William Rabkin - Mind-Altering Murder

“What are you how did what do you can’t you even ruin own business leave what are alone,” he sputtered, trying unsuccessfully to arrange the individual words into some kind of meaningful pattern.

Shawn plopped down on the sofa and gazed out at the view. “I couldn’t have said it any better,” he said. “Nice view, by the way.”

The smugness in Shawn’s voice did what Gus’ brain could not-set the words in Gus’ mouth marching out in the proper order. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” Shawn said.

“You’re not fooling anyone but yourself,” Gus said. “You’re here to destroy my new career.”

“Like I said, I’m doing the same thing you are,” Shawn said. “You really think it’s a good career move to drive your company into bankruptcy before you’ve been on the job for a full year? Most corporate executives wait at least until they’ve got the key to the executive washroom before they start tanking the business. Although maybe that kind of thinking is out-of-date these days.”

“There is no executive washroom here,” Gus said. “D-Bob believes that all our employees are equal, and he doesn’t give the execs any better perks than the most junior secretaries.”

“That’s good to hear,” Shawn said. “Say, do you think the girl who makes the coffee can see Berkeley from her corner office window, too?”

“If she gets promoted to executive vice president, she will,” Gus said.

“Then you might as well find out what color curtains she wants, because she’ll be taking possession in about three weeks,” Shawn said.

“Right,” Gus said. “After you destroy my career here.”

Shawn jumped off the couch and tiptoed to the door, then flung it open. The doorway was empty. He let it close again and came back over to Gus.

“Okay, no one’s listening,” Shawn said. “We can talk freely now.”

“I was talking freely,” Gus said. “And you were talking gibberish, which sounded pretty free to me.”

“I see what you mean,” Shawn said. He put his finger to his lips, then went to the desk. He picked up the phone and turned it upside down, then put it in a drawer and closed it. He picked up the coffee cup Gus used for pen storage and upended it, sending writing instruments flying in every direction.

“What are you doing?” Gus said, picking up the pen that rolled to his feet.

“I don’t see any bugs here,” Shawn whispered. “But maybe we should step out on the balcony to talk.”

“There is no balcony,” Gus said. “Just a sixteen-story drop to a fast and messy death. So please feel free to step outside.”

Shawn moved close to Gus and spoke softly. “We’ll have to chance it, then.”

“Chance what?”

“That your office is bugged,” Shawn said.

Gus moved away from Shawn and spoke loudly and freely. “First of all, there is no chance that my office is bugged. And if it was, I wouldn’t care, because I’m not planning on saying anything in it that I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear.”

“That’s good,” Shawn whispered. “If anyone’s listening, I’m sure you fooled them. Or made them deaf, anyway. Now let’s get to business.”

“We don’t have any business, Shawn,” Gus said. “When I took this job I left Psych behind. And I guess it’s kind of flattering that you’ve gone to all this trouble to get me to come back, but it’s not going to happen. I’m happy doing what I’m doing now.”

“That’s even better,” Shawn whispered. “Now tell me to get out of your office.”

“Why would I tell you to get out of my office?” Gus said. “You haven’t answered a single one of my questions.”

“Good point,” Shawn whispered again. “You should call security and have me thrown out. That’ll convince them!”

“Convince who of what?” Gus said.

“Exactly!” Shawn said, then grabbed the phone from the drawer and hit the button for the operator. “Get me security.”

Gus reached to take the receiver away from him, but Shawn snatched it away. “It’s ringing,” Shawn said.

Shawn’s pocket started playing the theme from Magnum, P.I.

“That’s your cell,” Gus said.

Shawn handed the office phone to Gus. “When they finally answer, you should give them hell. What if this was an emergency? What kind of security team do you have here?”

Gus considered slamming the phone back down in its cradle, but he had to admit, he found it a little strange that it was taking so long for security to pick up. He held the receiver to his ear and heard it ring on the other end.

Shawn yanked his cell out of his jeans pocket and pressed the answer button. “Talk to me,” he said.

Shawn’s voice hit Gus’ ear just a second before its echo spoke through the phone. “Shawn?”

“We shouldn’t talk on this line,” Shawn whispered into the phone. “It might be bugged.”

Shawn hung up his cell as Gus slammed the office phone down into its cradle. “I guess I forgot,” Shawn said. “I’m security now.”

“Shawn, this is a serious business,” Gus said. “You can’t just march in here with some ridiculous story and take over the entire security department.”

“Apparently I can,” Shawn said. “And I think the key was to make the story even more ridiculous than usual. I told Dirt Bag-”

“D-Bob,” Gus said.

“Right,” Shawn continued without missing a beat. “I told him that the company had suffered what seemed to be a tragic series of accidents.”

“That’s not ridiculous at all,” Gus said. “That’s a fact.”

“Yes, but I didn’t stop there,” Shawn said. “I went on to explain that these weren’t accidents at all. That they were murders.”

“He didn’t believe it,” Gus said, although his sinking heart insisted that this was not the case.

“He had to,” Shawn said. “I made a very convincing case.”

“How could you?” Gus said. “It’s absurd.”

“Look at the pattern,” Shawn said. “One guy skis into a tree. Another one crashes his car. A third guy goes for a cup of coffee and he’s turned into barbecue.”

“Exactly,” Gus said. “There is no pattern.”

“That’s what Dive Bomb said.”

At least the entire world wasn’t going insane. D-Bob didn’t jump at Shawn’s insane theory. Except that he had hired Shawn.

“So, how did you convince him that you were right?”

“I didn’t,” Shawn said. “You did.”

“I did?” This had to be a dream. Soon there would be a knock on the door and Nana the dog would come in and tell him it was time for tea, or the entire building would turn into a rocket ship heading for Mars. “How?”

“I told him the truth,” Shawn said. “That you had figured it all out weeks ago and taken the job here so you could work undercover. And now that you were getting closer to the killer you needed me to come in to help.”

There were something like a bazillion restaurants in San Francisco, but Gus and Shawn ended up back at the same diner where they’d shared their last meal. It seemed appropriate. After all, this is where Gus’ career with Benson Pharmaceuticals had really started; it might as well mark the end as well.

“I’m going to try to explain this one last time,” Gus said after the waitress had taken their order and disappeared with the menus. “This is not an undercover operation.”

“Not anymore,” Shawn said. “Not now that the boss knows what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Gus had to fight to keep his voice from rising an octave and several decibels.

“It’s okay,” Shawn said. “I understand why you had to do it this way. I’ll admit I was getting a little obsessed with the whole Criminal Genius thing, and all those times you tried to tell me about the serial killer at Benson Pharmaceuticals, I didn’t exactly give your fascinating theory the attention it deserved.”