CHAPTER 10: A DIFFERENT KIND OF CASE
Laura Whitney sat in her back yard on her hands and knees, surrounded by gardening tools, garbage bags and some scraggly looking plants. She began digging at the ground with a spade, but was hardly able to penetrate the rocky, sun- parched earth. Abandoning the spade, she began attacking the earth with a shovel, this time, managing to break through the surface. From a distant corner of the garden, the despondent female Dane watched her owner. Suddenly, her nose began to twitch; a familiar scent, undetectable to humans, wafted across the yard. And despite not having detected it in a long time, she could still identify its origin. Spurred on by the scent, Kala jumped to her feet and began lunging at her chain, barking wildly.
The dog's sudden change in behavior caught the blonde woman off guard. "Shut up you stupid dog!!" she yelled, cautiously surveying her surroundings to see what, if anything, had riled the dog. Satisfied that no one was watching her, Laura returned to her gardening, ignoring Kala's erratic behavior. She continued digging and digging, until the hole in the ground was nearly three feet deep and twice as large in diameter.
"'Afternoon, Ms. Whitney." The sound of the greeting caught Laura off guard; glancing up, she noticed her neighbor watching her from over the fence. The blonde woman ignored her neighbor's attempts at conversation, and continued about her chores.
"Working in the garden, I see?"
Laura's temper began to seethe. Damn windbag, why does he always intrude when I'm in the middle of something? Hoping to dismiss his small talk attempts, she favored him with a curt reply. "Yes, I am working in the garden. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to my planting."
"''Ts alright," he called, cheerfully. "I was just on my way out, myself, but I thought I'd just say 'hi.'"
Yeah, you said it, already, Laura fumed to herself. Now leave me alone!
As her neighbor disappeared back over the fence, Laura continued her gardening. I've dug the bed, she muttered to herself. Now all I need to do is to plant the seeds.
* * * * * * * * * *
"What did you say the address was?" queried Fred, trying to concentrate on driving while reading street signs at the same time.
"966 East Hillview Drive," replied Daphne, plotting the route on a map. "Should be somewhere around here." A chilling thought suddenly entered the redhead's mind. "We're running out of time, Fred," she began, her tone of voice reflecting the thought in her mind. "Why don't we ask that guy over there for directions."
The blond man complied and pulled the van up to the curb. "Excuse me, sir," he asked, "we're looking for 966 East Hillview, the Whitney residence, can you point us in the right direction?"
"Back that way," said the man, pointing. "Can't miss the place: You can hear the dogs yapping halfway down the block."
"That must get very annoying," commented Daphne.
"Yeah, tell me about it; I live next door to her." He paused for a moment as he recalled his conversation with Laura just minutes earlier. "You might want to wait awhile if you're planning to drop in, though; she's really busy gardening…funny, because that yard is so dry and so weed infested that nothing could possibly grow there." The man shrugged. "I never understood that woman anyway. She seems to care more about dogs than about people." Fred thanked the man for his directions and drove off in the direction the man had indicated.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Boy, that man was right about the yapping," commented Fred as he pulled the Mystery Machine up to the curb in front of Laura's house.
"Yeah," agreed Daphne. "And look at the front yard—what a mess!"
The sound of the van's engine reached Laura's ear, and she hastily threw some dirt over the hole before coming around to the front of the house. "What do you kids want?" she snapped, somewhat irritated at the interruption.
"Uh, we're…looking for our dog," stammered Daphne, "and we were wondering if you had maybe seen him around here."
"I haven't seen anything," Laura replied, curtly, "and I've been out here all day. Now if you kids don't mind, I'm in the middle of transplanting and I want to finish my job before the plants wither and die in this heat!" She shot Fred a dirty look before turning and walking back around the side to her back yard.
The same ominous Daphne had had earlier crossed her mind again, this time, with an even more pressing urgency. "Freddie," she began, "Do you not find it rather odd that she was gardening?"
The blond man shrugged. "Not particularly. Lots of people work in their gardens."
