Shawn pulled out his phone as he walked alongside the train tracks in the cold of the Oregon night, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around him. He needed to explain everything to Gus the best he could and Gus was currently stuck on the train and he needed to know what was going on.
As Shawn dialed he neared the bend in the tracks and he could see beyond the trees for the first time. Up ahead he noticed a cluster of lights and what appeared to be a small town. Ignoring the fact that he did not have any money on him, was barefoot, and muddy and altogether unpresentable he ran forward his bare feet once again slapping against the wet mud and gravel along the tracks.
“Shawn?” Gus began, after hearing silence when he answered his phone. “What’s going on?” Shawn flipped closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket; he would wait to deal with Gus later.
With a sigh of immense relief Shawn saw that the cluster of lights up ahead included the next train station and his missed train was waiting, with an audible cheer of relief Shawn ran forward and slipped aboard the once again still train amid the zombie-like passengers getting on and off in the dim of the early morning.
“Gus!” Shawn cried out as he rushed into their room and closed the door, still out of breath from his trek.
“What the hell is going on, Shawn? You said there was a murder on the train and smugglers.”
“Yes, and Sam appears to be alive.” Shawn slid back against the wall to sit on the floor, stretching his damp and mud soaked feet out in front of him.
Gus glanced down at the mud stains on Shawn’s knees in sleep dazed confusion, desperately trying to process what was going on. “So let me get this straight, Shawn,” Gus began is he sat back on the lower bunk. “Sam is alive?”
“Apparently.”
“And people are using the train to smuggle weapons?
“Yes, M4 assault rifles?”
“And they apparently killed someone before.”
Shawn shrugged, “Well, I’m not so sure about that. They made vague references to someone named Luke, but I don’t know if they just injured him or if they really killed him. Sam seemed to consider killing the guy they got the riffles from, but didn’t go through with it.”
“So, why did you even think it would be a good idea to get off the train and spy on them at the first place?” Gus asked as he threw a towel a Shawn to clean his feet.
“It made sense at the time. Plus I found out some crucial clues,” Shawn explained excitedly, no longer tired for being woken so early.
Gus shrugged in agreement, but the smile faded from his face when he came to a realization, “Dude, if they discovered you they would have realized I was involved as well.”
“I was careful, Gus. Plus, I didn’t even think about that at the time.”
“That is not comforting, Shawn. I really wish they were smuggling jewels, or something less menacing,” Gus turned to the window in a huff.
“They were smuggling bananas as well.”
“Seriously?” Gus turned back to Shawn, questioning the ridiculous statement.
“Yeah,” Shawn relied with a chuckle, breaking the tension in the room.
“Now, that’s weird.”
“I know.”
Gus was silent for a moment, before speaking, “So Sam is alive and Gareth and Shirley are in on the smuggling?”
“Yeah, so much for that date with Shirley.”
“What about Cindi?” Gus asked, noticing her absence.
“Don’t know, I didn’t see her, but it was dark.” Shawn looked at his watch. It was 5:30 in the morning. “Do you think Lassie’s awake yet?”
“I think he would personally get on a plane and fly to Vancouver to kill you if you called him this early now.”
“True. But, I know someone who’ll definitely be awake,” Shawn pulled out his phone and dialed.
After several rings the phone was answered, “Shawn, what do you want? I’m getting ready to go fishing,” asked the gruff voice.
“Well, Dad, I’ve been thinking about growing a mullet.”
“Shawn!” Henry replied, not amused at being interrupted by something so pointless and yet knowing there must be more to the call.
“Ok, ok. Question, if a theoretical person is smuggling something across the border to Canada, whose jurisdiction would it be?”
“What have you gotten yourself and Gus into?” Henry asked accusatorily, ignoring the question.
“Well, it turns out that our haunting case is a bit more complicated then it first appeared. But my question still stands, who do I call?”
“Ghostbusters,” Henry replied sarcastically.
“Dad, did you just make a joke?” Shawn asked, surprised.
“Shawn, you should drop this case and get off the train. You can call out the police when you are off the train and safe. Smuggling is a serious crime and those involved won’t take it lightly if they find out that you are poking around.”
