Mind-Altering Murder Read online

  "But doing just anything without knowing what or why is even worse than doing nothing," D-Bob said once it was clear no one would be arguing with his previous point.

  "Absolutely, D-Bob," Lena Hollis said. "You've hit on something that's real and important. I think you've also come up with a solution. We need a committee to study the issue from all sides, bring the heads of all the departments together and really get to the root of the issue. I don't think it should be a quick process, but an in-depth exploration of all the aspects of security, possibly starting with an investigation into the very nature of safety itself."

  She delivered the suggestion with the conviction her former self would have used to urge a crowd to cheer their team on to victory. Somehow, Gus had a feeling she might not be completely sincere about the subject, and that suspicion was confirmed when Vollman seized on the idea, as well.

  "That is a brilliant idea," Vollman said. "One that is worthy of this company and the ideals we stand for. This committee could change the way every corporation in the country addresses issues of safety and security. It's hard to imagine how we could be prouder of the company we work for, but this could actually do that."

  "I agree entirely," Ecclesine said. "And I think that this committee needs to be led by a true visionary, someone who has the ability to think outside the boxes we've all built for ourselves. Fortunately we now have one such creative soul among our number. I nominate Burton Guster to lead the new safety and security committee."

  Before Gus could open his mouth to object, Hollis and Vollman had seconded. Now that it was too late, he understood what Lena Hollis had been doing. The only thing D-Bob liked better than an idea was a newer idea, and this overhaul of the company's safety and security agenda would completely push the orphan drugs out of his mind. And even if it didn't, Gus would be expected to gather every department head in every office across the world for daily teleconferences until he could say he'd gotten input from all of them. Then he'd have to synthesize everything he learned into a report at the same time he needed to overhaul his orphan drugs project. The three executives knew that the first negative word they said about Gus' original plan would have been enough to put D-Bob firmly on its side; now they had found a way to kill it with kindness, love, and encouragement.

  The smile splitting D-Bob's face certainly suggested they had succeeded. "That's the spirit!" he said. "You know, in other companies there would have been a struggle between the top executives over who could seize this opportunity to increase their own portfolio. But you guys are so great, you all chose the man you believed was best suited for the job without a thought for yourselves. Let's all take a moment to pat ourselves on the back."

  In any other company this might have been meant figuratively. Not at Benson, as Gus had learned over the previous weeks. Each of the executives reached over their shoulders to pat their own backs. Another one of D-Bob's morale boosters.

  "Gus, I want to thank you for jumping on this with both feet," D-Bob said. "I know it's going to mean some extra work, but I have no doubt you'll find it worth your time. And, of course, I'm here to help you at any time of the day or night."

  Gus knew that was true. D-Bob was famous for the e-mailed memos that went out around the clock. He also knew that if he took his boss up on the offer, Gus, too, would never sleep again.

  "Thanks, D-Bob," Gus said. "I need a little time to wrap my head around the totality of the issue. Then we'll talk."

  "I've got two things that will make that first step a little easier," D-Bob said. "The first is a guideline: Keep in mind at all times that the word 'security' comes from the Latin roots se, which means 'without,' and cura, meaning 'care.' That's how we want our employees to be able to live. Without care."

  "Good thinking," Gus said automatically. "That makes my job a lot clearer."

  "And this should help even more," D-Bob said. "This is such a massive undertaking, it wouldn't be fair to ask you to do it all by yourself."

  Gus noticed worried glances on the faces across from them, as the other executives began to feel like they had hoisted themselves on their own petards. In another situation this might have made Gus feel better about his new position, but the only thing he wanted less than to rethink security for a multinational corporation was to do it alongside any of these three.

  "I wouldn't be alone, D-Bob," Gus said. "I'll have the whole company behind me."

  "Yes, you will," D-Bob. "But sometimes even that isn't enough. Which is why I've hired an outside consultant to help define our security future. And not just an ordinary security expert, but one whose talents and skills spring from a higher place."

