Chapter 2
They landed with the sun still just up over the horizon and headed back to the office to bring Daphne up to speed. There wasn't a reason to go into the conference room and Shaggy put on a pot of coffee as they spread out around their group office.
Velma started, "It's a debunking."
Daphne looked a little non-plussed, "Really? Just a standard debunking? Why would we want to do that?"
Everyone looked at Fred who rose to the challenge, "Because it's going to make us over 100% billable for at least several days and get the Mystery Machine completely repaired and upgraded."
Daphne's mouth dropped open, "Wait. We're doing this completely old school? Driving around the country in the van? We're not as young as we used to be and that's a lot of sitting in those backbreaker seats."
"They won't be those seats. They'll be brand new orthopedic seats with adjustable lumbar support."
She laughed, "Oh my god! All that drinking you did with Malcolm! You were just waiting for something like this."
He laughed along, "Absolutely! And here it is!"
Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby froze. Fred and Daphne were being… Fred and Daphne. Shaggy didn't say anything for fear that one of the two would remember all that had occurred between them. But the moment ebbed into silence and the brief spell was broken.
Fred cleared his throat, "Well… uh… this is going to be a busy week. We're going to have to get enough work done to keep our other clients happy while we focus on this. We'll need a temp agency to provide someone to keep the doors open and answer the phones. I'll be spending most of my time at Malcolm's garage. When this ghost hunter guy calls me and lets me know where we're going, we'll have another meeting and Velma can start her research. Anybody have any other questions?"
Everybody looked at each other and there were none. Fred ended the meeting, "It looks like that's a wrap for today."
Shaggy and Velma sat at their desks to get everything pulled together to take some work home with them. Scooby skipped any pretense of having something to do in his office and just sat and waited.
Daphne stepped up to Fred, "I guess I'll head back over to my parent's house."
Fred noticed that she had said 'her parent's house' rather than 'home'. That had always been something that annoyed him and he appreciated the change. It would be the easiest thing in the world for him to say why don't you come home tonight? And she was looking good. He didn't know what it was about the almost imperceptible scar on her left cheek, but it seriously turned him on. And he was getting turned on now. His mind flashed him a sexual fantasy and he immediately felt guilty. But why should he? She was his wife and being turned on by his wife was a good thing. He opened his mouth to speak and then realized the source of the guilt. When he had looked down into her face, he had been searching within himself for the feelings of love, tenderness, and caring which that face and those eyes had always kindled within him. But instead – almost without him knowing – the emotion he had found was the ever-present anger which filled his life. So, instead of love, his heart had filled with lust. He didn't wish to make love with his wife. He wanted to ravage her. 'Ravage' was not precisely the right word as she would welcome the intimacy as she had the other day. But he would know that his motivations were purely selfish, and angry, and almost violent. His very actions would be misleading – a lie. His emotional reflexes in their attempt to protect him from the reality of self-awareness tried to tell him that he was wanting to punish her for her deception. But the anger pre-dated her lies. And the anger was now controlling him.
The pause had gone on too long and Fred's facial expression had clearly darkened. Daphne's moment of hope vanished. She put on an obviously pained smile and went into business mode, "Okay, it looks like I won't be taking any more days off. It looks like we need all hands on deck."
Fred nodded and managed to keep his tone almost steady, "Yeah. I appreciate that. I'll see you in the morning."
Daphne shut down her computer in record time and Fred watched as she wordlessly left the office. He hadn't really noticed before that she had dressed up. She was wearing a form-fitting dress that fell to a few inches above her knees and then wore boots with two-inch heals which came up to just under her knees. It was not one of her average workday outfits. It was meant to make him see her as the beautiful woman which she was. And it worked.
He remained silent as she passed through the outer office door and the bell tinkled. Now he had a different problem to deal with, he was severely horny. He couldn't help but notice Velma working at her computer. The fans were right when they talked about how sexy she was but the relationship between her and Fred was so firmly established as a brother/sister bond his eyes barely stopped on her as he turned back to his own desk to start turning everything off to go home. Maybe a cold shower would do the trick. He had tried it before, and it had never worked but maybe the hundredth time was the charm. Fred hated himself.
After Fred left, Shaggy watched him go and then slammed his hand down on his desk. Neither Scooby nor Velma were good at watching and understanding human interactions and didn't understand Shaggy's sudden outburst. Velma spoke for them both, "What's wrong?"
