"What the hell are you talking about, Spencer?" Lassiter growled, but Shawn wasn't listening anymore.

His hands were gripping the sides of his head, his eyes squeezed shut as if he was fighting against some great agony.

Juliet glanced at Lassiter quizzically as she made her way across the precinct back to her desk.

"Is he getting a psychic flash?" She asked.

"He's getting on my last nerve." Lassiter shot back. "He's still saying that 11-84 from a few days ago was murder."

"Bishop!" Shawn shouted suddenly, his eyes opening. "King!"

"Oh, God…" Lassiter groaned. "I'm going to shoot him."

"Shh!" Juliet hissed, smacking his arm.

She grabbed a pen off her desk and watched intently as Shawn stumbled around, still yelling.

"Knight! That….castle thing…"

"We get it, Spencer! They're all chess pieces!" Lassiter barked, rolling his eyes. "Get to the point!"

"Queen!"

"Spencer!"

"No…not Spencer…" Shawn corrected him, a single finger massaging his temple as he continued in his trance. "…There's no chess piece called Spencer…Rook!"

"That's it." Lassiter growled, turning to Juliet. "Where's my taser?"

"Pawn!" Shawn continued, apparently oblivious to Lassiter's threats. "Pawn…pawn…once u-pawn a time?...Waaaaay down on the pawny river…."

Shawn's voice echoed across the station as he sang out at the top of his lungs, sounding more than a little like a drunken sailor.

"Okay…" Juliet sighed at Lassiter. "You can taser him."

"No!" Shawn gasped, his trance breaking. "That's not it…Pawn…shop! In the victim's apartment! There was a pawn shop ticket!...I'm seeing…it's for a TV…or stereo…some kind of electronic…"

"So what?" Lassiter shrugged. "Did you see the guy's apartment? He was broke! He probably pawned everything he owned!"

"But there's something else there…" Shawn continued, reaching into his back pocket. "Something else…"

He pulled out a watch and dangled it in the air, letting it sway gently back and forth.

"Hey!" Lassiter scowled, looking down at his bare wrist. "That's my watch! Where the hell did you--"

"Yes!" Shawn interrupted him with a cryptic whisper. "I'm seeing a stolen watch…on the victim's wrist! The victim was wearing a stolen Rolex! If you trace it, you'll find out it

belonged to one of the mugging victims!"

Juliet quickly jotted some notes down in her small spiral notebook.

"I remember that watch…" she murmured to herself. "I think it's still in Evidence with the victim's personal items. I'll run a trace on it."

"No, you won't!" Lassiter snapped, snatching his watch out of Shawn's hand and angrily snapping it back onto his wrist. "It was suicide, Spencer! And even if the victim was wearing a stolen watch, which you can't prove, what the hell does that have to do with a pawn shop ticket for a TV?"

Shawn grinned, knowing he had Lassie on the hook now.

Whether he would admit it or not, the detective was hanging on his every word.

Or maybe he was just waiting to see if Shawn had stolen anything else from him…

"Wait…" Shawn whispered, collapsing into a chair, clutching his head in his hands. "I'm getting something…the TV…or stereo…or whatever…doesn't exist. It never existed…the ticket's a fake…a way to fence stolen merchandise through the pawn shop while making it look legitimate. Check the serial number on the ticket! I bet it's not real!"

"What are you talking about?" Juliet asked, dropping her notebook and pulling up a chair.

"Oh God, O'Hara…" Lassiter moaned. "Don't encourage him!"

"It was a perfect plan!" Shawn explained quickly, ignoring Lassiter's snide comment. "The victim and the pawn shop owner would mug tourists and sell the stolen merchandise through the pawn shop. But they couldn't have all of these unexplained cash transactions on the books. Sooner or later, someone would notice and start asking questions. So, they made them look legitimate. Every time someone bought a stolen watch or ring, they dummied up a fake ticket to make it look like they were pawning TVs and DVD players. They dummied up the list they filed with the cops, too, so no one would bother looking there for the stolen goods. According to their records, they never bought or sold any jewelry at all. It was all going perfectly…until a month ago."

