Sponge: Welcome back! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed - you all give me life! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Scooby Doo characters. They belong to Cartoon Network, Warner Brothers, and Hanna Barbera
Chapter 13: The Last Remaining Heir
Cold fear rooted Shaggy to the spot. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He was hardly even aware of the increasingly brighter lightning and louder thunder outside – all he could see were the Farquards. The Farquards who wanted him to come with them somewhere. Not likely, since he was frozen with terror. It occurred to him that he might not have a choice. He had no idea what to do.
Until a large brown shape moved beside him. Scooby.
"Ruh-uh," the dog said, shaking his head vehemently. If he'd had boots, he would have been quaking in them. But his love for Shaggy trumped his fear of the Farquards. And so he stood his ground.
"He's not going anywhere with you," Daphne agreed, moving to stand protectively in front of Shaggy. Velma joined her, putting a comforting hand on Shaggy's wrist.
The Farquards exchanged an irritated glance. Mrs. Farquard rolled her eyes. "There's no need to be difficult, now."
"Listen," said Fred hotly, also moving to stand with the others. He didn't know whether the Farquards were truly to blame for everything that had happened in the past few days, but he did know that they'd been acting suspicious and creepy from day one, and he didn't trust them any farther than he could throw them. And he'd been a quarterback in high school. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but if you're trying to pick off the Beauregards to get to their treasure, you're going to have to go through us before you get to Shaggy."
"Reah," Scooby agreed.
They'd been friends for years now, but Shaggy was still touched at their loyalty.
The Farquards seemed less impressed. "Really now, if you would just trust us…" began Mr. Farquard.
"Don't come any closer!" Daphne yelped. There was fire in her eyes. She and the gang had been in danger before of course – in fact, it was usually Daphne herself. But she could handle that. She could take care of herself. She couldn't stand it if anyone else in the gang was in danger – there was nothing more terrifying to her. So the potential threat the Farquards held for Shaggy caused her protective instincts to flare. "We're not going anywhere with you. We know we can't trust you. We know that you've been lying." She pointed an accusatory finger at the butler. "And we know that you're not really blind!"
The Farquards shared another exasperated look.
The gang held their breaths.
Mr. Farquard sighed and removed his sunglasses, placing them in the pocket of his waistcoat. "I can't tell you what a relief it is to abandon that ruse," he remarked. Much to the gang's confusion, he seemed quite at ease.
His wife looked at him sourly, then turned back to the gang. "How did you figure it out?" she asked Daphne.
Feeling nonplussed, Daphne found herself speechless before deciding to just tell the truth. "I…overheard you talking about the water bucket," she admitted. "When the two of you came into the kitchen before Frank fell down the stairs, I was hiding in the dumbwaiter behind the wall and heard everything."
Mrs. Farquard looked shocked. "How on earth did you find the dumbwaiter?" she asked.
"It was the voice we kept hearing," Velma spoke up. "We heard it in the wall every night, so we started searching for the source. That was when we discovered the dumbwaiter, and Daphne found that voice recorder inside it." She narrowed her eyes at the Farquards. "You were using it to scare us, weren't you? You thought that if we heard that frightening voice every night, it would convince us to leave the island so you could both search for the treasure and keep the Beauregards from their inheritance!"
Mrs. Farquard glanced at her husband and sighed. "You'd all better come with us," she said to the gang.
Everyone stared at the adults aghast.
"Did you not hear us?" asked Fred. "We're. Not. Going. Anywhere–"
"With us," Mr. Farquard finished impatiently. "Yes yes, you've made that quite clear. But you will come to no harm with us. I know you won't believe this, but you can trust us. We had nothing to do with that voice in the wall, and we certainly haven't had anything to do with any of the disastrous things that have happened to the heirs. But if you come with us, all your questions – and ours – may be answered at last."
Their sales pitch was working. Mystery Incorporated loved getting answers.
Still, the gang exchanged hesitant glances. Velma's said, I still don't trust them.
Fred's said, Neither do I, but what choice do we have?
Shaggy's said, We could choose not to go with them!
Daphne's said, But aren't you curious?
Scooby's said, I'm not curious, I'm scared. And hungry. But mostly scared.
It was as though they were having a conversation consisting entirely of slight eyebrow movements. The Farquards waited patiently as the gang conferred in silence.