  "He's a Fed?" Hollis said.

  "He's a psychic," D-Bob said, walking over to the conference room door.

  Gus felt his stomach churn. He'd spent too many years working with a fake psychic to have patience for any fraud who called himself clairvoyant. This new job can't get any worse, he thought.

  Which, of course, meant that it could.

  D-Bob threw open the door and invited in his consultant. "I'd like you all to meet Shawn Spencer."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Gus waited until his office door was closed before he let a single word out of his mouth. That was unfortunate, because during the long walk down the hallway they had all gotten jumbled together, and when he finally started to allow them egress, they refused to reassemble themselves into anything resembling orderly sentences.

  "What are you how did what do you can't you even ruin own business leave what are alone," he sputtered, trying unsuccessfully to arrange the individual words into some kind of meaningful pattern.

  Shawn plopped down on the sofa and gazed out at the view. "I couldn't have said it any better," he said. "Nice view, by the way."

  The smugness in Shawn's voice did what Gus' brain could not--set the words in Gus' mouth marching out in the proper order. "What are you doing here?"

  "Same thing you are," Shawn said.

  "You're not fooling anyone but yourself," Gus said. "You're here to destroy my new career."

  "Like I said, I'm doing the same thing you are," Shawn said. "You really think it's a good career move to drive your company into bankruptcy before you've been on the job for a full year? Most corporate executives wait at least until they've got the key to the executive washroom before they start tanking the business. Although maybe that kind of thinking is out-of-date these days."

  "There is no executive washroom here," Gus said. "D-Bob believes that all our employees are equal, and he doesn't give the execs any better perks than the most junior secretaries."

  "That's good to hear," Shawn said. "Say, do you think the girl who makes the coffee can see Berkeley from her corner office window, too?"

  "If she gets promoted to executive vice president, she will," Gus said.

  "Then you might as well find out what color curtains she wants, because she'll be taking possession in about three weeks," Shawn said.

  "Right," Gus said. "After you destroy my career here."

  Shawn jumped off the couch and tiptoed to the door, then flung it open. The doorway was empty. He let it close again and came back over to Gus.

  "Okay, no one's listening," Shawn said. "We can talk freely now."

  "I was talking freely," Gus said. "And you were talking gibberish, which sounded pretty free to me."

  "I see what you mean," Shawn said. He put his finger to his lips, then went to the desk. He picked up the phone and turned it upside down, then put it in a drawer and closed it. He picked up the coffee cup Gus used for pen storage and upended it, sending writing instruments flying in every direction.

  "What are you doing?" Gus said, picking up the pen that rolled to his feet.

  "I don't see any bugs here," Shawn whispered. "But maybe we should step out on the balcony to talk."

  "There is no balcony," Gus said. "Just a sixteen-story drop to a fast and messy death. So please feel free to step outside."
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  Shawn moved close to Gus and spoke softly. "We'll have to chance it, then."

  "Chance what?"

  "That your office is bugged," Shawn said.

  Gus moved away from Shawn and spoke loudly and freely. "First of all, there is no chance that my office is bugged. And if it was, I wouldn't care, because I'm not planning on saying anything in it that I wouldn't want anyone else to hear."

  "That's good," Shawn whispered. "If anyone's listening, I'm sure you fooled them. Or made them deaf, anyway. Now let's get to business."

  "We don't have any business, Shawn," Gus said. "When I took this job I left Psych behind. And I guess it's kind of flattering that you've gone to all this trouble to get me to come back, but it's not going to happen. I'm happy doing what I'm doing now."

  "That's even better," Shawn whispered. "Now tell me to get out of your office."

  "Why would I tell you to get out of my office?" Gus said. "You haven't answered a single one of my questions."

  "Good point," Shawn whispered again. "You should call security and have me thrown out. That'll convince them!"

  "Convince who of what?" Gus said.

