Casem Hall was dark and deserted. Outside, the faint chimes of the campus clocktower rang seven times.

One solitary figure opened the northern most door and crept his way inside. Something was wrong. Weren't there supposed to be more people here? And what was with the lights.

The figure walked down the short hall into the main lobby area. Short hallways branched off in four directions, all meeting under one large dome. The lone person walked into the center, turning around and around, trying to figure out where everyone went.

Suddenly, a light went on down the hallway on the left. A tall blonde guy the size of a football player was standing in front of the door. He cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Another light went on down to the right. A black girl with a reddish-brown afro and a purple dress stood, feet firmly planted on the ground, arms crossed in front of the door.

A light went on behind them. A girl in an orange sweater leaned her back against the door, a wooden club, no crutch, in her hand.

A light went on straight ahead. A Great Dane, half as tall as the doors he guarded, snarling as he paced back and forth.

"Stan," a familiar voice said.

Stan jumped and turned.

Shaggy stepped out of the shadows, towering over Stan.

"Like where is everyone else, man?" Stan asked. "You know. For the vigil?"

"They're down at the football field," Fred said. "I caught up with Sanders and Dixon and gave them permission."

"Oh well. Then I guess we should all get down there, shouldn't we?" Stan laughed nervously.

"Like, you're not going anywhere," Shaggy said, his voice low and grave. "Least of all to a vigil for Danny Snyder."

"But why not man? I mean, I wanna pay my respects," Stan said. He looked around nervously. He couldn't tell if it was imagination, but the figures near the door seemed to have moved closer.

"Pay your respects?" Shaggy asked. Anger started to bubble in his chest. "How dare you."

"How dare I what, man? Like he died. I need to pay my respects.

Shaggy made to lunge forward, but Fred shouted and he stopped.

"Why did you kill him Stan?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about, man. I-"

"Why did you kill him?" Shaggy repated slowly.

"Man, I don't know what you're talking about," Stan declared, though fear was rising in his voice.

"What happened to your jacket Stan?" Daphne asked casually as she stepped closer to the two men in the center of the rotunda.

"My j-jacket?" Stan stammered. "I, uh, caught it on a doorknob."

"Really?" Fred asked.

"Y-yeah. Caught it on a doorknob a long time ago," Stan turned back to Shaggy. "Come on man, you gotta believe me. You know this jacket's like seven years old. I ripped it a while ago. Come on man you believe me, right?"

Shaggy pulled out the handkerchief which had been bundled in his back pocket. He laid it open on his palm. Inside was a scrap of leather, the same shade as Stan's jacket.

"We found that by the river?" Velma stated, stepping forward. "Next to dried blood."

Shaggy grabbed Stan by the collar and nearly lifted him up off the ground.

"Why'd you kill him?"

"Like I didn't man, come on. Let me down," Stan said, struggling to come loose. "You're crazy. Like I didn't do anything man."

"Like we have enough evidence to put you at the scene of the crime," Shaggy said, not loosening his grip a millimeter. "So just tell us why you killed him?"

"I didn't man, come on. I didn't."

"Put him down," Fred instructed as Stan started to turn the slightest shade of blue.

Shaggy did as he was told, but did not break eye contact as he lowered Stan back to the floor.

Suddenly, Daphne had a thought. She made eye contact with Velma, and jerked her head at Stan. Velma gave the slightest jerk of not understanding. Daphne repeated the gesture.

Velma looked back at Stan. The gash on his jacket was right in front of her. She looked back to Daphne and nodded.

"The person who was last seen with Danny got hurt on that bench," Daphne stated.

Without warning, Velma poked Stan hard in the side, right over the tear in his jacket. He crumpled to the ground.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, holding a hand to the wound. "Fine, fine. I was there with him. But that doesn't mean I killed him."

"Like why were you there then, huh?" Shaggy asked, his voice now full of rage. "Why were you there?"

"Because my number came up, man," Stan cried. "My number came up. And Danny, Danny was the only guy I ever knew who came back from Nam okay. Like he didn't get hurt or you know get depressed or drink himself to death or whatever. And I-I'm fuckin' terrified man. And so I followed Danny down to the river. He... he went there sometimes to do this weird meditation thing. Took his shoes off and everything. Just sat on the bench with his eyes closed. So I went up to him and started asking him about it. Told him why I was there."

