Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
1984
The smell of pancakes and sausages hung in the air. The dishes remained stacked in the sink – Jack had promised to wash them and Henry was determined to hold out until Jack actually followed through. This morning, not unlike the last three mornings, wasn’t looking very promising.
“Move over, Shawny,” Jack said as he scooped up his nephew’s legs from the sofa and indelicately dropped them to the floor.
“Uncle Jaaack, whaaat are you doooing?” Shawn whined as he scooted further into the large stack of pillows on which he was sprawled out.
Jack settled onto the sofa, reached over to pick up Shawn’s legs, and placed them on his lap. “Comfy again?”
“Yeah.”
Jack glanced at Shawn, or more specifically the six pillows Shawn was hoarding, before looking at the television to see what was on. “Can I have a pillow?”
Shawn reached behind him and yanked a few times on one of the pillows behind his head before it finally came free. He tossed it to his uncle before thrashing around in his now smaller pillow pile.
“Thanks, kid.” Jack jammed the pillow behind his head and settled further into the sofa cushions.
Jack turned back to the television to see that Garfield in the Rough was on and sighed contentedly. They had watched it the previous evening on CBS, but with the help of Henry’s brand spanking new VCR, they were watching it for the third time that morning. He and Shawn watched the lovable orange cat in silence, except for the occasional giggle prompted by Garfield eating all of the food Jon had packed for their camping trip. Henry, reading the newspaper from the comfort of his recliner, glanced over at the pair and smiled. Madeleine, working on a psychological profile at the desk, looked up from her papers and smiled as well.
“What kind of dog is Odie?” Shawn asked as Garfield was blaming Odie for the destruction Jon had just found in their campsite.
“It depends on whom you ask. It’s not as clear cut as, say, Underdog or Snoopy, both of which are clearly beagles. Personally, I think Odie is also a beagle, but experts disagree.”
“Experts?” Shawn asked, glancing at his uncle before turning back to the screen to watch Odie plea, or bark, his innocence to Jon.
“Cartoon character experts. There has been in depth analysis done in the field that Odie is, sadly I might add, not 100% beagle.”
“The field?”
“Cartoon character analysis, of course,” Jack said as if it was obvious. “I have a degree in it and I’m willing to teach you everything I know, my young padawan.”
Henry rolled his eyes behind the newspaper, but didn’t say a word. Madeleine grinned.
“Thanks, Uncle Jack.” Shawn peeled himself off the pillows, shifted around, and settled onto Jack’s shoulder. Jack lifted his arm up and Shawn quickly snuggled beneath it. After a few more moments of thrashing around, the pair was finally comfortable and they sat peacefully watching Garfield.
“I’m glad you decided to stay a few extra days before heading to Peru, Jackie,” Henry said as he turned the page on his newspaper.
“Me too, bro.”
“Planning to do the dishes anytime soon?”
“Soon, bro.”
Present Day
“It was a bright and sunny day, and the dingoes had us surrounded…” Jack began as he leaned across the kitchen table, his shirt resting in the melted butter remaining on a half-eaten corn cob. He had successfully captured everyone’s attention with the latest story of his wild and crazy adventures down under.
Well, almost everyone’s attention.
“Jack, you’re getting butter all over your shirt,” Henry said as he gave his little brother a disgusted look.
Jack straightened up. “Actually, bro, I’m getting butter all over your shirt. Do you really think I’d spend green stuff on this? Perhaps Monopoly money, but certainly not actual money.”
“If you hate my shirts so much, then why are you wearing one?”
Jack gave Henry a look only a brother could give his brother. “I make a mess when I eat corn. Do you think I’m going to ruin one of my shirts?”
“No, and you’re not going to ruin one of my shirts either,” Henry responded flatly and reached over to take Jack’s plate.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t get so testy,” Jack cried as he wrapped his fingers tightly around his plate.
“The last time you told this story, Jack, it was a dark and stormy night, and you were surrounded by brumbies,” Henry said as he settled back in his chair and angrily threw his napkin back into his lap.
