Ch 2
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It was late at night when the blue echo drove past the sign that proclaimed it had just entered Santa Barbara. Despite the calm and quiet atmosphere outside the car, the inside was filled with banter.
Shawn had hijacked the driver’s seat after it became apparent that his best friend couldn’t keep his eyes on the road ahead of him. In Gus’ defense he had just been blindsided with the arrival of the best friend that he hadn’t heard from in 18 months and was having a hard time believing it. After Shawn had surprised him in the hotel the two had gone back to Gus’ room to discuss what to do. Oddly it was like they had never been apart, bouncing banter off each other like they had always done. Gus had attempted to bring up their last conversation before Shawn had left Santa Barbara to apologize but Shawn being Shawn had changed the subject and acted like it hadn’t happened.
“Dude, Stringfellow Hawke? Really? She’s five years old and she already knows that Airwolf was lame.” Gus had been catching Shawn up on the goings on in Santa Barbara over the last year or so.
“It’s not lame, Shawn, it was a good show, it was like the Knight Rider of the air,” Gus defended.
“Don’t compare anything that has Jan Michael Vincent in it to Knight Rider okay? You’re embarrassing yourself,” Shawn said as he looked through the darkness for the sign he’d been searching for.
There was a pause in the conversation as Gus brought up a subject that he felt needed to be taken seriously.
“Shawn, they’ll arrest you if they catch you here, you heard that guy on the newscast,” Shawn had continuously brushed this fact off.
“Come on, Gus. That guy can’t arrest me,”
“Technically he can. You did leave town when you were asked not to.”
“key word: asked. Besides that guy has horrible hair.”
“That won’t stop him from throwing your butt in the slammer.”
“The slammer? Really? This is Santa Barbara not the Bronx, I hear that Santa Barbara prisons have tanning beds,” Shawn quipped back.
“That’s what it’s called, Shawn. And why would Santa Barbara prisons have tanning beds it’s always sunny,” Gus defended his word use.
“Not always, there was that one time when it rained,” Shawn feebly defended the increasingly ridiculous opinion.
“Whatever Shawn I’m right,” Gus felt he should be the bigger person in this conversation,
“So what’s the plan?” he asked his friend who seemed to have all this figured out.
“Gus, we’re going to do what we always do. We’re going to grab a smoothie and get to work.”
“It’s one o’clock in the morning, Shawn, there are no smoothie places open,”
“I’ve heard it both ways.” Shawn responded, still looking at the road.
“That didn’t even make sense and besides, how are we going to get to work when the moment you’re seen the police will arrest you? How are we going to get into the station with that?” Gus folded his arms across his chest and looked smugly at his best friend. His best friend that was sitting in a car with him. Beside him. In Santa Barbara.
“Don’t worry, Gus I have a plan on how to get around that,”
“Oh really? And how is that?”
“Firstly, its one o’clock in the morning the station’s almost empty and secondly you need to stop underestimating me,” they were almost at the station now and Shawn pulled over to the side of the road a block before it and put the car into park.
“Oh I underestimate you do I? and how do you plan on getting in to the station?” arms still crossed, smug look still in place.
“Gus, you know me, I have friends in high places,” Shawn grinned and reached for the door handle.
“Was that a pun, Shawn? You know how I feel about puns!”
“Of course it wasn’t, just because I put an emphasis on the word ‘high’ doesn’t mean that I happen to know an incredibly gigantic police officer that’s always eager to help a friend in need,” with that he opened the door and out into the night. Gus sat for a moment, giving himself one last chance to not break the law, but the image of that little girl flitted through his mind again and he made his decision. Solving unsolvable cases, breaking into government buildings, it was going to be just like old times.
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It was the day after the press conference and a heavy weight had settled over the SBPD. It was only 9:30 and everyone could tell it was going to be a long day. With little to no progress made in the case and the ransom drop details not yet given, there was an air of gloom over everyone. Vick was with Henry in her old office talking to Chief Cherry. Lassiter and Juliet sat at their desks casting glances through the windows of the office and sighing through the paperwork for old, closed cases. The newscast from yesterday was constantly run over almost every channel. The mention of Shawn Spencer had given everyone at the station a moment of excitement and hope before it was dashed at Morrison’s announcement of the consequences of Shawn coming to Santa Barbara. Every time the news repeated the segment, it was like twisting a knife that was already buried so deep in the gut of the department.
