Psyc 03_The Call of the Mild by William Rabkin Page B

talked to Henry just the other day and he was saying how much he missed the life.”
    Rasmussen wheeled back to Lassiter as if he’d forgotten the detective was there.
    “He did not,” Shawn said. “He loves being retired. He can spend all his time figuring out ways to torture me.”
    “May I speak to you for a moment, Shawn?” Lassiter said. His voice was mild, but his eyes flashed sparks as he walked over to him.
    “Hey, I told you to freeze,” Rasmussen said. “And you need to freeze right now.”
    “No,” Lassiter said. “I don’t think you’ll want to explain to Henry Spencer why you shot his protégé.”
    “You are so not my father’s protégé,” Shawn said as Lassiter came up with him. “And having put in many years as his unwillingly designated protégé, let me say how lucky that makes you.”
    “Spencer, I need your help,” Lassiter said. “The forensics team is right outside. If this jackass wants to make a fuss, he can tie them up for hours before they get to the body.”
    “He can’t seriously stop your investigation, can he?”
    “He can slow it down, and that’s almost as bad,” Lassiter said. “This woman was in your office this morning, and now she’s dead. I am not going to let that stand, and I don’t believe you are, either.”
    Shawn glanced over at Gus, who nodded his agreement. “I’m sure my father would love to help out on this case,” Shawn said loudly.
    Rasmussen lit up like a kid who’d just seen Santa slide down his chimney. “Really?”
    “Only as a personal favor to his protégé, of course,” Shawn said. “It would have to be an SBPD case all the way.”
    “A joint task force,” Rasmussen said.
    “With Santa Barbara in lead position,” Lassiter said.
    “Done.” Rasmussen put out his hand.
    Lassiter ignored it and marched to the door, where the first members of the forensics team were assembling. “Body’s in the bathroom. Get me something fast.”
    “And make sure I get copied,” Rasmussen called as they filed past him. “When are we meeting with Henry Spencer?”
    Lassiter turned back to Shawn. “Yes, Shawn, when are we meeting with Henry Spencer?”
    “Meeting?” Shawn said.
    “To work on the case.”
    Shawn gave him a blank look. “I thought we were just saying that to get this yokel to let your guys in.”
    “I think he’ll notice if Henry isn’t actually involved in the case,” Lassiter said. “And he can still make plenty of trouble if we need to do any more investigating in Isla Vista.”
    “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Shawn said.
    Lassiter sighed irritably. “Then it’s just like it’s one of yours. Look, Henry doesn’t actually have to do anything. He’s just got to show up.”
    Shawn looked for a way out, but couldn’t find an opening.
    “I’ll try to get him to your office tomorrow morning.”
    “I’ll be there at eight sharp,” Rasmussen said.
    “Good, you can make the coffee,” Lassiter said. “We’ll start at nine.”
    Shawn and Gus squeezed past the entering investigators and headed back to their car.
    “I don’t believe this,” Gus said. “What a day.”
    “Tell me about it,” Shawn said. “We start out looking for a necklace just to annoy Lassie, and we end up facing multiple murders.”
    “Multiple?” Gus asked. “Who died besides Ellen Svaco?”
    “Me,” Shawn said. “Because when I tell my dad that I volunteered him to work a case with Lassie and this idiot, he is going to kill me.”

Chapter Twelve
     
     
     
     
     
     
    H enry Spencer raised the sticks high above his head. And waited. He’d torn the sleeves out of his sweatshirt to give his arms complete freedom, and tied a bandanna around his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and pulled on jeans that hadn’t fit in ten years because—well, he wasn’t quite sure why they’d told him to do that. But this was the moment he’d been dreaming of for weeks, the instant he’d rehearsed in his head time