A/N: Hi everybody! I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to update but ever since school was out, I have been kept very busy. Anyway after this chapter, the first part of my story should be down hill. Enjoy!
"How can it be suicide?" Velma yells at Sam once she gets outside the room. The tall man just turns around and gives her a blank look. "You want to know why?" he conforms in his well-known John Wayne imitation. "Yes." Is the answer. "Okay, I'll tell you." Sam says as he approaches Velma, "Smith's Household Products is going to the dogs." "Is that all?" Velma asks raising an eyebrow. Sam takes in a deep breathe and replies, "One, Miss Smith had been going through depression; two, she had a large amount of money in her life insurance; and three, her family is suffering financially." Velma's eyes narrow, "I thought she had no family." "Close family, that is." Sam informs her, "She had some distant cousins whom she was supporting."
"Can't they find work?" inquires Velma.
"They are handicapped, lazy, and drunks." Is the reply.
"If that is the case," Velma says, "why wasn't it brought before the court?"
"Oh it was." Replies Sam, "Just in the other room."
Velma displays a face of confusion. "You see," Sam explains, "Miss Smith had always said that her family matters were not to be told to just anybody and, therefore, what we told the jury had to be of complete secrecy."
Velma looks at Sam squarely in the eye and says, "Smooth, Sam, real smooth." Sam just stands there and smiles.
"Velma! So here you are, you snuck out on us." comes a voice from behind them. Velma and Sam turn around to find Daphne. "Sorry about that, Daph." Velma apologizes, "I just had to have a talk with Sam." "What about?" inquires Daphne.
"Motives." Replies Sam.
"Why the verdict was suicide." Velma explains.
"Sounds interesting." Daphne comments, "So, does this mean that the case is over, Sam?"
"Yes." The man replies, "And that means no more sleuthing by you guys."
"Fat chance, Sam." Fred calls out as he joins them, "we happen to know that it was murder, not suicide."
"How?" Sam asks.
"Like, would you believe me if I, like, told you we, like, saw Miss Smith's ghost." Shaggy asks as he, Scooby, and Norville walk up.
"Not really, Shaggy." Sheriff Sam replies as he crosses his arms, "Will you please tell me about it?" he asks in a playful voice.
"Well," Shaggy begins, "we were, like, over at our, like, client's house and, like—"
"Who's your client?" Sam interrupts.
"Like, I'm sorry, Sam," Shaggy replies, "but, like, business forbids me to, like, disclose the, like, names of, like, the involved persons." Sam just shrugs and motions Shaggy to continue, which he does. "So, like, we were, like, in the back yard, the wind, like, blew, and, like, all of a sudden this, like, ghost appears." And he points to Scooby, who acts out exactly what Miss Smith did. When he is done, little Norville walks up to Scooby, pats him on the head and comments, "Like, wow, Scoob! You must have been good in drama class!" "Rell, rank-rou!" replies Scooby licking Norville's face.
"Well," Sam says in a slightly teasing voice, "that was a pretty amazing little adventure you had there. However, without any proof, it can just be called another figment of your imagination."
"But honest, Sam" Fred objects, "we all saw it."
"Sure you did," Sam says as he pats Fred on the shoulder, "it was late, you see things that aren't really there."
"But..."
"Don't bother about the ghost." The sheriff instructs, "You know it really is a person in a mask."
"All right, Mr. Explainer," Daphne inquires, "explain how she was able to hide herself in the flower bed."
"Yeah," agrees Fred, "you explain that to us."
"She had an accomplice." Replies Sam.
"Then explain the ghost!" everyone cries in unison.
"Look!" Sam snaps back, "Until you can give me some good hard evidence to prove otherwise, the verdict is still suicide and the ghost never existed!" and with that, he walks off. "Like, man!" exclaims Shaggy, "What a discussion!" "And another thing," Sam calls back, "you can stop you sleuthing—an far as the court is concerned, this case is finished!"
"Well, folks," a voice calls from behind them, "it appears that Mystery Incorporated has lost their first case!"
"Awe man!" Shaggy exclaims as he turns around to view a group of reporters, "They were watching us!"