Shaggy sheepishly turned to her, "Sorry. It's probably nothing. I hope it's nothing."
Scooby joined in, "Rwhat's rothing? Rye don't ret it."
"I don't get it either," Velma concurred.
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm probably overreacting."
"Oh no, roo don't!"
Velma pointed at Scooby, "I'm with the dog."
Shaggy hung his head, "It's just that the way Fred was acting reminded me of when they separated before their divorce."
"And?"
Shaggy ran through what he felt he could say and came up with simply, "And bad things happened."
The week was going to be a busy one. Phone calls had to be made. Frustrated and angry clients had to be calmed with offers of free work on the backside of the delays which they were presently having to swallow. And all time-sensitive cases which could possibly be closed needed to be closed by the end of the week or they would have to farm them out to rival agencies. There were four such cases: two were missing persons (Daphne) and one was a wandering spouse (Velma), and one was insurance fraud (Shaggy).
The following morning, Fred went straight to Malcolm's garage before 7:00. At around 10:00, The Gang received a group text from him making sure that everyone could be at the office at 11:00. At 10:50, Fred bounded into the office and asked Velma to get the conference room set up for a Facetime call with the ghost hunters. At precisely 11:00, Fred's phone began to ring and Velma blue-toothed it to the screen and the starfish-shaped speaker in the middle of the table.
The screen filled with several people seated around what looked like a dining room table in a small apartment. Wall decorations behind them were sparse and the furniture which could be seen was either garage sale or Ikea. What Shaggy used to refer to as 'vintage'.
Fred spoke first, "Are you guys able to see and hear us?"
A bearded man in his late twenties who was wearing a baseball cap backwards spoke, "Five by five. Let me start off by saying that we at Fantastic Phantasms are excited about the opportunity to work with the original Mystery Inc. To say that we are fans would be an understatement. He looked around the people on his side of the call. I guess that we should start the introductions since we all know who you are.
"My name is Hugo Miller and I'm the leader…"
He was interrupted by one of the others, "…Spokesperson."
Miller looked up with a slightly irritated expression but forced a smile, "As I was saying, I'm Hugo Miller and I'm the founder of Fantastic Phantasms…"
Velma now interjected, "Are you also the one that came up with that awful name?"
Daphne looked across the table, "Velma!"
But a female voice from the screen came on excitedly, "He is! He totally is! Doesn't it just suck?"
Hugo tried to recapture some of the gravitas of the introductions, "The woman getting far too much entertainment at my expense is Rhonda Miller. She is our technical lead and also my wife."
"In that order." Rhonda volunteered. But the smile on her face and the glance she shared with her husband turned this from an insult into a good-natured shared joke.
Velma jumped in again, "Rhonda, this is Velma Dinkley. How often do you calibrate your equipment?"
Rhonda's palm filled the screen and then the screen began moving around the apartment until it focused on a metal box in the corner which was just large enough for someone small to sit in. It was crudely but properly constructed.
Velma recognized it immediately, "A Faraday cage."
"Right. I built it myself and had it tested at Myers College where I got my Masters. We calibrate to zero at the beginning of every case and then recalibrate whenever we have a positive reading."
Velma nodded, "You just passed the test that 95% of your counterparts fail."
The picture moved back to the group around the table and Hugo spoke again, "We've watched every episode of your show. Even though you were trying to disprove exactly what we are trying to prove, the methodology is virtually identical. We created our basic protocols by reverse-engineering from what you do."
Velma adjusted her glasses on her nose, "That is very flattering. It almost makes me sad that we are going to have to prove you wrong."
Rhonda countered without missing a beat, "If you can prove us wrong, then we deserve to be proven wrong. We're not trying to make a point or get ratings on some tv show. We are simply after the truth and the facts."
Fred jumped in, "Maybe we should let Hugo finish his introductions."
Hugo smiled, "Thanks Fred. After my obviously charming wife, we have Ted Parson who handles all of the specialty camera work. While we all wear bodycams throughout an investigation, Ted handles the night vision camcorder and the digital camera for the record shots."
Daphne slightly raised her hand, "What do you do with the bodycam footage?"
Ted answered, "The bodycams are required to be on at all times except when they're recharging. We do a complete dump onto our server at the end of every shift before we start charging. All of the raw data is kept and you're welcome at any time to look through our archives and compare the raw footage with the edited record version."
