Part One: Ingles Dupree, Stalker Extraordinaire

Shawn was waiting on the corner when Gus finally rolled up in the little blue car. "Dude, I said A.S.A.P!"

Gus didn't even bother glaring at him. He just climbed out of the car with a kind of resigned sigh. "I was in the middle of a meeting, Shawn. What's so important?"

"We've got a new case," Shawn said proudly.

Gus walked over, suspicious, since nine times out of ten when Shawn decided they had a case, no one else knew they were working it, or they weren't getting paid, or someone else was getting the credit, or possibly all three. "Really? The Chief called us in?"

Shawn blinked at him innocently, which just went to prove all of Gus's suspicions correct. "Uh. Not exactly. I was listening to the police scanner again, but this is going to be something big, I can tell. This place is a customer service call center for an online clothing store, Alice Clothing or something, and it gets broken into? There's nothing there except digital information that'll be instantly traced. So either we're dealing with really stupid criminals, or something else is going on."

Gus crossed his arms. "And you're just going to walk in there and flail around a little and hope they give you the case?"

"You know me so well," Shawn said. "It's like you're the one that reads minds."

"Neither of us can read minds, Shawn," Gus snapped. "I thought we agreed we were both signing off on cases now."

"You'll sign off on this," Shawn said. "As soon as I get it for us."

"Shawn!" Gus tried to snag his shirt as he spun on his heels and went right under the crime scene tape, but he wasn't quick enough. He resignedly followed him inside, knowing it was too late to stop him now.

Shawn had his eyes pressed closed, one hand reaching out as if for balance. "Yes, yes, it's here! Gus! What I'm sensing is here!"

Gus saw Juliet and Lassiter look over. Juliet stepped forward in concern and Lassiter just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, god! Oh, it's awful! Gus!" Shawn shouted. He suddenly started shaking his leg, so violently that he ended up falling to the floor on his back, arms splayed behind him. "Something awful has happened here!" Shawn finally opened his eyes, only to see Lassiter glaring down at him. "Lassie!"

Lassiter rolled his eyes again, and reached down to grab Shawn's arms, pulling him unceremoniously to his feet. "Take a good look around, Spencer. What we have here is a prank."

Shawn narrowed his eyes as he saw the spray paint all over the walls, most of it pink. Robbers wouldn't have left such an obvious call sign, not if they were any good. He saw a woman that looked about twenty sitting in the corner, with Buzz handing her a coffee, and wondered if she saw anything or was just the one that called it in. There weren't any other employees that he could see.

Shawn focused in on the shift schedule that had been written on a large whiteboard against the back wall. Someone named Amber has her name crossed out in red on every day starting yesterday. He quickly put his hand to his head again, before falling back against the wall. "Wait, I'm sensing something else--there's someone. . . someone has recently left the company."

The girl in the corner quickly got to her feet. "That's right! It was Amber! She just up and left. I came in early to relieve her off the night shift, but she wasn't even here. She didn't even lock everything up."

Shawn grinned widely, turning to glance smugly in Lassiter's direction.

"But it isn't as though it's exactly out of character for her to leave me in a lurch, if you know what I mean," she continued.

Lassiter stepped forward. "Have you spoken to her since?"

"I called and called and she wouldn't answer, but eventually I got in touch with her husband, and I guess she ran off with some other guy." She started chewing on her hair, and Shawn stared in morbid fascination. "Personally, I say good riddance. She was horrible and she always yelled at me."

"Yeah, that's fascinating," Lassiter said.

Shawn could see that his patience was nearing its end. He took another look around the room. He could just make out the security computers on the reception desk, the screen was split into four windows and all of them were showing static.

He pressed his eyes shut again, holding out his hand. "Wait. Wait--there's something else. The security video, it's--"

"Yes, Spencer, the recordings were wiped, we know," Lassiter said, with a kind of long-suffering tone. "It was so we couldn't see the punks that did this, but what they did is perfectly obvious. Nothing was stolen, and none of the computers were hacked." He turned back to O'Hara. "We're done here."