"And what did he say?" Fred asked. The gang had gotten so close that they surrounded Stan, who was still on the floor.

"Nothin. Wouldn't tell me a damn thing. And you know, I'm whiggin out and I-I get a little angry and I push him. Knocks him right off the bench. And now he's mad you know, so he pushes me back, and that's when I hit the bench."

"And then what happened?" Shaggy asked.

"Nothing, man. I left."

"And then what happened?" Shaggy repeated. He knelt down and lifted Stan off the floor by the collar again.

"And then I pushed him," Stan cried. "I pushed him back and he slipped on the mud and landed in the river. And the current was so fast, he just got swept away. And I was gettin all woozy from the blood and couldn't get to him. And he just disappeared man. He just went under and I didn't see him come back up. I didn't mean to, man. I didn't mean to."

Stan started crying, repeating "I didn't mean to" over and over again.

"Keep him there," Fred ordered. "I'm gonna go call the police."

Shaggy towered over Stan, who just kept sobbing.

"I didn't mean to man. I didn't mean to."

"Well I think it's safe to say that you're not going to Vietnam."


"So wait," Fred said, stopping Tony Sanders and Lex Dixon as the vigil crowd dispersed from the football field. "If you guys didn't kill him, why did you have his stuff?"

Sanders and Dixon exchanged surreptitious glances, and then looked back to Fred.

"You know about that?"

"Yeah. My girlfriend overheard you guys talking in the library," Fred said. He jerked a thumb back at Daphne, who, along with Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby were talking to reporters and vigil attendees about the confrontation with Stan.

"Oh. Well," Sanders rubbed the back of his neck.

"His mom gave them to us," Dixon admitted. "She wanted them to be placed in an archive case in the football center. As an 'in memoriam' or whatever. We didn't want to do it too soon, because like it's too fresh you know?"

"Plus we knew the cops had closed it up so fast that someone was bound to get suspicious and look into how he died. And with his stuff, we looked guilty," Sanders motioned to the scene around them. "Case and point."

"Well, now that we've caught the real killer, I think you're safe to put that together," Fred clapped Dixon on the shoulder. "Thanks, guys."

Fred wandered back over to the rest of the gang just as the last reporter was finishing up.

"Ah, Fred Jones, is it? You're sort of the leader of this group it seems," he asked, scribbling on a notebook. Fred nodded. "You're colleagues here were just telling us about how you put all the pieces together and how it led to the kid. Any comments you'd like to add?"

"I don't think so. It was a team effort, and I trust whatever they said," Fred said with a smile. He put one arm around Daphne and hugged her close to him.

The reporter finished the line he wrote and muttered a word of thanks before he left. Fred turned back to the team.

"Alright gang. Let's go home."

There was a murmur of assent, and the gang started to leave for the parking lot near Casem Hall.

Daphne was up ahead, comforting Shaggy, Fred not far behind. He looked back to glance at something, when he noticed Velma trailing them. He slowed his pace slightly so he could fall in step with her.

"Look, I just wanted to say that I really am sorry," Fred said quietly. "I-I didn't mean it to come out that way. It wasn't about you, it was just kind of a thing that we said. I didn't mean you to take it personally. Really I didn't."

"Trust me, I'm the first person to say that polio is bad time. It's just," she sighed. "It's... it hurts to have it, even references to it, thrown around so casually. We've had a vaccine for fifteen years. It's not so scary anymore. We've moved on from it as a society, but... you know...I can't. And I know what you said wasn't meant to be directed at me, but... but it doesn't really make it hurt any less."

"I understand. I won't say it again."

Velma smiled weakly and nodded.

"Hey you know what we never figured out?" Daphne asked suddenly, stopping the group as she turned around.

"What?"

"Who was Sarah? You know, the girl Danny was writing the letters to?"

"I think I know that one, " Velma said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "She was his fiancée."

"Like no," Shaggy shook his head. "Danny would have told me if he was getting married."

"Well, I think they were engaged but had no plans yet to marry," Velma explained.