Velma jumped in, "We need to be clear that no member of Scooby Doo Investigations is granting a right to include our name, image, or likeness in any videos created by your team. The use of any such likeness must be approved by both the individuals in question and Scooby Doo Investigations, a division of Mystery Inc. In the event that it is agreed that our likenesses can be used, then Scooby Doo Investigations will require full control of the editing of those scenes which are so included. Does anybody have any problems with that?"
Ted spoke through gritted teeth, "Only all of it."
Hugo jumped in, "I think we can stipulate to you having control over the use of your likenesses but we retain creative control of the editing process."
Velma was ready for the counter offer, "We get final approval on any scenes in which we are included prior to publication. If we don't agree with their publication, then they and all duplications including digital are completely destroyed and wiped."
Hugo pondered for a moment, "Will we get an opportunity to make modifications to such scenes to bring them to your standards?"
Velma nodded, "That's reasonable."
Ted's voice had an edge, "So, after I am finished with the editing process, they can snap their fingers and all my work will be shit-canned?"
"I will be glad to work with you through the editing process to minimize the chances of that happening." Velma floated a compromise.
Ted locked eyes with Velma for a moment and ran aground against the utter lack of emotion that he saw there, "I guess we can work with that."
"Thanks Ted." Hugo waited a second to see if Daphne had a follow-up question. Then he gestured to what appeared to a be a young girl sitting near the back, "And last, is Laura. The newest member of the team. She's our runner."
Scooby thought that he should at least ask something, "Rwhat's a runner?"
Hugo turned to Laura to let her answer the question, "Well, uh, the team wanted to use motion sensors as a part of their investigations but they found that in drafty old houses there were lots of false alarms. They needed someone who would run with a camera to every sensor that alarms and start filming to see if it's a false alarm or something anomalous."
Fred queried, "Do you mind if I ask you how old you are, Laura?"
Her expression was an annoyed smile, "I'm 24."
That perked Velma up, "How tall are you?"
"I'm 4'-10"
Only Shaggy noticed the slight shift wherein Velma straightened her posture just a little. On those rare instances where Velma interacted with adults that were shorter than she was, she subconsciously wanted to maximize it. He turned away from Fred's phone so that no one would see his grin.
Rhonda was speaking, "Laura and I met in college. She was a freshman when I was working on my masters. Since she was on the gymnastics team, she was tiny, agile, and in excellent shape. There are lots of nooks and crannies in some of these places and that seemed like someone we needed so we asked her to join the team after she graduated last year."
Hugo looked into the camera, "Well, that's our team. Any questions?"
"Yes," It was Velma, "How many paranormal events have you documented?"
Hugo took the question, "Define what you mean by documented."
"I mean, how many ghosts do you believe that you have proven to be real?"
The ghost hunter nodded, "Zero. To prove a ghost to be false, all you have to do is to find out who is pretending to be the ghost and rip their mask off. To prove a ghost is real is a much higher bar. Ghosts are generally location-specific unless they are poltergeists and then they are person-specific. Since poltergeists are mobile, they are very hard to track down and since the majority of ghosts only appear in a specific location, then they cannot be duplicated in a laboratory environment.
"We have performed 27 investigations to date. We have determined no paranormal activity on 24 of them. The other three provided anomalous readings regarding which we do not yet have an explanation."
Velma tilted her head slightly, intrigued in spite of herself, "What were the anomalous readings?"
Rhonda jumped on this, "In two instances, we had temperature variations in the house – basically cold spots – which were 7.1 degrees Fahrenheit lower than the surrounding room temperature in one house in Massachusetts and 7.4 degrees lower in a house in Illinois. In both cases, we couldn't find a scientific reason for the temperature variation.
Hugo jumped in, "In Illinois, we invited professors from the University of Chicago to the house and they concurred with our findings that a logical explanation was not immediately apparent."
Rhonda rolled her eyes, "The third anomalous finding was in Indiana where we documented radio frequency interference every night at approximately 10:32 PM. We went back and repeated the recording after daylight savings time and found them occurring at 9:32 PM. Multiple recordings showed the interference decreasing in magnitude in all directions as we left the house. The readings returned to background about 40 feet from the exterior walls. These were repeatable and were observed by reliable third-party witnesses."
Hugo finished up, "It was the Cameron House in Rockport, Illinois that brought us to the attention of Mr. Salazar. It received some local press after the confirmation by the University of Chicago professors."
