William Rabkin - Psych - Mind Over Magic

Benny Fleck marched up to Lassiter and O’Hara. “I am here, Detectives, under duress, having been forced to abandon several key negotiations at a crucial point. I was dragged across state lines for this catastrophe. So I strongly urge you convince me this was worthwhile before my lawyers can come up with a lawsuit that will bankrupt Santa Barbara.”

“You may be able to throw your weight around Las Vegas, but the SBPD doesn’t play that way,” Lassiter said. “Now get back in the front row so you can see.”

Fleck glared up at him. If Lassiter was the slightest bit intimidated by the billionaire, Gus couldn’t see it.

For the moment, Lassiter had successfully taken control of the crowd, and the muttering had died away. But Gus knew it was only a matter of minutes before the unrest would start again.

Just as Gus was searching for the right words to calm the audience, the houselights dimmed and a spot shone down on the stage. Shawn strode out into the middle of the spotlight and took a deep bow.

No one clapped.

“Where have you been?” Gus whispered furiously.

“You never heard of making an entrance?” Shawn said. “Besides, there were a few last-second details that needed tending to.”

“Like what?” Gus said.

“Hey, it’s the psycho!” Lyle Wheelock yelled. “He’s the one who-Ow!”

“Like that,” Shawn said.

Gus peered out into the crowd and could make out a small boy sticking his hand in the air as a superball flew into it.

“Is that Hank Stenberg?” Gus asked.

“The Headhunter himself,” Shawn said. “Best crowd control you can buy for less than five bucks.”

“Okay, Spencer, time to get going,” Lassiter said. “Make it good, make it convincing, but most of all, make it short.”

Shawn made another deep bow and waited for the applause to subside, which presented a small problem in that it had never actually started. Gus nudged him and he straightened up.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Shawn intoned, “and police and ex-army majors and carny freaks and anyone I might have left out. We are gathered here tonight to solve a crime.”

“Yes, Shawn, we are,” O’Hara called out. “We’ve been gathered here for a long time. So maybe you could start solving.”

“Yes, to solve a crime,” Shawn started. “And not just any crime, but the worst kind of crime.”

“We all know someone was murdered,” Lassiter said.

“I’m talking about a theft,” Shawn said. “The theft of a young boy’s sense of wonder.”

Over the course of their detective career, Gus had occasionally entertained the notion that they should cater Shawn’s denouements-at least serve a few light hors d’oeuvres, in case the summation ran long. But he was particularly glad there hadn’t been food served tonight, as there was little doubt it all would have rained down on them.

Shawn persevered through the boos, hisses, and occasional obscenity. “Two decades ago, a small boy came to the Fortress of Magic, wanting only to be amazed and delighted. But instead of allowing him those few moments of, yes, magic, his father cruelly exposed its practitioners as tricksters, hoaxsters, and frauds, stealing that precious gift of enchantment away forever. And the author of that theft is standing among us right now,” he said, leveling the powerful finger of judgment at his father. “Henry Spencer, j’accuse.”

“If you mean I told you the truth about these pho nies, you’re welcome,” Henry said, then noticed Rudge glaring at him. “Nothing personal.”

Rudge gave him a conciliatory bow.

“What you call the truth is nothing more than a fear of being tricked,” Shawn said, “a belief that if someone is holding the truth from you, it must be for nefarious purposes.”

“Well, of course it is,” Henry said.

“And that’s exactly the attitude that sent me here in the first place,” Shawn said.

Lassiter turned to Henry. “It was your idea for Shawn to come here in the first place? Gee, thanks.”

“I was banned from the Fortress for exposing the truth,” Henry said.

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Shawn said. “You were banned because you arrested the magician who was showing me card tricks for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

“As if your delinquency needed any more contributions,” Henry said.

“Hey!” The voice that rang out was so full of authority, everybody turned in its direction immediately. Major Voges didn’t have her gun out, but her bearing was so intimidating, she might as well have. “We’re not here to participate in your private psychodrama.”

“See?” Lyle said. “I told you he was a psycho.”

Shawn gave Hank a hand signal, and the boy hurled the superball at Lyle’s head.

“Ow,” Lyle said as the ball zipped back into Hank’s hand.

“See, they do sting,” Shawn said to Gus, then turned back to the audience. “This is exactly where you’re wrong, Major Voges. You are all here to participate in our private psychodrama. Because that was key to solving this mystery. You see, it was the cynicism my father imparted to me that kept me from realizing the truth. Now I know you’re all wondering, just how cynical is Henry Spencer?”

If noes were bullets, Shawn and Gus would have been flopping on the stage like Bonnie and Clyde.

“I’m glad you asked,” Shawn said quickly. “Here’s how cynical my father is. He looked at two friends, two old, dear, close friends, and saw something strange. I don’t know what sparked his suspicions, but he could tell there was something off about Bud’s engagement. And being the cynic that he is, he leapt to the conclusion that Lyle was cheating with Bud’s lovely fiancee, Savonia.”

“Does this have anything to do with the case?” Gus whispered to Shawn.

Shawn ignored him. “But he’d known these friends for far too long to confront either of them with his suspicion. So he arranged a bachelor party for Bud-but he booked it for the one place he knew he couldn’t possibly attend.”

“How did you find that out?” Henry said.

Shawn gave him a small smile. “And then he sent me. Do you know why?”

“So he wouldn’t have to listen to you anymore?” Rudge called out to mutters of approval.

“Because he knew he’d raised a cynic just like himself,” Shawn said. “And he knew that cynic would leap to the same conclusion he did. But without the encumbrance of years of friendship, he’d make the accusation.”

“It’s not an accusation. It’s a fact, for God’s sake,” Henry said. “A blind idiot could see it. Or even my son.”

“And I did,” Shawn said. “I saw exactly the same thing you saw, because I saw it through your prejudices. But once the prejudice was gone, I could see the truth.”

“That’s great,” Lassiter said. “Glad we wrapped that one up. Let’s move on to the murder.”

“And the truth wasn’t that Lyle was a bad friend,” Shawn said. “It was that Bud was a great one. Lyle’s wife has been institutionalized with Alzheimer’s for years. The marriage is long dead, but he can’t divorce her because she’ll lose her health insurance and be dumped on the street. Last year he met Savonia and fell in love, only to discover that her visa was running out and she was going to have to leave the country. Bud volunteered to marry her so she could get her green card and live with Lyle.”

Everybody turned to stare at Bud and Lyle.

“Is this true?” Henry said.

“We couldn’t tell anyone because we were worried about the immigration people,” Bud said.

Lyle threw his arms around Bud. “Isn’t he the greatest friend ever?”

Shawn took another deep bow. “And with that, ladies and gentlemen, the opening act of this presentation is over. Part two will commence after a brief intermission.”