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Even though the warehouse had burned down four nights ago, the scene was still cordoned off when Lassiter and O'Hara arrived there. A car from the Santa Barbara Fire Department was already parked at the curb. They got out of the car and ducked underneath the police tape to walk over to where Chief Stetson was standing with another man in front of the charred remains of the warehouse.

Both Lassiter and O'Hara had been at the scene of the fire the night it had happened, but there had not been much to do at that point of time. The fire had been raging, the fire department had been struggling to get it under control and other than canvassing the neighborhood to see if there was a witness as to how the fire had come into being there had been nothing for the police to do. All the warehouses had security cameras, but the ones in this warehouse were scorched plastic blobs now, and of course none of the cameras of the neighboring warehouses had the right angle to catch anything that had happened here on tape.

Of course.

That would have been entirely too easy.

Just sometimes, Lassiter wished for an easy solution to a case. It wasn't that he didn't like his job, but once in a while he'd consider a case that was easy to solve a reprieve.

Even though the fire had long been put out by the fire fighters, the smell of it still hung sharp in the air. It wasn't as strong as it had been while the fire had still been raging, but years of experience on the job had taught Lassiter that it would take some time longer for the sharp smell of burnt wood, plastic and other things out of the air again. Lassiter hated that smell, hated how it clung to his clothes long after he had left the scene of the fire. He had already ruined one freshly cleaned suit in that fire last Saturday, and he knew that this suit was going to follow the other one on its way to the dry cleaners. Hopefully, they'd be able to get the stench out. But who was he kidding. Those were the people who had not managed to get the stains out of his favorite shirt, and everybody knew that blood washed out easily with cold water.

"Chief Stetson."

The Chief nodded at Lassiter and O'Hara in turn. "Detectives. This is Deputy Robertson. He's been heading the investigation into this fire."

"I'm Detective Lassiter, this is Detective O'Hara. What can you tell us about this?"

Robertson nodded over at the burnt out building.

"We now know what caused the fire. Come on, let me show you."

Stetson led the way as they walked along what had once been the north wall of the burnt out warehouse. He led them along the north side of the building, careful to stay clear of the debris scattered everywhere. Finally stopped in front of a scorched piece of debris that looked pretty much like every other piece of debris Lassiter could see. But Stetson stopped determinedly and crouched down before it.

"According to the latest shipping papers, the warehouse was stocked full of furniture, delivered Saturday morning."

Lassiter nodded. "The morning before the fire started."

It had been hardwood furniture, according to the shipping papers. Tropical woods, the really expensive kind of furniture that people paid a whole lot of money for. But according to the papers, all the wood had come from self-sustaining woods, places where as much was grown back as was taken away. Walsh's company hadn't been chopping down the rainforest, so whatever message the protesters had tried to bring across with this fire, they had fought their battle at the wrong front.

Stetson turned towards the detective. "Exactly. Now, we could determine that the fire originated from the area here and then spread to the other side of the warehouse. When the first windows blew from the heat and the wind became a factor, the fire started spreading more rapidly. But we're sure the fire started here."

"And what was here?"

"According to the blueprints, this was the office area, separated from the main body of the warehouse by nothing but a thin dry wall. Now, you know that by the time the first units were called to the scene of the fire, they found the back door open and obvious signs of a break in, even though the fire stopped them from getting closer to determine that for sure."

He took a few steps over and pointed towards a piece of metal in the charred remains. "The main heat from the fire raged in the warehouse area. The office burned too, but due to the wind and the fact that there wasn't as much burnable material in it, it burned far less strongly, at a lower heat. We found remains of the door here. I'm not an expert, but to me the lock looks busted. I'm sure your forensic guys can determine that for sure."

Lassiter nodded, getting impatient with how Stetson drew out the final reveal that they all knew was going to come, anyway.

"So the fire started in the office? How? Somebody threw a match to the ground? A cigarette left burning in the ashtray?"

Stetson shook his head. "No. That might have caused a fire in the office, but that wouldn't have spread as fast as the fire did. And while the furniture stocked here was solid wood furniture wrapped in cardboard and plastic, and stacked on wooden pallets, there's no way those would have caught on fire as quickly as they did. Besides, we found traces of accelerant all over the warehouse."

