Alternate Universe "Psych"
Disclaimer: They are not mine. I don't make profit from this.
Would be best if you have seen both shows ("Psych" and "Magnificent Seven") or at least know about the characters; If you don't, then you'll just miss the inside jokes.
Thanks to Amanda for all her help.
The personalities (M7) and situations had been slightly altered to fit (P season 1); I have twisted the legal procedures, protocols and everything else I could get my hands on, just for the sake of the story.
Ezra is not the proper, mature and sad gambler we often see in the fan-fiction.
This is my attempt at our conman being young, carefree and happy. If you don't want to read about that I suggest skipping this story and reading any of my other stories about him.
Feedback is welcome (be kind; English is not my first language.)
Pineapples were not harmed in the writing of this story.
Ezra had a gift, as his mother called it; he was blessed with a photographic memory, amazing deductive skill and his silver tongue and unique mannerisms made him appear even more knowledgeable.
What he didn't seem to use while working at his new job were his great understanding of police procedures and the best training in all kinds of firearms, courtesy of one of his so many stepfathers, because he worked for the Four Corners P.D. as a consultant. . . a psychic consultant.
The story of how Ezra got a job with the FC PD was an unusual one.
"That's how all this began"
Flashback, 17 years ago
Four Corners Police Department locker room.
Officer Sanchez walked into the room in time to hear amused laughter and a half hearted complaint.
Intrigued, he got closer to the group of cops circling a double row of benches.
Apparently the fellow officers were engaged in a game of poker with a young kid.
"What the hell is going here?" Josiah thundered.
Instantly the rest of the officers remembered that they had to be in another place ASAP and left the room, leaving the sweet little boy with a bunch of money in his hands, and eyes as big as saucers.
"Care to explain?" Josiah asked, taking a seat across the green-eyed kid that he recognized; the child had been picked up in a raid to a clandestine gambling house that same day.
The worry showing in the kid's eyes let the officer know that the child remembered him from the raid.
The boy smiled slightly, enough to show his dimples. "Good afternoon, officer," he said nonchalantly. The carefree attitude didn't fool Josiah who saw the kid swallow nervously.
"I got lost in this big building and these kind officers were looking after me until my mother arrives?" explained the kid uncertainly.
"Your mother hasn't showed yet?" asked surprised the officer. It had been several hours since the raid; somebody should have contacted the child's parent by that time.
The kid shrugged. He didn't know.
Officer Sanchez ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath and looked at the kid. "You can't stay here."
The child flinched slightly. He had been waiting at a desk upstairs and had gotten bored. After a couple of ¨incidents¨, a nasty cop had cuffed him to a chair so the kid would stay put, not knowing that Ezra, even at his young age, was an expert at picking locks.
Getting the cuffs from one of his pockets, Ezra handed them to Josiah. "I don't need these. I'll try not to get in the way," he promised, worried at the anger that materialized in the cop's face.
Fortunately the officer recognized the flash of fear in the kid's face and forced himself to relax.
"Where did you get these?" he asked as calmly as he could, gesturing to the cuffs.
"I found them?" Ezra tried unconvincingly.
Then he sighed in defeat, "it's not as if I jumped bail or escaped Fort Laramie. . ."
Before the big man could say anything, two officers and the kid's mother rushed into the room. They had been looking for Ezra for the past hour.
Maude hurried to her child's side and hugged him, suppressing sobs and saying soothing words.
Had one of the officers paid attention to the kid they would have noticed the way he stiffened when her arms enveloped him or how he rolled his eyes at the sobs and words of comfort from his mother, but nobody noticed.
Not even Josiah, who was enthralled with the woman's beauty.
Over the next few days, Ezra went back to the station a few times to answer questions about the case. Later, the kid would show up during Josiah shifts ¨just to visit¨, he would say.
Josiah was impressed with the kid's curiosity, intelligence and good memory.
The big man was also awed by Maude's strength when the cop learned that the beautiful widow had, in her own words, ¨cared and raised her son without help¨.
Ezra would have snorted at that piece of information.
One afternoon Josiah found the boy, again, playing poker with off-duty cops.
The officers scattered as soon as the big man had cleared his throat.
Ezra blushed but stayed put and kept quiet.
Approaching, the big man asked as gently as he could; perceiving the child's discomfort, "Where did you learn to play poker?"
"Mother taught me. She says that I have a gift with the cards," the kid mumbled.
"Really? How is that?" asked the officer, intrigued, as he took a seat on the other bench.
Ezra looked at the clear blue eyes and in his naiveté tried to explain. "When I shuffle the deck I see bits of all the cards and I kind of know which cards are around and which are not after I deal them"
The kid nodded and lowered his head, ashamed. "But I can't do it with more than two packets; Mother said I have to practice more."
Josiah leaned slightly toward Ezra, clearly impressed. "Let me get this straight. . . you can memorize two packets of cards while you shuffle them and then remember to whom you give the cards after you deal them?"
Josiah observed the kid pensively for a moment admiring the potential of the young mind.
"Let's go, I'll give you a ride home," he finally said.
Ezra eyed the officer suspiciously. "Mother is not there," he said, now not so innocently.
Josiah blushed slightly, the kid had him pegged.
Chuckling, Josiah got to his feet. "Come on, I'll call my neighbors to ask if you can stay with them for a while. The Jacksons have a boy your age."
Ezra arched an eyebrow at the possibility of spending the day around an unknown boy, but Josiah continued before the child could utter a protest.
"You can't stay here at the station, I don't think the rest of the boys' pockets can afford it." He chuckled at the kid's blush. "But don't worry; Nathan is not as rambunctious as the other kids."
Josiah saw Ezra shudder.
"Oh, and no more betting money or games of chance," said the big officer as an afterthought.
The boy looked affronted. "I never let anything to chance," he mumbled.
Josiah heard the comment. // Did the kid just admit that he cheated? // he thought, and decided that he had to talk with the child's mother as soon as possible.
Less than a month later Josiah and Maude got married. However, less than a year later, Maude left the city, abandoning Josiah and carrying most of their savings.
The only explanation Ezra got as he and Maude left the city was that he was getting soft and too attached to the police officer and that Maude needed him sharp.
Over the following years, Ezra would appear at Josiah's doorstep and stay with him for short periods.
It was on these short visits that the big man got to see the real relationship between Ezra and his mother, which he'd missed during his marriage with Maude where she had projected a perfect picture.