"Fred," a reporter asks as he puts a microphone before Fred, "what is it like to loose your first case?"
"What?" Fred asks, "We didn't say anything of the sort!"
"Yeah! So, like, stop coming to conclusions." Shaggy yells.
"Miss Blake," another reporter starts, "there are rumors that you are thinking of giving Velma a major make-over—are those rumors true?"
"What?" Daphne asks. She then turns to face Velma who has a 'that better not be true' expression on her face. "You don't need to be that way, Velma." Daphne finally replies, "I haven't the slightest idea what they are talking about." Velma's expression doesn't change. "Honest, Velma." Daphne persists. "It better be true." Velma says in a threatening voice. Daphne's face turns white with fear Velma had always had a way of getting her point across. When Velma sees Daphne's face a grin appears across her face and she bursts into a roar of laughter. "What's going on here?" demands Freddie. Velma, trying to control her laughter replies, "You should have seen Daphne's face! It was hilarious!" "You set me up didn't you?" Daphne asks once realizing that it was just another of Velma's colorful gags. "Yes!" is the reply. "Why, you little rascal!" Daphne yells. She then reaches out and grabs Velma's glasses clearly off her face. "Nice try, Daph." Velma grins, "I was expecting that. So I put on my contacts!" Daphne looks at the pair of glasses in her hand and displays a face of 'what do you mean?' "See for yourself, they're non- prescriptioned." Velma explains. "My real glasses are in my pocket." "But, like, Velma," Shaggy asks, "why do you keep contacts with you?" "You never know when you can need them!" is the reply. Everyone else burst into laughter while Velma blushes slightly.
"What newspaper are you with anyway?" Daphne asks the reporter who asked her the question. "The Millionaire Enquirer." Is the reply. "I never heard of that before." Comments Fred. "Well, I have," A voice comes from behind them, "and frankly I don't like it." Everyone turns to see George Blake standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips.
"Hi, Daddy!" Daphne greets her father.
Mr. Blake smiles as a salutation to the gang then turns his attention to the reporters. "May I ask what questions you have been asking my daughter about?" he demands. The reporters look at each other trying to figure out what to respond.
"The inquest." One finally speaks up.
"Rumors." Replies another.
"What kind of rumors?" Mr. Jones asks as he walks up to Mr. Blake.
"Major makeovers." Is the reply.
"On Velma." Clarifies another.
"I see." Mr. Blake says. He then turns to his friend and says, "What do you think about this, Jones?"
Mr. Jones rubs his chin and replies, "I don't know, Blake; but it seems that these people are annoying reporters trying to get on the nerves of our children."
Fred rolls his eyes and exclaims out of disgust, "Here he goes again being over protective!" "I know what you mean." Daphne agrees, "When will they understand that we are adults who can take care of ourselves and not children?"
"When we can solve a mystery that does not involve putting our lives at risk!" Velma chuckles in reply.
"Listen up, everybody," Mr. Blake's harsh voice rings through the hallway, "if you don't leave my daughter alone I will report a complaint to your superiors." Slowly, the reporters retreat.
Velma looks at Daphne's face, which is beginning to turn red. "Is anything the matter?" she asks her friend. "This has to be the most embarrassing thing my father has gotten me into." "Don't worry." Comforts Velma, "My dad's done worse."
"His stories?"
Velma just grins and nods slightly. They both then giggle among themselves.
"What goes on here?" Mr. Dinkley asks as he walks up with all the other parents.
"Nothing but a few pesky reporters, Dinkley." Mr. Jones replies.
"Oh really?" Harold confirms.
"Like, what do we do now?" Little Norville asks his uncle.
Like, I don't know about you, Lil' Shag," Shaggy replies, "but I'm, like, starved!"
"Re roo!" Scooby barks out happily wagging his tail.
"I suppose we all are." Mrs. Blake concludes, "It will be dinner time soon. Why don't you all come over to our house for dinner in say half an hour?"
"Good," agrees Shuggy, "it'll give Norville a chance to clean up."
"Awe Mom!" Norville pouts as him parents lead him to the car.
