"Jules!" Shawn exclaimed, choking slightly as his face debated which color to turn. It split the difference and turned pink.
"Shawn. Gus. What are you-" Juliet paused, her eyes drifting down to the contents of their shopping cart. Gus instinctively started to pull the cart backwards.
"Oh, you know, just a little late-night impulse buying," Shawn said quickly, moving in front of their cart as Gus slid it into the aisle they'd just left.
Juliet's eyes narrowed. "I can see that."
The three stood in awkward silence until Gus couldn't take the tension anymore. "Did you hear about Play-Doh? It's not on sale. That's messed up."
Juliet nodded politely at Gus, her detective's gaze still trained on Shawn.
"What?" Shawn asked sweetly. He batted his eyelashes a little, and Juliet shook her head, unable to hide a brief smile before her face hardened.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me."
Shawn and Gus glanced at each other, the poster children of pure innocence. "I have no idea to what you're referring," Shawn said calmly.
"Proper grammar aside, don't think-" Juliet was interrupted by her phone chirping. "One sec," she told them, fishing the phone from her bag. "Don't think I'm going to drop this." She turned her attention to the phone. "O'Hara."
While Juliet listened intently to the caller, Shawn turned to Gus. Silently, he asked if Gus thought Juliet had overheard their conversation. Gus shook his head. "Of course not," he mouthed. "But she was right there!" Shawn hissed. The wordless debate lasted for a few seconds until Juliet finished the call.
"That was Lassiter. They just found a John Doe down at the pier," Juliet paused, slipping her phone back into her bag. "Come on, I'll give you a ride to the crime scene."
Shawn and Gus glanced at each other, then back towards their hidden cart.
"Uh, yeah, no, that's okay," Shawn decided. "We, uh, we'll just finish here and catch up with you later."
"Really?" Juliet narrowed her eyes. "You're choosing shopping over working a case?"
Shawn and Gus both shrugged in response.
"Come on, Jules. We're modern men. We consummate just like everyone else."
"Consume," Gus corrected.
"Gus, I believe it's pronounced 'consomme.' But, Jules, don't worry. We have plenty of time. It's not like the body's going to become, you know, undead."
"Yeah," Gus laughed, a little too hard. "Then we'd be dealing with zombies."
"And that's a whole different Shaun."
Juliet stared at them.
"I'll see you at the pier then," she said slowly, her eyes darting suspiciously between the two of them.
Shawn and Gus waved as Juliet backed up her mostly-empty cart and hurried towards the front of the store.
"Can you believe that?" Shawn asked.
"I know. I thought for sure she saw all of the baby stuff."
Shawn shook his head slowly. "I know. Who buys toothpaste in bulk?"
Gus turned around to retrieve their cart but stopped, then turned around to face Shawn. "Shawn, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Juliet's cart," He motioned in the direction she had just headed. "She had like five boxes of toothpaste in there. I never realized she was so obsessed with dental hygiene."
"Maybe there was a sale."
"Maybe you were a sale."
"That doesn't even make sense," Gus retorted, grabbing their cart and pushing it around the corner to the next aisle.
"It does if you know how I was spelling sale."
"Shawn, it doesn't matter how-"
"Shhh, Gus," Shawn interrupted, waving a hand in the air to silence him. His hand then pointed to a box on the shelf. "Can we get a baby bjorn?"
"Whatever happened to the one you bought last year?"
"I think I would remember buying a baby bjorn."
Gus crossed his arms over his chest as Shawn grabbed the box. "You bought it to hold watermelons during the county fair."
Shawn nodded as he relived the memory. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "Good times." He threw the box into the cart.
"Shawn, what are you doing? That thing costs eighty bucks, and we already have one!"
"Yeah, but we need it. I threw out the other one." Shawn continued off of Gus's glare. "Don't look at me like that. It had watermelon juice all over it."
Gus sighed and glanced at his watch. The store closed in fifteen minutes, so there was still a chance they wouldn't reach his credit limit before they left.
"No. Absolutely not. No way. No."
"Geez, Dad, why don't you tell us how you really feel?"
Shawn and Gus stood facing Henry by the refrigerator. After five trips - each - Shawn and Gus had finally unloaded all of the baby purchases from the blueberry and were pleading with Henry to continue babysitting.
"Shawn, I'm not going to stay here all night watching her. You were the ones who wanted to wait until tomorrow to go to the police."