"So what are you trying to say?"

Stetson looked at Lassiter and Juliet in turn. "There's only one conclusion from the evidence we gathered. Somebody soaked the whole building, most of the pallets and boxes in gasoline, then made a trail to the office and set it on fire here. The trail of gasoline pretty much starts at the office's back door."

He shrugged and nodded his head at the message that had been spray-painted on the concrete a few yards away from where the back door had once been.

"And it's not as if we couldn't have guessed that anyway. Well, here you've got your official confirmation. Congratulations detectives, this is now officially an arson investigation. Robertson and I can tell your forensic guys how to work the scene to secure additional evidence."

Lassiter knew that this had been coming. The warehouse burning down the same night some new age world-saver broke into it and sprayed their message on the ground was too much of a coincidence to not be connected. With a silent sigh, Lassiter let his eyes roam over the message that was sprayed on the ground, close to where the building had stood but somehow the letters had escaped the heat from the fire.

There, in crude capital letters, someone had spray-painted the words "Stop Killing the Rainforest" on the ground in red letters. The pain was blotchy and smeared, large drops of it between the single letters as if the can of spray paint had been leaking. The large letters were positioned above another message, this one in smaller letters, that read "Save the trees – save the world".

Lassiter shook his head.

This was so not going to be fun.

 

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Shawn had his car door open and was out of the car before Gus had even pulled it to a full stop. There was the usual throng of tourists visiting the Santa Barbara Mission in the early afternoon hours, but the place was far from crowded. Many of the tourists held cameras, or were taking pictures of each other in front of the historic sight, but none of them seemed to be other participants of the scavenger hunt. They all seemed far too relaxed, in no hurry at all to take their picture.

So far, so good. Shawn turned back towards Gus, who was busy locking the car.

"Come on dude, I don't think anybody's here yet. Let's take the picture and be done with it."

Gus sighed and came over towards him. "You do know that we're in the next round anyway, no matter if we're the first to send in our picture or not. All we have to do is send in the picture from the right location before 8 pm."

Shawn shook his head. Gus still didn't get it. "Dude, we both know that only the first one to find the last location wins the money. Besides, it's about reptitude."

"Shawn, that's not a word."

"Oh, now it isn't? I remember that it was a word when you were droning on about your sales. Actually, that's the only thing I remember, I must have fallen asleep after you invented the word."

"Shawn!"

"Gus, I'm Santa Barbara's most famous psychic. What would it look like if despite my abilities I never manage to get to the location first?"

Gus shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe like a fraud who's only pretending to be a psychic, and who has to use logic like everyone else."

Shawn pointed his outstretched index finger at Gus. "Exactly. Not good for business, buddy. Not good at all. So get that camera phone out and let's do this."

"That's another thing. Why did you use my phone number when you entered us into this scavenger hunt?"

Shawn shrugged as he started over towards the sign that read "Santa Barbara Mission." In front of that they would get a good picture, with part of the building in the background.

"Because I have already used up all my free minutes for this month. It was discount night on the home-shopping channel and Christmas is approaching rapidly. You'll thank me when you see the present I got you. It's all kinds of awesome."

"As awesome as last year's present?" Gus asked with a frown. "Because in that case I sure hope you kept the bill this time. Now, let's get this over and done with. Are you absolutely sure we're in the right place?"

Shawn tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. Then he nodded. "Queen, mission, yeah I think we got it down. Now let's do this."

They positioned themselves beside the sign, bent slightly in the knees to get the sign into the picture, then Gus stretched out his arm with the camera phone.

"And this time, we'll send in the first picture. From now on I don't care if you have your eyes closed or not."

"Shut up Shawn!" Gus said and pushed the button on his camera phone. The camera clicked, and the two straightened up again to look at the picture. They both had their eyes open this time, and Shawn was willing to be thankful for small mercies. Gus was such a whiner about these things, and it wasn't as if those pictures were ever published.

Shawn quickly typed in the number and sent the picture in. There was a special hotline for all the picture messages that related to the competition, and tonight after eight when the competition was closed for the day, they were going to receive a text message telling them about their position for the day. But Shawn didn't particularly worry about having to read that in a message. The first three contenders to decipher the clue were always mentioned in Billy the Whiz's evening show. And today Shawn was fairly content that they were going to come in first. They simply had to.