“Yeah, but a ‘dark and stormy night’ is so cliché.”
“Come on, Jack,” Henry snapped, annoyance at Jack coming through loud and clear.
“It is,” Jack said pragmatically. He turned to wink at Shawn and Gus. “Fine. It was an overcast and drizzly afternoon. Are you happy, Henry?”
Shawn and Gus grinned as Henry shook his head and violently speared an innocent piece of steak with his fork. Henry was anything but happy with his little brother. Jack was once again intentionally irritating his older brother. At least things were finally returning to normal.
“Anyway, we were in Walla Walla, Australia—“ Jack continued, desperately trying to salvage his story.
“That’s in the U.S.,” Henry corrected Jack and swallowed the steak.
Jack dropped his head in defeat before raising it again to glare at Henry. “Of course, Henry, I was just testing your geographic skills. We were in Waa Wee, Australia and the Aboriginal—“
“Don’t you mean Wee Waa? And my geographic skills are fine.”
“Really, Henry? Must you?”
“Jackie, I’m just helping you accurately tell your fascinating story,” Henry said sarcastically.
Things were definitely back to normal.
Four months had passed since the four of them had found themselves firmly wedged between a rock known as the benitoite mine and a hard place known as the Tristan brothers. How quickly the visit from Uncle Jack had spiraled out of control and led to Shawn being kidnapped, and then Jack and Shawn being buried alive with one of the aforementioned Tristan brothers in a mine collapse. Of course, the brother had been the one known as ‘The Sharpener’, or Sharpie as Shawn had not-so-fondly called him. Sharpie had been the brother that had repeatedly threatened to cut Shawn’s throat with his beloved knife, or his ‘trusty tool’ as he had fondly called it. What was the reason for all the trouble? A case of benitoite gemstones. Where were most of those gemstones now? Buried under numerous tons of rocks, boulders, and timbers at what was once a mine adit.
Relatively speaking, Shawn and Jack emerged from the ordeal unscathed: Jack had two broken legs after being buried under the wall of debris from the collapsed mine, and Shawn had a slit throat and a broken knee after being assaulted by Sharpie’s trusty tool and a boulder from said mine collapse.
Henry and Gus had also escaped relatively unharmed: Henry had a broken arm and Gus a fractured ankle. They had been on the other side of the collapse with the older Tristan brother. Fortunately, Karen, Lassiter, and Juliet had arrived just in time to stop that Tristan from carrying out his plan to murder them.
Jack had been going to in-patient therapy for the breaks in both legs for the first month after the mine collapse, but it had required another three months of regular out-patient therapy for Jack’s legs to heal completely. During this time, Jack stayed with Henry… and drove Henry crazy. Regardless of the aggravation, Henry had still felt obligated to watch over Jack on many levels. The base level was that Jack was his blood. Even though he was a pain in the ass, he was, and would always be, his little brother. The next level was that although Jack had yet again thrust all of them into a dangerous situation, the fact remained that Jack had performed a rare selfless act and had saved Shawn’s life. Henry hated his brother for the trouble he caused, but he was forever grateful to his brother for saving his son. The final level was that if Jack stayed with him, he could at least keep an eye on him while he was in town and make sure he didn’t suck them into another one of his damn adventures. Even being immobilized with two broken legs, Henry was sure Jack would find another adventure to stumble into… no pun intended. He was actually quite surprised it hadn’t happened yet.
Now that they were at the end of those three months, Jack was once again walking relatively normally. He had transitioned from full leg casts to braces with metal support bars to the soft braces that he now wore. He wore them more for comfort and security rather than actually needing them, but he would never admit to that. However, the cane he used was solely for shock value and was something that Jack carried proudly. The head of the cane was a shrunken monkey head. Jack had gone on and on about the cane head being a rare artifact of the Jivaroan peoples of Peru, to which Henry continually argued that they shrunk only human heads, but Jack wouldn’t listen. Either way, it was still the shriveled, shrunken head of Curious George. Gus was freaked out by it and repeatedly claimed it was staring at him. Shawn was too busy singing Peter Gabriel’s ‘Shock the Monkey’ to be freaked out by it.
