“Stand down, Officer,” Lassiter said. He reached into his breast pocket for his ID. But before he could get his hand near his lapel, the blond man had his gun out and leveled at the detective.

“Don’t move!”

“It’s going to be hard to get out if I don’t move,” Shawn said.

The blond man shifted his gun sights to Shawn, then back to Lassiter.

“You know, sometimes I can go for an entire week without having a gun pointed at me,” Shawn said. “Now it’s two in one day. Go figure.”

“Officer!” Lassiter’s bark brought the blond man’s attention-and his gun-back in his direction. “I am Detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police Department. I am reaching very slowly into my pocket to pull out my ID.”

“You just make sure it’s nice and slow, ‘Detective,’” the man said.

“Now that’s impressive,” Shawn said.

“What’s that?” Gus said.

The man kept his attention focused on Lassiter.

“Most people would feel the need to use air quotes to put that much condescension around the word ‘detective,’ ” Shawn said. “Blond guy did it with his voice alone.”

Very slowly, Lassiter reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a wallet, then let it fall open to reveal his badge and ID. “I’ve identified myself,” Lassiter said. “Now you.”

“Officer Chris Rasmussen, Isla Vista Foot Patrol,” the blonde said. “All my ID is right here on my chest.” He patted the insignia on his polo shirt. “We small-town law enforcement personnel don’t get a pretty tin ‘badge’ like they give the big-city police folk.”

Now it was Gus’ turn to be impressed. “You’re right,” he said to Shawn. “I know both of his hands were occupied, but I could swear I saw air quotes.”

“Now that I know who you are, maybe you could tell me what you’re doing in this house?” Rasmussen said. He lowered the gun to his side, but he didn’t holster it.