The only problem was that as exciting as the treasure hunt was, it only kept them occupied until they had figured out the clue.

"What do you say we drive by the station, see if they need our help on a case."

Gus, who had been in the process of unlocking the car door, stopped and looked at Shawn across the roof of the car.

"What? You want to work a case? Now? No way. We have to keep up with the scavenger hunt, Shawn."

"Name me one reason why we can't do both."

"I can name you 100,000 reasons, Shawn. If we want to win the money, we have to stay focused on the scavenger hunt. Working a case for the police is only going to distract you. And what if we miss a clue because of this police case you want to work? The Chief pays us, but she doesn't pay us $100,000. So I'm voting no, we're not working any case until that scavenger hunt is over."

"You vote no? What is this Gus? That's how it works now, with votes? What's next, campaigning, turning bills into laws? Gus, we're running a psychic detective agency and not Switzerland, all I want to do is drop by the police station and see what cases they're working on. Score a free coffee from the break room, maybe tease Lassy a little. You know, the usual stuff."

Gus looked at Shawn for a few seconds longer, then he opened the car door and got inside.

"No cases, Shawn."

Shawn smiled as he got into the car and put on his safety belt. "Of course not, Gus. Scout's honor."

"Do I need to remind you how your career in the Boy Scouts ended?"

"Oh, but I knew many a Girl Scout in my days who will assure you that I'm good to my word."

"No cases Shawn."

Gus pulled out of the parking lot, tires scrunching over the gravel. "I'm serious."

"Of course. No cases, okay. Duly noted. We could even hold a vote on it if it makes you feel better."

Gus harrumphed and silently turned the car out of the parking lot, back on the main road towards Santa Barbara.

 

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Shawn couldn't pride himself with the Super Smeller like Gus, but it didn't take an exceptionally good nose to catch the scent of burn that hung over the squad room in the police station. Gus had been crinkling his nose ever since they had entered the building, but Shawn had only caught scent of it once they had left the entrance area behind and had come into the squad room.

"Don't tell me we need to explain to the police that indoor barbeques aren't a good idea. And that if the police department has an indoor barbeque, the least they could do is to invite their Head Psychic for the fun."

Gus harrumphed in the back of his throat as they continued their way along. The door to Chief Vick's office was closed, and Shawn continued along the way, hoping to catch Juliet at her desk. It was much easier to find out if there was a case worth looking into from her than by trying to get into Chief Vick's good graces for it.

With a frown he noticed that the charred smell was getting stronger the closer they got to the corner of the room where Juliet's and Lassiter's desks were located. In fact, it seemed as if the burnt smell was coming from…

"Jules!"

Juliet, who had been sitting bent over some paperwork on her desk, looked up at the sound of his voice. A smile showed on her face, but it was a tired and strained smile.

"Shawn. Gus."

Shawn stepped up to the desk, nose flaring at the increased smell of burn now that he was standing directly next to the young detective. It didn't smell as if she had been close to a fire, but she smelled as if she had been trying to build a snowman out of ashes.

Shawn flopped down on the edge of her desk, surreptitiously trying to glimpse at the file that was open on her desk, but it was obscured by Juliet's left arm.

Shawn flashed Juliet a full smile in hopes that it could cheer her up somewhat.

"New perfume, Jules? It takes some getting used to, but it's very…primal. I like it."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Don't, Shawn. I've spent the past two hours watching the Chief of the Fire Department direct our Forensic guys around a burnt warehouse. I would kill for a shower right now, but they way it looks, it's going to take a while longer until I can even get away from the desk. I'm not in the mood."

Shawn raised his eyebrows and looked over towards Lassiter, who was busy snapping at some poor unsuspecting soul over the phone.

"Lassy got an invitation to the barbeque as well?"

Juliet nodded. "You might want to make sure that he doesn't see you. His mood isn't the best."

Shawn shrugged. Lassiter in a bad mood wasn't exactly something he had never dealt with before.

"So, you got yourself a warehouse fire?"

"A warehouse that was set on fire." Juliet said, though it sounded more like a sigh. Shawn's curiosity peaked up.

"Arson? Maybe there's something I could help you with. The spirit world is very talkative about these things."