Lassiter and Juliet had hurriedly researched Morrison’s statement only to find that the new detective did indeed have cause to arrest Shawn if he showed up. So much for that idea. The rushed feel of the department had dwindled to a hushed meandering, no one really doing anything important and without permission to work on the Iris Vick case the frustration was growing increasingly apparent.
Lassiter pulled his gaze away from the windows of the office to see Detective Morrison arrive with his coffee in hand and head towards his assignment headquarters at the back of the station. None of them were allowed to enter this headquarters and Morrison seemed to enjoy his privilege to do so by loudly announcing every time he felt he needed to return to it.
Gone was the annoyingly eager detective they had come to know over the last two months. Devastatingly embarrassing failure aside, he wasn’t too bad a detective. Maybe a little eager to prove himself but what newly instated detective wasn’t. Though Carlton had enough experience to know that if that eagerness continued too long it could have serious repercussions. The new attitude though was driving everyone in the department crazy and sooner or later Carlton knew someone was going to act on their frustration. He hoped it was him.
Mostly it was the knowledge that Morrison had taken away the idea of Spencer helping. Not that it had ever been written in stone or anything but a little hope was a good thing in an investigation like this and the department seemed to resent Morrison for taking this hope away.
Lassiter was pulled out of his thoughts by Henry and Vick’s arrival at his desk. Karen looked pale and distraught, a far cry from the chief they were familiar with but holding her own none-the-less. Juliet spoke up at their arrival,
“Anything?” The two detectives knew that Chief Cherry had called Vick down to the station to give her an update on her daughter’s case. Not necessarily for the sake of reassurance but to provide her, Henry Spencer and the two detectives with as much information as possible.
“No,” Henry spoke up, “It seems that Detective Morrison has been very secretive in his investigation, not even Ritch knows all the details.”
“You think he knows that Cherry has been providing us with information?” Carlton asked, curiously.
“It seems that way,” spoke Karen in a low voice.
They were interrupted when Morrison came flying down the halls of the station, face angry and huffing his breath out to show this anger. Right arm behind his back and left swinging by his side.
“WHO WAS IN MY TEAM’S OFFICE?!” Morrison had begun to call the group of officers under his command his ‘team’ probably to sound more important.
Chief Cherry stepped out of his office just as the rest of the department had froze where they stood, turning towards the fuming detective with both curiosity and glee at his frustration.
“Detective? What makes you think someone was in your office?” spoke up the new chief, curiously, trying not to look towards Lassiter and Juliet’s desks. When Morrison turned away to address the department as a whole, Cherry looked to Lassiter who shook his head in confusion, then to Henry who shrugged in response.
“I know it was one of you!” he called to the surrounding crowd, right arm still held behind his back and left now flailing through the air to emphasize his anger.
“Is there something out of place in the office or something?” Cherry spoke up, trying to calmly diffuse this situation. Morrison seemed only to get angrier at this question,
“No everything was exactly where I left it, but someone was there!” he shouted, scanning the crowd and settling on the group near the head detective’s desk.
“Was something missing?” Juliet spoke up to take the attention off of her partner and Henry Spencer. Generally people found it more difficult to yell at her because of the blond hair and the look of innocence that she had perfected over the years to suit this very situation. Morrison turned towards her, still fuming.
“No, Detective O’Hara. Nothing is missing,” Morrison seemed to be even more frustrated that no one seemed to understand where he was going with this.
“Well then, how do you know someone was in your office?” Cherry still held his voice in that calm, negotiator manner.
“Because I left at 11:30 last night!” Morrison yelled even louder than he had been, “I was the last to leave!”
His chest heaved with the anger he felt. Someone was tampering with his investigation, going around him, trying to take his case from him. His case. His voice lowered just a bit but his tone still held the ire he felt.
“I was the last to leave,” he repeated, “And I think I would have remembered if I left this behind!”
With that his right arm came out from behind his back and held out to the crowded room a small, golden pineapple.
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