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.

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.

“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!”

The Blueberry sped through the streets of Santa Barbara, its engine making a sound that Shawn Spencer insisted was “majestic,” but Burton Guster knew was actually a cry for an oil change.