"A month ago?" Lassiter's brow furrowed, his brain working feverishly to keep a step ahead of the psychic. "You mean when the muggers finally shot someone?"

"Exactly…" Shawn nodded. "Something happened after that...the muggings stopped for a while. Maybe Mackay wanted out. Maybe he tried to blackmail his partner…whatever it was, the only way out for the pawn shop owner to kill Mackay. After he was dead, he could start back up again…probably with help…most likely from teenagers with scary, spiky hair…"

"But you can't prove any of this!" Lassiter insisted, crossing his arms.

Shawn pulled a paper out of his pocket and tossed it to the detective.

"That's the list of everything the pawn shop claims to have bought and sold over the last month. Check out the serial numbers. Most of them are probably fake. It's enough to get a warrant to search the shop."

"Where the hell did you get this?" Lassiter demanded, his eyebrows arching as he glanced it over. "This is official police property."

"Uh…the Spirits gave to me…I asked them real nicely…" Shawn cleared his throat, quickly moving on. "And I'm betting if you compare the bullet that killed Mackay with the bullet that shot the tourist, you'll find out they were fired from the same gun."

Juliet stood up.

"It's worth checking out." She told her partner, taking the list from him and heading to her computer.

Lassiter didn't say anything. He just spun on his heel and started to march away, muttering under his breath.

"Lassie!" Shawn called after him.

"What?" Lassiter growled, whirling around and spitting daggers at the psychic with his eyes.

Shawn just grinned and tossed a wallet across the room.

"You might need that." He said. "It matches your watch."

Lassiter scowled and touched his back pocket, where he generally kept his wallet.

Of course, it was empty.

"And you really shouldn't keep it in your back pocket." Shawn added with an innocent smile. "Do you have any idea how easy it is to pick a back pocket? Way easier than getting the watch off someone's wrist without them noticing!"

When the waitress put the bill on the table, Shawn immediately slid it across the table to his father.

"I didn't say I was paying, Shawn." Henry growled, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Really?" Shawn countered. "So, you push me off a roof, and then you won't even buy me lunch?"

"That was two weeks ago!"

"So?"

"So, get over it, Kid."

"You pushed me off a roof!"

"Fine." Henry rolled his eyes, finally picking the check up. "I'll pay for your damn lunch."

"And I'm getting a piece of pie." Shawn added with a maniacal grin, enjoying every moment of torturing his father.

"Fine." Henry agreed, leaning back in his booth. "But first, you have to tell me how many hats."

"No, way!" Shawn snorted.

But this time, Henry wasn't waivering.

"Shawn, it's the same deal as when you were a kid." He said firmly. "If you want dessert, close your eyes and tell me how many hats!"

"Dad--"

"I think it's apple pie today…I guess I'll be eating two pieces."

"Fine." Shawn scowled, clapping his hands over his eyes with a dramatic sigh. "I'll tell you how many damn hats…"

It took him a long moment to form a picture of the restaurant in his mind, but it finally faded into view.

"Five." He said, sounding slightly unsure of himself.

"Are you sure?" Henry asked.

Shawn thought again, his fingers digging into his temple.

"Yeah…" He nodded finally. "The paper hat on the waitress…the two truckers with baseball hats in the corner…the country-singer wannabe in the ten-gallon cowboy hat…and the baseball hat on the grumpy old guy sitting in front of me. That's five."

He opened his eyes again.

Henry silently gestured at the booth next to them, where a little girl was sitting with her mother.

On the little girl's head was a foam T-ball hat with the teamname The Sparkles emblazoned across it.

"Damn it." Shawn groaned "How did I miss that one? I never miss hats!"

Before Henry could say anything, the waitress appeared at their table again.

"Can I get you boys anything else?" She asked with a friendly smile.

Henry hesitated, his eyes locking with Shawn's for a brief moment.

"Yeah…" he said finally. "Two pieces of pie."

The waitress nodded and left.

"Pie?" Shawn blinked in surprise. "I missed a hat, Dad."

Henry just shrugged.

"What the hell? I pushed you off the roof…but now we're even." He added with a warning glare. "So the next time you miss a hat, you're buying your own damn pie."