William Rabkin - Psych - Mind Over Magic

Only when they were inside the Fortress and had ascertained that, aside from the “federal agent” Major Voges had left guarding the showroom, the place was deserted, did Shawn feel it necessary to converse.

“Okay, here’s what I need you to do,” he said as they checked out the main parlor. “Go offer the guard a drink.”

“Maybe you’d like me to burn down the police station while I’m at it,” Gus said. “Or hack into their databases and change all the names of the criminals.”

“First of all,” Shawn said, “you know this guy isn’t a real fed.”

“I know that’s what you told me,” Gus said. “I have no way of knowing if it’s the truth or not, since you’re not sharing any actual information with me.”

“Well, then,” Shawn said, “there’s an easy way to find out. Go offer him a drink. If he takes it, he’s a rent-a-cop. If he doesn’t, he’s a fed.”

“Or a very good rent-a-cop.”

“He’s spent days standing outside a doorway with no one to talk to except Officer McNab,” Shawn said. “I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t drained the bar by now.”

“Uh-huh,” Gus said, wandering toward the nearest open door, which led into the Fortress’ cramped office. He took a seat in an ancient swivel chair and felt the leather upholstery decaying into powder beneath him. “And what will you be doing while I’m subverting justice?”

“Stuff,” Shawn said.“Followed by things. Then maybe, if I get a chance, more stuff. All of which is essential if we’re going to get through our reveal tonight.”

Gus lifted his legs up and dropped his heels on the desk, nearly toppling over backward as he did so. The chair wobbled underneath him and he had to fight to keep from collapsing onto the floor, but it was worth straining his calves to let Shawn know exactly how indifferent he was to this plan. To complete the picture, he grabbed a dusty volume from the desk and flipped through it before he answered.

“Our reveal?” Gus said. “You mean one of those scenes where you explain it all, and I get to be amazed along with the rubes?”

“Oh, come on,” Shawn said. “You know you want to be a part of this.”

Gus leafed through the book, which turned out to be the Fortress’ booking calendar, and did his best to look fascinated by what he saw there. He would have whistled a jaunty tune while he pretended to read, but the cloud of dust rising up around him forced him to devote all his bronchial resources to fighting off a coughing fit.

“I’ll tell you who did it,” Shawn said.

Gus spared him a glance.

“I don’t mean right now,” Shawn said, “but definitely before everyone else.”

Gus slowly turned another page in the volume.

“Please, Gus,” Shawn said. “I can’t do this without you. Which means that P’tol P’kah will get away with everything.”

Part of Gus’ brain registered the fact that Shawn was desperate enough to make peace that he was willing to stop pretending he couldn’t remember the Martian Magician’s stage name. But most of it was too occupied with what his eyes had just seen in the ledger.

“Please?” Shawn said.

Gus eased his feet off the desk, knowing that any sudden movement would probably smash the chair into kindling, and stood up. “Look at this,” he said.

Shawn came into the office and took the book. Gus pointed down at the entry. Shawn stared, shocked.

“Do you know what this means?” Shawn said. “You’ve just cracked this case wide open.”

“You said you’d already solved it,” Gus said. “And not only that, you said it in a way that strongly suggested you actually meant it this time.”

“Not that case,” Shawn said. “That one I put to bed ages ago. No, this is a bigger case. An even more mysterious case. It’s so huge, it’s… it’s… it’s Jaws: The Revenge.”

“You mean…?”

“Exactly,” Shawn said. “This time it’s personal.”

The tank was simple, a glass rectangle ten feet tall and four feet across with steel brackets reinforcing the corners and a metal lid on the top. Amazing how an object that looked so simple could be at the heart of something so complex, Gus thought as he stood next to it, watching the police usher in the people whose presence Shawn had demanded.

From what Gus understood, none of them had come easily. Now that the Higgenbothams had been unanimously accepted into the Little Hills Country Club, Jessica had threatened to turn to her new friends on the board, three of whom were also members of the Santa Barbara City Council. The only thing that brought her to the Fortress was Lassiter’s promise that if she didn’t come willingly, they’d bring her husband in her place and let him know all about her secret life. Benny Fleck, who had millions riding on the solution, nonetheless demanded that he be allowed to participate via video conference. Chief Vick had to apply personal pressure on Judge Albert Moore to persuade Fleck that his presence was required.

While she was at it, she got Judge Moore to lift the restraining order forbidding Henry Spencer from setting foot inside the Fortress of Magic, which eliminated the only plausible excuse he had for not showing up. Neither Bud Flanek nor Lyle Wheelock had any desire to return to the site of their great humiliation; fortunately, as veterans they both responded to the military presence of U.S. Army major Holly Voges, retired.

For most of the afternoon, the lone holdout was Barnaby Rudge, who seemed to have finally learned the art of the disappearing act. In fact, he was in the one place no one had thought to look-curled up asleep on a couch in the bar of the Fortress of Magic, just across from the comatose form of Major Voges’ guard. If one of the uniformed officers hadn’t popped in looking for the men’s room, they might never have stumbled across him.

Now everyone was assembled in the showroom, and they were all staring up at Gus in eager anticipation. Well, not eager so much as angry, and not anticipation so much as rage, but Gus did allow himself a moment of pleasure at being the center of attention for once in his detective career. And then he allowed himself another moment at the knowledge that as soon as Shawn took the stage, no one would be paying any more attention to him.

But where was Shawn? Why wasn’t he here hogging the spotlight? Gus checked his watch, suddenly aware that he’d been standing mute on stage for a good three minutes and the crowd was getting restless.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve called you here tonight,” he said finally, feeling a need to fill at least a little of the hostile silence.

“You didn’t call us here. You had us dragged by the police,” Jessica Higgenbotham said. “If I’d wanted to spend my life being rousted by cops, I would have stuck with the carny life.”

“I promise, it’s going to be worth all the inconvenience,” Gus said, hoping fervently this was true. After all, Shawn had already announced on several occasions that he’d solved the case, only to have Gus point out that he was actually nowhere close. He fought off the terrible feeling that the real reason Shawn hadn’t explained the solution to him was that he was afraid Gus would poke holes in this one, too.

There was an ugly murmur running through the crowd. Lassiter had noticed the change in mood as well, and had signaled the uniformed officers to take positions by the exits.

“Let’s get on with this, Gus,” Henry called. “Where’s Shawn?”

Before Gus could answer, Lyle Wheelock spit out a curse. “Maybe he’s got to break up another happy couple first.”

“Yeah?” Henry said. “Which happy couple was that-the people who were getting married, or the ones who were cheating?”