Shawn’s recovery process for his knee went through a similar progression, and he too was still sporting a knee brace. He had no accompanying shrunken monkey head perched atop a cane though as he wouldn’t want it picking a fight with his uncle’s shrunken monkey head. Anytime Shawn needed stability, he would simply grab onto Gus or Henry as they had been gratefully cast and brace-free for the last two months.
Against everyone’s recommendations, Shawn and Jack’s doctors had sent them to physical therapy together. Fortunately, their therapists were given advanced warning of the impending tsunami of idiocy, and had established within the first minute of meeting Shawn and Jack that they would put up with no crap whatsoever from either of them. The slightest hint of crap generated an extra long hold on a stretch, an especially rough push or pull of their legs, or an additional ten minutes on the exercise bike. The end result was that Shawn and Jack behaved. Somewhat.
Now that the air had been sucked out of Jack’s Aborigine story, the conversation quickly shifted back to the Tristan brothers. It was inevitable – the fact that the Tristan’s trial had ended two weeks ago and they were sentenced just the previous day kept the topic at the forefront of their minds.
“I can’t believe they were actually sentenced,” Shawn said as he slowly reached over to steal one of the four ears of corn sitting on Gus’ plate. Too bad he hadn’t flipped the jackal switch before doing so and Shawn yelped suddenly as Gus smacked his hand. “That was too hard!” Shawn cried as he rubbed his hand. “Buddy, you have four ears!”
“Buddy, there’s an entire platter of corn over there!” Gus responded angrily as he pointed to the plate of corn on the kitchen counter.
“Yes, over there. Whereas you have four ears right here.”
“Yes, and you have two legs, so start using them to get over there.”
Shawn had been milking his knee injury for all it was worth, but Gus and Henry had long since stopped paying attention to him. Shawn huffed and got up from the table. He walked, with an exaggerated limp that suspiciously hadn’t been present earlier, over to the counter and picked up the platter. Gus rolled his eyes at Shawn and quickly returned to enjoying one of his four pieces of corn.
Shawn limped his way back to the table. “Anybody, except Gus, want more corn?” Shawn glared at Gus for emphasis before smiling and turning to the woman sitting next to Jack. She had been quietly enjoying her dinner and successfully ignoring all the chaos generated by a dinner in the Spencer household. “Jill, more corn?”
The woman looked up and smiled brightly. “No thanks, Shawn.” She immediately turned to Henry. “Henry, dinner is wonderful,” she said and took another bite of steak.
Henry smiled warmly. “Thank you, Jill.” Henry glanced at Jack, Shawn, and Gus and huffed before muttering, “At least someone appreciates my cooking.”
Jill Mahoney was the only positive outcome of the benitoite fiasco. Shawn, Gus, and Jack had first met Jill at the UCSB Archives and Museum while tracking down the gemstones. She and Jack were immediately smitten with each other and at once proved that love at first sight actually did happen. She had initially come across as a stereotypically shy archivist, but she had slipped Jack her telephone number on their way out of the museum. Jack didn’t think twice about calling her. He had taken her to Tom Blair’s Pub that evening and after twelve fun-filled hours had discovered that she had a wild side that suited Jack’s personality to a tee. Their second date had involved Jill visiting Jack in the hospital two days after he and Shawn had been pulled from the collapsed mine. After Jack’s release from the hospital, their next umpteenth number of dates had been afternoons of ice tea drinking (with some Cutty Sark thrown in) on Henry’s front porch as Jack’s legs continued to heal. Many of these afternoons had turned into trips to Tom Blair’s or nights at Jill’s house. Their most recent date was currently in progress – dinner with Henry, Shawn, and Gus.
