Lassiter turned back to Shawn. “Yes, Shawn, when are we meeting with Henry Spencer?”

“Meeting?” Shawn said.

“To work on the case.”

Shawn gave him a blank look. “I thought we were just saying that to get this yokel to let your guys in.”

“I think he’ll notice if Henry isn’t actually involved in the case,” Lassiter said. “And he can still make plenty of trouble if we need to do any more investigating in Isla Vista.”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Shawn said.

Lassiter sighed irritably. “Then it’s just like it’s one of yours. Look, Henry doesn’t actually have to do anything. He’s just got to show up.”

Shawn looked for a way out, but couldn’t find an opening.

“I’ll try to get him to your office tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be there at eight sharp,” Rasmussen said.

“Good, you can make the coffee,” Lassiter said. “We’ll start at nine.”

Shawn and Gus squeezed past the entering investigators and headed back to their car.

“I don’t believe this,” Gus said. “What a day.”

“Tell me about it,” Shawn said. “We start out looking for a necklace just to annoy Lassie, and we end up facing multiple murders.”

“Multiple?” Gus asked. “Who died besides Ellen Svaco?”

“Me,” Shawn said. “Because when I tell my dad that I volunteered him to work a case with Lassie and this idiot, he is going to kill me.”

Chapter Twelve

Henry Spencer raised the sticks high above his head. And waited. He’d torn the sleeves out of his sweatshirt to give his arms complete freedom, and tied a bandanna around his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and pulled on jeans that hadn’t fit in ten years because-well, he wasn’t quite sure why they’d told him to do that. But this was the moment he’d been dreaming of for weeks, the instant he’d rehearsed in his head time after time. Around him, the three others waited, poised just like him, waiting for the computerized keyboard to finish its preprogrammed run. Then they’d all kick in.