Daphne shook her head. "That's not what I meant," she retorted. "Remember what her neighbor said, how her yard was so 'weed infested and dry that nothing could possibly grow there'? Well, why on earth would she be planting something if nothing could grow there?"
"What are you suggesting, Daph?'
The redhead shrugged, then lowered her head to ward the floor. "Maybe I'm wrong," she began, "but I can't help but think back to what we witnessed that first day at Marc's apartment, the whole thing that got us into this case in the first place. I keep thinking about those horrible comments she made about the puppies, and about how Marc told us that she once destroyed an entire litter, and how he suspected that she might do it again…" Daphne's voice trailed off mid-thought, then she continued. "Maybe it's my mothering instincts, but I have a terrible feeling that that woman wasn't gardening like she claimed she was."
The blond man cocked his head and squinted, trying to follow his wife's logic. "Just what are you getting at, Daph?" he asked, curiously.
"We've got to do something," the redhead continued, desperately, completely ignoring Fred's request for an explanation. "Those pups' lives are at stake, that woman could be destroying them right now for all we know, and we're just sitting around doing nothing!"
The blond man favored his wife with a sympathetic look. "I understand your fears, Daph," he said, calmly. "But the fact is, we have no proof. We can't just accuse Ms. Whitney of planning to destroy those puppies based solely on what we heard from her ex-husband and her next-door neighbor."
"But we have proof," objected Daphne. "We found the rental car contract in Marc's apartment, we found Laura's heel prints all over the apartment and the superintendent at the complex corroborated our findings. How can you say that we don't have enough proof to go after her?"
"We have clues," explained Fred. "There's a difference between having proof and having clues."
Daphne's voice grew even more desperate. "Freddie, in all the years that we have been solving mysteries, all we've ever had were clues, and that was always enough to bring the criminal to justice. How can that not be sufficient this time?"
"Because this is a different kind of case," sighed Fred. "One with which we have never dealt."
"I don't understand," answered Daphne.
"Well, in the past, we were dealing with a pre-existing crime. All we had to do was to track down clues, piece them together, then find the perpetrator and bring him to justice. In this case, a crime has not yet been committed, therefore, there is nothing really to 'solve.' We're not trying to solve a crime, Daphne, we're trying to prevent one from being committed, and trying to prove that this person had an intent to commit a crime. Proving someone's intent is much harder to do than simply proving that someone did something." Fred shifted his gaze to the floor. "This is what I meant when I said that we were 'over our heads in this case,'" he sighed. "It's no longer in our hands, Daph; it's up to the authorities now, and we're almost powerless to do anything."
Daphne's temper began to flare. "I don't believe this, Fred," she began, her voice rising in volume. "Four lives are at stake here, and you want to wait around for proof!" She paused, then looked the blond man straight in the eyes, her eyebrows arching downward toward, the fighting fire visible in her gray-blue eyes. Fred recognized the look, and he could tell that the redhead meant business.
"If we wait any longer," Daphne continued, "we won't have to prove intent to commit a crime, we'll be proving that a crime was committed! You can wait around for proof if you want to, but I'm going to do something. And I know that Shaggy and Velma would stand behind my decision…if they were here, that is." Daphne kicked the passenger's side door open and climbed out, giving Fred a dirty look in the process.
One look at Daphne's expression, and Fred knew he had lost the battle. He lowered his head in defeat, trying to avoid her vicious gaze. "Forgive me, Daph," he intoned, sheepishly. "I don't know what came over me."
Daphne faced him, but still refused to get back in the van. "So, do you have any ideas on what to do?" she asked.
"I have a plan," he answered, "but we'll need Shaggy and Velma to help us." He turned and faced the Great Dane. "Scooby," he ordered, "stay here and keep an eye on Laura until we get back. And if you see anything funny, let us know."
Scooby sat up on his haunches and saluted Fred with his paw. "Raye aye, r'aptain!"he replied. "Rou can rount on re!"