Most of the times that Ezra was left with the officer were because the boy's presence wasn't required by Maude's ¨business¨, but neither Josiah nor Ezra minded as they usually enjoyed the time together.
Josiah also encouraged the only friendship Ezra had maintained for more than a few months. . . to the horror of Nathan's parents who saw the green eyed child as a bad influence for their son.
Ezra enjoyed being in Four Corners, it didn't matter if they did boring things like repairing Josiah's house, fishing, or playing some of the memory games that the old man liked.
He basked in the attention that the officer gave him.
At first it took a while for the green-eyed kid to learn to enjoy his childhood, to stop acting like an adult and enjoy experiencing new things, but after a while Ezra seemed to get stuck in that phase. . .
Unfortunately, that occurred when he should have started maturing and acting as an adult.
Part 1 "Nice to meet you"
Present year, one month ago, at a suburban neighborhood.
Josiah Sanchez had been waiting to hear the knock at his door since Chris Larabee, head detective of the Four Corners P.D., called him that morning.
The retired cop often helped as a consultant due to his experience and capacity at profiling suspects.
Instead of a knock he heard the powerful thrum of a motorcycle approaching and he opened the door to greet his unexpected visitor.
Ezra was taking off his helmet when he heard the old man stepping out in the porch. He was very proud of his new wheels and wanted to show them to Josiah.
With a big grin he turned to the door. "So, what do you think, preacher?" he asked, using the big man's nickname.
The man leaned on the veranda's support and put his hand under his chin in a thinking pose. "Too flashy," he concluded seriously.
Ezra's smile widened. "You're just too old to appreciate this beauty," he said walking up to the not-so-old man and hugging him fiercely.
The clearing of a throat let Josiah know that Larabee had arrived at last.
Patting Ezra's back before completely releasing the young man, the older man turned to the officer.
"Mr. Sanchez," greeted the blond coldly. "Here are the reports that the chief sent for you." He handed a thick folder to the retired cop.
Ezra, in a second, analyzed the head of detectives with an arched brow; the hair and attitude made him think of the rude cop that had handcuffed him as a child.
Josiah took the folder and opened it to survey the files. Not noticing the quick scan that Ezra did to the papers as the ex-cop turned the pages.
Hurried steps announced the arrival of Larabee's partner.
"Josiah!" a dark haired man called loudly and offered his hand to the best profiler he knew.
"Good to see you, Buck," laughed the older man, taking the offered hand in his strong grip. "Can I offer you a drink inside?" Josiah invited, gesturing towards his home.
Chris flinched almost imperceptibly.
Ezra noticed the flinch and stored the information unconsciously.
"We have to go back to the precinct," stated the blond.
Buck shrugged apologetically.
"Call us if you get something from the files."
"You are kidding, right?" Ezra exploded laughing. "It's been almost a month since those robberies. . . and the police still don't know?"
Josiah saw the anger building in Larabee's eyes. "Ezra," he tried to warn, but it was too late.
"Pleeease," Ezra whined, "it was the manager!"
"He has an alibi," Buck pointed out. "His neighbor saw him at home that night."
Josiah searched, in the papers he had, for the alibi's statement.
Ezra almost rolled his eyes. "Well, the manager couldn't have done it alone"
"So his alibi was his accomplice?" Buck frowned. "But those two guys hate each other!"
"Wouldn't hurt to check it," said Josiah still reading.
"Guess not," Buck mumbled in acceptance.
"What? Because the kid says so?" snarled Larabee.
Ezra took a step closer to the detectives, "Ezra P. Standish, at your service" he said with a bow and the flourish of a hand.
"It's my advice," replied Josiah firmly, "and I'll like to be present when you talk with both of them, if it's not a problem with you, detective."
"Me too!" shouted Ezra with a big grin. To tease the cop was the natural thing for him to do, like getting Nathan in trouble, or doing the opposite of Maude's wishes.
"You," Chris growled pointing at the young man "this better work out or I'll arrest you for obstructing an investigation."
Josiah had had enough and rose to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest, effectively filling Chris's line of vision with his frame. "Would you arrest me too?" he growled.
Behind him Ezra mumbled quietly, "Oh, man. We are shaking in our sneakers and. . . sandals?"
He eyed his old friend's footwear with suspicion.
Buck coughed, suppressing his laugh as he had heard the young man's words. "Josiah, you have to understand that, well, we have just given you the files and. . ." he trailed off. He didn't want to attract the older man's fury.
The mustached man cleared his throat and asked Ezra, "Just tell us, how do you know?"
Ez climbed down the porch steps and looked innocently at the detectives. "It's in the papers."
"Delivery, robbery. . . the dates" Ezra said as if that really explained all; for him it was obvious.
Chris took out his cuffs.
Ezra's eyes widened. //say something, say anything! // he thought.
"The. . . spirits told me?" //did I really just say that?!// he cringed; ready to bolt from the place.
Fortunately, Buck interfered with a cheery attitude. "You're a psychic?" he asked in awe.
"Of course he's not!" shouted Chris, annoyed.
"Why?" Ezra threw back, "because you say so?" He smirked. "You can't prove that I'm not."
Both men's green eyes narrowed stubbornly in a glare contest.
"I'll get the real robber and prove you're a fraud!" Chris vowed and stormed off.
"Good luck," Ezra taunted.
Buck turned his gaze from Chris's retreating form to the younger man and back to his partner. His face broke in the biggest grin Josiah had seen in a while.
Watching Buck sprint to join his partner in the car, Josiah turned to Ezra and shook his head disapprovingly. "The spirits told you?"
The young man shrugged. "It was the first thing that came to my mind. . . well, the third. . . first I had a déjà-vu of cuffs and police stations," he shuddered remembering the incident.
Josiah slapped him slightly on the head. "And the déjà-vu made you into a psychic? "The spirits told me" he mimicked. "It's the stupidest thing you could have said."
Ezra's eyes shined mischievously. "Well, I was going to say that aliens from outer space told me."
The ex-cop opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head again "Right. That would have been worse," he admitted.
Josiah stepped closer and seized the shorter man by the shoulders locking gazes with him. "Why didn't you just tell the truth!"
Ezra took a deep breath and looked at the clear blue eyes of his friend seriously. "He wouldn't have believed me. . ." before he smirked, "and the truth. . . is not this much fun!"
Josiah shook his head and went inside his home.
Ezra opened his arms, pleading innocence with his stance. "Hey, I never claimed to be a psychic. I just didn't deny being one!"