Velma was the first to speak."Where are we going?" she asked after several moments.
"Downstairs," Mrs. Farquard replied. "To the basement. There is something down there you need to see."
The basement. The servant's quarters. The one place in the mansion they hadn't been allowed to visit.
Shaggy swallowed. "And like…" he murmured, speaking aloud for the first time since his parents had left the house. "What exactly is it that we need to see?"
The housekeeper looked him directly in the eye. "The late General."
x.X.x
The basement was brighter than the gang had imagined it would be.
Once they'd followed the Farquards through the locked door and down the stairs, they found themselves standing in a large, open space, just as they'd seen on the floor plan they'd discovered. Two doors led to bedrooms (presumably occupied by the Farquards and Rutherford, respectively) and a third, which was left slightly ajar, housed a bathroom. A fourth door led to the storage closet, which was where Mr. Farquard had gone, leaving his wife and the gang in the open area. A lone, but very bright, lightbulb hung directly overhead, illuminating the entire space. The storm still raged outside, but they couldn't hear it quite so much down here.
"I thought the basement was being renovated," Fred said after a few minutes. "And that's why we weren't allowed down here."
Mrs. Farquard sighed. "It was renovated," she explained. "The renovations were finished before the heirs arrived. We only said it was still under renovation because we wanted boundaries. Privacy."
"Rye get it," Scooby murmured. Having one's own space was important, especially with a group like the Beauregard clan. He imagined the Farquards and Rutherford needed a separate space from that madness even more than he and the gang did.
A few moments later, Mr. Farquard emerged from the storage closet, wheeling a retro-looking television set on a cart. It was old enough that it had a videocassette sticking out of the built-in VCR.
"Okay, what is going on?" asked Shaggy, feeling less frightened and more bewildered by the minute.
Mr. Farquard plugged the TV into a nearby outlet and turned it on. Static filled the screen until he pushed in the videotape. "You'll want to pay close attention," he told the gang.
They were already rapt.
After a few more moments of fuzzy white noise, a figure appeared on screen. Shaggy gasped – he'd seen this person before. They all had, on their very first night in the manor.
It was Uncle Beauregard.
But now in full color.
The ghost they'd seen their first night had the same bushy facial hair as the man in the video, but he had also been monochromatic and translucent. Now on the video, they could see that Uncle Beauregard, like his other descendants, was blonde. Granted, his beard and hair were streaked with silver, but the resemblance he had to Paula's side of the family – particularly her brothers – was so uncanny it was almost frightening.
"Hello there. And congratulations," he said, his Southern drawl low and deep. He sounded exactly like the ghost they'd seen, like the voice they'd heard in the wall. It sent a shiver up Shaggy's spine, even though this man sounded much less angry than the last time they'd heard his voice.
"If you're watching this," Beauregard continued from the recording. "It means that my contest has nearly come to an end. All my other descendants have left the island, or otherwise become indisposed. And so you, my final heir, will be the one to reap the rewards. You alone will claim the inheritance – the money, the mansion, the island. And you alone will learn the location of Beauregard the First's hidden treasure."
Shaggy's breath caught, his fear dissipating slightly. Was he about to become a millionaire?
"However," Beauregard went on. "As a final stipulation to my last will and testament, and to prevent the treasure from falling into the wrong hands, I've devised one final step to this game: a code, a riddle for you to solve. As a military man, I've always been partial to codes. But I am confident that your superior Beauregard genes will help you find the treasure's location. Solve the riddle, and you will discover riches beyond your wildest imaginings. Godspeed."
The video ended, and static filled the screen once more.
No one spoke for several moments.
"...Is that it?" asked Fred, confused. "Where's the riddle?"
"I have it," Mr. Farquard replied, reaching into a pocket of his waistcoat. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Shaggy.
The others crowded around him to read the clue. It was just a series of random numbers:
1, 3, 7
2, 5, 1
3, 4, 5
4, 6, 1
5, 10, 2
6, 10, 1
7, 5, 1
8, 11, 2
9, 7, 1
10, 4, 2
"...What is this supposed to be?" asked Velma, glancing at Mr. Farquard.
He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I discovered it with that video recording in our bedroom when my wife and I arrived last week. I have no context, other than that it's meant to be the final clue for the last remaining heir."
