William Rabkin - Psych - A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Read

“That didn’t work either,” Gus said.

“Which is really odd. My fifth-grade music teacher said my voice had a rich, strong timbre.”

“Shawn!”

“I’m thinking.”

“There’s no time for thinking. We need a way to distract Lassiter now!”

Actually, there was some time left. Lassiter was studying the filing cabinet, and it would be at least fifteen seconds before he would walk around it and see the gun’s barrel.

Shawn and Gus were so focused on Lassiter they hadn’t noticed the door to the shack creep open and Tara slip in. They didn’t notice her walk up behind Juliet O’Hara. They didn’t see her tap the young detective on the shoulder. They had completely forgotten about her until they heard her voice from behind them.

“Excuse me, Detective,” Tara said. “I have no choice in this matter.”

“In what matter?” O’Hara said, turning toward her.

Now Shawn and Gus did turn to see what was happening. Gus wondered momentarily how she’d managed to get past the uniforms manning the crime scene tape, but a quick glance at her legs made him realize how persuasive a woman like Tara could be to a middle-aged cop counting down the days to his twenty.

Lassiter looked up from his search to see Tara take O’Hara forcefully by the shoulders, then lean in toward her for a long, slow kiss.

For a moment, there was no motion in the shack, with the exception of Tara’s face moving toward Detective O’Hara’s. Gus felt a blush starting at his toes and working its way up to the top of his skull. He glanced over and saw Shawn staring with the same look he’d gotten when they walked into the wrong auditorium at the multiplex and discovered Mickey Rourke teaching Kim Basinger tricks far different from the ones they’d planned to see Mr. Miyagi teaching Ralph Macchio. Even Lassiter seemed to be unable to move, except for letting his jaw drop even closer to the ground.

“Shawn!” Gus whispered. “This is the distraction.”

“No.” Shawn’s eyes began to glaze over. “The rest of the physical world is a distraction. This is what matters. This is the only thing that has ever mattered.”

“Shawn!”

Shawn managed to pull his eyes away from the spectacle. “Right, murder, conviction, execution. Got it.”

He moved across the room just as Detective O’Hara recovered from her shock. She shoved Tara violently away from her just as their lips were drawing together. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “I could arrest you right now for assaulting a police officer.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tara said. “It was what Shawn wanted.”

“I have no doubt of that,” O’Hara said. “Does he want you thrown into prison, too? Wait. I can imagine the answer to that one. Shawn!”

Lassiter emerged from behind the filing cabinet, holding the rifle’s stock in his gloved hand. “I’ve got the killer right here.”

Coules glowered at him approvingly. “You let my office know the instant you pull a print off that gun,” he said. “We’re going to teach this murderer you don’t take out an employee of the city of Santa Barbara.”

“Maybe we could start the lessons outside,” Shawn said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it doesn’t smell very good in here.”

Lassiter shrugged and headed for the door. Gus and Tara followed. Once they were out in the air, they paused to take several deep breaths. The stench of garbage rising from the landfill seemed like perfume.

“That was amazing, Tara,” Shawn said.

“I was only following your orders,” Tara said.

“My orders?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Gus said.

Lassiter threw the shotgun at one of the crime scene techs, then started yelling at the two uniforms manning the tape. Shawn and Gus couldn’t hear what he was saying, but when the cops all turned and glared at them, Gus was certain that they’d already recognized his prints on the barrel.

“I think we may have worn out our welcome here,” Shawn said.

They started back to the car, but before they’d gotten halfway across the street, Shawn stopped. Detective O’Hara was standing apart from the other cops. Her face was red, although whether it was from embarrassment, anger, or the effort of holding her breath for the entire time they were in the shack it was impossible to say.

“Can you give me a minute?” Shawn said.

“It’ll take me twice that to get in the car anyway,” Gus said.

Shawn turned back and walked to Detective O’Hara. “You okay, Jules?”

She glared up at him. “Was that fun for you?”

“As a matter of fact-” He broke off when he saw the anger in her eyes. “No, no fun. Not at all.”

“I’ve fought so hard so long to get respect as a woman in this boys’ club of a department. I always thought you were on my side, that you saw me as a cop as well as a woman. But today you proved me wrong. You did more damage to my reputation than anyone ever has.”

“Jules-”

“Just get out of here, Shawn. I’m sorry I brought you onto this case. Now you’re off it.”

“Jules!”

She turned and walked back to Lassiter. Shawn watched her go, then turned to head back to the car.

Gus finished wedging himself into the backseat as Shawn walked around the car and got into the front. “So what is it you needed to tell me about?” he asked Gus.

Gus leaned up and whispered into Shawn’s ear, “It’s about Tara.”

Tara started the engine and slammed the gearshift into drive, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

“What about her?”

Gus checked to make sure she wasn’t listening, then whispered again. “She thinks you’re beaming your thoughts into her head.”

Gus waited for Shawn to react. To draw back in horror, maybe, or to snatch the keys out of the ignition, or even to leap out of the moving car like Mannix. For some reason, he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he gave Gus a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about that,” Shawn said. “I know all about it.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” Shawn said. “I’m the one beaming my thoughts into her.”

Gus pressed himself against the wall, then peered out through a crack in the curtains. The red Mercedes sat at the curb, exhaust fumes puffing out of its idling engine.

“She’s still there.”

Shawn looked up from the computer monitor. “Which is a good thing.”

Gus peered out at the car, then ducked back behind the curtain at a sign of movement inside the car. “We need to be out there investigating the impound guy’s murder, but instead we’re trapped in this office by a psychotic psychic groupie. How is that a good thing?”

“It proves that I’m not really sending her psychic orders, because if she had to do whatever I wanted, she’d be gone by now,” Shawn said. “Did you know people actually write blogs about impound lots? Apparently, among connoisseurs the Santa Barbara lot is ranked one of the best, since it’s also one of the region’s largest wrecking yards.”

“I wasn’t really worried that she was under your super mind control, because you’re not really psychic,” Gus said. “I don’t suppose the blogger says anything useful, like confessing to murdering the attendant?”

“This guy spends his life writing about impound lots he dreams of wandering through. I wouldn’t count on him being useful in any way,” Shawn said. “And even if I’m not psychic, maybe Tara is. Did you ever think about that?”

“I don’t plan to ever think about this crazy woman again.” Gus peeked out the window. The car was still there. “If we can ever find a way to get rid of her, that is.”