-Chapter 10-

Shawn decided that whenever he felt like crap, the perfect remedy was to always go for a ride on his bike. He wasn't exactly sure how he had forgotten the feel of the wind in his face or the steady hum of the engine below him, but he was certainly going to remember it from then on. Perhaps the just the steady routine of riding his bike constantly made him lose focus on why he loved having one anyway, and all it really took a great amount of stress to bring back that feeling of freedom.

Gus had dropped him off at his apartment after their visit to the morgue, mumbling some nonsense about having to finish his route. Shawn could take an educated guess though, judging by the look that had been on his friend's face, that he was actually making his way home to take some anti-nausea medicine and sleep for the rest of the day.

It was something himself wouldn't have minded doing, but he once again resisted the urge. He had to solve this case before someone else got hurt, and put an end to the endless anxiety that had been plaguing him for the last twenty-four hours.

After taking the long way to his destination, intentionally, Shawn finally pulled in to the driveway, letting his bike idle there for a second as he thought about what he was going to tell his father about the case. There was no need to tell him about what had happened last night, because he knew what that particular conversation would end up in. No, he would just mention the essentials and hopefully his dad would be able to point out something he missed. He seemed to have a knack for that, and not always pertaining to the cases.

Finally turning off the engine, he turned and withdrew a few folders from one the side compartments that held all the necessary information, before swinging his leg over and heading toward the house. Just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened, presenting a not-so-surprised Henry in one of his usual bright colored shirts. They looked at each other for a minute, as if measuring each other up, before Shawn relented.

"Hey, dad."

"I was wondering when you were going to come in," he said, giving him one of those half-smirks before turning and heading back into the house, leaving the door open so Shawn could walk in.

Shawn sighed and entered, closing the door behind him and following his father into the kitchen, where he could hear the sound of burgers sizzling. Dropping the files on the table, he looked at Henry and then at the stove like there was some kind of connection that he couldn't understand.

"Since when do you cook inside the house?"

"Damn ignition on the grill won't spark, I have to go to the hardware store tomorrow and buy a new one," Henry replied, flipping one of the burgers expertly and then heading toward the refrigerator, pulling out two beers. After tossing one to Shawn, he took a seat at the table and pulled the folders toward him, leafing through the pages like it was the most routine thing in the world.

Shawn could admit that he was proud of the fact that their relationship had improved to the point where his father would know exactly why he would choose to visit him on an evening such as this. It saved him the trouble of having to beg for some case advice and possibly a life lesson or two. Granted, the free food was also a welcome motivator, but he'd like to think of it as more of a side bonus.

Shawn took a seat at the table, and popped open his bottle, taking a swig before he decided to get right into it. "A jouster at the local Renaissance Fair, Mitchell Williams, was killed during a match about two days ago. Apparently he was the victim of a lance that was tampered with. Some kind of spring mechanism was inside it."

Henry raised his eyebrows curiously, shuffling through the pages until he found the knight's coroner's report. "So, naturally, they arrested the man that wielded the lance, am I right?" he asked while going through the cause of death.

"Yeah, but I know they've got the wrong man. I've just got to prove it."

Henry looked up from the papers at his son, wearing an expression that Shawn was all too familiar with.

"Is that right?"

"Don't give me that look. I know what I'm doing here," Shawn replied defensively before he could stop himself. He quickly shook his head. He couldn't get in a fight right now. He just needed to get some advice, and it wouldn't help if he sparked an argument this early into their conversation.

Henry threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender. It didn't look like he was in the mood to argue either. "Hey, I'm just making sure you know what you're doing. Have you even met the guy? This… MacIntyre? How do you even know he's not the killer?"

Because I was threatened by the real murderer no less than a day ago, dad.

Shawn almost said the words out loud, but he stopped himself by taking another drink of his beer. It was awfully inviting. It was a big thing to keep to himself, and the temptation to spill the beans and at least get some of the weight off of his shoulders was a little overwhelming. He had had the same internal battle before when he was trying to decide whether he should tell Gus.

"I just know, okay?"

Henry looked at him for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back toward the papers. "Alright." He paused. "Did you find out a motive?"

Glad for his father's patience with him today, Shawn leaned back and shrugged his shoulders. ""Sort of. I mean, the guy was pretty much despised by every one of the staff, which would've left us with a ton of suspects to go through. But, we figured out later on that the killer was targeting the people on the jousting team with more tampered lances."

Henry got back up from the table to check on the burgers again, occasionally flipping one as he glanced back at Shawn. "Oh? And how did you figure that out?"

