A Fatal Frame of Mind

Chapter One

“A re you sure this is absolutely necessary?”Shawn examined himself in the full-length mirror that had appeared in the Psych offices earlier in the day along with the two tuxedos.

“Absolutely,” Gus said. “Are you ready yet?”

Gus slipped the rental studs through his French cuffs and flicked them open, locking them in place. He yanked his cummerbund into position, then slid into his dinner jacket. Even though the clock was ticking down and there was no time to waste, he took a moment to wonder why he didn’t wear a tuxedo all the time, like Dean Martin or the maitre d’ at Cappy’s Steak and Stein. He looked that good.

“I was born ready,” Shawn said. “Of course, I was also born naked, and that tells me there’s no actual reason for dressing up.”

“It’s the social event of the season,” Gus said as he smoothed his hand over his already smooth hair. “We were incredibly lucky to get an invitation. And that invitation specifically called for black tie.”

“I don’t wear ties,” Shawn said, flicking open his unbuttoned collar to emphasize the point. “And even if I did, I don’t see what that has to do with the rest of this ridiculous outfit.”

“Black tie is a dress code for semiformal events,” Gus said.

“I definitely agree that this event is semiformal,” Shawn said. “Because it’s only Ponyboy. I can’t imagine what we’d have to wear if Sodapop was going to be there, too.”

Gus hesitated. He’d been putting off telling Shawn the truth for so long he had begun to believe he’d never have to. “Ponyboy. Right. Look, there’s something I need to tell you about the C. Thomas Howell Film Festival,” Gus said.

“If you’re going to say that the man’s career is too vast to be shoehorned into one evening, I’m well aware we’re coming in partway through,” Shawn said. “Last night was his formative work from the eighties, when he grew from sensitive man-child into a solid, if still sensitive teen lead. Tonight, of course, is his timeless nineties’ material, which saw him mature into the hard-boiled hero of neo-noir classics like Jail Bait and Teresa’s Tattoo. And tomorrow is truly special, since so much of his work in this millennium was made for DVD and is being shown for the first time on the big screen. Or anywhere.”

“Glad to hear you won’t have to miss the best part,” Gus said.

“Miss?” Shawn said.

“We’ve got to go,” Gus said. “We’re going to be late.”

Gus scooped his car key off the coffee table and let it drop into the surprisingly roomy pocket of his rental pants, then headed for the street. Normally Shawn would have pushed past him just as he reached for the knob, showing a need equal to any golden retriever’s to be first through a door. But when Gus glanced back to see what had happened to his partner, Shawn was still sitting behind his desk.

“I don’t think you’re taking me to the C. Thomas Howell Film Festival at all,” Shawn said.

This was the moment. The absolute last second Gus could tell Shawn the truth before his small deception turned into a big lie.

“We’re going now,” Gus said.

This time Gus didn’t look back to see if Shawn was following him. He stepped out into the cool evening fog and crossed the curb to his waiting Echo. By the time he’d walked around to his door and slid behind the wheel, Shawn was already buckled into the passenger’s seat. Gus put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.