Shawn set off across the landing, and Gus found himself scurrying to keep up. “Wait for me!” he hissed.

“I’m going to distract the detectives so you have a chance to talk to Lowfat Creamer,” Shawn said “Langston Kitteredge,” Gus said.

Shawn waved a hand dismissively back at Gus, then lifted it to greet the detectives.

“Jules!” Shawn called out before he’d crossed half the distance to the detectives. “Hey, Lassie! What brings you here?”

Lassiter and O’Hara stepped forward to intercept him before he could reach Kitteredge.

“The same thing that brings me to every crime scene I visit,” Lassiter said. “The faint hope that maybe, just once, you won’t be there.”

“You forget who you’re dealing with, Lassie,” Shawn said. “After all, you’re only a normal detective. You can’t get to a crime scene until the crime has been discovered. But as a psychic, I can sense where the crime is going to happen and make sure to be there first. Also, I know when Happy Donuts is going to put out a fresh batch and get them while they’re still warm.”

Lassiter’s eyes narrowed. “So you know about this particular crime, do you?”

“Is that a trick question?” Shawn said.

“Is that a trick answer?” Lassiter said. “No, don’t answer that. All of your answers are trick answers.” He scanned the crowd. “Isn’t there an officer who can escort this man away from here?”

Apparently all the uniformed officers were occupied with keeping Santa Barbara’s best and brightest from turning into a mob and storming the museum, because no one stepped up to haul Shawn away. He turned to Detective O’Hara.

“If I’d known you liked art, I would have invited you up to see my etchings a long time ago,” Shawn said. “Well, not my etchings, actually, because I haven’t etched in ages. But I would have shown you my Etch-A-Sketch.”