Shawn hesitated. "I... well, I'm kind of working undercover as a knight there."

His father stopped in his process to flip another burger and turned fully to him, wielding his spatula like a beating stick. Shawn instinctively cringed back, knowing to be cautious of Henry when he was in a scolding mood with a kitchen utensil. He learned that with the whisk. "Let me get this straight. You willingly volunteered to go undercover at a Renaissance Fair where one of the knights just died and the killer could possibly be targeting you next? Why would you think I would be okay with this?"

"Oh, come on, dad. I'll be fine. Jules and Lassie are pretty much with me all the time, and they already removed all the lances that were tampered with so there's really not all that much to worry about," Shawn said in an attempt to calm him down, although most of what he said didn't reflect at all how he felt about the case.

"Shawn, I don't think I can help you with a case that could potentially get you killed."

"That's basically every week. Besides, the killer hasn't even made a move yet. Well, there is Greenwell, but she's not even a knight..."

"Greenwell? Who's that?" Henry asked as he approached the table again. Shawn sifted through the papers once more and pulled up Greenwell's file, along with the coroner's report, handing it to his father. Henry looked through it with his grumpy expression and until he saw the picture of the murder weapon – the dagger used to kill the victim.

"I've seen this before," he said, taking the picture and putting it up in front of his face as he examined the details of it.

It was a rather old-looking dagger; something that you would usually see in a museum of some kind. It had a jeweled handle and a type of curve at the end, which obviously caused the necessary damage to kill. Now that Shawn thought about it though, it was rather odd that someone use an antique dagger like that to murder someone, unless they had a specific reason to.

"How have you seen that before?" Shawn asked with a confused look, switching glances from the photo to his father.

"Just a minute," Henry said, putting the photo down and heading into the living room. A moment later he came back with a pile of old newspapers. He set them down on the table and started going through them as if looking for a particular article.

"You still read the newspaper? Dad, there's a thing called the internet. You're going to have to update that piece of junk computer sometime-"

"Shhh!" Henry quieted him, holding up one finger as he pulled out a newspaper dated a few days ago. He took it and flipped through the more interesting articles, straight to the advertisement page. Shawn leaned in as his father stopped; scanning the paper to see what he was trying to show him. His eyes caught the advertisement just as Henry pointed to it.

Shawn picked up the page, his eyes widening as he saw a picture of a dagger almost identical to the one of the murder weapon. He quickly read the description.

Authentic Persian Bichaq Bukhara Dagger circa 18th cent.

Part of a rare set…

He paused when he actually read the price of the piece of steel. He had to stop his mouth from dropping down in shock. "Three thousand bucks for a dagger? Are you kidding me?" Then he stopped when his eyes wandered down to the bottom of the advertisement, where it listed the name of the seller.

Nathaniel Grayson.

Shawn didn't stop his chin from dropping down in shock this time as some parts of the puzzle started to click into the place.

Give me what I want or I'll go to authorities. -GNWL

I won't hesitate spilling your blood all over Grayson's front door. He's due for a warning anyway.

So that was what the murderer was blackmailing Grayson about. Grayson was stealing antique weaponry from the Fair and selling them for a profit. Although it still didn't explain what the killer was blackmailing him for, or the reason why he killed those two people in the first place. Nevertheless, it was still progress. Progress that Shawn desperately needed.

He was about to turn to his father to thank him until his phone rang. Holding up a finger for pause, he quickly accepted it while Henry went back to the burgers, which were likely done by now.

"What d'you got for me, Jules?" Shawn immediately asked upon picking up, having read the caller id.

"Hey, Shawn. I was just calling to tell you that your armory sense was spot on. We got forensics down here testing the blood as we speak," she said rather quickly, as if she was in a hurry. Shawn could hear some muffled cursing in the background, which he assumed was Lassiter. There was most likely something Juliet wasn't telling him, but he decided not to address it.

"Sweet. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, actually. A name came up while we were questioning one of the knights. Someone called Zack Lancaster. He's an announcer here at the fair. Getting any vibes from him?"

Shawn searched his memory to see if he could recollect anything relating to the name, but came up with nothing. "No, sorry. Not this time."

"That's alright. We're on the search for him now, but it's likely we won't see him until your jousting match tomorrow, so we'll get him then."

"Oh, yeah. Right," Shawn said after a short pause, suddenly being reminded that there was more than one reason why he had come to his father's house in the first place. "Alright, I'll call you when I have something new. See ya, Jules."

"Bye, Shawn."

