Chapter 2: I Know That You Know... That I Know
Santa Barbara Police Department.
It was surreal walking through those glass doors, knowing this place would be my second home for the next eight seasons—well, depending on how I played this. Juliet wasn't even here yet. Lassiter was still paired with Lucinda. And Karen Vick had just become interim chief. Yep, right at the pilot.
I walked in with a confidence I didn't entirely feel, but hey—that's what being Shawn Spencer was all about, right?
"Excuse me, can I help you?" the desk sergeant asked.
"Yeah, totally. I'm here about that car theft case. The one with the red Echo. License plate 4XTY213, right?"
He blinked. "...How do you know that?"
I tapped my temple. "You'll want to call Karen Vick. Tell her Shawn Spencer's here. She'll want to see me."
Five minutes later, I was standing in the bullpen. Vick, Lassiter, and Lucinda were watching me like I'd just strolled out of a UFO. Time to turn it on.
"Mr. Spencer, we received your tip," Vick began. "But it came from an anonymous source."
"Right. I had to be careful. The spirits don't like being tracked," I said, doing that classic Shawn squint while waving my hands dramatically.
Lassiter rolled his eyes so hard I thought he'd sprain something.
"I'm gonna be honest with you," I continued. "I didn't want to come forward, but I had a vision. A powerful one. About the guy who stole that car."
I looked around. The corkboard was behind Lassie. Standard evidence photos. I already knew how the case went—the suspect was the guy fixing the TV antennas on the building across the street from the parking garage. He saw the valet leave the keys and helped himself.
But I couldn't say that outright—not without drama.
"Close your eyes," I said. "All of you."
"What?!" Lassiter snapped.
"Trust me," I said, grinning. "You're gonna want to be able to say you witnessed this moment from the inside."
They hesitated. Vick finally nodded. The others followed.
I went to the board, picked up a pen, and scribbled:
"TV antenna guy. Wears a brown vest. Left-handed. Works rooftop jobs. Smokes menthols."
I stepped back and clapped.
"Okay, open your eyes."
They stared. Vick took in the writing, then looked at me, eyes narrowed. "How the hell did you—"
"Spirits, Chief. Ghosts. The dead never sleep. Especially in a town with this much cable theft."
Lassiter looked furious. "He's making a mockery of us!"
"Or maybe," I said, walking closer to him, "your problem is that I'm getting results without a badge and a gun. That must be tough, huh, Lassie?"
His jaw clenched.
"Tell you what," I continued. "Give me 48 hours. If I don't crack this case wide open, I'll leave. You never have to see my face again."
Vick stared hard at me… then nodded. "Fine. But if you're lying—"
"I'm not. I'm psychic."
I walked out like I'd just dropped the mic.
Outside, I pulled out my phone and texted the number I knew Gus would be at.
> "Buddy. We're opening a psychic detective agency. Meet me at the corner of State and Figueroa. Bring snacks."
This was it.
Game on.