd had the day before, right? He had no idea how this café figured into this whole mess but it was something.

Damn his father for being right about looking at the crime scene with a new pair of eyes! What did that mean anyway? A new pair of eyes. Shawn huffed, what a stupid metaphor.

"Thank you for your time," he heard Gus say before his friend stood next to him with the same knowing expression as Shawn was wearing. "I knew there was something off about that café."

"You never said that," Shawn pointed out.

"But I thought it," Gus smirked as he walked towards the car, Shawn hot on his heels.

"You did not," Shawn argued.

"Yes; yes I did," Gus retorted.

Shawn rolled his eyes and shook his head as they both got back into the car. Now they just had to talk to Carla Norwick's husband and confirm Shawn's suspicion that she too was a regular at The Coffee Mug, and then they could call this a day.

His phone rang.

If that was his dad again he was not going to answer. He had had enough right now. He was on a roll and wanted to wrap this up at a reasonable hour.

He frowned…then smirked.

"Jules," Shawn answered the phone cheerily, "tell me, do you feel bad about throwing us out of the station yesterday?"

"She should," Gus agreed and Shawn nodded in agreement.

Shawn's smirk slid off his face though when he heard Juliet's next words.

"Shawn, another person has been taken."

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Another chapter done! I hope you liked...