Fic: “Truth or Dare" by momonoki - PG-13 - Lassiter/Spencer 2/5
Something didn’t feel right to Shawn. Number One was being alone in a huge mansion with the world’s most socially awkward detective who kept wandering in and out of various rooms like a lab mouse looking for his coveted cheese. Number Two was a funny metaphor for something else, but more importantly, there was something that Shawn was missing. He gathered his thoughts, and reviewed everything he had seen thus far. While Gus had been in the bathroom earlier, he had peeked into some of the bedrooms upstairs, at first just to see how the rich half lives. It had been interesting, to say the least-seriously though, how many TVs did two people need? As a result of his shameless snooping, there had something in one of those rooms that had caught his eye…now which bedroom was it? It wasn’t the master, that would be too obvious…And if he remembered right, it had been in a closet…Shawn snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Lassiter lumbering toward him. Looked like he was done playing with the 14 karat My Little Pony, which spelled trouble: if Lassiter was finally ready to leave, then Shawn would be forced to follow whether he liked it or not. Shawn would have to kick the “Fake Psychic” thing into high gear; if not only for the fun of irritating the Head Detective, it would buy him some more time to snoop around.
“Lassie! Listen, the spirits are telling me that a crucial piece of evidence is still somewhere in this house!” As the detective approached him, Shawn flung his arms about for extra “oomph,” gauging Lassiter’s reaction. Sure enough, the detective got that familiar look on his face, one that told Shawn that he was simultaneously impatient with Spencer’s antics but reluctant to brush him off completely.
“There’s nothing else to get from this crime scene, Spencer,” Lassiter insisted. “We’ve already apprehended the husband. There’s something we like to call motive in the world of police work, Spencer. It won’t be hard to get a confession from him. Everyone’s already gone back to the police station anyway. They even bagged some tools they think might be the murder weapon.” Pleased with himself, Lassiter gave a half-smirk as he hooked a long arm around Shawn’s shoulders, leading him towards the door. Shawn rolled his eyes. He knew Lassiter was always satisfied when police work went according to protocol and didn’t involve Shawn’s “psychic vibrations” (which had solved quite a few cases, actually). Most likely, to Lassiter, Shawn’s visions, no matter how helpful they were, were merely examples of ‘ridiculous, time-wasting frivolity.’
“So if there’s nothing else to get, then why are you still here? Isn’t there an episode of COPS you could be watching right now?” At this, Lassiter’s smirk faded. Shawn raised an eyebrow. “You’re not here just for the hell of it. I’m sensing you also think there might be something we’ve overlooked.” Shawn paused. He knew he was right. Wait for it…
“Okay then, yeah,” Lassiter admitted after a long pause. “Something doesn’t seem quite right. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” He mused, pointing awkwardly into the air. Shawn stared at his finger until Lassiter suddenly became aware of his weird gesture, and embarrassed, quickly put his hand down. “Er, anyway, this house is huge, so there’re probably still a few corners that need another once-over.”
“That’s my Lassie! I’m getting a vibration that what we need is this way,” Shawn directed, leading them down the start of an absurdly long, bleak hallway. Of course, Shawn wasn’t really getting a vibration, but he was fairly sure what they needed was in one of the upstairs bedrooms and in any case, he was sure that what they were looking for wouldn’t be in any of the places Lassiter had been looking earlier. As they strode down the hall, Shawn examined his surroundings a little more closely. More and more, the Westmore mansion was looking like the real-life version of a typical set on a Scooby-Doo episode. Shawn was just surprised that there were no creepy portraits of the entire Westmore family lining the walls. That thought made him consider the fact that David and Meredith had no children…Why?
The detective and the fake psychic walked quietly for a few moments until Shawn, who was one of those people who could be driven insane by silence, finally interjected, “Dude, wouldn’t it be creepy if there were two girls standing down at the other end like in The Shining?” He shivered dramatically, grinning at his lanky companion.
Lassiter chose to ignore this. “You’d better not be wrong about this, Spencer.”
“About the creepy girls or the crucial evidence I have yet to uncover?”
“What do you think?” Lassiter snarled through gritted teeth, but nevertheless obediently followed Shawn like that infamous canine with which he grudgingly shared a nickname.
“No, it’s here, I promise.” Shawn couldn’t really promise anything, but he hoped his hunch was right. Now where was that room?
*****
After wandering around for a while, but simultaneously pretending to know exactly where the room was, Shawn found the one that fit the picture in his mind’s eye. It was a small side bedroom that looked like its only purpose was to store several large wardrobes and dressers, all of which seemed to be stuffed with Mrs. Westmore’s clothing and other accessories. Although there were several objects of interest in the room like a diamond-encrusted belt (did it say “Sexy” on it? God, Shawn wished it did) and a squishy looking bed that would probably even make his sour companion Mr. Grumpypants comfy, Shawn persevered and ignored the rest of the room, going directly toward the bedroom’s oversized walk-in closet. Yes, this was definitely the right room, Shawn thought. Rudely cutting in front of Shawn, Lassiter barged in first, gun pointed and ready, aiming at the dark, clearly all set to gun down the Boogieman. Shawn skulked in quietly afterwards, grinning to himself. Just like Lassie to be a little trigger happy.