"And why was that?"

"Because she was stationed overseas. I can only assume they met at the end of Danny's deployment, and that Sarah has either not yet returned from duty, or has been deployed again. That's why she was worried about their codes being intercepted. In the military, coded letters from the outside would have been suspicious."

"But Danny probably didn't want anyone to know about her in case he or she didn't make it out alive," Fred said, thinking out loud.

"All of this is purely assumption," Velma said in response to Shaggy's face.

"Like it makes sense though," Shaggy admitted sadly. "And I bet like she doesn't even know he's dead."

"We'll take care of that for you," Daphne said quickly. "Don't worry about that part. We've got it."

"Hey," Fred said, clapping Shaggy on the shoulder. "How about a celebratory dinner down at Gregor's? In honor of Danny."

Shaggy smiled weakly, and nodded.

"Like yeah. Dinner for Danny."


Gregor's Restaraunt was mostly empty, as eight thirty pm on a Sunday doesn't really qualify as 'dinner rush'.

The gang sat at a corner booth, chatting as they at their meals. Occasionally one of them would toss a French fry to Scooby who sat on the floor at the end of the table. It had started to rain shortly after the students had cleared from the vigil, and it was slowly developing into a storm.

Shaggy ordered a round of pie, for everyone, just as he and Fred started chatting about how well the van, which Fred had jokingly nicknamed "The Mystery Machine" handled on the road.

Velma moved her last piece of chicken around with her fork, her chin resting in her hand.

"What's wrong?" Daphne asked quietly.

"It all goes back to normal now, right?" Velma asked. "I mean, we solved the mystery. We caught the bad guy. Now we just go back to our normal lives."

"I guess," Daphne shrugged. "Though we did just catch a murderer, so I'm not sure how normal our lives can be from now on."

"Will I get to see you guys again?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Daphne asked, taken aback.

"Well, just that... there's no reason for us all to hang out together again," Velma said. "So I don't know if I'll see you guys again. I mean, sure we have Philosophy together, but that's only until the end of the quarter..."

"But... we're friends," Daphne said slowly. "That's a reason to spend time together. Just to spend time together."

"Really?" Velma said, perking up. "Like, we can really just spend time together? Just because?"

"Of course," Daphne said. "I mean, whether or not we solve more mysteries, we're going to remain friends."

"Oh thank God," Velma sighed, relieved.

The bell on the door tinkled. Their conversations ceased as they turned to see who it was.

A red-haired cop looked around the diner for a moment before he saw the gang.

"Hello kids," he said, sweeping his hat off as he greeted them. "I'm Officer Andy Schwartz with the Coolsville Police Department. I wanted to say, on behalf of the department, thank you for your work on the Danny Snyder case. I'm sure I'm not the only guy at the station who thinks we probably should have looked into it further. Anyways, I wanted to congratulate you in person."

"Like, thank you sir," Shaggy said slowly. He looked back to the gang, who all seeemed as suprised as he was.

"You're welcome. You definitely deserve it," Officer Schwartz said. "However, there's something else. Something happened earlier, and since we're pretty busy over at the station and you guys did such a good job, we wondered if you might want to look into it."

The gang looked at each other.

"Look in to what, sir?" Fred asked.

"Well, a professor who was visiting the history department from England never showed up. We got confirmation that he arrived at the airport in Cleveland, unloaded the knight, you know the suit of armor that he was bringing with him, and rented a truck to drive it down here. But some kids just found the truck on Martinsville Road, with the suit of armor in the front seat and the professor nowhere to be found. And the kids say, and I'm just repeating this, I don't know if it's true or not... but they swore that they saw the suit of armor walking around. We're too busy to look into it, and if I'm being honest we don't really know where to begin," Officer Schwartz explained. "You kids interested in looking into it?"

The gang exchanged glances once again.

"Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. We look forward to hearing from you."

Officer Schwartz tipped his hat and left. A waitress delivered a bill to the table, which Fred paid for. As they stood, pulling on their coats, the storm that had been threatening since they had left the vigil broke. Lightning flashed as gathered at the door waiting on Fred.

"Like, zoinks," Shaggy said, jumping at the flash. "What a night for a knight."