It was only a quick update, but Shawn wished the conversation had been a bit longer. He had only just hung up when Henry set a plate down in front of him. Looking down at the burger, it suddenly didn't seem as appetizing as it did before. It probably had something to do with the fact that he had no idea how his father was going to convince him to go to the fair tomorrow when he obviously didn't support the idea in the first place. Sighing, he took a seat and pulled that plate toward him.

While they ate, Shawn filled in some of the blank spots on the case to his father, but besides some minor comments, there really wasn't much else to be found beyond the blackmailing issue. He once again struggled with the decision whether or not to tell his father everything. He came up with a question completely out of blue as a result, and he couldn't stop himself from asking it.

"Dad… did you ever get… threatened when you were on the job?" he asked.

Good job, there, Shawn. He mentally berated himself. Like that won't set off warning bells.

Henry looked at him oddly after his question, but instead of asking for the reason behind it, he went ahead and answered. "Shawn, I was a cop. Do you really think I went my whole career without taking a few risks? My life was pretty much on the line every time I was on the street," he said, frowning a bit as he caught his son's forlorn expression. "Now what's all this about?"

"It's, ah… it's nothing," Shawn said sheepishly, once again backing out on his idea about telling his father about his attack. He reached forward to grab his beer and take another drink, when suddenly his father took hold of his arm.

"Hey, dad! What…" he started to protest, until Henry pulled down his jacket sleeve, revealing the bandage he had wrapped around his bruised wrist from the other night to prevent further injury. There was a sharp intake of breath from both Spencer men when they saw it.

"Oh, so I guess that's 'nothing' then, is it?" Henry asked with his signature stern look.

Shawn quickly shrugged off the hand and grabbed his beer, pushing away from the table and walking across the kitchen to lean against the counter, just so he wouldn't have to face his father's criticism straight on. Cursing himself for not hiding the injury better, he was having a hard time thinking about what he was going to say to cover it up, which was very difficult when it came to his father. "This is just something I got from jousting practice the other day," he settled on saying.

As always, Henry 'Human Lie Detector' Spencer saw right through his act. All he had to do was cross his arms to tell that he didn't believe one word of what his son was saying. "Don't feed me that crap. What happened?"

Shawn just shook his head and refused to speak, deciding that it'd be better to just keep quiet and worm his way out of this situation some other way. At least by not admitting it he wouldn't be confessing that he had actually come here for more than advice on a case. He still wasn't sure why this was giving him such a hard time in the first place. Henry just sighed and got up from the table as well. Judging by his expression, he could already tell from Shawn's hints what had happened, even if it was a little rough.

Henry sighed and pushed away from the table as well, turning to look at him with his calculating gaze. Shawn decided to brace himself for what he was about to say.

"Do you really want to solve this case?"

Blinking in surprise, Shawn looked up at his father to see if he had heard him right. He had been expecting an all out scolding and demanding to not return to the fair, so hearing that question really caught him off guard. He waited a few moments to check if his father was kidding, but when he said nothing, he nodded his head to reiterate his intention to solve the case.

"Then go," Henry said, turning away from him and starting to clear the table of empty plates.

Shawn just stood there for a moment, watching him. "What?" he finally asked, not sure what else to say.

"Shawn, I'm not sure what you expect me to say. If you came here to hear some twisted diatribe about how I won't let you go to that fair, you're out of luck, kid, because you I'm not here to make your decisions for you. If you want to solve the case, then solve damn case," he said in his clear tone, taking the plates and putting them in the sink before starting to scrub them off.

For someone like Henry, that was usually the cue that indicated you were dismissed. Shawn still stood rooted to the spot, trying to figure out what exactly his father was trying to tell him. His response was totally unexpected, but in another way, he could see how it made sense. He always came to him for case advice, but this time, he realized he came for something else. So focused on whether or not he should risk his life by going to that fair, he had been hoping that one of his father's many criticisms would tell him what to do.

In the end, though, it was really just that small incentive. Either he wanted to finish and solve the case, or didn't. In this situation, he could safely assume that he did, since he hadn't yet given up and was still investigating despite the threat. He couldn't believe it took one sentence for him to realize that. He had solved many cases before now that were a much bigger risk, this one should be no different.

Shawn looked at Henry, who was still scrubbing the dishes, the just nodded, certain that his father could see it out of the corner of his eye. He walked back to the table and picked up the files before heading over to the door and opening it.

"Shawn."

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Henry, who had stopped his washing and was looking at his son with a frown.

"Be careful."

"Always am," Shawn said with a grin, hoping to instill at least some confidence in his old man, as well as himself, before exiting the house and heading toward his bike.