Juliet shook her head. "Thanks Shawn, but right now I don't even know yet where this investigation is going. We haven't even done any of the preliminary interviews."

Shawn smiled and pulled himself off Juliet's chair. "I'll let you know if the spirit world is in a giving mood. I cannot control that which I channel, you know?"

Juliet gave a tired smile. "Yes, you might have pointed that out a few times."

"And if this case keeps you chained to your desk late into the night, don't hesitate to call. I'm a certified sponge-bath therapist, and on occasion I have been known to make house-calls."

Behind Shawn's shoulder, Gus chortled, and Juliet shook her head with another tired smile.

"I'll keep it in mind, Shawn."

She bent over her file again, pen poised in one hand as she reached for her phone with the other, and Shawn turned away.

"We're not going to work this case, Shawn."

Shawn frowned at his friend. "Why ever not?"

"Why not? You heard Juliet, they don't need our help."

"Yet."

Gus rolled his eyes. "It's an arson case, Shawn. Do I need to remind you that we don't work cases that involve fire in any form or way?"

"In any form or way? Where did you take that from, the leaflet you picked up at the last meeting of Easily Spooked Anonymous?"

His voice had risen slightly, and from his position behind his desk Lassiter who had just hung up his phone glared over at them. Shawn nodded his head at Gus and they started walking towards the exit.

"It's an arson case, Gus. And judged by the smell of cold ashtray that's clinging to Jules, I'd say the fire has been out for a while already. There's no need to get all panicky about it."

"I'm not panicking! I just don't like fires, that's all."

"Gus, you squeal like a little girl as soon as somebody lights up a cigarette in your vicinity."

"I have allergies, Shawn!"

Shawn waved him off. "Whatever. And I'm not saying that we're taking this case. But now Juliet knows we're available, and as soon as they run into a dead end concerning this case, she'll know whom to call."

"As soon as?"

Shawn shrugged. "Don't they always run into one, sooner or later? But now it looks like we got the afternoon off. Come on, let's get some tacos and go to the office. I Tivoed the "Family Ties" marathon last week."

Gus considered this for a moment. "Enchiladas. And I call control over the remote, and the right to call for bathroom breaks and commentary stops."

Shawn thought for a moment, then he nodded.

"Okay. Let's go."

Shawn turned and they started walking towards the exit of the police station. In all honesty, Shawn was a little disappointed. He had hoped that Juliet and Lassiter were working an interesting case that he could chip in on. Not that a warehouse fire wasn't interesting, but Juliet hadn't sounded too eager to have him on board at this point of time.

Well, Shawn could wait. By the end of this week, he planned on being $100,000 richer. Well, half of that sum since Gus insisted on them sharing the prize money evenly. But still, $50,000 in his bank account would help on cutting back his need to work. Not that he'd quit the psychic business altogether. It was fun, and a man needed something to keep himself occupied. But Gus would stop nagging him about the rent for the office, and paying their bills, and the occasional e-bay shopping binge. And all the things he could buy with that money – his bike needed a new exhaust pipe, and he had seen that one e-bay auction where original spare parts were for sale. If only he already had the money. It wouldn't make life perfect, but at least a whole lot more interesting.

On their way over towards the front doors they nearly ran into Buzz McNab who was coming from the corridor to the basement archives, a stack of files piled in his arms that was so high he could barely look over it.

"Whoa! Easy there Buzz. The spirits didn't predict an untimely demise for me today, but I'd rather not chance getting flattened by those files."

Buzz stumbled a little, but managed to put the stack of files down on the front desk without toppling it over. He looked up at Shawn, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Sorry Shawn. It's this hit and run case Detective Lassiter has me working. Did you know how many grey Ford Taurus there are in the greater Santa Barbara area?"

Shawn looked from Buzz to Gus and back again. "Erm…I don't know. You want me to guess?"

"982. And Detective Lassiter made me check all the registered owners for prior convictions." He gestured towards the stack of files. "There are the hard copies of what I dug up, and now I need to go through them all."

"Ouch. I'd love to help, Buzz, but the spirit world isn't telling me anything about this."

Buzz shrugged. "Yeah, figures. Just my luck. At least Allen is off shift already."

