Disclaimer: The standard no owning or profiting things apply to this story
SCOOBY-NOIR, PART 1: Ghosts of the Past
"Velma!"
A voice from the past pulled me away from the majestic mountains that had been holding my attention from the scenic overlook I was standing at. I turned and was immediately overwhelmed at the sight of two old friends barreling towards me.
"Shaggy! Scooby!" I cried, running to my two old friends who I hadn't seen in ages and hugging them both.
Scooby hadn't changed a bit; maybe he was a little heavier, but that was to be expected with his diet. Shaggy though, was caught between his childhood and running away from adulthood. His hair was longer now, and pulled back in a sloppy pony tail, and his soul patch was now a neatly trimmed beard. He was dressed in brown slacks (bell bottomed of course) over well polished shoes, a green dress shirt open at the top two buttons and showing sparse chest hair and a green sports coat tailored to cover his growing stomach.
"Jenkies, it's great to see you two." I said as we finished hugging.
"You too," Shaggy said and Scooby nodded. "I just finished reading your last book. It really made me think of the good old days."
"Thanks," I said smiling. Writing mysteries had seemed a no brainer after all the adventures we had with Fred and Daphne. "What have you two been up to?"
"Well, I'm the west coast distributor for Scooby Snack Incorporated," Shaggy said proudly. "I split time here at the Colorado offices and our San Francisco offices."
"Great for you," I said happy that he was doing what he really wanted. "I'm sure Scooby get's plenty of samples now."
"Rep!" Scooby barked, nodding his head vigorously.
"He's our top product tester," Shaggy said patting Scooby's head.
"I live in San Fran myself," I told them. "We need to get together more often."
"That's a great idea. Scooby and I were just going to lunch; why don't you join us and we can catch up?"
"That sounds like fun," I said smiling at how excited they were for lunch. Some things never change.
Lunch was fun, I hadn't seen anyone put away a quadruple decker burger with the works in a long time. How either one of them had room for dessert…
"Are you going to finish your fries?" Shaggy asked as he and Scooby hungrily eyed the french fries I had been picking at. I laughed and pushed my plate towards them.
"Thanks," Shaggy said around a mouthful of fries. His phone chimed and he swallowed down the mouthful, miraculously without choking to death, and stood up. "Sorry, it's work. Gotta take it." He sputtered, walking away.
I watched as Scooby finished the fries in one gulp, shaking my head at how little they had changed. Shaggy was still gone when the waitress returned asking about dessert and I let Scooby pick for him, ignoring the odd look from the girl.
"Scooby," a man asked as he walked up to the table, "don't tell me you finally dropped your sidekick?"
"Rope," Scooby barked shaking his head. I didn't fail to notice Scooby inching away slightly when the man patted his head.
"I'm Zeke," he said offering his hand. We shook and I was impressed with his handshake, just firm enough and his hand was slightly calloused; like he was used to physical labor but no longer did it regularly. "I'm a friend of Shaggy's. And Scooby of course."
"Velma," I said noticing the interested look in his nearly black eyes. I'm not ashamed to say I returned the look. He was ruggedly handsome, powerfully built with a nose that had been broken more than once and neatly trimmed black hair and beard, just beginning to gray.
"Velma Dinkley? The writer? Shaggy always said he knew you."
"We went to school together." I told him, strangely flattered that he recognized me. Even with five novels and two television scripts, I was usually only recognized by nerds who made my style in high school seem cool.
"Zeke, like what are you doing here; man?" Shaggy asked as he returned.
"Just grabbing a bite when I noticed Scooby here. I thought maybe he traded you in." Zeke said, flashing me a smile.
"We're a package deal," Shaggy said indignantly. I smiled back at Zeke; being separated from Scooby was always a touchy subject for Shaggy.
"I hate to leave you," Shaggy said turning to me, "but there's an emergency at our California offices and I need to fly out now."
"Rying!" Scooby yelped, covering his head with his paws.
"Sorry Pal, but I don't have time to drive and can't leave you here." Shaggy told him while rubbing his back. "Zeke, could you have someone take the van back to my place. The boss has a car on the way to pick me up."
"If I can find someone willing to be seen in that old thing," Zeke said.
"It's a classic, not old." Shaggy said, once again on the defensive. I was torn between not liking the way Zeke was picking on my friend and not laughing at the way Shaggy acted.
"You still have the van?" I asked, hoping that was the case. It would be great to see it again.
