William Rabkin - Mind-Altering Murder

Gus took advantage of the noise to move close enough to Shawn to whisper in his ear. “What’s this all about?”

“It’s about Psych,” Shawn said.

“I left Psych,” Gus said.

“You left a detective agency,” Shawn said. “You can never leave Psych. Because Psych is you and me. That’s why I thought you’d taken this gig as an undercover assignment. But now I realize you’re serious about the whole corporate thing. So Psych is moving to the boardroom.”

Gus stared at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

“I think we’ve already seen how seriously I’m going to take it,” Shawn said. “But I’m doing it if it’s what you really want.”

Gus studied Shawn for several seconds, looking for any sign that he wasn’t completely sincere. Then he stepped to the front of the stage and raised his hands for quiet. The applause died down quickly.

“I want to thank you all for the warm reception you’ve given my new copresident,” Gus said. “But before we go any further, I think D-Bob should explain what’s really been going on the last couple of months.” He beckoned D-Bob to join him at the front of the stage.

“What’s really been going on,” D-Bob said, stretching the syllables out as long as he could while he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say.

“That you never really hired me as an executive,” Gus said. “That I am actually a detective working undercover to solve the murders of Sam Masterson, Jim Macoby, Mandy Jansen, and Steve Ecclesine. Although Ecclesine was still alive when we were hired.”

“We’re throwing that one in for free,” Shawn said.

There was a shocked gasp from most of the crowd. But in front, where the other executives sat, there was only a contented murmur and a few exclamations of “that explains it!”

“Umm, right, exactly,” D-Bob said. “The man you’ve known all this time as Burton ‘Gus’ Guster is actually…” He leaned in to whisper to Gus. “What’s your name again?”

“Burton Guster,” Gus said into the microphone. “But you can all call me Gus. And I’m sure you all know my partner Shawn Spencer, Santa Barbara’s premier psychic detective.”

Shawn bounded to the front of the stage as if the audience had erupted into cheers instead of another stunned silence. “My friends, we’ve got trouble right here at Benson Pharmaceuticals,” he shouted. “Trouble with a capital M and that rhymes with… Well, actually it doesn’t rhyme with anything useful right now, but if I come up with something I’ll get right back to you.”

Jerry Fellowes stood up in the crowd. “Is this really true, Gus?” he said. “That you never had any intention of helping with orphan drugs?”

Gus looked down at the stage, suddenly ashamed of the work he was leaving unfinished. Chanterelle put a comforting arm around her father’s shoulder.

“Who cares about the orphan drugs?” Lena Hollis shouted. “What’s this about murders?”

“And what’s with Santa Barbara’s premier psychic detective?” Vollman said. “Did we already run through all the phonies in San Francisco?”

“Other people are much more qualified than I am to take on the orphan drug problem,” Gus said. “Like you, Jerry. It’s time for you to step up.”

“It’s funny you should mention that,” Shawn said. “Well, not funny in the ha-ha way so much as the terrible, awful, bloody murderous way.”

“You can’t say my da had anything to do with those deaths!” Chanterelle would have leaped onto the stage if Jerry didn’t hold her back in her seat. “He’s not a killer.”

Shawn cocked his ear heavenward, then turned back to face her. “It’s kind of hard to understand, what with the accents coming from the great beyond, but I’m hearing a trio of Irish voices that disagree with you on that count.”

Jerry’s face flushed. “That was a long time ago,” he said. “I’m not that man anymore.”

“But you could be,” Shawn said. “With the proper encouragement.”

“No,” Jerry said.

“Just think about it for a minute,” Shawn said. “Let’s say you were working with one executive who really seemed excited about the whole thing. But every time he was supposed to push the issue with D-Bob, he canceled. And then he got himself roasted. Wouldn’t that make you step up?”

“No,” Jerry said. “I just deliver the mail.”

“Well, what if a new executive managed to talk D-Bob into actually addressing the issue, but Steve Ecclesine was trying to undercut him until someone sabotaged his window and he plunged to his death,” Shawn said. “Would that make you step up?”

“Why would it?” Jerry said.

“So I guess Mandy’s whole hanging herself in her cheerleader suit after breaking her promise to help didn’t motivate you either,” Shawn said.

“It broke my heart, is what it did,” Jerry said.

“That’s pretty much the way I saw it,” Shawn said. “My only question is why your daughter couldn’t figure that out.”

Chanterelle jumped to her feet. “You’re crazy,” she shouted. “These were all accidents. Why are we listening to this lunatic?”

“Couple of reasons,” Gus said. “First, because until I formally submit my resignation, I’m still the president of the company.”

“Copresident,” Shawn said.

“Copresident,” Gus agreed.

“And because we had some friends of ours show your picture around Santa Barbara,” Shawn said. “And you were identified several times as the one woman anyone saw Mandy Jansen with in the days before her death.”

Gus looked at Shawn, surprised. How long had he known?

“I may have visited Mandy,” Chanterelle said.

“Where you used your hypnotism skills,” Shawn said. “Although I suspect you might have supplemented your natural powers with some of Benson’s finest mood-altering substances. I understand some of them disappear from the bloodstream almost immediately.”

“Then there’d be no evidence, would there?” Chanterelle said.

“I suppose even if we had your picture circulated around a certain High Sierra ski resort and you were identified as Sam Masterson’s date that day, that wouldn’t be evidence, either,” Shawn said.

“Did you do that?” Gus said.

“Wouldn’t matter if he did,” Chanterelle said. “No crime against skiing.”

“Unless you happened to give your ski partner a little nudge as he approached a tree at fifty miles per hour,” Gus said.

“If two people are skiing together, and one accidentally bumps into the other, that’s nothing more than a tragic accident,” Chanterelle said.

D-Bob glared down at her. “Even if it’s not a crime, this could be a very serious breach of company ethics,” he said.

“Then I quit,” Chanterelle said.

“Don’t be so hasty,” D-Bob said. “You are still a valued member of the team.”

Gus glared at him. “You are really the worst executive in history,” he said.

“All these people your father put his faith in, and they all let him down,” Shawn said. “Or they were going to let him down. You thought if you got them out of the way, Jerry would finally have to step up and become the man you needed him to be.”

“Whatever,” Chanterelle said.

“But if there was a new president and he promised Jerry he’d solve the orphan drugs problem, you knew that would be the end of it,” Shawn said. “Because this new president was an idiot who would always say the right thing but never get anything done. And your father would grow old and die, never seeing his dream realized.”

“An idiot?” Gus said.

“Go with me here,” Shawn said, then turned back to Chanterelle. “Unless, of course, he was so overwhelmed by the position that he killed himself the night of the swearing-in ceremony.”