"Exactly. And we will take her to the police. Just as soon as you watch her for another hour or two so we can go see a body at the pier."
Henry crossed his arms. His face settled into a look that Shawn knew all too well. "Listen, kid, she's your responsibility tonight. I'm going home and going to bed."
Henry stormed off towards the front door, then paused by the desks. He turned around, glanced at the sleeping child, and hissed, "And you owe me fifty bucks."
"Fifty bucks?" Gus repeated, incredulous. "We were only gone for an hour!"
"You're paying me tomorrow," Henry growled, turning to leave. "By noon!"
"He'd never make it in the babysitters' club," Shawn told Gus, shaking his head woefully. "Kristy woud kick him out in a heartbeat."
"Shawn, what are we going to do? We can't bring her to the crime scene. One of us will have to stay here with her."
"One, two, three, not it!" Shawn blurted. He touched his finger to his nose for good measure.
"I'm not staying here alone with her," Gus declared, leaning back against the counter.
Shawn surveyed the room. He eyed the baby, the mounds of plastic bags filled with merchandise, and then his eyes settled on the coat rack. "Don't worry, Gus. I have a plan."
The coroner was almost done with the preliminary exam by the time Gus strode and Shawn waddled under the pier. Lassiter was standing next to the body, flipping through his notebook, while Juliet was off in the distance, comparing notes with some uniforms.
"Spencer, Guster, go home. You're not-" Lassiter stopped, his mouth gaping slightly. "Spencer, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Lassie, that's such a personal question. My therapist and I have been working on that for years."
"Shawn, you don't have a therapist," Gus reminded him.
"Fine, I've been watching Dr. Phil reruns. I'm really working on accessing my feelings, and right now I'm accessing the feeling that you're being a meaniehead."
Lassiter pointed at Shawn, whose chest bulged beneath a large trench coat buttoned to the chin. "Why do you look like you've grown a tumor overnight?"
"First of all," Shawn said, attempting to move his head indignantly but failing due to the height of the restrictive collar. "It's not a tumor," he said in his best Schwarzenegger. "Secondly, I'm as svelte as ever, but yes, I've gained a little weight recently, so I'll thank you not to mention it."
"He's very sensitive," Gus added.
"I'm not sensitive," Shawn snapped.
Gus made a face at Lassiter. "See?"
"Spencer, that's enough. What the hell's going on?"
Shawn pointed to the body on the ground. "There's a dead body afoot. Wait, is that right? Can a whole body be a foot? There's a dead body abody doesn't really make sense, though, does it?"
Lassiter ignored him and motioned to the coroner. "Have you been able to determine a TOD?"
"My initial findings indicate sometime around 2 to 3 days ago. I'll know more when I get the body down to the office and run some tests."
Shawn glanced at the body: waterlogged, male, Caucasian, with what looked like used to be a killer head of hair. He saw no sign of a struggle, he saw a wedding ring and a gaudy class ring. He saw a tan line where the thick strap of a watch used to be. Squinting, he saw a small puncture wound, probably from a needle, on his arm. A scenario played out in his head, clear as the psychic visions he pretended to see.
Shawn's hand shot up to his temple. "I'm sensing that this was no drowning accident. This man was drugged and thrown into the water."
Lassiter looked at the coroner, who shrugged. "This is my first week, so..." he trailed off apologetically. "I'll know more after toxicology."
Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Rookies," he muttered.
Juliet approached, her notebook open. "We have a witness. Saw two men carrying a limp body to the edge of the pier. The witness is sitting down with a sketch artist right n- what on earth is wrong with you, Shawn?"
All eyes turned to Shawn, who was staring down his collar at his chest. His jacket twitched. "Nothing."
Juliet took a step closer, squinting. "Is your jacket... moving?"
"No," Shawn said nervously, stepping backwards. "It's the breeze. That sweet, sweet ocean breeze. Right, Gus?"
"Right," Gus confirmed. "It's particularly breezy tonight."
Lassiter and Juliet were not convinced. They took a few steps towards Shawn. Lassiter's hand hovered above his gun. Shawn took two steps backwards, lost his footing, and fell on his butt. As he fell, he instinctively wrapped his arms around his chest instead of bracing himself for impact. As a result, he hit the ground hard, and although the wind was knocked out of him a small cry emanated from his chest.
And then the cry grew louder.