"You know," Mr. Dinkley says as they disperse, "that little talk you had with those reporters reminded me of the time reporters were surrounding me while I was trying to record the mating habits of a dace. You see it was a few years ago that I..."
"Oh brother," Velma says as she rolls her eyes, "here he goes again. If you guys don't mind, I think I'll head out another way."
"I'll go with you, Velma." Comes a voice from behind them.
"Uncle Fritz!" Velma exclaims turn to the origin voice, "Too fed up with dad's stories?"
"Quite." Fritz replies with a slight chuckle as he and the gang leave through another exit
"There shall be guests for dinner, Brantford." Mr. Blake says as he gives the butler his hat and coat. "Very well, sir." Brantford replies taking the coats of Daphne and Mrs. Blake, "May I ask how many?"
"Thirteen." Is the reply.
"Very good, sir. I shall notify the cook." Brantford says as he leaves.
"I hope this won't be too much trouble for you, Brantford." Mr. Blake says.
"No, not at all, sir." The butler replies stopping short and turning around, "I have had worse." And leaves.
Mr. Blake chuckles slightly turns to his wife and inquires, "Your Mother's Night Out parties?"
Throughout the main entrance a little giggle can be heard. Mr. and Mrs. Blake look to see Daphne on the verge of full flung laughter.
"Look at you, little missy." Elizabeth Blake scolds, "You've been wearing those dirty things for two days straight. Go upstairs and get changed."
Daphne just smiles lightly, turns to go upstairs and calls to her butler, Jenkins, "Come along, Jenkins you may draw my bath now."
"Yes, Madam." The butler replies and climbs the stairs with her.
Mr. and Mrs. Blake look at each other and chuckle a bit. "I don't know about you, George," Elizabeth says as they enter the parlor, "but I always thought that it would be better that Daphne had a maid instead of a butler."
"What's wrong with a butler?" her husband asks pouring himself a drink out of his bar.
"Well, I don't know about you," Mrs. Blake replies, "but I think that in the case of picking out dresses, a butler is of no use."
"Oh, Elizabeth!" George chuckles as he sips his drink.
"Come along, Norville" Shuggy instruct her son, "the Blakes will be expecting us any minute."
"I'm hurrying' as fast as I can, mom." The boy calls back, "I just can't find what to, like, wear."
"I don't care, just put on something clean" is the reply.
Norville just looks through his suitcase and sighs. "Mom would, like, want me to wear something that would, like, coordinate properly." He concludes and goes into a train of deep thought. "I got it!" he finally exclaims snapping his fingers. He instantly starts looking through his clothes and pulls out a green polo shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of white socks. After getting dressed Norville looks at himself in the mirror and giggles to himself, "Mom better not, like, ask me to wear a tie."
"Hey Norville," John asks at the door of the room, "you look great." Norville just grins slightly. "By the way," Mr. Jackson continues, "Mom wants you to bring along you homework. Maybe you can do some after lunch."
"But, like, dad," Norville whines, "Uncle Shaggy and the gang are probably going to talk about the mystery and it's just, like, getting exciting!"
John had heard this excuse before. Sitting down on the bed he asks, "Having trouble with math again, son?" Norville just looks down at his feet and nods lightly.
"Why don't you ask Shaggy to help you?" John inquires.
"Uncle Shag was never, like, actually good at any school subjects." The boy explains, "You know that." "Why not ask Velma then?" Shuggy asks who had overheard their conversation.
"I don't really know..." Norville replies.
"Why not?" his mom inquires.
"It may annoy her to, like, have to tutor me." Replies the boy looking down at his toes.
"Oh I don't think so." Shuggy says, "Velma often helped the rest of the gang with their schooling." She chuckles for a moment then continues, "She tutored me a couple of times."
"Really?" Norville asks looking up with his bright brown eyes full of interest. His mother nods.
"Like, wow!" the young boy exclaims as his parents chuckle as he loads his books into his backpack.
"That's my boy!" his father cheers him as he and his wife leave the room. When she is nearly out the door, Shuggy stops for a moment looks over her son's apparel and says, "Wear a tie, Norville."