Henry, Shawn, and Gus had liked Jill from the moment they had met her. They had quickly learned that she was getting a degree in archaeology and had traveled to many of the places that Jack had visited. However, Jill’s search for “objects of historical importance” was quite different than Jack’s search for “treasures of monetary importance”. Henry had heard about some of their not-so-innocent dates, but perhaps that little bit of sass was enough to pull Jack in and let him be swayed to the “good side” by her normalcy. Perhaps Jill would rub off on Jack – Henry could only hope.
“Honestly, I can’t believe they actually made it to trial in the first place,” Shawn said and bit into an ear of corn.
Everyone at the table nodded quietly.
The trial had begun three months ago. The SBPD and the DA’s office had gone above and beyond to ensure everything was done according to the letter of the law. It had not been the first time the Tristans had found themselves in trouble, but each time witnesses had gone missing, evidence had gone missing or had been tampered with, or the brothers had found a loophole. Each time they had walked, but never again. The jury had been sequestered and the witnesses, prosecutors, and evidence had been under twenty-four hour watch. The extra precautions paid off and the Tristan brothers had been found guilty on all counts and sentenced to life in prison.
The benitoite conversation ebbed again (which would last only briefly before it likely flowed again), and Jack settled back into his comfort area of relaying stories of his past adventures. He decided to give his Aborigine story yet another go. Jack purposefully omitted discussion of any dalliances with one-legged women, wives, sisters, and housekeepers while he was in Australia – he was trying to impress Jill, dare he say his girlfriend, after all.
As Jack resumed his story, Henry got up to retrieve the peach pie and the coffee pot from the counter. He smiled warmly as he passed a cup of coffee and a piece of pie to Jill.
“So, we were in Wapag, Australia…” Jack began.
“You mean Wee Waa? What a beautiful place,” Jill said as she poured sugar into her coffee.
“What? Hang on! You’ve been to Waa—“
“Wee Waa,” Jill corrected him.
“That’s what I said. Why hasn’t this come up before now?”
“Oh, I’ve been to a lot of places in Australia. And you’ve never asked, hon,” Jill said and rambled off a fairly long list of exotic locales all over the continent, most of which Jack had also visited. She then flirtatiously flipped her hair behind her shoulders and batted her large chestnut brown eyes at Jack.
Shawn and Gus smirked at each other. The hair flip was one of Jill’s trademark methods of flirtation. She had beautiful brown wavy hair and used every strand of it to her advantage.
In response, Jack hooked his finger onto one of his slightly graying curls and twirled it, prompting Jill to giggle. Jack and Jill were a match made in heaven.
All of the hair fondling caused Shawn to become serious. “I have a very important question for you, Jill. While you were in Australia, did you happen to come across… Kangaroo Paste?” he said in a hushed tone to give it the respect that it deserved.
Jill’s face brightened and she jumped up and down excitedly in her chair. “The gel with ginger blossoms? Yes! I ran out a couple of months ago and have been trying to find it online to order more. My hair hasn’t been the same without it!” The four men looked at her flowing mane in wonderment as she ran her hands through it. What had it looked like when she was using the awesome hair gel, considering how incredible it looked when she wasn’t using the awesome hair gel? She continued without noticing them intently staring at her hair. “I may have to go back to Australia just to get some more! I’d be happy to bring some back for you, Shawn.”
“That would be awesome, Jill,” Shawn said as his eyes remained transfixed by her locks.
Jill smiled and with one final hair flip she returned to her tales of Australia. “Anyway, I spent almost a year there in the late nineties looking for Aborigine artifacts—“
“You mean treasures?” Jack said, his ears perking up.
Jill shrugged and grinned at Jack. “I guess you could call them treasures.”
Quite suddenly, Gus jumped in his chair and spilled his coffee as he began coughing violently, causing everyone else at the table to jump in their chairs. In between coughs, Gus gave Jill a horrified look.
“Buddy, you okay?” Shawn asked as he slapped his friend on the back. “Are you choking? I can try the Heimlich remover.”
“If you ate more slowly, Gus, that wouldn’t happen,” Henry snapped as he got up to retrieve a towel.