That afternoon, in the news:
"Police investigators are now saying it was the store manager and his neighbor who masterminded the store robberies. . ."
Next day, at the FCPD precinct
Larabee was sure that the psychic guy was a fraud, even after solving the robberies, but Buck Wilmington, his partner, had heard of psychics helping the FBI, so Buck thought that if Standish was a true psychic, he could help them with the hardest cases.
Knowing that convincing Chris about it was near impossible, Buck searched all he could about the kid's records, and went directly to the chief of police, Orin Travis, and convinced him of giving the young man a 30 day trial period to prove that he could be an asset to the department.
Travis had read the file the detectives had for Standish and recognized the other prominent name there. Orin trusted Josiah Sanchez's reputation as consultant and profiler.
So Travis agreed to give Ezra a chance and that was how the young man began his job as a psychic consultant.
Part 2 "Getting the job done"
Present year, one week ago.
Ezra Standish entered the Four Corners PD, and instinctively took notice of everything and everybody there.
Standish made himself at home at the head detective's desk, scattering the neatly arranged folders to take a quick look at the documents.
Ezra didn't find anything interesting in them so he sat back to watch the organized chaos of the bullpen.
"Hey, Ez" greeted Buck, before he headed out of the building.
Ezra smiled and waved back at the friendly mustached detective; out of the corner of his eyes, Ezra saw that the owner of the desk was quickly approaching, and in a bad mood.
"Standish," growled the blond detective, "get out of my chair, now!"
The green eyed man smiled. "And good day to you too, Mr. Chris!" he greeted innocently.
"It's Detective Larabee to you!" growled the taller man, glaring menacingly at the psychic.
"Of course, Sir," Ezra said while slowly abandoning the chair. "You know, with a glare like that, you could have been a gunfighter in the old west with the reputation of killing your opponents without even breaking leather."
"Standish," the warning came from behind him, making Ez jump slightly.
"Chief Travis," Ezra greeted the older man.
"Come with me," the Chief of Police ordered, and gestured to his office.
Ezra was quick; he darted inside before the older man, and commandeered the Chief's chair.
Orin usually enjoyed the young man's antics; they were refreshing after having to deal with hardened criminals all day long. However, he had to maintain the image of the hardened boss so he suppressed the chuckle that was forming, turning it to a rumble.
He arched an eyebrow at the smirking man who got out of the stuffed chair and explained, "just warming it for you, Chief."
Not believing the younger man for a second, Travis took a deep breath. "Don't mess with Chris today, kid."
Ezra closed his eyes and positioned a hand at his temple. Josiah had suggested the action long ago to prevent the child from cheating while exercising his memory; now he did it unconsciously while concentrating. . . and consciously while faking a vision.
"Hmm, bad day at the court," Ezra said.
He didn't need to be a psychic to know that, as Larabee's most recent case had been all over the news.
"Just leave him alone. There are more important things to do," Travis said, taking an envelope from his desk. "I have good news for you."
"Really?" inquired Ezra animatedly. "Could it be a subscription to Psychic Weekly? No, wait," he exclaimed adopting his usual pose of concentration.
"I'm getting images of handcuffs, blond hair. . . Oh, Chief, either you have something to explain to your wife or those papers are about Chris trying to arrest me last month."
Handing him the document, Travis explained. "Those are about your probation period as a consultant and also my personal request that the mention of your childhood visit here is erased from your record. It shouldn't have been in your expedient at all since you were a minor, and not under arrest."
"Wow!" For a second or two, Ezra was wordless, he never expected the Chief to vouch for him on the old matter, but recovering quickly he tried to cover his reaction. "The thirty days are over? Time really flies when you are having fun!"
Orin wasn't sure if Ezra said it in reference to the cases he had solved or about the enjoyment the green-eyed man had while antagonizing Detective Larabee.
Fortunately for the community, the challenge that the young psychic represented had kept the blond detective focused in his work and it had reflected in the entire department solving rates.
Ezra seemed to read Travis thoughts. "Don't worry Chief, you could still call me if you need help with a case, I've been thinking about becoming a P.I."
"A private investigator?" asked the old man, surprised.
Ezra chuckled, "No, a Psychic Investigator. . . or maybe a PD- WGFS it means a Psychic Detective With Great Fashion Sense. . . I'm counting on Nathan to be my sidekick and. . ."
"I get the idea," interrupted Travis, having met Nathan. "But it would be better if you take these papers to the court hall and to Judge Vaughn so you don't have problems with your records before you start the business." He gestured toward the envelope in the young man's lap.
"Good thinking, Chief," Ezra said and his hand went to his temple. "I can sense Nathan getting close."
The Chief directed a surprised glance at Ezra as, through his window, Travis saw the young dark skinned man arriving at the bullpen.
Standish was sitting with his back to the window; he couldn't have seen Nathan before Orin did, could he?
Ezra grinned mischievously and refocused his gaze toward the framed picture hanging in Travis's wall where he could see the reflection of the bullpen area and where he had seen Nathan arriving.
Before his smartly dressed best friend managed to open the door, Ezra sprinted from his chair, yanked open the door, threw a "see you later, Chief" over his shoulder, and pushed Nathan all the way out of the building.
Nathan managed to stay silent until they got to the parking lot of the P.D. before turning, to face his best friend.
"I'm not moving until you tell me what was so urgent, because as you should remembers I have a job and a responsibility with the company, so I have to finish my rounds" He stated firmly.
"We're going to the court house," Ezra explained, trying to pull Nathan forward. It was a funny sight because of the body mass difference between the men; Ezra had always been shorter than his friend and his hyperactivity predisposed him toward a slim frame, while Nathan (to Ezra's despair) had grew almost as tall and muscular as Josiah.
Nathan became worried. "To the Supreme Court? What did you do this time?"
"Nathe, you worried porcupine, I didn't . . . well, technically I did, but it was a long time ago, and soon it will be like I never did what I didn't really do but that everybody thought I had. You get it?"
Nathan, used to Ezra's tangents, stood firmly and looked his friend right in the eye. "I told you, I'm not moving until you explain what's happening!"
"No, the requisite to get you moving was that I answer what was so urgent and I already did, so if you still don't want to go, I'll be back for you in a couple of hours," said Ezra tossing a key-ring in the air and catching it again.
Nathan recognized his key ring and instinctively he patted the pocket of his trousers, even though he already knew that it was empty.
Ezra smirked and walked towards Nathan's small car. "Come on, get into the Psych-Mobile and I'll explain on the way."