"Of course," Shaggy said proudly. "The old girl hasn't let me down yet. I just wish I could take it with me. It gets lonely being by itself too long."
"If you had treated your boyfriend like you do that clunker he'd still be around," Zeke teased him.
"Like I said, the van never let me down." Shaggy replied, looking at me nervously. It took me a few seconds to realize that Zeke had said boyfriend. Somehow I wasn't surprised, Shaggy never seemed to try to hard with girls when we were younger.
"Well I'll let you guys say goodbye," Zeke said reaching for my hand. "Maybe you'd like to have dinner tonight?" He asked me as we shook. "Since Shaggy is leaving us."
"Sure," I said as he took out a business card. "I have no plans tonight."
"Excellent," he said as he wrote on the card. "This has my number and I've included the name and address of the best restaurant in town. At least I think it is. Give me a call later and we can figure out a time."
"Okay," I said taking the card from him. "I'll see you tonight." He smiled at me and we exchanged goodbyes before he turned to say goodbye to Shaggy. While they were talking I looked at the card. It was a standard Scooby Snack Inc business card that said shipping director. Zeke's name and number were on it, and he had included The Witches Cupboard. I had been meaning to stop in that place since I had been in town, it was near my hotel and I had passed it countless times already.
"Well it was good seeing you again," Shaggy told me when Zeke had left. "But me and Scooby have a plane to catch."
"Ro Ry! Ro Ry!"Scooby yelped and tried to hide under the table.
"He hates airplanes," Shaggy said shaking his head.
"Tell you what," I said, "I'm supposed to leave tomorrow anyway. How about I drive the van back to San Francisco and take Scooby with me?"
Scooby perked up at that, and Shaggy did momentarily.
"I don't want to trouble you..."
"It's no trouble," I assured him. "I can cancel my flight. To tell the truth, I hate flying and would rather drive home. Especially if Scooby Doo is along to keep me company."
Scooby all but crawled into my lap and gave my face a big wet lick.
"I think Scooby wants to go with you then. Thanks for doing this." Shaggy said hugging me.
"I'm happy to do it. I miss you guys and this way we get to see each other sooner."
"Could you pick up a package for me? It's on my kitchen table, I haven't had time to open it."
"No problem," I said and Shaggy hugged me again. He handed me the keys to the van and his apartment and told me the address.
"Zoinks," Shaggy said looking at the time. "My car will be here any minute. Thanks again Velma. So long Pal."
"Bye Shaggy."
"Rye Rhaggy."
Scooby and I said at the same time as Shaggy ran for the door.
"Well Scooby, I guess it's up to us to finish dessert." I told him as the waitress arrived with two massive sundaes and a milkshake. I was halfway through my shake when I realized Shaggy stuck me with the check. Is it wrong for me to hope Zeke picks up the check at dinner tonight? Otherwise this was going to be the most expensive day of my trip.
I woke early the next morning, the loud snoring next to me was better than an alarm clock, and turned on my side away from the too warm body beside me.
Dinner had been a success last night and yes, Zeke did pick up the check. I was impressed with his manners, it had been awhile since anyone had pulled my chair out for me or taken my jacket; and the way he could steer a conversation. He didn't share my love for books but he had lived an interesting life and had plenty of stories to tell, a few good ones involved Shaggy and I filed those away for later. All in all, he reinforced why I prefer older men.
Best of all, he didn't push me. I did feel he had earned a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night and I returned to the hotel intent on curling up with a good book. Unfortunately Scooby had decided to take advantage of the empty bed and I only had half the room to curl up.
Scooby's snoring made up my mind and I hopped out of bed. Grabbing my glasses, I headed for the bathroom and my morning routine.
Looking at my reflection as I brushed my hair made me think of Zeke's appreciative glances last night. Amazing how growing a few inches, losing my baby fat and styling my hair to something more flattering had changed me so much. The face looking back at me was only slightly familiar to the one I remember from solving mysteries with the gang. The freckles had mostly faded and I had cheekbones now, and only one chin.
My glasses were still square, but thanks to the wonders of lasers they were a much weaker prescription and more stylish. I tugged the sweater I wore, blue not that horrid orange I used to wear, into place; smiling at how I used to be so self-conscious about the only things on me that weren't late bloomers that I had to wear baggy sweaters constantly.
Scooby was up when I left the bathroom, and looked like he needed to go take care of his morning routine. So I pulled boots on over my black jeans, and grabbed a light jacket against the morning chill, and barely had the door open before Scooby pushed through it.