"Has anyone seen my glasses?" a cry rings through the Dinkley household. "Harold, what in the world happened here?" Marilyn asks her husband who is rummaging around the living room with papers scattered all over the floor. "I don't know, I'm looking for my glasses." Mr. Dinkley replies, "I set them down somewhere while I rubbed my eyes." Mrs. Dinkley looks around her and exclaims, "This place looks like a pig sty." "Jinkies!" Velma exclaims as she enters the room, "This is worse that my laboratory!"
"Oh, quit the chitter chatter and help you father look for his glasses." Marilyn scolds.
"Oh!" Velma exclaims picking up a pair of wire frame glasses, "you mean these things?"
"Where did you find them?" her father asks putting his glasses back on.
"Right here on the table." Is the reply, "Anyway, are you two ready? Because Uncle Fritz and I are all ready to go."
"You two go on ahead and wait in the car." Mrs. Dinkley replies.
"Okay." Velma shrugs as she heads out the door with Fritz.
"Honey, are you ready to go?" Mrs. Jones calls to her husband.
"Just about, Darling." Mr. Jones replies. He then looks down at his shoes, displays a face of 'Why am I wearing these things?' and yells, "Honey, where did you put my good shoes?"
"They're in the closet, dear." Is the reply.
"Mom," Freddie asks as he enters the conversation, "which color ascot should I wear?"
"Which ever you want, Freddie." Mrs. Jones replies.
'Alright," Fred calls out fixing his ascot, "I'm all set. How about you guys?"
"Your not finished." His mother contradicts. She takes a comb off her husband's dresser, waves it at her son and says, "Fix your hair."
"Isn't that just the motherly instinct!" Mr. Jones chuckles.
"And look at you, Frank Jones!" Mrs. Jones snaps back at her husband, "You don't even have your shoes on!"
Fred suddenly seizes this opportunity to leave. "Uh..." he says, "I think I'll go warm up the car."
"Mystery Machine." Frank corrects his son.
"What?"
"My car's in the shop." Explains his father.
"Oh?" Freddie inquires, "what's wrong this time?"
"Transmission." Is the reply.
"Really dad," Fred tries to reason with his father, "haven't you ever thought of giving up that old Chevy?"
"Are you kidding?!" Frank yells at his son, "That was the same car I proposed to your mother in! It's sentimental!"
"Then why not keep it in the shed?"
"Now listen to me!" Mr. Jones voice roars throughout the household, "I'm just a sentimental old fool who love to show off! Do you have any else to say?"
"No! Nothing!" Fred quakes, "Forget I said anything. I'll go warm up the van." And quickly leaves.
Over at Blake Manor, things are buzzing with excitement. The cocktail hour is full of laughter and little chitchat here and there. Suddenly, Brantford enters the room and announces, "Dinner is served."
"Thank-you, Brantford" Mr. Blake says as they all move into the dining room.
Once at the table, devouring their dinner of roast chicken; mashed potatoes; peas and carrots; and sweat potatoes, John Jackson asks, "So, Shaggy how is the mystery getting along?"
Shaggy swallows hard. "Like, why do you ask?"
"Norville said something about it getting very interesting." John replies sipping his drink.
"Well," Fred joins in, "it is really something I don't think we should talk about it here."
"Oh, come on." George Blake encourages them, "I'm sure we are all eager to know about your progress."
The kids look at each other, not knowing how to respond.
"Surly, you all must have some idea on who the culprit is." Frank Jones points out.
"Sort of." A voice finally breaks the silence. Everyone turns to one end of the table where Velma is sitting. She had been quiet ever since her arrival and had not engaged into any conversation whatsoever.
"What?" Fred asks.
Velma quickly explains, "Over at Sarah's house I had found a photograph of her family."
"Yes," Daphne says, becoming induced into the conversation, "what about it."
"I don't know really." Velma replies, "Just something about her parents that seemed familiar to me."
"Like, is that why we made a trip to the police station?" Shaggy inquires putting two and two together.
"Exactly." The brunette replies.
"What did you find?" Fred asks leaning forward.