Nathan hurried after his friend. "How many times do I have to tell you, this is not the Psych-Mobile, it's the company's car and I shouldn't be using it to drive you anywhere!"
"Please Nathe, if I go on my motorcycle my hair wouldn't be at its best, and I have to look good for the judge. Remember: appearances are everything," Ezra explained, getting in the driver's seat of the car.
"You haven't worried about appearances since you were a kid," Nathan snorted.
"Wait a minute. . . a judge? What are you. . ." he trailed off as Ezra started the car.
As fast as he could, Nathan jumped in the passenger seat, securing his seatbelt.
In the parking lot, Detective Buck Wilmington laughed out loud having witnessed the younger men's theatrics.
He knew that the 30 days probation were close to end, and knew of Travis intention to clear Standish's file so the police department could officially hire the young psychic as a consultant.
Buck chuckled, remembering Chris's face when the Chief had told them his intentions; Ezra tended to exasperate Larabee so easily that other officers had a bet running about how long it would take before Chris shot the younger man.
The mustached man took a deep breath and thanked God for the day that the psychic had entered their lives.
Just one day before that, Buck had been ready to abandon his ten year friendship with Larabee. . . or kill the blond to free Chris of his misery.
Buck remembered how the months before Ezra appeared Chris had been depressed and drinking more than his share because his wife was gone.
Wilmington had tried to help Chris, but the situation at the P.D. had been ready to blow as Travis noticed the recurrent red eyes and un-kept air of Chris and sometimes Buck.
Then the miracle happened: Ezra P. Standish's presence was like a bucket of cold water on the head to the blond detective.
Now Chris got to work early each day and focused on the cases trying to solve them before the young psychic could even see the files.
The young man even helped Chris when he had a little confidence crisis without the blond detective knowing.
//Chris still tries to prove that Ezra isn't a psychic// Buck thought //but if he's a liar then how does he solve all those cases? //
In the end, it didn't matter to Buck; he just hoped that Ezra Standish, Psychic Consultant of the Four Corners' Police Department and Nathan Jackson, his loyal (but sometimes reluctant) sidekick, stayed around for a long, long time.
Part 3 "The old court days"
Flashback: 16 years ago, Four Corners' Court House
Officer Josiah Sanchez checked that his uniform looked good before climbing down out of his truck. At his side, young Ezra Standish mimicked the officer's mannerisms brushing imaginary dust from his little dress jacket.
"We look good, don't you think?" asked Josiah with a toothy grin.
"Yes, Sir," answered the child. "One must always look his best, especially if you are going to be around important people."
Josiah sighed, he really appreciated that Maude always looked at her best, but wasn't sure it should be a priority for the 11 year old, even if in this case it helped the officer.
Josiah had a court appearance and needed to take Ezra with him since Maude had previous engagements, the Jackson's were out of the city and it was too short notice to call a babysitter.
Deciding to turn the experience into something useful to the continue training he planned for the child, he introduced Ezra to the court's protocols, explaining the role played by each person and then asking the child the names and details of every person he had described along the way.
In the court room the child behaved wonderfully, paying rapt attention to the lawyers, witnesses and judge.
Ezra was awed by the place and the formality of the situation and Josiah had to chuckle when the kid declared that some day he would be at that same place helping the cops get the criminals behind bars.
In the years after Maude and Ezra left, the officer often remembered that day at the courts and the proud gaze the child gave him while Josiah was at the stand.
Part 4 "The Courthouse"
Present year, last week.
When Ezra Standish entered the courthouse, he instinctively took notice of everything and everybody there, his photographic memory noticing every detail.
He quickly found where he needed to hand the papers that the Chief gave him, and was a little disappointed when he was informed that Judge Vaughn was too busy to look at them right away but that the secretary would contact him to give Ezra a date for a hearing.
Nathan knew that Ezra wanted to press the secretary and intervened before his friend's mouth would get them kicked out or arrested.
"Thank you. We'll be expecting your call. Have a nice day," the taller man said hurriedly.
Ezra rolled his eyes at his friend's apprehension. "You really need to learn to relax, buddy!" said Ezra when they were far enough from the secretary.
With you around? No can do, buddy// thought Nathan. Out loud, he said, "I know you Ez, and I don't intend to get in trouble in the city where I live."
Ezra smiled evilly, "Ok, we can always go back to México and get in trouble there."
Nathan stopped in his tracks.
"Forget it Ez, I'm not going outside of the country with you again." Then, thinking it over, he added, "or to another state, or another city. . . maybe I'll just avoid you entirely."
Without turning to look at his tall friend, Ezra nodded and chuckled, knowing that over the 17 years of their friendship Nathan had threatened something similar many times, but, fortunately, had never followed through.
As Ezra walked down the corridor, he saw a group leaving one of the rooms by a side entrance and walking towards him.
In just a few seconds Ezra had already determined that the long haired man was the one on trial, that the nervous young dark haired man was the lawyer or at least a legal advisor, that the 3 men behind them were the guards, and that to deserve three guards the charges had to be serious.
While Ezra was watching and musing, a man in an expensive suit passed the group and almost collided with a young woman who, in the avoiding maneuver, dropped her purse and some papers she had in her hands.
In an instant the longhaired man helped her to recover her balance, picked up her papers and purse, handed them to her, then yanked the dark haired lawyer at his side so the young man didn't walked into a column while distracted by the woman.
All without breaking stride.
Ezra, surprised, arched an eyebrow at the man's actions. The woman, also surprised, mumbled a thank you and left in a rush.
The long haired man looked directly at Ezra, and blushed, smiling as if he had not expected the thanks and was embarrassed that the green eyed man witnessed it, but continued his journey with his escorts.
Knowing that Nathan was close behind, Ezra turned slightly and asked the taller man, "Did you see that?"
"Yeah," said Nathan, "she is pretty."
"Not the girl," Ezra sighed. "But if she did something different with her hair she would look gorgeous." At Nathan's knowing smile Ezra shrugged. It wasn't his fault that he noticed ¨everything¨.
"I was talking about the man who helped her."
"What about him?" Nathan asked.
Ezra snapped his fingers as he remembered all the headlines he had seen in the last days. "He's the one accused of killing a guy. . . some guy in a warehouse," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"The man who was beaten to death? It was gross." Nathan shuddered. "They will need DNA to identify the poor man."
"Yes, that one, but he didn't do it." Ezra stated confidently.
"A witness saw him leaving the crime scene," recalled Nathan.