We arrived at Shaggy's building by ten thirty, and I was amazed at the condition the old van was in. Outside it looked the same, even had the same "Mystery Machine" letters as it did when we were young. Inside, it was obvious Shaggy had put some money into it. The seats were soft and comfortable, without the odd spring pushing into you. The carpet was all new, and surprisingly clean, further evidence of the care he put into maintaining it. It even had a state of the art sound system, though I quickly grew tired of Sonny and Cher and vowed to hook my iPod up before we left.
The doorman recognized Scooby and waved us through. The apartment was more of what I expected from Shaggy. Messy and lived in, with enough food to feed a family of six for a year. The package was where Shaggy said it would be, a plain brown box still taped for shipment. I grabbed it and helped Scooby grab a few odds and ends he wanted to take along.
We were ready to go after a quick stop at the local Crash Burger, where Scooby seemed willing to take on their entire menu, and headed out of town. As we approached the on ramp for the freeway, an old model Buick that had been following close behind me since we left the burger place charged around the van.
It twisted as it went past, slamming into my front end and nearly pushing me into a guardrail. I panicked and slammed on the brakes, causing the back end of the van to slide into a perfect one eighty which pulled me loose from the car and sent me in the opposite direction. Car horns were blaring as I went the wrong way up the ramp. For a moment I got a view of the driver, but all I saw was a pale face with dark glasses and covered by a hoodie.
I sped up the ramp as a box truck swerved to miss me and cut the Buick off. My phone was out as I made it to the main road and I called 911. Minutes later I was directed to a shopping center where three Boulder Rock, Colorado police cars waited for me along with a blue sedan.
"This is an awfully big reception for a hit and run," I said to the detective wearing a cheap and rumpled suit after finishing with my statement.
"We were actually following you out of town," the detective said. "a patrol saw the whole thing. Unfortunately, they got away during the near pile up your escape caused. Nice driving by the way."
"Lucky driving," I told him. "Why were you following me? I've never been here before."
"It wasn't so much you we were following as that clunker you're in." He told me, eying the van. "You must know Mr. Rogers well for him to let you drive it?"
"We've known each other since we were kids," I responded to his interrogation. Alarms were going off in my mind as I realized that's exactly what was happening. It was subtle, but definitely an interrogation. "I learned to drive in this old girl. Took my driver's test in it, actually."
"So you came to town to visit Mr. Rogers?"
"No, I was here on vacation and happened to run into Shaggy and Scooby. We hadn't seen one another in years. I was booked to leave today and offered to drive Scooby and the van to California since Shaggy had to fly there for some kind of emergency."
"Why the interest in Shaggy?" I asked, hoping the direct approach worked.
"He's been under surveillance for possible connections to drug trafficking." He countered, hoping to fluster me. "What were you doing at his apartment this morning?"
"Gathering some things for Scooby. Shaggy said they'd be in California for awhile." I said, trying to picture Shaggy as a criminal. "I just can't see him being ambitious enough to be involved in the drug trade. Or brave enough for that matter."
"Leave the detective work to us Miss. Did you take anything from Mr. Roger's apartment?"
"No," I said, deciding I wouldn't mention the package to anyone until I got to the bottom of this mystery. "Just some things for Scooby, as I said."
"Okay Miss," the detective said handing me a card. "This is my number. If you think of anything let me know."
"Alright Detective," I said, "am I free to leave?"
"Yes, just be careful." He answered pointing to one of the patrol car. "We'll have eyes on you until you leave Boulder Rock jurisdiction."
He just walked away after that and he and two of the patrol cars took off. I was walking to the van when I heard my name being called.
Zeke was getting out of a cab that I noticed had arrived a few moments ago and ran over to me. He grabbed my shoulders and held me at arms length, checking me for injuries.
"I heard on the police scanner and had to come," he said after reassuring himself I wasn't dying. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I said, wondering how he knew it was me over the scanner. Maybe I'm being paranoid and they gave a description of the van? "The Mystery Machine is a little banged up."
"That's a great name," Zeke said in a tone that I couldn't tell meant he was serious or joking. He looked at the pushed in fender and winced.
"It'll drive," I said in response to his unasked question. "It's not close to the wheel and didn't damage anything but the fender."
"They don't build them like this any more." He said in admiration. "Are you still heading home?"
"Yes, I was just about to get on the road."
"How about I ride along?" He asked, trying not to look worried. "Safety in numbers and all. And before you say anything, it's no bother. I was supposed to go to the San Fran offices this weekend anyway."