“Sorry,” Gus said sheepishly once he managed to successfully clear his throat. “It’s the Heimlich maneuver, Shawn, and you are absolutely not ‘trying’ it on me!” Gus added angrily before coughing a few more times.
Shawn began slapping Gus on the back again and Gus shooed his hand away before taking the towel from Henry. “Stop it, Shawn!”
Jill returned Gus’ horrified look as the whole ruckus had unfortunately been caused by her. She had begun easing her foot up what she thought was Jack’s pant leg, but was in fact Gus’ pant leg. “Sorry,” she mouthed to Gus and smiled weakly. What had happened between her and Gus was lost on the rest of them, until she had successfully located her intended target: Jack’s pant leg.
Jack smiled.
Gus blushed.
Shawn and Henry ate their pie.
Jill smiled once more at Jack and thought it best for Gus’ sake to keep the conversation moving along. “Speaking of treasures, have you heard about the Cranston house over on Vieja Drive?”
Shawn glanced nervously at Gus, whose face quickly creased with anxiety.
“That house is haunted. We stayed as far away from there as possible when we were growing up,” Gus stated firmly. “I still stay away from there. I’m not going to get axed to death…”
“Yeah, between the Cranston house on one side of the city and Wispy Sunny Pines on the other side, it’s hard getting around Santa Barbara with Gus—ow! Stop hitting me!” Shawn cried as he rubbed his arm.
“You don’t want to drive by those places anymore than I do, so stop making it sound like it’s just me.”
“It is just you.”
“No.”
“Yes. You’re the one driving—”
“Do you think I’m going to let you drive my car?”
“Enough!” Henry snapped. “I thought we established that Scary Sherry—“
Shawn coughed loudly. “Dad, Dad, Dad. We established nothing.”
There was no way that the Scary Sherry urban legend – proudly started by Shawn and Gus and since debunked by Henry – would ever be exposed as untrue. It had been an urban legend since 1985 and it would stay that way.
However, the urban legend about the Cranston house had never been debunked. The story went that the caretaker’s three children, triplets, were axe-murdered in the house by the caretaker himself while Cranston and his family were vacationing in Europe. To this day, the triplets were still in the house. It was The Shining on steroids. Sadly, Shawn and Gus had nothing to do with the introduction of that urban legend as it had already been fully established by the time they had entered the urban legend-making business. And from everything they heard, there was nothing urbanish or legendish about it – it was a true story.
Henry gave Shawn an aggravated look before continuing. “I can’t believe that place is still standing,” Henry said. “It was in a shambles when Shawn and Gus were kids, so I can’t imagine what it looks like now.”
“Just as bad, I’m afraid. It’s an intestate estate,” Jill said.
“An intestine what?” Shawn asked.
“Intestate, Shawn. No will,” Gus snapped.
Jill nodded. “Wendell and Gertrude Cranston originally built the house back in the mid 1800’s. Wyatt Cranston, Wendell’s great-grandson and last living relative, died a few months ago and didn’t have a will. The estate has stayed completely intact as Wyatt had no debts beyond his funeral costs, so the probate court has been trying to determine what to do with the house. The historical society lobbied to make it a landmark, but the probate court refused due to all the modifications to the original house over the years. The furnishings are going up for auction later this month and the house is going up for auction next month. My sister works for Sotheby’s and is managing the first auction. They’ve already gone through the house and cataloged everything.”
“Wasn’t there an article in the newspaper last week discussing the auctions?” Henry asked.
Jill nodded. “Yes, it discussed the history of the family and the house as well as the treasure.”
Jack perked up. “Treasure?”
Henry snorted. “Nonsense. I believe the article said ‘rumored treasure’.”