Blocking the noise and distractions around him, Ezra's hand instinctively went to his temple and he closed his eyes, remembering all he had seen on the news.
"This guy was a soldier with a classified file, probably black ops or something like that, so the people assumed he's capable of violence but, really, those guys are so good that he wouldn't have made such a mess to kill a guy."
Ezra opened his eyes. "That man was trained at covert ops; he doesn't make a sound when he walks... that somebody saw him as he got away from the crime scene is so improbable!"
"Exactly" said Nathan, "Improbable is not the same as impossible."
"Thank you, Mr. Thesaurus," teased Ezra, "but I know he's not guilty, and that he'll need my help to prove it."
"He doesn't have to prove that he's not guilty. The other guys have to prove that he is guilty," Nathan explained.
Ezra rolled his eyes at his friend naiveté. "Not in a case like this one. People only have to doubt his innocence for him to go to jail."
"And how can you be sure he's not guilty?" Nathan asked.
Ezra looked straight at his friend eyes. "The spirits told me," he answered.
"Ezra, cut the crap and tell me or. . ."
"Or you won't move from that spot," finished Ezra.
"Please Nathan. That was fun when we were teenagers and you grew up like mad and I couldn't drag you anywhere anymore, but we are adults now. I think it's time you acted like a grown up instead of just looking like one."
At that, Nathan did a good imitation of a fish out of water.
"How dare you!" he exclaimed indignantly when his ability to talk returned.
"YOU, accusing ME of being immature!"
Ezra just gave him his most innocent face.
Nathan wasn't fooled. "You can't trick me," he said "I see the truth in the glint in your eyes."
"Exactly!" exclaimed Ezra.
"If you had pay attention to that man's eyes you could have seen that he's not guilty. People that want to look innocent can do a lot of things," he gestured wildly, "they especially avoid direct eye contact because everybody knows that the eyes are the windows to the soul and you can't change that, no matter how hard you try."
Nathan was a little confused, as he always was while trying to follow Ezra's line of thought. "You telling me you saw his soul?"
Ezra paused. "Maybe I did," then smiled brightly and sprinted pass Nathan, toward where the group had headed.
"Let's go offer our services, come on!" he yelled over his shoulder.
"Ezra!" cried Nathan in disbelief, but his friend was far enough to pretend he hadn't heard.
//Well, I always wanted to be a lawyer. . . I even took that course at law school. . .// thought Nathan and hurried to Ezra's side.
//Just hope I don't have to see pictures of the beaten man; I can't stand the sight of bloody things.//
Part 5 "The trial begins"
Present year, one week ago.
To get into the room, Ezra sneaked past a group of reporters that crowded the doors and the guard.
As he entered, he instinctively took notice of everything and everybody there.
Somehow Nathan and Ezra managed to take seats in the front row. The DA had already finished his speech claiming that the accused, Vincent Tanner, was a public menace and a murderer that needed to be put away for life.
Now it was Tanner's lawyer's turn to speak, but the young man was nervous and seemed to have trouble with his own notes.
The Judge, annoyed at the delay, suggested a short recess.
Ezra smiled at the opportunity and used the time to approach the dark haired lawyer.
"Hello, Mr. Dunne is it? My name is Ezra Standish and I'm a psychic with the FCPD."
The young man sighed. "Good for you, but I can't talk right now," he said and turned back to his notes.
Ezra narrowed his eyes, remembering the jury's reaction when the young lawyer looked through his notes tensely, and recalled one of the women looking disgusted and acting blatantly bored.
"Somebody in the jury doesn't like you," said Ezra getting the lawyer's attention.
Standish closed his eyes and focused in the memory of the female juror with the expensive dress and jewelry. "She's the one in the first row, she doesn't like y. . ."
"Well, I don't like her either," interrupted the lawyer.
Ezra threw a side-glance to the woman and compared her mannerisms with those of his mother. //She is so fashion-addict// he thought.
"She dislikes how you look," he clarified. "Let me see," he said assessing the appearance of the smaller man.
"The shiny black hair and the style give you a friendly-boyish look, the suit looks good enough even if the color is a little somber, clean shoes, you're not ugly. . ."
"Thank you. . . I think," mumbled Dunne.
"You need to look more confident: don't slouch, get your head up, look at the people not at the ground, let them see your eyes so they can trust you, you already know what you are going to say, don't you?" he asked.
Ezra smiled. At least the man wasn't mumbling anymore.
"Yuck!" the green eyed man almost shouted before remembering where they were. "Let's get rid of the handkerchief and the tie, we need something that matches your new image, something that breaks the somber look, to show the people that you are optimist." Ezra snapped his fingers and turned to Nathan. "Lend me your tie."
"What?" asked Nathan surprised "No, this is one of my best ones; is silk and. . ."
"We have no time to argue Nathan, the Judge is ready again, just lend me your tie."
Nathan scowled at Ezra, fuming as he complied and passed his tie to his best friend.
Standish switched the ties.
The lawyer was looking better now, standing straight and with a touch of color in his wardrobe.
Ezra nodded to himself and caught the intrigued look on Tanner's face at the other end of the table before the Judge called order and the hearing recommenced.
The young attorney spoke loud and clear, calling special attention to Tanner's time in the army, the commendations, actions and medals, and lack of criminal record.
It was a good speech and Dunne was glad to notice that the jury had been receptive, even the woman who frowned at him earlier.
The judge then declared that they would continue the trial after lunch and dismissed the audience.
Ezra jumped the partition and went to the lawyer's side. "I told you, man!" he exclaimed proudly. "You gave them something to think about."
Dunne smiled brilliantly. "Yeah, thanks." But then the despaired look came back and he slouched and gazed to the floor. "Look, I'm really grateful for your help, and I'll be glad to hire you. . . but I can't; my boss doesn't really want. . ."
"To win?" interrupted Ezra.
"No," said the lawyer, puzzled. "He doesn't like. . ."
"Salsa in his chips?" interrupted Ezra again.
"What?" Dunne was really confused now.
"Your boss, he doesn't really want. . . what?" asked the fake psychic.
"Oh. It's the case. He wouldn't take it; said it was a lost cause and there would be too much media coverage so. . ."
"Don't worry I'll take care of the media," stated Ezra, "and you wouldn't need your boss authorization or anything because you won't be hiring us."
Standish saw a flash of disappointment in the lawyer's eyes and hurried to explain. "Because we'll do it for free."
Dunne was perplexed. "You will?"