"Really, it's not necessary..." I started to argue.
"I'd feel better, you'd feel better," he interrupted, counting reasons on his fingers. "We could take turns driving, time passes quicker with conversation, I get to spend more time with you..."
"Fine," I stopped him; sensing that he could have kept going. "You can come along."
I shook my head, smiling as he gave an exaggerated fist pump. Not giving him a chance to argue, I hopped in the drivers seat and started the van. Scooby looked unhappy when Zeke got in the other side, but turned his head and lay down in the back.
"Do you need anything before we go?"
"Nope. I have a change of clothes in my briefcase," he said patting a leather satchel he placed on the floor beside him. "There's a great barbecue place by my office and I was planning on having lunch there. I always end up wearing the sauce and came to work prepared."
"You must have been a great Boy Scout," I told him as I pulled onto the road.
"I have all the eating merit badges; that's how Shaggy and I bonded."
I said nothing for a time, focused on the road and trying to reason out why the police would suspect Shaggy to be a criminal. His apartment was in a nice building, but nothing he couldn't afford with his job. A lot of money had been put into the Mystery Machine, but again, nothing he wouldn't have been able to afford. His clothes and furnishings were nothing to sound alarms either.
Having a place in Boulder Rock and San Francisco was expensive, but necessary for his job. And Shaggy had inherited some money from his uncle, easily enough to cover his standards. But that was definitely an attack earlier, and the police were following the van. Things didn't add up and I knew I wouldn't be able to let this rest until I had answers. Fred always liked to joke I would bite into a mystery like Shaggy would a sandwich.
"You're awfully quiet," Zeke said drawing me from my thoughts. I stirred, realizing that we were on the freeway now and I hadn't realized it, going on autopilot as I worked through what I knew.
"Sorry," I said, apologizing for ignoring him. "I was trying to figure out what was going on."
"What did the police have to say?"
"That's what's puzzling me," I told him frowning. Nothing made sense at the moment. "They seemed more interested in how I knew Shaggy and why I was at his apartment this morning than the hit and run."
"You were at his place this morning?" Zeke asked, suddenly seeming very interested. "Did Shaggy need you to pick something up for him?"
"No," I said a little quicker than I intended. I took a breath before continuing. "No, I just needed to get a few things for Scooby."
"Oh, the teddy bear," Zeke joked; but I could hear disappointment in his voice.
"Do you think Shaggy is involved in something he shouldn't be?" I asked, hoping Zeke would back up my thoughts.
"Shaggy?" Zeke laughed at the idea. "I would pick Scooby to be the criminal mastermind of the pair."
"Rey," Scooby huffed from the back.
"He has a point Scoob," I laughed along with Zeke. "You're not smuggling Scooby Snacks are you?"
"Rmmph," was all I heard from the back as Zeke went quiet beside me.
I dropped Zeke at the main headquarters of Scooby Snack Inc. the next morning, both of us deciding getting a couple of motel rooms for the night made more sense than arriving exhausted before sunrise. After trying to call Shaggy for the third time Scooby and I continued on to Shaggy's place, in a new building near Fisherman's Warf. I parked in Shaggy's spot in the buildings sub-level parking garage, not hiding my surprise at the obvious expense of the place.
My surprise continued as the elevator doors opened and had an honest to goodness operator, in uniform. He greeted Scooby and told me he was expecting me and pressed the floor button. I thanked him when the doors opened and Scooby and I stepped out onto Shaggy's floor.
Scooby perked up as we drew closer to the apartment; nearly running to the door and easily beating me there. His tail was thumping excitedly against the floor as I unlocked the door. He pushed through but stopped so abruptly I almost tripped over him.
The place was a mess, things thrown carelessly all over the place. The TV was even pulled from it's wall mounts and lying face down on the floor. Scooby had cautiously prowled toward what I assumed was the kitchen, his nose in the air sniffing. I followed him, the scent of blood strong enough that even I could smell it as I neared Scooby.
"Rhaggy!" I heard him yelp as he stopped, shoulders hunched. Fearfully I approached and stopped alongside Scooby. Pale bare feet were just visible on this side of the kitchen island. I walked forward and could see ankles disappearing into brown trousers. More was exposed as I continued on, a green t-shirt covered the trousers and dark red covered the floor and was soaked into the shirt.
I stopped, tears flowing freely as I saw the long hair matted with dried blood.
On the kitchen floor, beside the scattered remains of a half eaten sandwich, was Shaggy. His open eyes staring vacantly back at me.