“I’m not just poking around, they have no idea I’m investigating them at all. They think Gus and I are journalists. Plus, if we just leave then they’ll know we’re looking into them and will abandon the merchandise.”
“Fine. If depends, if the thing they are smuggling is illegal to own or own with intent to sell in the US they can be tried here. However, once they cross the border the case would fall under the jurisdiction of the Canadian police, so a bit out of your normal group. However, if you notify the Santa Barbara police should be able to then contact the Canadian authorities and likewise notify them of the potential smuggling threat. Look Shawn, you need to be careful, smugglers can be unpredictable and…”
“Thanks, dad, but we’re fine, really.”
“Shawn!” Henry’s voice could be heard yelling as Shawn pulled the phone from his ear.
“Oh, gotta go.” Shawn closed the phone, hanging up on Henry.
“What was that about?”
v“Oh, my dad was going on about how dangerous smugglers can be, but no worries.”
Gus didn’t look comforted. “If you get us killed I will come back and kill you myself.”
“Gus, seriously, that does not even make sense.”
“Shawn, I will do it.”
“Gus, don’t worry, I can assure you, this time, I won’t do anything stupid. They’ll not even know we are onto them until the police show up to arrest them when the train pulls into to Vancouver.”
*****
Buzz sat uncomfortably at the interrogation table across from the two detectives who were currently talking harshly at one another and both looking at Buzz for defense.
“Officer McNab, tell O’Hara that there is no way you would admit to breaking into the victim’s house if you were questioned that way by O’Hara.” Lassiter demanded.
“Well, I, I…” Buzz stuttered, unsure which side to take while the detectives argued with each other. “I don’t really...”
“It was much better than your approach of just yelling at the suspect, Lassiter,” Juliet stated before turning to Buzz to explain, “You need to build a connection before they will admit to a crime on such slim evidence.”
The two officers continued to complain to each other about debate interrogation techniques as Buzz looked on. When O’Hara volunteered the day before to go over interrogation techniques when they finished covering what citations different crimes fell under, it seemed like a great opportunity. When Lassiter said that he would help as well, Buzz was still cautiously optimistic. When the detectives were waiting for him in the interrogation room, already arguing, when he arrived in the morning he knew it would not be a good thing.
“So what do you think?” Buzz looked up, suddenly realizing that the conversation had shifted to him again. Lassiter repeated the question.
“Uh,” Buzz scrambled to think of a response to the unexplained question, “I guess I think it is a good idea.” Buzz hoped this would come off like he was agreeing with Lassiter, which was usually the safe choice.
Lassiter looked at Officer McNab confused, “You think it is a good idea, what’s a good idea?”
Buzz knew he was caught, “What you suggested?”
“I asked what you thought would be a good scenario for the next case.”
“Oh,” Buzz replied, feeling a bit stupid when Lassiter’s explanation the situation. Looking back and forth between the two detectives across the table from him, he panicked and quickly stood up, “Sorry, I just remembered I need to turn in a paper to the desk sergeant, I’ll be right back.” Buzz quickly left the room, leaving the once again arguing detectives behind, and returning to the open hallways of the police department, relishing the open space. With the bickering of the detectives the close quarters felt even more claustrophobic than normal.
“McNab!” Buzz turned to see another officer calling for him, “Shawn is on the phone.”
After a brief conversation, Shawn asked to speak to Lassiter, so Buzz reluctantly returned to the hallway by the interrogation room and opened the door, startling Lassiter and Juliet from their argument, “Detective Lassiter, Shawn Spencer is on the phone to talk to you.”
Lassiter glared at Buzz, “Is it important?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t say. But he’s investigating a ghost on a train to Vancouver.”
“Yeah, I heard. Tell him I’m busy and see if it’s anything important.”
“Sure thing.” Buzz headed back out of the room.
*****
Shawn dialed the police department and asked for Lassiter. He was connected to Buzz instead, “Hey, Buzz, great to talk to you again, but I was expecting Lassiter. Is he around?”
“He is in the interrogation room. He and Detective O’Hara are currently debating interrogation techniques.”
“So he isn’t free?” Shawn asked.
“Probably not, I’ll go see though.” Shawn waited as Buzz went over to talk to Lassiter. “Apparently Lassiter and Jules are busy arguing,” Shawn explained to Gus as he waited for Buzz to return.
