VII
"…And we found the dogs in a darkened dressing room located underneath the arena," Velma reported.
"Good job, guys," Fred praised.
"Actually, Scooby should get most of the credit," the bespectacled girl corrected, "it was his keen sense of smell that led us to the hiding place." She patted the Great Dane on his head, rewarding him with a Scooby Snack, which he promptly devoured. Yet, in spite of her accomplishments, a nagging feeling lingered in the back of Velma's mind. "We may have found the dogs," she began, "but we still don't have any concrete evidence as to who is the mastermind of this dog napping—not to mention we don't have a motive, either." The bespectacled girl clenched her first in frustration, her normally relaxed features riddled with doubt, as she began running through the possibilities, wondering if she had overlooked a potential clue.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Velmster," reassured Fred, putting his arm around the younger girl's shoulder, "not all culprits leave clean-cut trails. But I'm sure that with a little more searching, we'll find something that will crack this case wide open." The blond man winked at his cohort, eliciting a smile on her previously tense face. "That said, let's give this arena a good combing over, gang—all together."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Two hours of walking around this arena and not a single clue," sighed Daphne, sinking into a ringside chair. "Let's face it, guys, we may have hit a brick wall on this case." The redhead reached into her purse and pulled out a pocket mirror to examine her hair makeup. Her normally radiant complexion took on an oddly pale cast in the dimly lit arena. That's odd, she thought to herself. Either I didn't apply enough rouge, or I went overboard with the powder this morning. Engrossed in reapplying her makeup, the redhead was completely oblivious to the scene unfolding near the arena ceiling. Only Shaggy's loud screech snapped her out of her reverie.
"Zoinks! Like, guess who's about to drop in on the judging!" Fred, Velma and Daphne glanced towards the ceiling where the demonic sorceress had once again appeared.
"This is your last warning! Leave now, or face the wrath of the Westminster witch!" The apparition began its rapid descent towards the arena floor, eyeing the English sheepdog standing in the center of the ring.
Shaggy and Scooby didn't need a second warning. "Like, we were just leaving," the lanky man stuttered, grabbing his dog by the collar. "Bye!" The pair ran from the ring and disappeared into the corridors, screaming hysterically.
"Remember my warning," cackled the witch, as she disappeared in a cloud of green, sulphurous smoke, leaving Fred, Velma and Daphne coughing in the wake of her disappearance.
"Are you girls alright?" asked Fred, once the smoke had dissipated.
"I'm fine," Velma replied, looking around and not seeing her skinny cohort and his dog. "But now it looks like we're not just looking for clues, but we'll be looking for Shaggy and Scooby too."
"Velma?" It was Daphne's voice calling her. "Come over here, I think I found something."
The younger girl quickly rushed to her friend's side. "What do you make of this?" asked Daphne, showing the younger girl the tiny object.
"You're the fashion expert, Daph," Velma commented, "but it looks like a brooch to me."
"Exactly—and in the shape of a dog."
Velma frowned. "With all the dog lovers here, that pin could belong to anyone; it really doesn't prove anything."
"Let me see it for a moment," suggested Fred, jumping into the analysis. His face brightened as he got a closer look at the pin. "No, it does prove something," he announced. "I've seen that pin before, and I know who it belongs to."
Fred's contradiction only renewed the frustration that Velma had felt earlier in the day. I must be losing my touch, she thought sadly to herself. As she turned to leave, a shiny object lying near the center of the ring caught her eye. Intrigued, she walked over to take a closer look at it —it was a small, brass key ring engraved with the letters "M.L." The bespectacled girl's lips formed into a broad smile. The joy at having found something dispelled the last traces of her lingering self-doubt. Yesss! she cheered to herself. She hadn't lost her touch after all; this was the piece of the puzzle she had been looking for.
"I think it's time we set a trap," she began, "but first of all, we'd better find Shaggy and Scooby—this plan won't work without them."
"You buzzed?" Shaggy asked, as if he knew that the others were looking for him. "Like, we were just taking a little snack break," he said, shoving a handful of nacho tortilla chips into his mouth and taking a sip of a slush drink. "This place is great," he blurted, between mouthfuls. "Like, there are even some sit-down restaurants here."
Back in the grooming area, Velma gathered the others around as she explained her plan. "We'll need everybody's help on this one," she began. "Marc, round up as many of the Great Dane exhibitors as you can; Fred, go talk to Mister Preston in scheduling—tell him to call Valerie to announce that the show will go on as planned, and that we would like her to be here to supervise the judging. And Mister Durraley, you and Shaggy go talk to the announcer in the booth—tell him that there has been a scheduling change and that the Great Danes will be competing earlier than anticipated."