"Of course we will," Ezra stated, smiling.
"You have the potential to be a fantastic lawyer; all you need is more confidence and. . ." he paused for a dramatic effect. "The best psychic-legal counsel around. So let's go see your notes and everything," said Ezra and sprinted out of the courtroom, leaving behind the dumbfounded lawyer.
Outside Ezra saw Detective Larabee in the hall next to a beautiful woman, and Ezra waved in greeting, but Chris' gaze went past the fake psych, directed behind the shorter man.
Curious, Ezra turned and saw that, at the end of the corridor the guards were escorting Tanner.
Feeling the eyes on him, the longhaired man turned toward the men and ignoring Ezra too, nodded at the cop before going into a room.
Intrigued, Ezra approached the detective "Mr. Chris," he greeted, receiving the standard growl: "It's Detective Larabee to you," which the psychic ignored, as always.
"I noticed you watching Mr. Tanner across the hall, do you know him? Maybe from your time in the army?" asked Ezra.
Chris glared at the younger man. "Who told you I was in the army?"
Ezra just smiled.
Larabee grimaced. "I arrested Tanner," stated the detective.
"Really?" asked Ezra "judging by the soap opera moment I thought you were long lost siblings separated at birth, or that maybe you were one of those fanatics with criminal's faces printed on t-shirts to show them your support, but not that you were the one who threw the guy in a cell."
Ezra saw Chris's eyes cringe involuntarily at his words.
"But I'm sensing something," said the fake psychic, waving his hands at the detective. "Discomfort, doubt and. . . are you thirsty?"
Larabee clenched his hands to keep them from wringing the younger man's neck.
The blond had been receiving commentaries hinting that Ezra suspected his drinking problem, but why would the kid know anything? It wasn't as if Chris, even drunk, would give that kind of information.
The woman next to Larabee didn't look happy either and tried to get the detective away from the younger man. "Have you been discussing the case with everybody?" she asked, fuming.
Larabee got angrier. "Maybe I should, as the D.A. and the judge's office have been ignoring me."
Ezra got between the irritated pair and redirected the detective's attention towards himself before Larabee did something he would regret. "Ok, big boy, go to your corner to refresh before the next round."
"Who do you think you are?" asked the woman, annoyed.
Ezra put on his best fake smile before answering. "I'm Ezra Standish, head psychic with the FCPD."
He narrowed his eyes, remembering where he had seen the woman before, and the comments he had heard about her around the PD.
"And you are Mrs. Gaines, you work. . . with a judge, oh! Not just any judge, but Judge Leland! The one in charge of Mr. Tanner's trial! Wow! That you've been ignoring the arresting detective would affect the case; would look bad for your boss, too," finished the fake psychic.
Larabee smiled at Ella's enraged expression.
"And you know what else?" continued the fake psychic. "I am working with Mr. Dunne as a legal consultant for Tanner's case and we will be glad to hear what the detective has to say."
The men left the judge's assistant and went to talk with Nathan and the lawyer.
There, the detective explained that he had doubts about the case and had sent a memo to the DA's office that questioned whether Tanner had any motive at all for the killing, but the memo was never admitted into evidence and the DA hadn't explained why.
"Well?" Nathan asked after Larabee explained.
John Dunne stayed in silence.
Ezra shrugged. "I'm not sensing anything," he said and smiled. "That means that Mr. Larabee may be on the right path."
"How so?" asked John.
"I'm not sensing anything, because there was no motive for Tanner to kill the guy; and there was no motive for him to make the bloody mess at the warehouse," the conman explained.
"That means that we need to focus on the witness thing," he concluded.
Nathan and JD nodded and took the heavy folders with the forensic reports, transcripts, witness lists and testimonies.
The psychic shuddered and shook his head.
"Guys," Ezra said to Nathan and the lawyer. "The geek types can do the reading. I need to go to the real source."
Larabee, quickly deciphering the meaning, stated: "You are not going to the crime scene."
"I need to go there to see, to smell. . . to feel the truth!" The young man waved his hands in the air, then with a smile and batting his eyes at the blond detective he teased, "You can come too, if you are so worried about me. I knew you cared!"
The detective narrowed his eyes. "In your dreams, Standish."
"I wanted to go," Nathan said petulantly.
He wasn't pleased with the plans; after all, he was Ezra's partner.
The fake psychic smiled at his oldest friend. "Sorry pal, but I don't need a partner who, if there is blood on the floor, runs away screaming like a girl."
The black skinned man recoiled and tried to defend his reaction. "Once, Ez. It happened once and it was because there were dead bodies in the room." But he understood that it was for the best that Larabee went with Ezra.
The conman chuckled. "You know Nathe, it's a good thing that that advanced program you took in college was about law and not anatomy."
Nathan rolled his eyes at the jibe, while Ezra went toward the door. "Well, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen. I have a crime scene to break into," he said and left.
JD and Nathan chuckled as Larabee ran after the fake psychic growling, "Standish!"
Part 6 "To the warehouse and back"
Present year, still one week ago.
When Ezra Standish arrived at the warehouse, he instinctively took notice of everything; his photographic memory noticing every detail.
"Well, Mr. Chris, I need to get an impression of the place. You can wait here. . ."
"Forget it, Standish," interrupted the detective.
"Come on," replied the fake psychic. "We'll synchronize our watches and. . ."
"Standish! I said forget it! I'm going with you." Larabee was trying to stay calm; he knew that if there were something the cops missed the psychic would find it.
Chris just hoped Ezra would do it fast and without the usual theatrics.
"You don't even have a watch," he stated.
Ezra shrugged. "You're right, but it's not my fault that the fruity cereals give only rings and not watches in their boxes." He smiled.
"Ok, we can go back to the Court House now."
Larabee was stunned. "What? You're not going to flap your arms, have a seizure or something?"
Ezra's poker face would have made Maude proud as he said primly, "Please, Mr. Chris, I thought that by now you had the basics in reading spiritual clues. It makes me sad to discover that you still are a non believer." He sighed dramatically and turned toward the exit.
//Next time I'll let Jackson babysit him// thought Chris, without acknowledging the fact that as Ezra's 30 day probation period so close to an end, maybe there wouldn't be a next time.
In the ride back, Larabee was worried, but this time Ezra had unnerved the detective without trying to.
Standish was quiet, a hand over his closed eyes and hadn't uttered a word; he was focusing on what he saw at the warehouse.
Ezra was so focused that Larabee startled him when he announced that they were back at the court house parking lot.