“Shawn?” Buzz began as he picked up the phone.
“Still here.”
“Yeah, he’s busy. Is there something I can help with?”
“Actually, yeah. Ok, first, I’ve been trying to contact the ghost of the dead chef Sam Claiborne, but I’m not having any luck…”
“Wait,” Buzz interrupted, confused, “the ghost is Sam? But she isn’t dead.”
“Excuse me?” asked Shawn, motioning for Gus to pay attention.
“Samantha “Sam” Claiborne isn’t dead,” Buzz explained. “Or at least there isn’t any record of it.”
“Sam is a woman,” Shawn mouthed to Gus, his eyes lighting up as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall together. “Are you sure about that?” He asked Buzz. “Everyone on the train seemed to think she died of food poisoning.”
“Well, records can be misplaced and sometimes deaths are not reported properly. She isn’t working for the train company anymore, but there is no official account of her death.”
“That’s fine. What else do you know about Sam? Is there a description?” Shawn asked.
“One, sec.” Buzz rifled through the paper’s on Juliet’s desk, looking for the ones Shawn wanted pulled. “Alright, she is 33 years old, 5’6”, with blond hair and brown eyes.”
Shawn began to jump up and down excitedly, or as excitedly as he could in the tiny room as his suspicions were confirmed. “Dude,” he whispered to Gus, his hand over the mouthpiece, “Sam is Cindi.” Shawn removed his hand to talk to Buzz, “Okay. Did you find anything on Cindi?”
“Not yet.”
“I may be able to help you with that and I’m going to need you to call your cousin in Vancouver. Tell him that the spirits have led me to a weapon smuggling cartel and that I have found Cindi Holton, or should I say,” Shawn paused dramatically, “Sam Claiborne.”
“The spirits told you all that?” Buzz asked, impressed.
“Apparently there’s an old and wise Indian princess haunting this train.”
“I’ll call my cousin to have to police meet the train. But, I should warn you, they don’t typically work with psychics up there, they’ll want actual evidence.”
“The spirits will lead me to the evidence, Buzz. Have the police stop the train in Vancouver and explain to them that there is a major smuggling operation going on.”
“Ok, I’ll tell them that, Shawn.”
Shawn hung up his phone. “Sam is Cindi, I’m sure of it,” Shawn explained to Gus. “She has to be the same person, she just dyed her hair.”
“Ok but how did you not know that Sam was a woman in the first place, Shawn?” Gus asked accusatorially. “You took the case and you saw her in the train.”
“I don’t know, I just assumed, ok. Sam is a guy’s name. Plus, everyone that worked here when she was still here has left so there was no one here to correct me. They probably assumed Sam was a man as well. As for this morning it was dark and, like, 4:30 in the morning, plus I was still half asleep.”
*****
Just as Buzz hung up the phone Lassiter with his newly acquired coffee was walking over to where he was standing, followed closely by Juliet. “What did Shawn want?” Juliet asked. Apparently they had set aside their argument for the time being.
“Oh, apparently spirits led him to uncover an arms smuggling ring that’s operating between Oregon and Vancouver and to uncover the secret identity of one of the smugglers.”
“He did what?” Lassiter asked, choking on his coffee as he heard the news. “I thought he was just talking to ghosts.”
“Apparently there was a ghost of an Indian Princess that was quite helpful. Anyway I was going to call my cousin who is in the police force in Vancouver that they need to stop the train when it reaches the station.”
*****
Shawn looked back at his watch. The train arrived in Vancouver in six hours. “Dude, more I spy.”
“Shawn, I hate that game. Plus, we need to keep watch. I don’t like being here with arms smugglers.”
“And murderers,” Shawn added.
“What?” Gus glared at Shawn angrily, assuming that there was an additional dead body he was not aware of.
“They might be murders in addition to being arms dealers. While Sam may be alive, it doesn’t sound so good for, Luke, whoever he might be.”
Gus breathed in a sigh of relief, “Yeah, Shawn, I know. I’m trying to forget that.”
“Well, let’s go eat breakfast. They should begin serving it soon. And, hey, they should have bananas now.”