Velma looks at the faces around the table each one looking directly at her. Taking in a sip of her drink she simply states, "They've been dead for five years."
"What happened?" Daphne asks out of mere curiosity.
"Car accident." Velma replies, "They were driving on a narrow mountain road, it was late at night, lights went out for some reason, car came their way, and they swerved off the road."
"Like, wow," Norville exclaims, "that must have been some accident!"
After dinner, everyone leaves the dinning room into their own little groups. The fathers retire into the lounge for a drink and some of Mr. Blake's fine Cuban cigars. While the mothers left into another room; leaving the gang all alone with Norville. Freddie, being of a bored state peeps through a crack underneath the door of where his mother is talking.
"What are they doing?" Daphne asks walking up to him.
Fred turns around, leans his back against the door and sighs, "Mother's Night Out."
"Awe man!" everyone else groans.
"They better not ask us to, like, go to bed." Shaggy says crossing his arms.
"Reah!" agrees Scooby doing the same as his master.
"Huh?" a small little voice squeaks out amongst the gang's gloomy state.
Everyone look at each other figuring that they should tell the boy about what his mother is doing.
"You see," Fred begins putting his hands on the boy's shoulders, "Mother's Night Out is a club that Mrs. Blake started when the gang and I were kids. It evolved all the mothers in the neighborhood coming here to have some tea and talk about some local gossip."
"But, like, I still don't understand what Uncle Shag means about going to bed." Little Norville speaks up.
Daphne chuckles lightly and replies, "With our moms out and us being of the nature to run out of the house in the middle of the night to solve mysteries, our parents found it best for us to go to bed and stay out of trouble."
Upon getting a complete understanding, little Norville just grins slightly.
Being all alone, the gang decides to put the mystery on hold for a while and relax. They move to the library and each cuddle up in the chair with a good book and a light snack. All, that is, excluding Norville who is lying on the floor struggling with his math problems.
"Like, I can't do it!" the boy yells out in frustration throwing his pencil to the floor.
Shaggy looks up from his book upon hearing his little nephew's cry and asks, "Like, what is it?"
"Multiplication." his nephew replies burying his face into his hands.
Velma puts her book down and grins slightly. "If you think that is tough," she says, "wait till you start algebra."
"Don't even go there, Velma Dinkley." Daphne warns her friend.
"What?!" Velma calls back.
"If multiplication is hard to understand to begin with, once they throw in those letters it's hard to tell what's going on." The red head explains.
"Daphne," Fred says joining into the conversation, "the letters are just filler. They mean nothing."
"Like, I don't understand." Norville cuts in.
Velma instantly seizes this opportunity to hold a tutoring class. "Norville," she begins, "in your textbook do the questions contain blanks?"
'You mean that line that I'm, like, suppose to write the answers on?" the boy asks, "Like, yeah."
"Okay," Velma continues leaning back in her chair, "suppose that that line is a letter. All it does is represent the number that is the answer."
"Could you please give me a demo?" Norville asks.
The brunette smiles and replies, "Sure."
Instantly, Norville picks up his stuff and moves closer to Velma. As she continues her lesson, the ringing of the hall phone can be heard. A few moments later, Brantford enters the room and announces, "Telephone for you, Miss Blake." "Thank-you, Brantford." Daphne acknowledges the butler, "I'll pick it up here." Instantly, Brantford leaves. Daphne walks over to the phone on a corner table and picks up the receiver. "Hello?" she greets the person at the other end. Everyone else listens suspiciously to the strange voice on the other end. It is harsh, husky and very hard to depict who the person on the other end is. The way that Daphne reacted to it, everyone else conclude that it isn't one of Daphne's friends. Velma and Fred look at each other and figure that something is drastically wrong.
"Good-bye." Daphne finally says replacing the receiver back on the hook.
"Who was it?" Freddie asks getting up from his chair.
"I don't rightfully know." Is the reply.
"Well, what did he say?" Velma asks trying to be helpful.
"A lot of gibberish." Daphne replies, "Something about us returning to Sarah's house and some new information to be gathered."
Velma frowns slightly.
"What do you make of it?" Fred asks.