Juliet gave Shawn a helpless shrug and stated after Lassiter.

"But--wait!" Shawn said. "Who would break into a place with security cameras just to have some fun with some spray paint? They could have done their little drawings on the outside walls. This is not about that."

"You see those," Lassiter said, placing his hands on Shawn's shoulders to spin him back towards the graffiti. "Those are gang signs. This block? This block just so happens to be in gang territory."

Shawn tilted his head as he recognized a distinct symbol on the wall. "Wait, I'm confused, are you telling me the Crips have come to Santa Barbara? And we're having gang wars with pink spray-paint now?"

Lassiter frowned as he recognized that one of the symbols was indeed a calling card from the Crips, and then shook his head. Gangs were often offshoots of other gangs, and he had more important things to worry about than their lineage. They had tasks forces specifically for this kind of thing.

"How do you even know what the Crips signs are?" Spencer opened his mouth, hand already going to his temple in preparation for another psychic performance, and Lassiter quickly held up a hand to forestall him. "You know what? Never mind, Spencer. This isn't a case."

Lassiter motioned O'Hara to follow him again and then started towards the door.

"Oh, like you've never said that before!" Shawn called after him.

Gus gave him a shove. "Will you stop that? I hate to admit it, but I think Lassiter might be right for once."

Shawn frowned. "Yeah, but it is weird, right? I mean, seriously weird."

"Let's go, Shawn," Gus said grabbing Shawn's arm to tug him along as he ducked back under the crime scene tape. "I've got to get back to my route. You want me to drop you off somewhere?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. I think I'm going to stick around here for awhile. See if I get anymore psychic vibes."

Gus rolled his eyes. "You do that."

Shawn noticed a blue BMW parked across the street when the sun bounced off something inside. He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, but the BMW pulled away before he could see anything. "Did you see that?" Shawn asked.

"Lots of people stop to watch crime scenes, Shawn," Gus said. "They're called Looky-loos."

Shawn paused, slowly turning to face his friends. "Looky-loos? Really, Gus? That's the official name for people that stop to watch crime scenes?"

Gus glared at him. "Well, what do you call it?"

"Rubberneckering," Shawn said. "Rubberneckites? Rubberneckers!"

"Whatever, Shawn," Gus said. "I'm rubbernecking out of here."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Shawn shouted after him.

xxxxxx

Gus was just heading home when his cell phone started ringing, with the Madonna ringtone Shawn had made specific to his calls. Gus still hadn't figured out to undo it.

"I need a ride," Shawn said, without preamble. "I'm lost in Gangland."

"Whatever, Shawn. You can joke but gangs are a serious problem in Santa Barbara, and you shouldn't be out there wandering off alone." Gus was feeling slightly guilty for bailing out earlier, but watching out for Shawn was a twenty-four hour job, and he had two others. "Where are you?"

"Still by Alice Clothing," Shawn said.

"I'll be right there," Gus told him, before hanging up.

He managed to get the same parking space he'd used before, right in front, but Shawn was not waiting where he said he would be. Gus checked the clock. It was almost eight, but this late in the summer it was thankfully still bright. He got out of the car to look for his wayward friend.

He found him right across the street, window shopping at Suncoast Video and eating an ice cream. Gus was sadly not surprised. "Shawn!" he shouted. "Come on. We're leaving."

Shawn turned towards him, still frowning, and Gus changed his mind, and wondered if Shawn had noticed anything that was inside the video store at all. His mind seemed somewhere else.

"There's something more to this, Gus," Shawn said. "I'm fairly certain about that."

"The police will work it out, I'm not getting involved with gangs, Shawn," Gus said.

Shawn had a look in his eyes that worried Gus. He knew that look. It meant Shawn had no intention of letting this go anytime soon, but to Gus's relief, he at least started back towards the car.

