CHAPTER 9: "In Over Our Heads in This Mystery"
"Is everyone okay?" asked Fred, still breathing heavily from the scary encounter with the other driver.
"Yeah," breathed Daphne, "no thanks to her."
"Wonder why she was in such a hurry?" wondered Velma.
"Like, beats me," said Shaggy. "But she sure seemed in a big hurry to get away from here."
The four humans and the dog approached the building. "Hi, we're going up to Marc Wyndham's," Fred explained to the superintendent.
"What's he got going on there, a party?"
The blond man shrugged. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand, sir."
The burly man leaned back in his chair. "Some woman came here earlier and went up to his place…rather odd, considering that he never really had any visitors…except for you kids."
"Woman?" asked Fred, intrigued.
"Yeah, some blonde chick who said she was his ex…said she was going there to get some of her things back." The superintendent glanced up at the four kids. "Strange, because when he moved in, I don't recall him ever mentioning his wife or having another woman living with him; all he inquired about when he moved in was a damage deposit for his dog."
"Dog?" asked Fred. His brain was already piecing together the man's story. Suddenly, he snapped to, in horror. The puppies!
"Come on, gang," he ordered, abruptly. "We gotta go!" He turned back and thanked the burly superintendent. "We'll talk to you later!" Fred yelled back, as he and his friends clamored up the stairs to the fifth floor. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he feared for what they might—or might not—find in the apartment.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Oh boy, like someone sure is a messy house keeper!" proclaimed Shaggy as he surveyed the mess in the apartment. The potted plant was completely uprooted and its soil scattered everywhere. Shards of broken pottery and glass littered the floor, and a cocktail table stood on its side.
"You don't suppose the puppies could have done this?" suggested Daphne.
Velma shook her head. "Uh uh. At six weeks old, they are not yet strong enough to knock over a table, yet alone to stand it on end like that. Speaking of puppies…" Velma's voice trailed off as she slowly began to piece together what might have happened.
Fred turned and faced the gang. "Uh oh," he intoned, flatly. "Do you see what I don't see?"
Daphne walked ran around the apartment, searching desperately. "Puppies, here pups, where are you?"
Shaggy shook his head. "Like y'know, there's no sign of them anywhere."
"Well, they couldn't have just disappeared," countered Daphne, a hint of desperation detectable in her voice. "Here puppies, here pups." The redhead was not ready to give up; her own maternal instinct told her that the puppies were in immanent danger if they weren't found soon.
"I hate to say it, gang," began Shaggy, "but, like, I think we might have struck out on this one."
Velma, Daphne and Fred weren't ready to concede defeat just yet.
"Like, we have hardly anything to go on. All we have is an overturned plant, some dirt, a few footprints…"
Fred cut him off, abruptly. "Wait a minute," he interjected. "That's a clue right there." He turned and faced his redheaded cohort. "Daphne, what do you make of that footprint?"
Daphne bent over and looked at it. "Well, it comes from a woman's heeled shoe," she began.
"But, like, how do we know that isn't one of our tracks?" wondered Shaggy. "We sure did a lot of running around looking for those pups."
"Because, continued Daphne, "look at the style. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing something that tacky."
"Raggy," the Great Dane interrupted. "Rook, rook." The dog was fixated on an area by the door. Shaggy and Velma approached the dog; the bespectacled girl's eyes fell on a piece of crumpled paper lying beside the dog's paw. "Hey wait a minute, what's this?" she asked, picking up the paper.
"Looks like a rental car contract," said Shaggy. "And get a load of whose name is on the top of it!"
"Here's something else that's interesting, Shag," commented Velma. "Take a look at the time on that print out." She looked at Daphne and Fred. "I think it's time we asked that superintendent a few questions about this mysterious woman who was here earlier," she suggested. "But first, one of us has got to break the news to Marc."
* * * * * * * * * *
Kala lay despondently in front of her dog house; a bowl of water and dry dog food sat in front of her, but the female Dane had had no desire to eat. She had no desire to live, either, not without her mate, and certainly not without her puppies. Her ears twitched as she heard the sound of Laura's car enter the driveway. She barked, loudly, hoping to alert her owner to her plight, but Laura paid no attention to the animal's cries. Laura walked around the side of the house to the tool shed, removing a spade, shovel and gardening gloves. Those little rats have got to go, she muttered to herself. And I'm gonna dump them where no one will ever think of looking for them.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"So, sir, what can you tell us about this woman who claimed to be Marc Wyndham's ex-wife?" asked Fred.
"It was about 11:30a.m," the burly man recounted. "She had some boxes and furniture
covers…said she was coming to retrieve some of her property from Marc's apartment. The weird thing is, I had never seen her before today, and I've been managing this complex for five years."
"And to your best recollection, what did she take with her when she exited the building?"
"Just those boxes with the furniture covers thrown over them, the weird thing was, she didn't have any furniture with her."
"Why would someone throw a furniture cover over something other than a piece of furniture?" queried Daphne. "That's rather odd."
"You think that's odd," said Velma, sticking her head out from the superintendent's office. "This woman claimed that she was retrieving her property from the apartment; well, according to the lease records, she never lived here!"
Fred and Daphne exchanged startled glances.
"And even if she did," continued Velma, "it would have been a pretty tight fit with two adults and a fully grown Great Dane—that apartment is a one bedroom studio."
Fred looked at the bespectacled girl; her expression suggested that she knew more about the case than she was letting on. Slowly, but surely, the four humans began to realize what had transpired and the extent of it.
"Velma," asked Daphne, worried. "Are you insinuating that…"
Velma nodded. "If I'm right, then those puppies are in mortal danger the longer they stay with that woman."
The skinny man looked puzzled. "Like, I swear I've heard this one before," he said. "Wasn't this the one where the crazed divorcee rips off the puppies to make fur coats out of them?"
"Get serious, Shaggy!" scolded Velma. "This is not a Disney movie!"
"And Kala is not a Saint Bernard either, countered Fred. "It's time we shift this investigation into high gear," he declared. "Velma, you and shaggy follow up on this rental car invoice; Daphne and I will take Scooby to Laura's house and look around."
"You got it," said Velma, turning and walking towards a bus stop.
Once in the car, Daphne faced her husband. "You seem less than confident, Freddie," she commented. "What's wrong?"
The blond man sighed. "If Velma is right, then we may be in over our heads in this mystery."