“I don’t understand why we’re going to La Canada in the first place,” Gus said. “Do you really think the killer mime is still out there, waiting for someone else to walk by with a necklace for him to steal?”
Shawn was about to respond, but just before the first word left his mouth he cut it off.
“What?” Gus said.
“You’re right,” Shawn said. “Why La Canada?”
“Well,” Gus said, suddenly wondering if he’d been too hasty, as he always did when someone actually took his advice. “There might have been someone who saw the mime and can help us identify him. Better yet, we could get the names of all the people who paid their admission with credit cards that day, track them down, and see if they took any pictures that have the mime in them.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Shawn said. “Obviously we’d go to La Canada because that’s where the crime happened. The question is why did it happen there?”
“Because that’s where the necklace was?”
Shawn let out a deep sigh. “I’m going to try this one more time,” he said.
“Why?” Gus said.
“Why what?”
“Why are you going to try one more time?” Gus said. “Why are you going to drop one more vaguely suggestive clue phrased as an open-ended question? Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re thinking?”
“It’s called the Socratic method,” Shawn said. “It’s a form of teaching that involves asking questions to stimulate thought and debate. Although why Professor Kingsfield would name an entire method after some obscure alternative rock band from New Jersey is beyond me. Why are you staring at me?”
Gus was staring at Shawn-staring with a mixture of awe and horror. “How is this possible?” he said finally.
“What’s that?”
“How can one body contain such a mixture of arcane knowledge and sheer ignorance?” Gus said.
“That’s what they say about the Internet, and it’s doing all right,” Shawn said. “Didn’t you have a point a while back?”
“I didn’t have a point,” Gus said. “I was hoping that you did, and if that was indeed the case you would share it with me rather than asking a bunch of rhetorical questions.”
“Then how will you ever leave here thinking like a lawyer?” Shawn said.
“I’m about to leave here thinking like a pharmaceuticals salesman,” Gus said. “Not to mention a former detective.”
“Okay, okay,” Shawn said. “Let’s work this through together.”
“You already worked it through on your own,” Gus said. “Just tell me so we can get on with our lives.”
“Just tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Without any questions at all?” Shawn looked troubled.
“I’m sure you can handle it.”
“I can’t say I share your confidence, but I’ll try,” Shawn said. He took a breath. “Okay, here’s what I was getting at. The backstory, if you will. All the stuff that happened before we got involved. Some of which took place in La Canada. The question is-”
“Not an appropriate part of speech for this conversation,” Gus said.
Shawn glared at him. “You’re supposed to be my sounding board.”
“I’m supposed to be your partner,” Gus said. “You treat me as your sounding board. You say things to me so you can hear them echoed back to you louder.”
“The sounding board is a vital part of any stringed instrument,” Shawn said. “It doesn’t matter how brilliant a fiddler is if you can’t hear him because his violin doesn’t have an f-hole.”
“I’m tired of being the f-hole in this partnership,” Gus said.
“Now, give.”
Shawn fidgeted in his chair. He stood up and crossed the room, then crossed back. “Okay, here’s how I see it,” he finally said. “There was a locket.”
“With you so far.”
“Someone had that locket.” Shawn grimaced. “And then that locket. .. Can’t I just use a couple of rhetorical questions here if I promise not to wait for an answer?”
Gus gave him a stony stare. “Keep going.”
“The someone who had that locket was supposed to pass it on to Ellen Svaco for reasons we don’t know,” Shawn said.
“The someone brought it to La Canada and dropped it off at the Descanso Gardens lost and found.”
“But why come to La Canada in the first place?” Gus said.
“Why not come straight to Santa Barbara if it was meant for Ellen Svaco?”
“Aha!” Shawn leveled an accusatory finger at Gus. “Now you’re doing it.”
“Yes, but my question was sincere,” Gus said. “I wasn’t laying a trap so I could demonstrate the superiority of my thinking.”
“Is that really what you think I do?”
“That’s a question,” Gus said.
“You can’t solve a mystery without asking questions,” Shawn said. “Because the solution to any puzzle lies in the correct phrasing of the problem. If you don’t pose the right questions, you can never reach the right answers. So when I throw my questions at you, it’s not a challenge to your intelligence. It’s me trying to frame the case in the proper context.”
Gus thought this over, then let out a sigh. “I’m going to regret this, but go ahead.”
Shawn beamed. “Okay, first question: Why was the locket in La Canada?”
Gus waited. Shawn drummed his fingers on the desk. Tapped his feet on the chair leg. Cleared his throat. “You need to answer,” he said.
“Why?” Gus said. “If this is an exercise in the proper framing of the puzzle, why do you need me to answer? Just keep on with the questions.”
Shawn stared down at the desk. “I need you to say something stupid.”
“Uh-uh,” Gus said.
“It doesn’t mean I think you’re stupid,” Shawn said quickly.
“But if you don’t give me the wrong answer, I don’t think I can come up with the right one.”
“What if I give you the right answer?”
“Okay,” Shawn said. “What if?”
“Are you saying I never come up with the right answer?” Gus demanded.
“That’s not to say that it couldn’t happen,” Shawn said.
“That would be like saying Jay Leno will never tell a funny joke.”
Gus glared at him. “What if I give you the right answer at this very moment?”
“Then I will give you all the credit for solving the case,” Shawn said. “I will put your name on the door. I will tell people you’re my partner and not my assistant even when you’re not in the room.”
Gus decided to let this pass. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start with the locket. Describe what you saw.”
Shawn closed his eyes and thought back. The locket was a simple gold-plated heart on a chain. It was clearly old, as the plating had rubbed off in one spot, but so cheap it would never be considered an antique. Inside it were facing pictures of two homely people, hand-cropped badly enough so that some of the green plastic backing showed behind them.
“Green plastic,” Shawn said. “That’s it.”
“That’s what?”
“That’s not how this works,” Shawn said. “You were going to give me the right answer.”
“I was,” Gus said. “But now you’ve figured it out. And there’s no way you can keep yourself from telling me about it.”
“Watch me,” Shawn said.
For a moment, the two of them sat in silence. Then Gus got up and gave Shawn’s desk chair a shove, sending him rolling away from the desk. He stood over the computer and typed into a search engine.
“Let’s see,” Gus said as a Web site popped up in response. “Fun facts about La Canada Flintridge. One: While the ‘Canada’ part refers to the Spanish word for gorge or ravine, ‘Flintridge’ refers to nothing at all, since there is no flinty ridge here. Two: It’s the USA’s eighty-fifth most expensive city to live in. Three: Kevin Costner’s ex-wife owns a restaurant here which is locally famous for its breakfasts.”
“That’s it,” Shawn said. “Clearly this is all part of the global conspiracy to get Cindy Costner’s pancake recipe.”
Gus ignored him and kept reading. “Four: There’s a decades-long feud between La Canada and neighbor Pasadena over which city should be listed in news stories as the location of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Five-”