memories, psych [ 1 ]

chapter seventy-three

"All right, so let me get this straight. Hotel manager says she found the body this morning, but you're saying John Doe offed himself at least 20 hours ago." Lassie says.

"Shawn, when I said I wanted to see you, this is not what I had in mind." Abigail whispers as they stand at the crime scene.

"I thought that you said the fact that we were spending time together was more important than what we were doing." Shawn whispers. "Let me just solve this quickly, and then we can go." He whispers. "I do not believe this man committed suicide. Unfortunately, he was murdered." He announces.

"Wait, already? Are you sure?" Gus asks.

"41%." Shawn mutters.

"Shawn." His friends warn.

"Why do you say that, Shawn?" Jules asks.

"O'Hara, please, I think we got this one covered. Spencer, why don't you get--" Lassie stops when he finally notices Abigail there. "I'm sorry, did you... bring a date to the crime scene?"

"It was either this or ice skating." Shawn says. "But I'm not anti ice skating." He quietly tells his girlfriend.

"Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?" Lassie questions.

"Any more inappropriate than yelling at a co-worker in front of his lovely date?" Shawn retorts.

"Honestly, I could see you doing the same thing." Vanessa tells Lassie.

"See? She's on my side." Shawn says.

"You know, Spencer, O'Brien, why don't you both zip it and let me assess what's going on here before Spencer turns it into a psychic crap fest." Lassie says.

"Dudes, the chair." Shawn whispers to Vanessa and Gus. "The chair he stepped on to hang himself. Legs would have naturally kicked it backwards, and yet it's tipped forward. This is remedial stuff." Shawn steps forward, putting his hands to his temples. "I do not believe this man was alone in the room when he died."

"Spencer, enough." Lassie orders. "I'm already on to something being fishy here without your help. Look at the position of the chair."

"Good boy, Lassie." Shawn smiles. "But come on, half naked Joe Doe... no wallet, no I.D., no identification. There's no card with the, uh-- it's got the, uh-- Gus, what am I looking for here?"

"An I.D. card?" Gus asks.

"There's not one of those." Shawn says. "Clearly you will need me to read the body." Shawn holds his hands to his head and starts making choking noises. "Check the throat. He's trying to tell me something, but he can't."

"I was just about to say that." Lassie states. "Check his throat." A cop does so, pulling dog tags out. "Are those dog tags? Aw, crap, this guy was a soldier."

"What does this mean?" Jules asks.

"It means it's not just a possible homicide, now it's a military crime." Lassie says.

"You know, I may know someone who can help." Jules says, walking off.

+++

"It's a big sandstorm. We're in Dubai, 19 clicks from enemy lines, and we're trying to grab the hindquarters, and finally I say, "Stop! You guys, we're gonna have to carry this camel the rest of the way.""

"Carry the camel is... humpin' it out." Shawn laughs. "What? Just..." Everybody looks at him weird and he clears his throat. "That's... that's an amazing story, man. Well, it sounds a little rehearsed, as if you've told it about a zillion times."

"I've never told that story before in my life. This is the first time." Ewan says.

"Oh, really? Wow. Maybe a little embellished, hmm?" Shawn chuckles. "A little, uh-- little exaggerated. I mean, believe me, I do the same thing."