“The rumors don’t appear to be nonsense, Henry,” Jill said and took a sip of coffee. “Becky, my sister, said that some of the cataloged furnishings are indeed Wendell’s treasure that he collected for his beloved wife, Gertrude. The treasure contains family heirlooms from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, including jewelry, coins and whatnot. I hear…“ Jill paused and leaned onto the table, causing everyone to lean in in anticipation of what she was going to say, “…the treasure also contains a set of eighteen solid gold statuettes that Cranston procured from the Spanish government in 1818. The set was in the Santa Barbara Mission before the mission was destroyed in the 1812 earthquake. Nobody has ever found them and they’re estimated to be worth millions. Becky told me they found a purchase agreement for those statuettes when they were cataloging the house, so they appear to be very real. Wendell collected everything for Gertrude. Really quite romantic, don’t you agree?”
They all grunted in response, none of them thinking at all about romance.
“Men,” Jill mumbled and shook her head.
“Oh, yes, very romantic,” Jack said quickly.
“Too late, hon.”
“Okay, start from the beginning, my beautiful brown-eyed girl,” Jack said, resting his hand delicately on her arm and caressing it with his thumb. “Why haven’t I heard any of this?”
“Perhaps if you read something other than the back of cereal boxes…” Henry muttered.
“Come on, you know the story of Wendell and Gertrude Cranston. All of you grew up around here, didn’t you?” Jill said as she looked among Jack, Henry, Shawn, and Gus. “And I’m not talking about that silly urban legend about the murdered triplets.”
Shawn and Gus’ anxious expressions returned.
Jill looked at Jack’s face just as anxiety made a brief appearance. “The big adventurer is scared by a little ghost story?” she said mockingly.
“Nooo…” Jack straightened up. “In fact, we should go have a look-see! Could your sister get us into the house?”
“Jack…” Henry began. Henry did not like the direction the conversation was going.
“Possibly…” Jill suddenly shook her head and waved her hands dismissively. “Ah, it’s probably just a silly rumor as Henry said. I don’t even know why I brought it up. If Sotheby’s couldn’t find the statuettes, then they’re probably not there. They went through that house with a fine-tooth comb. I guess I just got caught up in the benitoite conversation and all of your stories about past adventures,” Jill said innocently. “Sorry, forget I said anything.”
“No! Sotheby’s is good – one of the best – but that house is huge and it’s possible they missed something. We should check for ourselves, you know, to help your sister.”
“Absolutely not. That’s breaking and entering, you idiot,” Henry snapped and reached out to grab the piece of now half-eaten pie sitting in front of Jack. Jack tried to wrap his fingers around his plate, but Henry was too quick this time. The only thing Jack managed to hang onto was his fork.
“Idiots don’t deserve pie.” Henry sat back down and took an extra large bite of his own piece. “I’m surprised you lasted this long, Jackie.”
“Me too, big brother,” Jack said as he licked the last bit of pie from the fork and looked longingly at the rest of his piece now sitting on Henry’s plate. With fork in hand, he inconspicuously reached over to Jill’s plate.
“I don’t think so, Jack. I’m enjoying my pie.” She feared that Henry would take the pie away from her as well. She knew she was hovering on the edge of pie loss just by having mentioned the statuettes in the first place. She had tried to back-peddle and tell them to forget it, but she realized that may not have been enough. She took an especially large bite of pie just in case.
“Would your sister let us in?” Jack repeated as he once again reached over to Jill’s plate with his fork. “Hey!” Jack cried as his hand received a sharp poke from Jill’s fork. “Come on, Jill, wouldn’t it be sweet to find those statuettes?”
Jack began squirming excitedly in his chair as visions of statuettes danced in his head. He was acting like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to go downstairs to see what Santa Claus had put under the tree. He was on the verge of another treasure hunt and the last one was far too long ago for his taste. He just had to do a little more negotiating and he felt it would be in the bag. “Those statuettes are part of Santa Barbara history that may be lost. There’s limited time to find anything of historical importance with the auctions,” Jack reasoned, knowingly manipulating Jill’s historical interests.
“Santa Barbara history my ass…” Henry muttered.