Daphne frowned. Something he'd just said puzzled her. "Wait…you and Mrs. Farquard have only been here for a week?"
The butler nodded. "We arrived on the island only a few days before the rest of the heirs. Hiring us was the last thing the late General ever did. Of course, we never met him in person – by the time we arrived, he had already passed on. We only ever spoke to him over the telephone or through video correspondence. He explained the contest – or the game, as he called it – and this final stipulation. That whoever was the final heir to remain in the house was to be shown this video and given a final clue. He told us we would find them in the house when we arrived." He gestured to the sheet of paper in Shaggy's hand. "Which we did."
"But what does it mean?" Fred asked.
"Again," Farquard replied. "Your guess is as good as mine. The General made it seem as though his heir would know how to solve the riddle."
Shaggy shook his head. He had no idea where to even start with this.
"All right," said Mrs. Farquard. "We've answered your questions. Now you must answer ours." She pointed at Daphne. "Where is this dumbwaiter that you say you hid inside?"
Daphne blinked. "What do you mean 'where is it?'" she asked, confused. "Don't you know?"
The housekeeper shot her a withering glance. "As my husband said, we only arrived on the island a few days before the rest of you. We'd never heard of the General or any of the Beauregards, but we did our research on the history. It was fascinating – my husband and I have always been intrigued by the history of this country, particularly the South. Receiving such an opportunity to live and work in a house like this was beyond anything we could have imagined. So we knew from books and historic documents all about the property and the manor, including that there was a dumbwaiter somewhere in the walls, but we didn't have a chance to explore the house before the heirs arrived."
"I thought that was why you tried so hard to prevent us from going into the kitchen," said Velma. "Because you were afraid we would find the dumbwaiter."
Mrs. Farquard shook her head. "That had nothing to do with the contest," she said. "I've always been protective of my kitchen, and I always prefer to be the only one in there when I'm using it." She sighed. "Although, admittedly, we were also searching for the dumbwaiter."
"Well we found it," Daphne said. "It's behind the poem that's hanging next to the sink."
"How did you know to look there?" asked Mrs. Farquard.
"There was a floor plan," Daphne replied. "In a book about the Beauregards, written in Latin. We found it in the library. We couldn't translate anything – none of us know Latin – but the floor plan was in English. We noticed that the dumbwaiter went from the kitchen up to the walls between our rooms, which made sense, considering that's where we'd been hearing that voice coming from."
Mr. Farquard nodded thoughtfully. "Yes you mentioned that voice. What was it saying? When did you begin hearing it?"
Velma sighed softly "It was a man groaning, and shouting for us to get away. The first time we heard it was on our first night in the mansion. We had sneaked down to the kitchen and heard it coming from behind the wall next to the sink. And then last night we heard it behind the wall of our room. It sounded like Uncle Beauregard, so we thought it was his ghost. But when Daphne went down there, she found a digital recorder that was just playing his voice."
Mrs. Farquard frowned, bemused. "Why would the general make a recording of himself telling one of his heirs to get away?"
"Maybe it was meant for us?" Velma suggested hesitantly, gesturing to herself, Fred, and Daphne. "One of the non-heirs?"
Fred shook his head. "That can't be. Uncle Beauregard died before any of us came to the island – it's because he died that we all came here in the first place. How would he have known that one of his heirs would bring others along?"
"I'm telling you man," Shaggy said. "It's the ghost, like it's gotta be."
Exasperated, Velma wheeled around to face him. "We know it's not a ghost," she said hotly. "We found the voice recorder."
"A ghost could have made that," Shaggy countered.
She knew he wasn't saying any of this on purpose to bother her, but still, Velma was unbelievably frustrated – she felt like she should be able to figure this out, but she couldn't. The answer was staring her in the face, but she couldn't see it. She was failing. Again. And it angered her. So – quite unfairly – she took it out on Shaggy. "Ghosts. Aren't. Real," she said through clenched teeth. "There's a logical explanation here, and it's not your stupid ghost theory."
"Well like I don't see you coming up with another idea," Shaggy snapped.
Scooby started at the sharp tone. Even though it wasn't meant for him, he was still taken aback.