“Shawn, eating breakfast on top of a bunch of M4s along with potentially meeting the Gustafson’s again does not sound very appealing.”
“If we don’t act normally the smugglers might know we are on to them,” Shawn stated ominously.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
*****
The dining car was still empty when Shawn and Gus entered, but the smell of eggs and pancakes was drifting up from the kitchen. Shawn and Gus descended the stairs and saw Hans at the stove accompanied by the server who was harassed by the Gustafsons the night before. “Shawn, Pierre, good to see you today,” Hans walked over to them and whispered, “The ghost, did you convince it to leave?”
“It took a lot of work, Hans, but the ghost shouldn’t be a problem anymore. We talked to her last night and she has decided to haunt your kitchen no more,” Shawn explained.
“Good, good, so, was it Sam?”
“Actually the ghost was only pretending to be Sam. It was actually an Indian Princess who just wanted to have a friend. She saw a friend in you, Hans. But, she has decided it is now time for her to leave and rejoin her people.”
“That is probably for the best. Thank you convincing her to leave; it will be a lot calmer around here. Now, if you would excuse me I should finish preparing breakfast, we begin serving at 6:30.”
“Hey,” the server came over to Shawn and Gus, “The Gustafsons won’t come over for breakfast until 8:30. If you want to miss them I would eat before that.”
“Thanks…” Shawn paused unsure of the server’s name.
“Will,” he explained as he introduced himself.
“So, Will, the Gustafsons travel on this train often?”
“Oh yes, every other week since I started, but I heard that they have been traveling on the train for some time before that.”
“Why would someone travel on the train that often?” Shawn asked, curious.
Will just shrugged. “No idea really, but maybe that explains why they are always complaining.”
*****
Breakfast was uneventful and they thankfully didn’t have to meet up with the Gustafsons again, the crying of a baby at a table across the room was much more easily tolerated.
When Shawn and Gus left to return to the room Shawn called up Buzz one last time, shooing Gus to go on ahead and back to the room. “Buzz, could you pull case file for me and check out a name. The spirits are trying to lead me to the evidence; they say the file is crucial to the case...”
After a few minutes Shawn finally returned to the room with a smile on his face.
“What was that about, Shawn?” asked Gus.
“Oh just wait, although I do have one last thing to do on this train. I overheard an interesting conversation last night.”
“Yeah, about smuggling, you told me already.”
“No, this conversation was about jewelry and came from the roomlette next door.” Shawn the proceeded to repeat the cryptic and fragmented conversation he head from the Gustafsons room the night before, supplementing what he could hear with what he assumed.
“Now to wait, we have about half an hour.”
“For what Shawn?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Shawn replied vaguely.
After thirty minutes of impatiently waiting for some unknown event he refused to reveal to Gus, 8:20 rolled around and Shawn jumped up from his seat in their crowded roomlette and went to the door. “Gus you can stay here, I need to get something.”
“It’s fine Shawn, I’ll help you, truthfully your random excursions are more fun than staying in this tiny room.” Gus stood up to follow Shawn.
“I’m going to meet up with the Gustafson’s,” Shawn explained.
“Oh, in that case I will stay,” Gus declared as he dropped back into the seat.
Within five minutes of waiting for Shawn to come back the door open and Shawn strode in confidently, something dangling in his hand.
“Is that…?” Gus asked.
“Yeah,” Shawn relied before Gus could finish.
“You stole it?”
“Yep,” Shawn replied before slipping the item into his pocket.
“But, why and how, they keep them with…”
“Just investigating something. Hopefully Buzz will call back soon and confirm my theory. And don’t forget my pickpocket skills; you did not even notice me take your tickets from your pocket.”
*****
The train pulled into Vancouver on time, much to the delight of the passengers on board. However, they were less than thrilled when they discovered that they were being detained by the police for the time being. Shawn and Gus waited by the entrance to the sleeping car and immediately spotted a man who was undoubtedly Buzz’s cousin, Sage. The family resemblance was quite startling.
“Hey,” Shawn called out. “It’s Shawn. Your cousin, Buzz, should have called the department for us.”
“Of course, the chief is coming over right now.”