Shawn frowned. "Allen? Officer Allen?"

Buzz nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. She and I…" The young officer looked around as if to make sure that they were alone and wouldn't be overheard, and Shawn felt his mind go through all possible revelations Buzz might be about to make. If it had anything to do with his marital status, Shawn so didn't want to know.

"Officer Allen and I have teamed up for the WKLX Scavenger Hunt. And we're still in the race."

Shawn struggled to keep the relief from his face that he was spared a particularly unwanted mental image as he smiled. "Congratulations. That sounds awesome."

Buzz shrugged. "Yeah. Francine thinks it'd be a great thing if we actually won. You know, we could make a down payment on a house with half the prize money. But with the shift times I work, it's hard to find the time to get to the right locations. That's why Allen and I teamed up, chances are better that one of us is off shift during the afternoon when we figure out the clue. And we both are off shift this Sunday, so we got a chance to win if we make it that far."

He shrugged again and his smile widened. "But of course we're not as good as you two. So far, we haven't managed to make it to the top three that are named on the radio in the evening. You two are good."

Shawn waved him off. "Oh, that's nothing. Who comes in first won't matter until Sunday."

"Wait, how did you know that we came in second yesterday?" Gus interrupted from Shawn's side. "We're not participating under our real name."

"No, of course not. But The Magic Heads? I immediately thought about that comic picture that Shawn showed around the station a couple of months ago. I mean, who could forget, right? A comic book hero named after you? That's great."

"Not the word I'd use." Gus mumbled, but Buzz hadn't even heard. He pointed back towards the stack of files.

"Anyway, I gotta go back look through those. See which drivers of a grey Ford Taurus have a prior traffic conviction and might have been on Ninth Avenue last Saturday."

"Good luck then. I'll let you know if the spirits pass anything on."

"Thanks!" The smile on Buzz face was genuine and it sent a small pang through Shawn at the empty promise. "Bye guys."

"Bye Buzz."

Buzz picked up his precarious stack of files again and left down the corridor, and Shawn quickly turned towards the front door. If he only played time and hurry right, he might just…

"You showed that stupid comic book around the police station?"

Or not. Slowly, Shawn put his hand on the door and pushed it open slightly. Freedom lay just beyond it. But on this side lay Gus and a lecture. Just as he drew a breath and hoped to spontaneously come up with something that's pacify his friend's sensitivities about his first and only comic book activity, he was saved by the ringing of his cell phone.

"I really need to get this, Gus." Shawn hurriedly fished the small device out of his pocket even as Gus brushed past him and out the door with a mumbled threat about their discussion not being over yet. Shawn only hope that Gus meant later rather than sooner.

"Hello? Dad! Hey, what's…No, of course I didn't forget." A frown spread across his face as Shawn searched his memory for what it was his father could mean. "Dinner? Tomorrow?" Well, at least he had only forgotten about dinner, not about donating his father a kidney or something. "Of course I haven't forgotten! Gus and I will drop by at around half past seven, sure. And yes, we'll bring dessert. Yeah, listen, I gotta go now, Dad. B…Yes, I'll see you tomorrow. Good bye."

He hung up and quickly put the phone back into his pocket. Gus was probably at the car by now, and depending on how pissed he really was about this whole comic book disaster, he'd drive off without him. Which was something Shawn wanted to avoid at all costs. Driving with a disgruntled Gus was still better than driving in a cab.

Cheaper, too.

Gus' car was still in the parking lot, and Shawn quickly hurried towards it and got in before his friend could reconsider his decision.

"Who was that on the phone?"

"My Dad," Shawn answered as he buckled himself in. "We're invited for dinner tomorrow night."

Gus nodded. "I know. You told me last week."

Shawn took a moment to process that. "Really? Funny, I don't remember."

"So, any other big plans on how to waste our time until the next clue comes out tomorrow morning? Maybe you want to drive to my boss' house and show him that cartoon picture of me wearing a stovepipe hat and carrying a wand?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. I think we should call it a night. Besides, your boss is probably on your mailing list, so I'm fairly sure the picture wouldn't come as too much of a surprise for him."

Gus didn't say anything, but his lips were drawn into a tight line and his knuckles were white as he pulled the car into gear and drove out of the parking lot.

 



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