Getting out of the car, Ezra's quick look around had interesting results as he noticed Judge Leland a few rows ahead, getting out of his car with some difficulty.
The fake psychic found it strange because the judge wasn't too old but then the judge put his hand on his back as in pain.
Letting Larabee go ahead a little as they went toward the entrance of the building, Ezra walked slower than usual, thinking, before picking up his pace and reaching the entrance door at the same time as Larabee, managing to dart inside before the detective.
The group with Tanner, which included Dunne and the three guards, went back to the courtroom.
Ezra grabbed Nathan just outside of the room and gestured toward where the judge was standing. "He's grouchy 'cause he has a back ache," he said.
Nathan saw the judge rubbing the back of his waist and shook his head. "No, a kidney stone is more like it."
Ezra arched his eyebrow at his friend. "Ouch" he said, and followed Nathan to their seats.
Standish had started writing notes over JD's notes, when he saw Nathan tense.
At the same moment the judge called the court to order to begin the proceedings.
"What's wrong Nathe?" Ezra murmured, still writing.
Nathan mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "Your father is here."
Knowing that was impossible as Nathan had never met the elder Standish, Ezra asked, confused, "What did you say?"
Around them the trial continued; the witness was called to the stand and the DA started the questioning.
Nathan swallowed audibly. "Mr. Sanchez is here," he hissed and turned to look at his best friend.
"Do you think he found out about the trial and came to see you?" he asked.
"How could he? We've been here for less than a day!" Ezra was confused but his best friend just shrugged.
Standish glanced back, and Josiah waved at him.
As the witness's story progressed the case became more shadowy.
Mr. Yates revealed that he had seen the dead man arguing with Tanner earlier that day in a bar and that later he saw Tanner leaving the warehouse with blood on his clothes and hands.
"Are you sure it was Tanner?" JD asked the witness. "I mean you were at a bar, there was smoke and noise, and you had a few drinks in you."
"I had just one beer and I saw Tanner clearly in the bar, he was facing me while he argued," said Yates.
JD took a deep breath. "If you were facing Tanner, then how can you be sure the man you saw arguing with him was the now dead man?"
Yates wasn't fazed in the least. "Because I knew Jess Kincaid, he was a regular at the bar like me."
"But you didn't see his face," pressed JD.
"He was wearing his usual jacket and baseball cap," said Yates.
J.D swallowed. "But you didn't see his face," he insisted.
"No," Yates admitted.
"No more questions," said JD.
Ezra stood up. "We do have more questions!" he exclaimed.
"Who are you?" asked the judge, annoyed at the interruption.
"My name is Ezra P. Standish, at your service. I'm a psychic consultant for Mr. Tanner's lawyer."
The DA turned to Dunne "Oh, please!" he said sarcastically. "Your firm used to have standards."
The comment caused some giggles and chuckles from the crowd.
Judge Leland called order before ordering the lawyers to approach him. "What's the meaning of this?" he asked JD.
Ezra quickly went to JD's side. "I have worked with the FCPD. You can call the chief and he would vouch for me," he said hurriedly.
The judge looked over the people in the room; he knew there was a detective on the witness list. He found the blond detective; the head detective was well known around the town and the judge had had him on the stand a few times before. "Detective Larabee, do you know this man?"
The blond stood. "Yes, sir," answered the detective.
"Has he worked for the police department as consultant?"
"Yes sir," repeated Larabee.
"Can you vouch for him?" inquired the judge.
Recalling Chris's reluctance to work with him, Ezra interjected nervously. "You should really call Chief Travis. . ."
The judge ignored Ezra. "Detective Larabee, has this man helped the PD at all?"
"Yes, sir, he has." Larabee's mouth twisted slightly in what could pass as a little smile.
He wouldn't vouch for the conman as a psychic since he was pretty sure the kid was a fake, but the judge had changed the question and the second one he could answer honestly.
//Apart from all the cases the kid has interfered in, I know that he helped Buck plan the PD's Halloween party so technically Standish had helped the PD//
Ezra turned wide eyes from the judge to JD. "Did he say what I heard him saying?" he scanned the crowd to recover from the shock.
"Hope somebody is recording this, I just have to have that on tape. I could swear Mr. Larabee even smiled for a second!"
The DA was fuming. "Your honor, you can't allow this farce in your court room!" he exclaimed.
The judge glared angrily at the DA. "It's not for you to decide who I let in my court room, Mr. Richmond." He pointed to JD. "I can't stop you from having legal or psychic consultants, but I will not let them interrupt the procedures, is that clear?" asked the judge.
The fake psychic hurried to answer. "I understand, your honor, and. . . ouch!" Ezra trailed off and seeing that he had the attention of the three men he gripped the judge's desk hard. "The pain is strong!"
The judge was the first to ask. "What did you say?"
Ezra blinked at the older man. "It's a kidney stone, isn't it?"
The older man stared at the psychic in awe.
"I would be grumpy, too," said Ezra sympathetically.
Judge Leland was astonished. "But. . . but I haven't told anyone!"
Ezra smiled sweetly. "It wasn't necessary; I can feel your pain as clear as I can feel that Mr. Yates is not telling all the truth."
"You do?" asked JD and the DA at the same time.
Ezra nodded and gave Dunne a piece of paper with some questions written on it. "I think we should continue if we want to find out what really happened."
The judge, not completely recovered from the shock of what he thought was a psychic reading, nodded at Tanner's lawyer.
The three men left the judge's bench.
JD scanned the paper and cleared his throat. "Mr. Yates, you saw Mr. Tanner at the bar arguing with a man?"
"Later you saw Mr. Tanner leaving a warehouse with blood on his clothes?"
"The same warehouse where the body of Jess Kincaid was found by the police that night?"
"And you came to the police that same night and identified Tanner as the killer of Jess Kincaid?"
The DA was becoming annoyed. "Your honor, Mr. Yates already answered those questions."
The judge wasn't fazed. "Mr. Dunne?"
JD smiled and looked at the jury. "Of course Mr. Yates has already answered those four questions, but the fifth question is: how could Mr. Yates know that the blood he said he saw on Vin Tanner and that the body in the warehouse was Jess Kincaid when the police needed a DNA test to ID the body?"
All the members of the jury looked with interest toward the witness stand waiting for Yates's answer, but JD hadn't finished yet.
"Isn't it suspicious that Mr. Yates was the one paying attention to two strangers ARGUING in a bar, when NO ONE ELSE noticed them, and later he was the only one around the warehouse to notice Tanner and his SUPPOSEDLY bloody clothes?"