Gus followed him, but glanced behind him when he felt that eerie 'being watched' feeling he was regrettably used to--usually, it was Shawn that was following him, but this time he saw someone he didn't recognize slip behind a street sign to try and hide the moment he glanced around. He could see about six inches of pinstriped shirt sticking out either side of the stop sign pole, but the man's head at least was effectively hidden by the red octagon.

Gus grabbed Shawn's arm. "Shawn! Shawn, we're being followed."

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about him, that's just my stalker," he said. Shawn gave a cheerful wave to the stalker, who was peeking out shyly from the stop sign. "His name is Ingles Dupree," Shawn continued, with a slight laugh. "Ingles Dupree. Can you believe that? It sounds like the name of a dog food company."

"Your stalker?" Gus repeated, narrowing his eyes.

"It's okay, Gus, he's cool. He bought me this ice cream."

Gus quickly reached over and knocked the ice cream out of his hands. "You don't eat something some crazed stalker buys you, Shawn!"

Shawn stared sadly down at the ice cream. "I was there when he purchased it and he didn't have any opportunity to tamper with it," Shawn said, sounding unfailingly reasonable. "He's actually a really nice guy for a stalker. He promised not to get within thirty feet of me and I didn't even need to get one of those restraining order things."

Gus stared at him, wondering if he should be comforted or terrified that even after all of their years of friendship, Shawn could still occasionally catch him completely by surprise with the crazy stuff that came out of his mouth. "And you just believe him?"

"We shook on it and he gave me his word of honor."

"Shawn! This is serious!"

"Gus, you're looking at this all wrong. In our case a stalker might actually be a good thing. It means we're getting noticed--it's like a status symbol, all the cool kids have one." Shawn paused for a moment, and then shook his head. "Then again, I heard even Pamela Anderson had a stalker recently. Maybe in her Baywatch days, maybe--and I stress the maybe here--even VIP, I could have understood, but she's just not that classy anymore."

Gus stopped walking and glared at him. "Shawn, that was Borat."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "You have the name of Pamela Anderson's stalker on the tip of your tongue? Honestly, Gus, sometimes I worry about you."

"It was a movie! You know what? Never mind, I'm not letting you distract me. We're calling the police." Gus pulled his cell phone out and started pounding at the numbers, but Shawn easily pulled it from his hands.

"You're completely overreacting," Shawn said. "Even if I thought for a second he was dangerous, which obviously he's not, I mean, he bought me ice cream. But even if, I absolutely refuse to be intimidated by someone named Ingles. Purely on principle."

Gus cast another wary glance behind them and then grabbed Shawn's arm to pull him back towards the car.

xxxxxx

Gus stood opened mouthed in the doorway of the Psych agency while Shawn fretted quietly beside him. "Don't freak out," Shawn said.

"Shawn," Gus said.

"It's probably not even as bad as it looks," Shawn said.

"Shawn!"

"At least it doesn't look like anything is missing, or how else could they have covered the floor so completely with our stuff?"

"Shawn!"

Shawn moved past Gus into the agency. Everything had been pulled off the shelves, the drawers were all hanging open. Paper littered the floor around Gus's desk. Bouncy balls and a neon orange slinky littered the floor around Shawn's.

"I'm calling the police," Gus said. "Your crazy stalker did this, Shawn."

Shawn walked over to his desk, carefully avoiding a Pineapple that had been carelessly thrown to floor. "Heathens!" Shawn muttered, reaching down to pick it up. "No, don't do that. I'm going to call Ingles and get to the bottom of this right now," Shawn said.

Gus pushed his hand down and disconnected the phone before Shawn could dial. "You are not calling your stalker, Shawn. How do you even have his number?"

"He wanted me to have it in case of emergencies just such as this," Shawn said. Then he shook his head. "Look, you know I'm good at reading people. Ingles is harmless. I can tell. If I thought otherwise for even a second I would have reported him myself."

Gus glanced back out the window, and saw the stalker, who was now hiding around the corner of a building, only his little beady eyes and receding hairline left visible. "How did he get here so fast?" Gus asked uneasily. "He's like a super stalker."