After taking another bite, and even though the pie ranked as one of the best she had ever eaten, she made up her mind. “But on the other hand… perhaps you – and Shawn, Gus, and Henry, of course – could come up to the house? I’m sure my sister would let us in to poke around. Shawn’s psychic talents may come in handy. I’m sure it’s a silly rumor, but wouldn’t it be great if we found something?”
Jill had been around the Spencer family enough in the last three months to know the dynamic. She knew that the aftermath of the "Tristan incident" was unusual circumstances in which to get to know Jack’s family, but it also struck Jill that what she observed wasn’t far off from usual for the Spencer family.
She had met Jack under regular circumstances when he, Shawn, and Gus had come into the Archives, but their subsequent meetings had been quite irregular. Because of Jack’s legs, there were no dinners out or trips to the movies. For the first month, they were trying to get to know each other in the constant presence of Shawn, Gus, and Henry. For the next three months, time alone with Jack continued to be the exception rather than the rule.
Jill found it heartwarming to see how close Shawn and Gus were, and how they were both essentially kids trapped inside adult bodies. She found them incredibly humorous, especially when they would start bickering with each other like an old married couple. Within all of the newspaper articles about the benitoite and the Tristans, she had read about Shawn, Gus, and Psych. She knew that Shawn was a psychic consultant for the SBPD. She had tried to ask all of them about it, but they had remained aloof. She didn’t believe in that psychic mumbo-jumbo, but she had been around Shawn enough to put her resolute beliefs into doubt. She couldn’t figure out how he knew certain things, but she also knew she would find out eventually.
Jill immediately took to Henry, and she could sense that he took to her as well. She also immediately saw the hard time Henry gave to everyone. It struck Jill that the more crap Henry handed out the more Henry cared for the person, and it seemed that Jack was knee-deep and Shawn was hip-deep. Jill quickly surmised that Henry was a grizzly bear on the outside, but was all (okay, mostly) teddy bear on the inside. She also quickly learned not to take any crap from him.
Jill looked directly at Henry. “Henry, the Cranston family has been established in Santa Barbara for more than a century. The statuettes are rumored to have been in one of the original missions before the latest one was built in 1820. So yes, Santa Barbara history my ass…”
“And what a nice ass it is…” Jack said warmly.
“Jack!” Jill snapped and punched him in the arm. Jill Mahoney fit into the Spencer (plus a Guster) clan quite nicely.
“Jill, I’ve been hoping you’d rub off on Jack, but obviously he’s rubbed off on you instead.”
Jill handed her plate with her half-eaten pie on it to Henry before he had the opportunity to take it himself. “Sorry, Henry.”
Henry just shook his head. “You’ve gone to the dark side, Jill.” Henry got up, quickly gathered a stack of dishes, and threw the dishes into the sink.
“It’s okay, hon. The dark side is full of fun, adventure-loving people. You’ll have a great time over here,” Jack said before looking across the table. “Shawn? Gus? Are you boys with us?”
Shawn and Gus straightened up in their chairs. They had been quietly enjoying their pie while Jack, Jill, and Henry sparred. They were startled that a seemingly innocent conversation about a haunted house in Santa Barbara had suddenly turned into a not-so-innocent conversation about a treasure hunt.
Henry paused in his dish-tossing at the sink, waiting to hear Shawn and Gus’ response.
Once the initial surprise passed, hesitation immediately crossed Shawn’s face as he thought back to the adventure – and trouble and danger and injury – that searching for Bouchard’s treasure and the benitoite gemstones had brought. The hunt for Bouchard’s treasure had started out as fun, but had gone awry at the end, and the search for the benitoite had generally gone awry right from the beginning. More and more, the thought of treasure hunting with Uncle Jack was far more appealing than the act of treasure hunting with Uncle Jack. The latter had repeatedly proven hazardous to everyone’s health.
Shawn contemplated a moment longer. “Count me out, Uncle Jack. My adventure quota has been exceeded this year.”
Henry breathed a sigh of relief, immediately followed by a sigh of relief from Gus.
“Shawn, Shawny, Shawny-boy, this isn’t an adventure. We’re just simply going to a house and looking around. What could go wrong?”