Velma's intrigue was increasing, "What department were these professors from?"
Hugo looked at Rhonda before answering, "One was in English and the other was Linguistics. The Physics Department refused to have anything to do with it and the University wouldn't sanction it. The two professors who came out just sort of heard about it and came out on their own time as a lark. But they were bright, educated, and unbiased."
Velma's interest was extinguished, "Whatever you say."
Rhonda joined in, "I keep telling him to not bring up the U of C profs. A couple of arts types having a lark doesn't give us any credibility. The science needs to speak for itself."
Velma crossed her arms in front of her chest and grudgingly admitted, "Well, your adherence to proper scientific method and protocols is certainly better than any of the previous ghost hunters we debunked. Have you ever thought of using the team to pursue something that actually exists?"
Rhonda's acerbic side reared up again, "I don't know. There aren't a lot of multi-dimensional beings dropping talking dogs into our lives and coordinating mysteries for us to solve. The rest of us either get PhDs and start fighting for grant money or pursue what brings in at least a trickle of interest."
Hugo tried to head off what appeared to be an onrushing collision of egos, "We use your methodology but start off with more of an open mind."
Velma remained Velma, "There's a difference between an open mind and a complete waste of time."
Daphne put on her peacemaker hat, "Guys, I have sat through a lot of conversations between Velma and ghost hunters before and you have obviously impressed her. She hasn't said the words charlatan or dumbass even once. That's a record."
Velma found it annoying when Daphne spoke for her but, in this case, she was basically right, "My preliminary reaction to your team is that you are performing your investigations in a reasonable and logical manner. You are also apparently sticking to actual verifiable results and not creating something out of nothing. If it is your intent to study such phenomena, then we at least speak the same language. That should make a joint quest for proper results possible."
"That's all we ask."
Fred got things on track, "So, tell us about the mystery."
Hugo smiled broadly. This was the fun part, "It's a church. A small, rural Roman Catholic church in the middle part of Tennessee outside of Nashville."
Velma groaned, "Seriously? A church?"
Rhonda concurred, "I know. Right?"
Hugo held up his hand, "Guys, have you ever worked with the Roman Catholic church? They are the kings of skepticism. They get so much crazy press about exorcists and the like that they go out of their way to find modern, scientific explanations for anything unusual. And they have 2,000 years of history in calling out false claims. I've been following this one since it first hit the news a few months ago. Four weeks ago, they shuttered the church. That means that they've given up. Whatever is happening there, the Roman Catholic Church couldn't come up with an explanation that would keep the doors open.
"I contacted the diocese three weeks ago and asked if we could investigate. They said hard no. Mr. Salazar then asked them very, very nicely and they agreed. The Church's name is St Timothy's and it's in a small town named Bolton. When can you get there?"
This was Fred's domain, "Nashville? If we leave Monday morning, we can be there Tuesday night. So, we could meet at the church on Wednesday morning."
"Okay. Let's call it 9:00. I'll get it set up with the diocese. You can research it in the meantime."
"Don't worry. We will." Velma was already typing in her laptop.
Hugo ended the conversation with the standard, "Anybody have anything else?" When there was no answer, he finished off, "Great! We look forward to meeting you face-to-face on Wednesday morning. I'll send our hotel arrangements to you by text within the next hour or so." And the meeting ended.
When the screen went blank, Fred looked around, "Well, what does everybody think?"
Velma didn't look up from her research, "They seem to be a little more professional than most of the scumbag exhibitionist charlatan ghost hunters we've dealt with." Her brow furrowed as she typed feverishly into her computer, "Here it is. St Timothy's Roman Catholic Church in Bolton, Tennessee."
Fred made the mandatory response, "What've you got?"
"The phenomena started almost six months ago and have primarily been acts of vandalism. It seems that satanic symbols like pentagrams have been painted inside when the church was locked and even in cases where there was a guard present. About two months ago, things escalated when the remains of a freshly killed goat were found inside with the goat's blood spread over the alter and mixed in with the communion wine. The goat was decapitated and the head was placed at the top of the cross in the main sanctuary about 10 feet above the ground.
"Things escalated again when a guard and then the caretaker were physically attacked about five weeks ago. Neither was seriously injured and both were released from the emergency room without having to stay in the hospital. That was when the Church decided to move the congregation to another church about ten miles away and close the building until they felt it safe to go back. Nothing has been published since."