"No, I wasn't the only one!" shouted Yates. "My friend Eli Joe saw them too in the bar but he left early and I was waiting for him outside the warehouse."
"Are you sure?" asked JD "There was no mention of a friend in your previous testimony."
Sitting next to Tanner, Ezra saw Vin flinch and his attempt to stand, when Yates mentioned his friend Eli Joe, the conman called Nathan urgently; only Ezra's quick reflexes and Nathan's bulk stopped the longhaired man.
"The bastard set me up!" growled Tanner, almost to himself, then he murmured to the psychic "Eli Joe's wanted in Texas for murder, I followed his trail here, to that bar and asked the locals if they had seen him."
Blue eyes locked onto green ones. "This man, a worker, he said he had seen Eli Joe near the warehouses two blocks from there."
Ezra closed his eyes and focused on what he had seen in the court house, Larabee's reports, and the warehouse. "This Eli Joe, he's about your height, has long hair and is a heavy smoker?"
Tanner blinked surprised "Yes, but he's rather skinny."
Ezra grinned. "Skinny?" Vin nodded and Ezra stood, "Your honor, the truth will be found in a tape."
The entire court room focused on the psychic.
Chapter 7 or Epilogue "As it should be"
Present time, the FCPD.
"The tape really was the answer?" repeated detective Buck Wilmington.
Larabee glared at his oldest friend. "Yes."
"A security tape from the building next to the warehouse with the dead body?" the mustached detective pressed.
Chris sighed. "Yes. . ."
"The tape leading to the cigarette butts in the alley? Those with Eli Joe's DNA all over them?" continued the tall brunette.
The blond detective took a deep breath. "Yes."
"Not to mention the tape also showed a smoking, skinny man getting in and later leaving the warehouse through a break in the building's wall?" Buck smiled.
Larabee's patience was running out. "Yes!"
"Come on, Chris! You aren't telling me that you still have doubts about our psychic? How much more proof do you need?"
Larabee didn't say anything and leaned on his desk, glaring at Buck.
The taller man wasn't intimidated at all, and nudged the blond with his elbow so Chris made room for him at the desk.
"He also predicted big changes to the precinct, didn't he?"
"Not all the changes are good," Chris finally said.
"They aren't? What are you talking about?" asked Buck, really confused. "I thought you liked your new partner!"
Larabee's mouth twisted slightly in what lately the rest of the cops had recognized as a smile. "I do," he said.
"And the new department with the legal consultant has been a good thing, hasn't it?"
The blond cleared his throat before responding. "I suppose."
Buck nudged him again. "A man would have to be blind not to notice their secretary. . . or her many charms," he said.
Chris blushed a little. "I'm not blind"
Buck smirked at his friend. "Then what can you consider to be the bad things with those changes?"
Larabee sighed. Buck wasn't going to leave him alone until he knew.
"That bottomless-pit for a stomach new partner of mine, who won't stop calling me ¨cowboy¨; Dunne, ¨the puppy lawyer¨ following us around, and that infuriating woman playing secretary. . ."
"You should ask her out," interrupted Buck.
Larabee glared at him. "I'll ask her out when hell freezes over. . . or better yet, when that new waitress at the Mexican restaurant accepts a date with you." the blond swore.
"I'm wearing her down, okay? So you better be ready," Buck warned.
Chris ignored the comeback. "Not to mention the chief keeps calling Standish and Jackson to help with the weirdest cases, then those two just waltzes in, like. . ."
"Chris!" Buck interrupted.
Chris almost barked "What!" before paying attention to the four happy young men getting closer to them.
"It was a good deal," said JD.
"Yeah," agreed Vin "I like it."
"Could have been worse," Nathan pointed out.
"Yeah," said Standish. "You could have ended up with a bounty on your head, featured on America's Most Wanted."
"What are you talking about?" asked Nathan in exasperation "Ez, the man was going to be sent to prison for life!"
"Nah!" exclaimed Ezra smiling. "Not even federal marshals would have kept him in a cell, some people would have helped him escape. . . what do you think, Mr. Chris?"
The head of detectives stood tall and arched an eyebrow at the implication. "It's Detective Larabee to you," he growled.
Vin got the inside meaning of the psychic's commentary, just like Chris, and smiled and patted Ezra's shoulder before going to his new desk.
Ezra chuckled. His hand went to his temple before closing his eyes and declaring, "The spirits think this is a good time to go to lunch."
Vin, who had barely gotten seated, stood. "I can do lunch."
Larabee rolled his eyes at the Texan's declaration. //Bottomless pit// he thought.
"And the spirits suggest. . . the closest Mexican food's place."
The young lawyer nodded. "I want to try one of their hot burritos."
Nathan rubbed his stomach. "I'll stick to the normal ones."
"I'm going too!" said Buck, smiling broadly.
"Come with us, Chris," he prompted his friend.
Ezra smiled. "But our number is wrong, we are not meant to be six. . . I'll ask Mary to come with us," said the fake psychic, intending to go and ask the pretty new secretary, but Chris's hand in his shoulder prevented it.
Before the younger man could ask or do anything, Larabee called out, "Sanchez! Good to see you! Why don't you come with us to lunch so we can be 'lucky seven'?"
"Sure!" said the ex-cop, willing to spend time with Ezra and his friends.
He felt that he and Ezra could try the father-son thing again.
Ezra frowned. "Awful timing, Josiah," he mumbled.
Josiah smiled and pushed the young man slightly toward the door. "I wouldn't say that, considering that Larabee was ready to strangle you."
Vin chuckled and followed them. "I think the cowboy wanted to ask Mary himself."
Buck laughed, "You got it right, Junior!"
Turning towards Chris he added, "You know pard, I wouldn't mind more of those good changes," and followed the hungry party.
Behind them, Larabee groaned. . . and hurried to catch with them.
He didn't want to miss Inez's quick comebacks at Buck's flirting compliments.
This story is based on Psych season 1 episode 1001 that is the pilot, and the 1010 episode "Cloudy. . . Chance of Murder", with minimal references to the rest of the season.
. . .and from the Magnificent Seven pilot (Ghosts of the Confederacy), Sins of the Past, Love and honor, Wagon train, etc.
I got the Psych episode title from: www.usanetwork.com/series/psych/theshow/episodeguide/episodes/ (Since I had it in Spanish, and it is not the same, funny thing)