Henry snorted and began furiously scrubbing a pan with a scour pad.
“Nothing could go wrong,” Jack said as he stared pointedly at Henry’s back.
“I don’t know, Jack…” Shawn quickly scanned all possible outcomes and all potential threats. It was an empty house. The only “partner” of Jack’s was Jill, and Jill was a smart, normal, non-violent person.
Shawn also wasn’t entirely committed to his hesitation and it was starting to waver. Shawn and Jack had become two peas in a pod during their physical therapy, and there was a large part of Shawn that would love to go on another treasure hunt, or house exploration, with Jack. There was also a large part of Shawn that was bored. And a bored Shawn Spencer was never good. Even though Shawn had hobbled around well enough on crutches, it had disrupted his and Gus’ crime-fighting business. They had solved a few small, inconsequential cases, but nothing more. Karen had been steadfast that Shawn and Gus take a much needed break to both recuperate from their injuries as well as focus on the Tristan trial, in which they were both star witnesses. Begrudgingly they agreed and only because Karen refused to give them any new cases.
The hesitation evaporated from Shawn’s face. “Fine, I’m in. What could go wrong?” Shawn looked between Jack and Jill and grinned. He turned and looked expectantly at Gus. “Buddy?”
Gus was already adamantly shaking his head. “No way. Shawn, haven’t you learned your lesson yet? Sorry, Jack, no offense.”
“None taken, man,” Jack said and waved his hand dismissively at Gus. “However, are you going to sit back and let Shawn have all the fun while you work all day? I know you – you and your Pumas miss the adventure…”
With Shawn out of commission, it had meant that Gus was back at Central Coast Pharmaceuticals full time. And not the “full time” that he had been working for the last three years while trying to juggle Central Coast and Psych. Unlike his usual “full time” in which he would be in the office 50% of the time and would squeeze his route into one morning, he was legitimately working nine to five, just like Dolly Parton, Jane Fonda, and Lily Tomlin. He was completely caught up on all his work and had even taken on a few extra projects. Gus loved his pharmaceutical sales job. It was somewhat interesting, but more importantly, extremely reliable. It provided the security that Psych simply couldn’t. But it also didn’t have that certain something that Psych had. It was missing the excitement that being chased and shot at on a regular basis offered. Quite frankly, Gus was bored.
This boredom could be the only thing that would make Gus actually consider going on another treasure hunt with Jack. He had jumped in with both feet on the quest for Bouchard’s gold and shortly after told himself he’d never do that again. Or so he had thought. He had hesitated, but had eventually given in on the quest for benitoite gemstones as well and look where that had got him. What sane person would consider going on another treasure hunt with the man that had thrust them into those types of situations? What sane person would consider going on a treasure hunt at all? Gus was slowly coming to the realization that although he was far saner than the Spencers, he was certainly not in a top percentile for sanity. If he was, he would not be best friends with Shawn and none of the craziness over the last three years would have happened. Quite frankly, Gus was content to not be in the top percentile.
He looked at Shawn a moment longer before turning to Jack and nodding. “I’m in.”
“Yes!” Jack cheered as Jill smiled widely.
“What?” Shawn said, shock and amazement registering clearly on his face before happiness and excitement quickly replaced it. “Yes!”
“What?” Henry said, anger and disappointment registering clearly on his face. Nothing replaced it but more anger and disappointment. There was no stopping Jack, and Jill had just proven to be a lost cause as well, so Gus had been his last hope.
Henry walked over to the table and leaned down between Shawn and Gus. He wrapped his fingers around the base of their necks and squeezed slightly as he looked at their now empty pie plates. “You may have been able to eat those pieces, but mark my words they were your last,” Henry whispered threateningly in their ears before releasing their necks and picking up their plates.
Shawn and Gus slowly looked at each other and knew what the other was thinking. It probably was not one of their best ideas to join Jack, but it certainly was not one of their worst ideas either. They were just looking around an empty house. What could go wrong?