"Like, there's only one way to find out." Shaggy calls out, "to go to the house—"
"Capital idea, Shag." Fred applauds his friend.
'—like, in the morning." Continues Shaggy.
"Why?" Fred asks.
"Because," Shaggy explains, "there is, like, a killer on the loose as well as a ghost."
"Reah, reah!" barks Scooby trying to backup Shaggy's proposal.
"And?" everyone asks in unison.
"Like, we could be next!" Shaggy yells out startling Scooby.
"Relax, Shaggy." Fred comforts putting his hand on Shaggy's shoulder, "Everything will be fine. Trust me."
Later as the Mystery Machine pulls up at Sarah's house, Shaggy's thought on the situation has not changed.
"Oh, come on, Uncle Shag." Little Norville encourages his uncle, "Like, think of me. It is, like, very rarely that I visit here while you're on a mystery. Like, can't I at least see my uncle in action?"
Shaggy looks down at the boy's bright brown eyes, which sparkle in a way of almost saying 'please do it for me'. Shaggy smiles and finally replies, "Like, sure, Lil' Shag." Norville then hugs his uncle out of sheer gratitude.
As they enter the house, the gang looks around them. Being late at night, the house is very dark and eerie.
"Like, I wonder if there is anything in the kitchen." Shaggy finally breaks the stillness of he night.
"Like, groovy!" Norville exclaims as he enters the kitchen, "There's, like, some lasagna waiting for us!"
"Rummy!" Scooby choruses out licking his chops.
Everyone grins as the two Shaggys and Scooby dig into the pasta. "You know," Shaggy says cutting himself a piece, "I may be a dog person but I have to agree with that Garfield cat—lasagna has, like, got to be one of the best foods ever!"
"Reah, reah! Rehehehehehehe" Scooby agrees, "Rhe rest!"
"Hey!" Shaggy exclaims pulling sheets of paper out of the dish, "Like, what kind of gag is this?" He looks at the scraps of paper. "Zoinks! It's, like, a will!" he finally says.
"What?" everyone asks in unison.
Norville grabs the paper from his uncles hands and begins to read, "I, Catherine Smith, being of a sound and peaceful mind hereby—"
"What's the matter?" Daphne asks.
"It's, like, impossible to read." The boy replies, "The ink is, like, smudged."
The silence of the house is broken once again by a knock at the front door thus making everyone jump.
"I wonder who that could be." Fred says as he leaves to go answer it.
Everyone walks after Fred to the coat room and hear a young woman exclaim, "Oh, thank goodness you're here. I thought that I would have to wait for you a while."
Norville, recognizing the voice instantly greets the woman, "Hello, Miss Bowers!"
"Hello, Norville." The woman responds to the boy's warm welcome, "Oh, pardon me." She says returning to the gang, "My name is Susie Bowers. I work at Smith's Household Products."
Fred smiles politely and says, "Won't you please come in?"
"Thank-you." Susie responds entering. Once inside, she paces back and forth as if she is frustrated with something. She finally stops and faces the gang. "I don't really know how to tell you this," she finally says, "but I must tell you all that I know."
"About what?" Velma inquires.
"About Miss Smith's death." Susie replies approaching them. "I can't go to the police because they won't believe me. But since you believe that Miss Smith was murdered, I know that you will take me seriously."
Studying the gang's confused faces, Susie decides that she should get straight to the point. "You see," she explains stepping closer to them, "I know who the murder is."
Instantly, four gunshots ring out through the night. Susie leans forward falling into Freddie's arms. Fred begins to feel a gooey substance coming out of her back. He lifts his hand to reveal blood all over his palm. "Guys, help me, she's been shot." Freddie calls to his companions. They instantly get together and lay Susie on the floor. Susie, still in consciousness mutters, "It was...she...who fired...those shots."
"Who?" Velma asks grabbing one of Susie's hands, "Who is she?"
Daphne places a cold washcloth on to Susie's head as she replies, "The...murderer is—" and trials off and her muscles retract. Velma quickly feels for a pulse then looks up at Daphne. No words had to be said for through the terror revealed in Velma's eyes, the others know what has just happened.