The police chief for the Vancouver police department was a middle aged man who reminded Shawn too much of his father and Shawn was immediately thankful that his father had not pursued the position. Although the stark suit was a pleasant contrast to Henry’s blindingly vibrant shirts, Shawn still had nightmares about the lime green pineapple on he was forced to wear.
“Chief,” Shawn began. “I am Shawn Spencer, psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department, and this is my partner, Burton Guster.”
“Well, Mr. Spencer, you should know that my department does not usually deal with psychics.”
“I can assure you,” explained Gus, “that the spirit will lead Shawn to some definitive evidence to put the criminals behind bars.”
“I hope so, now can I let the passengers detrain?”
“Yes, although the spirit tells me that you may want to detain the Gustafsons longer and keep an eye on their luggage.”
“The Gustafsons?”
“The overly dressed couple that is likely harassing whoever is trying to prevent them from leaving the train, the spirits tell me that they have been making trips every two weeks to sell jewelery in this country. They faked a robbery of their jewelry store in the US to get the insurance money and have been selling the stolen jewels up here for more cash. If you call the Santa Barbara police department they can confirm the robbery and that the jewels have never been found.” Shawn pulled out a necklace from his pocket, “The ghost left this for me along one of the hallways, she says that it is a match to one of the pieces of jewelry stolen from the Gustafsons’ store and that you will find more jewels in their bags or possible hidden in their room.”
The chef gave Shawn a questioning look, “The spirits seem to be very specific, Mr. Spencer.”
“They can be. The spirit world works in mysterious ways.”
“Sure,” the chief replied, not buying into the whole psychic façade. “Well back to the main issue at hand. You told the Santa Barbara police department, which recommended your work highly, that the spirits told you that there were smugglers and murderers on the train.”
“Yes the spirits said that there were smug..smugg…” Shawn began to stutter as if he were unable to talk.
“Is he ok?” asked the Chief, wondering if he should be concerned.
“It appears that the spirit is trying to get him to lead you to evidence proving the crimes,” Gus explained. Shawn whispered something in Gus’s ear.
“He says you should bring Gareth, Shirley and Cindi, aka Sam Claiborne, here.”
The chief motioned for Sage to retrieve them. Within moments they arrived, led by three police officers. When they arrived Shawn began again only to be interrupted by Shirley.
“What are the reporters doing here?” asked Shirley.
“Reporters?” the chief asked turning to Shawn.
“We were undercover psychics,” Gus explained.
“Gahh!” Shawn cried out and ran over to the luggage compartment of the dining car. “Over here,” Shawn blindly felt along the car until he reached the handle to open the door to the room. Shawn struggled to open it, but it would not budge.
“You, Gareth,” the chief motioned to the engineer, “open this door for us.”
Reluctantly Gareth did as instructed and opened the door to the dark compartment. Shawn led the police into the luggage car and over two crates beside the passenger’s luggage.
Shawn stumbled against the passengers luggage and began yelling, “Traffic! Diamonds are forever!”
“Is he ok?” The chief asked, Gus.
“He should be fine, although the spirits are vague at times. He is trying to communicate what the spirits are telling him.”
“Blue Montana Skies?” Shawn tried.
Gus shrugged at Shawn, having no idea what that last movie was about.
“Lethal Weapon!” Shawn cried out, desperately, collapsing against the wooden crates.
“Smuggling!” Sage called out enthusiastically. “They’re all movies about smuggling.”
“The spirits are telling me that these crates don’t contain what they are supposed to.” The chef motioned for the police officers to bring in Gareth and led him over to the crates in the now very crowded room next to the kitchen. “What’s inside of these?” The police chief asked Gareth.
“Just cooking supplies. Pots, pans, and the like. I have all the paper work back in my briefcase.”
“Well then of course you won’t mind opening them up and showing us.” The police chief motioned for some officers to come open the crates.
“You can’t open them. You have no cause to suspect them of containing anything other than what’s listed. It isn’t allowed,” Shirley insisted, as she hurried into the luggage room, ruining any thought the police might have that the crates would actually contain what was listed.
“Actually we can. All goods brought over the border can be checked. Terrorist threats and illegally imported goods exist and we must stop any probable threat,” Sage explained.
“Open them now,” the Chief instructed.