"Apparently, I am not the first," Shawn told him. "Ingles is very experienced in his line of work. He told me that he stalked Phil Collins for like twelve years. That's dedication. He even invited me over to look at his stalker pictures sometime."

"You're not going," Gus snapped.

Shawn rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair to put his feet up on the ransacked desk. "Of course I'm not, Gus," he said. "I told him that we'd have to meet somewhere public. I'm not an idiot."

"You are an idiot," Gus snapped. "This is ridiculous, and it's gone too far. I'm calling your father."

Shawn laughed. "You're calling my father? You haven't used that threat since the fifth grade."

Gus wasn't laughing. He tilted his head up in the smug way he had, and held out his cell phone, before he started dialing. Shawn dropped his feet to the ground and sat up, eyes going wide. "I know you're not really calling my father," he said.

Gus ignored him, and lifted the cell phone to his ear as it started to ring. Shawn leapt over his desk and barreled into him, wrestling the phone out of his hands just as his father said, "Gus?"

"Ha!" Shawn said, neatly stepping out of Gus's reach. "Well, I certainly didn't get my psychic powers from you."

"It says Gus on the caller ID, Shawn," Henry snapped. "Don't tell me you destroyed another cell phone."

"Nope," Shawn said. "The battery just died."

"Well, what is it?" Henry asked, as Shawn darted around the desk to get away from Gus.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted. "Give me that phone back!"

"Gus is worried about his minutes," Shawn said. "Sorry, Dad, I'll have to call you back."

Shawn hung up the phone and threw it to the other side of the room. Gus froze and then slowly turned to watch as it landed, thankfully, in one piece. "I know you didn't just throw my cell phone."

"You called my father," Shawn said. "That's against all the rules."

Gus walked stiffly to retrieve his cell phone, and then turned and pointed at Shawn. "Okay, here's the deal," he said. "You're going to clean this office."

Shawn nodded eagerly. "Of course!"

"And you're going to call your friend the stalker and tell him he's just been demoted to a distance of a hundred feet. I see this guy again and I will call the police, Shawn."

"It'll be fine, he's harmless," Shawn said again.

Gus looked back out the window at Ingles, and then his watch. "I have to be up early tomorrow, but I don't like leaving you alone here."

"Go home. I'll lock the doors," Shawn promised.

Gus seemed to falter. "Okay, but I want you to call me when you get home."

"Will do, mom," Shawn said, and then obediently locked the door behind Gus as he drove off in his little blue car, before waving to Ingles as he settled down in the parking lot with his binoculars and a sandwich.

xxxxxx

"Jules!"

Juliet sighed, dropping her unfinished report on her desk as she juggled with the phone. "Shawn," she said warily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've been thinking, about that employee at Alice Clothing," Shawn said.

"I'm not working that case, Shawn," Juliet said. "We passed it off to the gang squad."

"Yes, but I'm not talking about the vandalism case," Shawn said. "I'm talking about the missing persons case."

Juliet frowned. "What missing persons case?"

"Amber," Shawn said, as though it was obvious. "She's missing."

"She's not missing, Shawn," Juliet said. "She ran off with another man."

"Says the husband," Shawn said. "And what husband would admit to that if it were really true? The spirits tell me he's hiding something."

Juliet sighed, as Carlton paused a few feet away and narrowed his eyes in her direction, suspecting who it was on the other end of the line. "Well, the spirits are telling me that you should drop this," Juliet said.

"By spirits I'm guessing you mean Lassiter?" Shawn asked.

Juliet paused. Sometimes, she didn't think she really believed in psychics, but at others, she couldn't think how else Shawn knew the things he knew. "Goodbye, Shawn," she said, hanging up the phone before Lassiter could reach her.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Oh, it was just my mother," Juliet said, smiling widely.

"Well, I hope you told 'your mother' to drop this case," Lassiter said as he walked away.

And sometimes Juliet just felt like she was surrounded by psychics, which could be damned annoying.