One Plain Day

Carlton Lassiter, head detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department, was dutifully filling out paperwork. All his current cases were solved, without any unwanted outside help, and he was feeling very good about things. He’d even left his door open for anyone who needed help.

Out of nowhere, a paper airplane landed on the open file on his desk. He looked up, to the desks outside his office, but nothing was out of the ordinary. It was a niggling feeling, call it detective’s intuition, but Lassiter knew, knew that somehow it was Spencer’s plane. Especially seeing as how the plane had a black and white image of the collie lassie on its wings.

He swept the plane into the garbage can and sat back to work. However, he only pretended to be filling in the arrest report. He was keeping an eye out for the irksome little man hiding behind some unsuspecting detective’s desk; no it was probably an abetting detective. Most of the department seemed to think Spencer’s antics were cute, to Lassiter’s great chagrin.

After a few minutes with no sign of the pest, Lassiter’s focus returned to the form. No sooner had he flipped the triplicate page than a new plane landed in his lap. He slammed his pen down and looked up. Again, nothing suspicious from the bull pen. Not one to underestimate the false psychic ability to hide, Lassiter rose and closed his door, dropping the plane in the trash along the way. Satisfied he had foiled the annoyance, he returned to his paperwork. Many minutes passes and he finally relaxed.

There was a slight fluttering, and slowly, oh so gracefully, a paper plane glided towards him. It seemed to go slowed than possible, taking ages to reach him. He swatted it angrily and it crashed to the floor.

Cursing, he yanked open his door. “Where is he?” he growled. The detectives at their desks looked at him startled. His eyes searched the room but there were no tell-tale signs of the bane of his existence. Eventually he noticed the worried glances people were giving him and he retreated into his office red-faced.

His office was small, no place big enough to hide a body, but still he searched it. There was no one there and his window as locked from the inside. Standing near his door, huffing, he noticed the faintest of scratching, like scrubbing a desk and it was above him.

Thinking about it, it was exactly the kind of something Spencer would do. Lassiter put a chair under the noise, climbed up and lifted a panel of the floating ceiling. A pile of paper airplanes collapsed onto the detective.

“SPENCER!”

Unfazed, the brown-haired man poked his head down, smiling. “Hiya Lassie-face!” He still held a plane in one hand.

“What in the name of sweet justice are you doing in my ceiling?”

“April Fools?” Spencer cheekily tossed the plane down to Lassiter.

He felt like strangling the younger man.

END

A/N: Please review.