Fred shared a glance with Daphne. He didn't know what was going on with Velma, but he had a sudden thought – an inkling as to why Velma was fighting with Shaggy like this. The pair of them hadn't had any time to themselves since they'd gotten here. Granted, neither had Fred and Daphne, but they'd been able to visit each other during the school year. They'd had opportunities for…stress-relief. With each other.
Shaggy and Velma had not.
Maybe they just need to get laid, Fred thought.
Daphne took a more practical approach to stop their arguing. "We may not know for sure," she said. "But we can at least agree that there's someone on this island who's trying to sabotage the contest. Someone we can't trust."
That reminded Scooby of something. "Rey," he said, looking at Mr. Farquard. "Rhy did roo pretend to be rlind?"
Mr. Farquard grimaced. "To spy on the heirs," he admitted. "I agree with you – someone on this island is not to be trusted. There's something about this contest and a few of the heirs that are quite suspicious. My wife and I decided that it would be easier to determine who that was if one of us pretended to be visually impaired. We'd hoped that someone would do something nefarious in front of me, thinking I wouldn't see it. Unfortunately, nothing came to fruition. And it clearly didn't work – all the heirs have been eliminated now." He looked at Shaggy. "Except for you, Master Norville."
Shaggy automatically put a hand down, reaching for Scooby. Immediately, the dog went over to put his head beneath his hand.
Mrs. Farquard cleared her throat. "If you don't mind," she said to the gang. "I would quite like to see the dumbwaiter. Would you be so kind as to show us where it is?"
The gang exchanged wary glances. They still weren't sure they trusted the Farquards wholeheartedly, but there didn't seem to be much risk in showing them the dumbwaiter.
"Okay," Fred agreed.
As they climbed the basement stairs, Daphne turned to the butler. "Does Rutherford know you're not really blind?" she asked.
Mr. Farquard shook his head. "No. He arrived on the island even after we did – I believe he came with the first Beauregards to the mansion when the contest began."
"Who were the first ones to arrive?" Fred asked, though he thought he might already know the answer.
Mrs. Farquard confirmed it. "Madam Louisa and Master Frank."
The gang exchanged glances.
"Though I must say," Mrs. Farquard continued. "I can't imagine that Rutherford has anything to do with this. He doesn't seem to be the type to plot against anyone."
Fred shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know," he said. "We've certainly solved cases where the least likely suspect turned out to be the one we should have been looking at the whole time."
But Daphne was inclined to agree with the Farquards. Under the circumstances, she thought it made much more sense for one of the Beauregard heirs to be behind everything. And that meant looking closer at Louisa and Frank.
Maybe Fred had been right about them all along.
They had arrived in the kitchen now, after passing through the dining room, and they stopped in front of the framed poem.
"It's behind this," Velma explained. She was about to ask the Farquards how long the poem had been hanging on the kitchen wall, when Daphne interrupted.
"Help me take it down," she said to Velma. "I want another look at that voice recorder."
The girls removed the frame, revealing the cavernous opening in the wall.
"Good God," Farquard breathed.
"Why do you want to look at the voice recorder again?" Velma asked.
Daphne had begun tugging on the rope to lower the shelf. "I just want to check something."
When the shelf appeared, Daphne reached for the device, which was still where she'd left it that afternoon. In the bright light of the kitchen, she could make out several distinguishing factors – for example, the face of the device was a silvery-gray, while the back part of it was black. And she could see more clearly the unfamiliar logo now.
"Does anyone know this company?" she asked. "BR Supply?"
The gang, as she'd anticipated, looked dumbfounded. But Mrs. Farquard frowned in recognition.
"I've heard of them," she announced. "But only recently – when my husband and I arrived in Louisiana. I believe they're a local company. Office supplies mostly. They're based out of Baton Route."
"That's what the BR stands for," Mr. Farquard put in helpfully.
Daphne glanced at Fred, intense. "Freddie…didn't Frank say that he worked at an office supply company?"
Fred nodded slowly. "Yeah…" he agreed. "I think he said he was a traveling salesman."
Shaggy's stomach clenched. "And he and Aunt Louisa live in Baton Route, don't they?" he said.
No one answered him, but they knew he was right.
Scooby let out a long, slow breath as he looked meaningfully at each of his friends.
At that moment, there was a tremendous clap of thunder, and they were plunged into darkness.
Sponge: More next week! In the meantime, reviews are greatly appreciated!
