Chapter 7 - Bloody murder
Things get a little dark in this chapter.
Surprisingly, Velma wasn't as mad at Shaggy and Scooby as they had feared she would be. Although their behaviour at the store was incredibly embarrassing, Velma had managed to get what they had come looking for before they were forced to make a swift exit and, with any luck, this small clue would push them a little bit closer to solving the mystery. "Besides," Velma said on the dive away from the store, "Those clothes are stupid anyway."
To say that Shaggy and Scoob were relieved by Velma's acceptance would be an understatement; Velma was not somebody you wanted to get on the wrong side of. They had learnt that the hard way on multiple occasions.
The Mystery Machine pulled up outside the malt shop and Velma climbed into the back with Shaggy and Scooby to pore over their evidence. "So, we've got the suspect's hat, a piece of their coat, a receipt for the items and, what is most likely, their name."
The group sat in a circle in the back of the van and placed the items in the centre. Shaggy picked up the receipt and frowned at it. "Mercia F Leach? What the hell kinda name is that? And, like, what does the F stand for?"
"Reah. What does rhat mean?" Scooby wondered out loud.
Velma shrugged. "Beats me. But look at the date. It's a week from today. And the hat and the material both look pretty new. Which means this Mercia F Leach could be the one who attacked Daphne."
Shaggy nodded thoughtfully, staring at the name. "Like, doesn't the name sound familiar to you?"
"That's what I thought" Velma replied. "I also thought that this so-called Mercia must be pretty rich to afford all those things. But the only rich people we know are Mayor Jones, who is long gone, and Daphne, who was the victim. So that rules them both out as suspects."
"Rand they're rot ralled Mercia" Scooby pointed out.
"I know that, Scooby. But maybe the suspect isn't really called Mercia F Leach either. Maybe it's a pseudonym. That's another word for a fake name" Velma explained when she saw Shaggy and Scooby's confused faces.
"We knew that" Shaggy insisted.
They spent the next hour in the van discussing their evidence and coming up with suggestions as to who the attacker could be. They then spent a further hour in a fruitless search of Murder Alley for any more clues. At around half past twelve, Shaggy and Scooby's stomachs began to rumble again and they decided to grab a bite to eat. Unbeknownst to them, a dark, sinister figure spied them as they made their way from the alley towards the malt shop.
A light lunch was ordered and paid for and, after a long wait, was delivered to them by one of the waiters. He was a tall, robust young man, roughly the same age as Fred, with a round face, brown tousled hair and eyes so pale they were almost grey. As he placed their food on the table, he eyed Velma and Shaggy suspiciously. "Say, are you the people Jimmy told me about?"
"Like, what do ya mean, man?" Shaggy asked through a mouthful of liverwurst sandwich a la mode.
"Jimmy told me that two people fitting your descriptions came into the malt shop this morning asking to speak to me. Was that you guys, by any chance?"
Velma suddenly realised who this man was. "Oh, you must be Todd!"
"Sure am" Todd replied.
"Like, Jimmy said you don't start until one o'clock" Shaggy told him.
"One of the other waiters called in sick, so I'm filling in for him. Anyway, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Our friend, Daphne Blake, was attacked in the alley outside this shop last night" Velma said. "Jimmy said you might be able to help us."
Todd's face suddenly clouded over. "Well, I don't really know much about it." He became apprehensive and looked out the window nervously. "Look, I don't have much time to talk now. I'll tell you what. I go on my break in about two hours. If you guys are willing to wait around until then, can you meet me by the back door?"
Velma nodded. "Sure."
The next two hours seemed to drag and Shaggy, Velma and Scooby were all curious as to why Todd would ask them to meet him by the back door of the malt shop. Nevertheless, they complied and, at half past two, Todd quietly slipped out to join them. "Okay, what do you want to know?" he asked.
"We were wondering if you might have seen the attack happen or...something" Velma said.
To her disappointment, Todd told her that he hadn't. "Although, there is something that might be worth knowing. Earlier today, when I was on my way here, this guy stopped me in the street. He said that some people would likely pay me a visit and ask if I knew anything about last night's attack."
"Like, what did this man look like?" Shaggy asked.
"Well, he was quite tall, taller than me, and pretty big. He was wearing this trench coat made of leather, as well as a hat and some sunglasses."
Velma's heart leapt. "Did he tell you his name?"
Todd nodded. "Yes, strangely enough. He said his name was Mercia F Leach. Pretty weird name for a guy, if you ask me." He quickly glanced down the street as if checking to make sure the coast was clear. "Look, I really shouldn't be telling you this. You see, this man...well, he said I wasn't to tell you anything and that if I did, he would kill me."
A shiver ran down everyone's spine as he said this. The trio thanked Todd for his help, then left.
It was dark by the time Todd's shift finished. He grabbed his coat and keys, then signed himself out and walked outside to his car. As he was walking towards the parking lot, a tall, dark figure appeared out of nowhere and dragged him into the alley, pinning him against the wall. Todd gasped in horror when he recognised the trench coat and the sunglasses. "Please, let me go" he begged.
"You told them, didn't you?" the man hissed.
"No, no. I didn't, I swear!"
The man chuckled, humourlessly. "Don't lie to me. Didn't I tell you what would happen if you told them about our meeting?" As the man said this, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny black gun.
Todd's blood turned to ice and he struggled to get away. "No! Please, let me go! Please don't kill me! I'll do anything! Anything!"
But his desperate pleas were for naught. In the eerie silence of the night, the sound of a gun firing echoed in the alley, frightening anyone and everyone within earshot. By the time witnesses appeared on the scene, the killer was long gone, leaving behind only the lifeless body of Todd, drowning in his own blood.