  "Exactly!" Shawn said, then grabbed the phone from the drawer and hit the button for the operator. "Get me security."

  Gus reached to take the receiver away from him, but Shawn snatched it away. "It's ringing," Shawn said.

  Shawn's pocket started playing the theme from Magnum, P.I.

  "That's your cell," Gus said.

  Shawn handed the office phone to Gus. "When they finally answer, you should give them hell. What if this was an emergency? What kind of security team do you have here?"

  Gus considered slamming the phone back down in its cradle, but he had to admit, he found it a little strange that it was taking so long for security to pick up. He held the receiver to his ear and heard it ring on the other end.

  Shawn yanked his cell out of his jeans pocket and pressed the answer button. "Talk to me," he said.

  Shawn's voice hit Gus' ear just a second before its echo spoke through the phone. "Shawn?"

  "We shouldn't talk on this line," Shawn whispered into the phone. "It might be bugged."

  Shawn hung up his cell as Gus slammed the office phone down into its cradle. "I guess I forgot," Shawn said. "I'm security now."

  "Shawn, this is a serious business," Gus said. "You can't just march in here with some ridiculous story and take over the entire security department."

  "Apparently I can," Shawn said. "And I think the key was to make the story even more ridiculous than usual. I told Dirt Bag--"

  "D-Bob," Gus said.

  "Right," Shawn continued without missing a beat. "I told him that the company had suffered what seemed to be a tragic series of accidents."

  "That's not ridiculous at all," Gus said. "That's a fact."

  "Yes, but I didn't stop there," Shawn said. "I went on to explain that these weren't accidents at all. That they were murders."

  "He didn't believe it," Gus said, although his sinking heart insisted that this was not the case.

  "He had to," Shawn said. "I made a very convincing case."

  "How could you?" Gus said. "It's absurd."

  "Look at the pattern," Shawn said. "One guy skis into a tree. Another one crashes his car. A third guy goes for a cup of coffee and he's turned into barbecue."

  "Exactly," Gus said. "There is no pattern."

  "That's what Dive Bomb said."

  At least the entire world wasn't going insane. D-Bob didn't jump at Shawn's insane theory. Except that he had hired Shawn.

  "So, how did you convince him that you were right?"

  "I didn't," Shawn said. "You did."

  "I did?" This had to be a dream. Soon there would be a knock on the door and Nana the dog would come in and tell him it was time for tea, or the entire building would turn into a rocket ship heading for Mars. "How?"

  "I told him the truth," Shawn said. "That you had figured it all out weeks ago and taken the job here so you could work undercover. And now that you were getting closer to the killer you needed me to come in to help."

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  There were something like a bazillion restaurants in San Francisco, but Gus and Shawn ended up back at the same diner where they'd shared their last meal. It seemed appropriate. After all, this is where Gus' career with Benson Pharmaceuticals had really started; it might as well mark the end as well.

  "I'm going to try to explain this one last time," Gus said after the waitress had taken their order and disappeared with the menus. "This is not an undercover operation."

  "Not anymore," Shawn said. "Not now that the boss knows what you're doing."

  "I'm not doing anything." Gus had to fight to keep his voice from rising an octave and several decibels.

  "It's okay," Shawn said. "I understand why you had to do it this way. I'll admit I was getting a little obsessed with the whole Criminal Genius thing, and all those times you tried to tell me about the serial killer at Benson Pharmaceuticals, I didn't exactly give your fascinating theory the attention it deserved."

  "All what times?" It was getting harder to keep his voice from turning into a shriek.

  "I don't know," Shawn said. "Didn't I say I wasn't listening?"

  "You're not listening now," Gus said.

  "Yes, but only because now I already know," Shawn said. "So it's a waste of our time if I spend it listening to you rehashing the past instead of moving on into the future."

  Gus felt a sharp pain in his right hand. He looked down and discovered he was clenching his fork so tightly it was about to draw blood. He forced his hand to relax until the fork clanked back down onto the table.