"Let me get this straight…" Shaggy spoke pensively, "This place has been repeatedly vandalized, animals have been killed…"
"Reah, ranimals. Rike ree."
Shaggy continued, "A valid point, Scooby, thank you. Animals – like Scooby Doo – have been killed and beheaded. And two humans have been attacked and sent to the hospital."
Velma nodded, "That is correct."
Shaggy returned the nod, "And, if my memory serves from precedents set on our previous investigations, we are going to drive halfway across the country to go to this place wherein you are going to want to go inside, lock the doors, and spend the night. Am I correct in that assumption?"
Fred nodded this time, "Sounds about right."
Shaggy took a deep breath for his final argument, "I believe I speak for both Scooby and myself when I ask, what the hell is wrong with you people?"
Scooby extended his paw toward Shaggy, "Rye couldn't have said it retter ryeself."
Shaggy shook the paw and rested his case.
Daphne stepped from the room and returned in a moment with two full boxes of Scooby Snacks, "This is our counter offer."
Both Scooby and Shaggy looked down at the boxes and their Adam's apples bobbed in unison. Shaggy looked at Daphne, "Let me confer with my client."
Before he even finished the sentence, "Ree raccept the offer!" Scooby grabbed one of the boxes, ripped it open, and poured it down his throat." Shaggy was right behind.
Velma glanced up at her fiancé, "Your resolve lasted almost four seconds. That might be a new personal best."
Shaggy swallowed the last five treats in one mouthful, "I'll have you know that I've been bought for a lot less than this."
Daphne stood, "I guess everything is in place then…"
Fred held up his hand, "There's one last thing." He looked away from his wife and toward Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby, "You may or may not know that Daphne is pregnant."
Both Velma and Shaggy remained silent but Scooby – the only one for whom this was a complete surprise – bellowed, "RONGRAT…" Seeing the look on Daphne and Fred's faces, the word sort of died off, "…urations?"
Fred continued, "Given her condition and given the fact that we are looking at over twenty hours of driving in two days, I am planning on Daphne skipping the drive and flying to Nashville and meeting us there."
This announcement was greeted with silence. Fred had not discussed any of it with Daphne. Neither about announcing to everyone that she was pregnant nor anything about her skipping the drive. She was completely aware that her emotions were in high gear due to the rearranging of her hormones in early pregnancy so she took several deep breaths and logically went through an appropriate reaction to what Fred had just done.
"Fuck you, Fred." That was appropriate.
"I just thought that in your condition it might be easier on you to avoid a long road trip."
Daphne ignored Fred and looked at the rest of The Gang, "I can run. I can fight. I can think. Yes, I throw up in the mornings. Then it passes. I can deal with that if you can. I plan on riding with the rest of you."
Velma looked directly at Fred, "No problem."
Shaggy followed suit, "I'm good."
Finally Scooby, "Ree, too."
Daphne was still standing, "Now, I think this goddamn meeting is over." She left. Velma and Scooby followed.
Shaggy walked to the door but then shut it and turned back to Fred. They were alone in the conference room. Shaggy looked directly into Fred's eyes, "That was a dick move, Fred." He let those words settle before continuing, "Here's the deal. I went through all of this game-playing when you and Daphne got divorced. But, back then, we weren't all relying on each other for our paychecks. Stop the bullshit and stop it now." Shaggy's anger was quiet and cold.
Fred sat down, "You're right, Shag. Sorry."
"I don't think that I'm the one that's owed an apology." Shaggy waited a moment to see if Fred would say anything else before opening the door and leaving.
Scooby was hiding in his office and Velma was busy ignoring the noisy sounds from Daphne's desk as Daphne shoved items from her desk into her purple briefcase. Shaggy crossed past on the way to his desk and immediately focused on his computer. After a couple of minutes, Fred came into the room and walked up to Daphne's desk.
"I'm sorry, Daphne. That was totally uncool of me. I was wrong."
She glared at him, put on her coat, picked up her briefcase, and left without speaking a word.
Fred looked at Velma and Shaggy, "I guess I'll head over to the garage and work on the Mystery Machine with Malcolm." And he, too, was gone.
Scooby came out of his office, sat between Velma and Shaggy, and whimpered.
Velma looked over at Shaggy, "Was it like that before? When they got divorced?"
Shaggy nodded, "It was exactly like that."
