Psyc 03_The Call of the Mild by William Rabkin Page B

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