Gradually the nails were pried out of the first case and the top opened. “Bananas?” The Chief asked, surveying the cargo. “While illegal to import bananas without authorization it is hardly a matter for the chief of police, Mr. Spencer. If anything I think it’s more of a matter for the chef of police.”
“Gahhh!” Shawn stumbled back with a look of surprise, staring down at his chest and the suddenly brought his hand up as if in excruciating pain. Shawn looked down to his hand confused. “It isn’t just bananas… there’s something else!” Shawn stumbled back once again as if shot, much to the horror of the police men. “Under the bananas...there’s…just look!”
One of the officers began to remove the bunches of bananas from the crate. “Sir, you’ll want to see this,” the officer told the Chief.
Everyone gathered around and found the bottom half of the crate to be full of M4 rifles. “Gareth, Shirley, and Cindi, or should I say, Sam Claiborne, you’re all under arrest for weapon’s smuggling,” the Chief explained.
“It’s just a bit of extra cash,” Gareth pleaded as he began his hopeless defense.
“I don’t think the courts will feel that way. Although I have to ask, what was with the bananas? They‘re hardly on the same caliber as rifles.”
“It saves costs on the train. Do you know how expensive fruit is up here?”
“That does not excuse the action; get him out of my face. As for you, Cindi, did, you know it is illegal to fake your death? Why did you pretend to die as Sam before returning back on the train under a different identity? It all seems a bit pointless.”
Cindi stood glaring at everyone and not talking, so Shawn responded, “The spirits tell me that she was worried that someone would connect the name Sam Claiborne with that of her father Samuel Claiborne, the recently arrested arms dealer in Costa Rica. With the smuggling operation in full force, she could not risk the connection. So, she faked her death on the train and became Cindi, with two ‘I’s in the hope of escaping the connection to her father.”
“He was an idiot!” Cindi screamed. “His greed caused him to become reckless and reveal his operation.”
“That sounds just like your operation as well,” The Chief replied. “Take them away.” As they were led away the police chief turned to Shawn and Gus. “Thank you for your assistance. Without your work we might not have discovered this smuggling operation until it was too late.
The police chief was silent, staring at Shawn’s hand. He looked down at his hand confused and saw it wiggling around as if writing in the air. “Gus! I need some paper.” Gus pulled over a pad of paper and handed it over to Shawn who began writing. On the paper he wrote an address. “Here,” Shawn handed the paper over to the Chief. “I’m not sure what is there, but my senses tell me that you will find more related to this case there.”
“More guns?”
“I don’t know. Also, the spirits are telling me that you will find papers related to their operation if you search the first car of the train.”
“Well, thanks. I’ll have my officer’s check it out. And thank you Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster, it was a pleasure to meet such as respected member of Santa Barbara’s finest.”
As the police left Shawn and Gus behind Gus turned to his friend. “I understand the smuggling, but how did you find out about Cindi and the address of the warehouse?”
“The spirits.”
Gus rolled his eyes.
“I asked Buzz to look up any records related a S. Claiborne, he found some information about an S. Claiborne arms dealer in Costa Rica. It didn’t take much work to connect it to Sam.”
“The warehouse?”
“The papers the conductors had when we first met them. They had an address on it with M4 written next to it. Out of context it meant nothing, but I just guessed given what type of guns they were.”
As Shawn and Gus took their luggage off of the train and Gus turned to Shawn, “Well, what do we do now, Shawn? The train will be a bit delayed going back down to Santa Barbara as you arrested everyone in charge of it.”
“We could visit the studio where they filmed 21 Jump Street. Don’t tell me you have gotten over your crush on Holly Robinson.”
“Actually, Shawn, the studios used to film the show have all either been converted into parking garages or taken over by the X-Files. Plus, Holly’s been married for over 10 years.”
“Fine, we can just do something else.”
“No I Spy,” Gus stated before Shawn could even try to suggest it.
“Actually I was thinking that we could spend some time writing the article we’ve been working on about the train, and then sell it to make a bit of extra money ourselves.”
“What would we call it, “Crazy Train Workers Hide Guns In Bananas”?”
“I was thinking something along the lines of, “Is That A Gun In Your Banana, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?”
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