“Dude, there’s nobody here but us,” Shawn reminded him, and with an acknowledging and slightly embarrassed nod, Lassiter sheathed his gun. Shawn started to feel along the wall, searching for the light switch. Finding it, a soft click sounded behind the two men, and light filled the closet from a rounded fluorescent light affixed to the middle of the ceiling.
“Nice lighting in here-soft, but bright enough. Definitely a woman’s closet,” Shawn said, noting the three hundred million pairs of shoes. Almost half of the shoes seemed to be expensive high-heeled pumps, all presumably belonging to the fashion plate Meredith. More than two dozen shoes of various styles glinted scarlet in the soft light: Meredith apparently liked the color red.
“So what are we looking for?” Lassiter glanced around the small room. The exorbitant numbers of shoes were stacked in disorganized piles beneath assortments of women’s clothing which hung on racks along the right and left wall. Inspecting women’s shoes didn’t seem to be his cup of over-sweetened coffee, and thus Lassiter’s eyes ultimately settled back on the closet door, which Spencer had closed behind them.
“Why on God’s green earth would you close the door, Spencer? You know I don’t like enclosed spaces,” Lassiter reached for the knob, muttering something under his breath about “damned snow globes.” But much to his obvious dismay, and almost as if being punished by God for his irreverence only moments earlier, the knob refused to turn.
“Oh no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not today. Not with this idiot.” Lassiter complained into the heavy wood of the door. Taking a deep breath, he rammed into the door with his shoulder, grimacing a bit at the pain of the impact. Shawn looked on with interest. Lassiter glanced back at him and muttered gruffly, “I don’t think I can smash it open.”
Despite the circumstances, Shawn was positively excited. “Ooh, Lassie-face, if you can, could you please yell ‘Heeeere’s Lassie!’ when you do?” That would be awesome.” Shawn stifled a giggle. Just imagining it was hilarious.
“This is all your fault!” Lassiter shook his finger accusingly at Shawn. “You did it on purpose. There wasn’t any evidence in here at all!! Also, stop making The Shining references.”
“No, Lassie, seriously I was sensing some serious psychic vibrations in here,” Shawn said, holding a hand up to his temple in typical Fake Psychic fashion. “There are three things you should know,” Shawn indicated with his other hand. “One, something important is in here, so let’s just chill here a sec. Two, you can’t deny The Shining was awesome. I’ve been on kind of a scary movie kick recently. And three, about the door, that was strictly an accident. Habit, I guess. You see an open door, you want to shut it. Open, shut. But it’s no big deal. We can just call Jules or Gus-wait, not Gus, he’s on a date-anyway, we can have somebody come help us. You got your phone?”
Checking his cell, Lassiter sighed. “No bars.”
“Hang on, lemme check mine. Damn, looks like I have no bars either.” Shawn shrugged and Lassiter threw his hands up in exasperation. Shawn grinned. Lassiter looked nervous-maybe he was claustrophobic? Shawn then glanced back at his phone.
“Wait, there’s one-it’s kinda faint, but I’ll try to call Jules.”
Luckily, the call went through. “Uh, hey Jules! Oh, me, nothing much. Just hanging out with Lassie. Oh yeah, speaking of terrifying encounters, that reminds me--have you seen Saw 5? Seen Saw. See-saw?” Amused at the alliteration, Shawn repeated it a few more times. “Have you watched Saw 5? I rented it the other day. Personally I think it seems a little too cliché. Especially since it’s the fifth in the series. Did you hear they’re making a sixth one?” Gritting his teeth through Shawn’s entire tirade, Lassiter finally shot Shawn an acidic get-to-the-point look. Remembering that his cell had only one bar, Shawn relented.
“Yeah, well, if it’s not too much trouble, Lassie and I are kinda stuck in Mrs. Westmore’s closet here at the mansion. No biggie though. Yeah, we thought it would be awesome to have our own little camping trip, but then we realized that this isn’t outside and more importantly, I forgot the S’mores. Nah, I’m just kidding: I’m pretty sure we’re literally sitting on a big piece of evidence here. So you might want to tell the Chief.” At these words, Lassiter frantically scanned the room again, determined to find the evidence first.
“So you’ll come and help us? I have one more teensy favor. Could you bring some In n’ Out when you come? You know, if you have the time. Thanks!” Shawn clicked his cell shut and settled comfortably down on the floor to wait. Lassiter scowled down at Shawn, but Shawn couldn’t have been more cheerful.
One thing was for certain: being cooped up with Lassie would either be very good, or very bad, but there was no doubt that it would at least be interesting.