  "I am trying to tell you that I took this job--"

  "Because you couldn't find any other way to get me on the case, I know," Shawn said. "It was one giant cry for help, and I was so distracted I couldn't hear it. Looking back on the past few months, I'm so embarrassed. To think I actually believed you were trying to ditch me when you flew up for your final interview, when it's so obvious that you were leaving bread crumbs the size of Buicks for me to follow."

  "Umm, sure," Gus said.

  "And when you said you were leaving detective work for a job pushing pills, you probably expected me to fall down laughing," Shawn said. "You must have been so shocked when I said okay."

  "I was a little surprised," Gus said. It was true, although not for the reasons Shawn now believed. "But I was always serious about this job."

  "You would have had to be," Shawn agreed. "Just like when Steve Sloan went rogue and Mark Sloan had him committed to that asylum for loony cops on Diagnosis Murder."

  Now Gus was sure this was a dream. "You watched Diagnosis Murder?"

  "I was dating a girl who worked in a nursing home," Shawn said. "She had to keep up on the episodes so she'd have something to talk to her patients about. Anyway, the point is if Mark and Steve hadn't been completely convincing the guy from Jake and the Fat Man would never have broken down and led them to where he'd walled up his family."

  It occurred to Gus that if he had taken the simple precaution of walling up Shawn somewhere before he'd taken the job at Benson, he might still have a future there. But it was too late for that now. Still it was possible he might be able to salvage his new career, if only he could figure out what Shawn was talking about. Or better yet, if he didn't even try, and simply made his own point as plainly and forcefully as he could.

  "Shawn, if you've never listened to me before, you've got to listen now," Gus said.

  "I'm sure I've listened some," Shawn said. "Like that time I was about to try parasailing, and you said that it was just like jumping off a cliff with a kite strapped to my back."

  "You went anyway and you broke your ankle," Gus said, despite having just taken a vow not to be dragged off the subject at hand.

  "Yes, but not because I didn't listen," Shawn said. "I thought you meant it as a recommenda
tion."

  "Fine," Gus said. "In that case I'm going to ask you to listen first and if there's anything you think you might not understand, ask questions afterward. Can you do that?"

  "I can do even better," Shawn said. "I can ask questions before I listen. Or even during, although that doesn't save quite as much time."

  Gus sighed heavily enough that Shawn took the hint and stopped talking.

  "Shawn, when I left Psych to take this job, I left Psych to take this job," Gus said. "I wasn't going undercover, and I wasn't trying to convince you that you had missed out on a string of murders. I was offered a position as a vice president in a multinational pharmaceuticals company and I accepted it. I never wanted you to leave Santa Barbara and join me up here to investigate some case that never existed in the first place. So if that's the reason you've invented this job as head of security for yourself, you don't need to stick with it any longer. You can go back home."

  Shawn waited patiently for several moments after Gus had stopped talking. "That's really interesting," he said finally.

  "What's that?" Gus said.

  "This whole listening thing," Shawn said. "You'd think you might learn a little more by doing it, since presumably people scatter information throughout the entirety of a speech like that. But no matter how long I kept quiet, I didn't hear anything I didn't already know from your first sentence. Look, food's here."

  It was. The waitress was hovering over their table with trays that could easily tip over the Flintstones' car. She dropped them in the center of the table, leaving it for Shawn and Gus to figure out which plate belonged to whom, and disappeared again.

  Shawn grabbed one of the plates, picked up the headsized burger and crammed two eyes' and a nose's worth into his mouth. Gus took advantage of what would be at least a few seconds of enforced silence to make his point again.

  "What I'm trying to say is that while I appreciate the faith you put in me, it's wrong," Gus said. "I didn't come here because I believed there was a case. In fact, I still don't believe there's a killer out there stalking pharmaceuticals executives. It's just a series of coincidences."