“Spencer. Guster,” Lassiter growled, holstering his weapon. “I assume you’re here because of the stolen shipment of high-grade artisanal wax?”

“It’s not a side quest, Gus. It’s a pre-nuptial investigative odyssey,” Shawn replied, wearing a plastic crown he’d found in a cereal box. “My third eye is vibrating. Not twitching—vibrating. That means the mystery is succulent.”

They pulled up to a dilapidated warehouse labeled Ventura’s Vintage Velveteen . Shawn hopped out, doing a dramatic tuck-and-roll that ended with him face-planting into a pile of discarded bubble wrap. “You okay?” Gus asked, not moving from the car.

“I’m better than okay. I’m inspired.” Shawn scrambled up. “Inside this building is the secret to why your future brother-in-law, a man named ‘Chet,’ has no digital footprint before 2014 and smells faintly of elderberries.” “He’s a botanist, Shawn!”

“Gus, don’t be the only spark plug in a diesel engine,” Shawn grinned. “We saved the wax, we saved the wedding, and I didn’t even have to use my backup mustache. I’d call that a ‘This Is Gus’ win.”

Gus sprinted, his legs a blur of motion, cornering the thief behind a crate of velvet capes. With a flick of his wrist, Gus used a nearby velvet sash to trip the suspect.