"Chief, I do not think this man killed himself. The spirits are telling me that-"
"With all due respect, chief," Lassie interrupted, glaring at the psychic. "I don't- we don't," he corrected when Juliet cleared her throat loudly, "need any help from fake psychics on daddy's pay roll."
"Well, since you think the victim killed himself even though the spirits are screaming in outrage at the awful, violent murder committed upon this man," he pointed at the dead man on the floor.
"Mister Spencer, just tell us everything you know," Chief Vick demanded, her features serious.
".. Very well," Shawn nodded. "This man did not kill himself, Michael Jackson is dead-"
"Shawn, you know he's just in hiding," Gus interrupted, his eyes narrowed.
"- And, when we make sweet, sweet love, Gus likes his magic head rubbed."
"Wh- Oh, yes. Sorry, Gus," he nodded his understanding before raising a hand to grip the back of his friend's head, "This one, not-"
"Shawn!" Gus yelled again, pulling away and smacking Shawn's hand away.