Chapter 9
Shaggy grabbed a piece of paper from Kyle's desk and crumpled it in front of his phone, "I'm sorry, we must have a bad connection. I thought you said that I needed to build a trap."
For someone who could not show emotion, Velma could show annoyance very well, "Stop crumpling the paper and yes, you have to build a trap."
"But I don't want to build a trap."
"It's the only way to interrogate the ghost."
"But I don't know how to build a trap."
"You've seen Fred do it dozens of times."
"Right, and how many times have I ended up in the emergency room because one of his traps didn't work right. And he's good at it."
Velma couldn't fault that logic but, "It's the only way to solve this mystery."
"What if I don't want to solve the mystery?"
"It's the only way to finish your report and keep your number one client happy."
Living with Scooby Doo his entire life had had some effects on Shaggy and a low growl rose in his throat. Seeing Shaggy's mother hundreds of times through the years had put a tool or two in Velma's toolbox as well, "Don't you growl at me, Norville Rogers."
Game, set, match.
xXx
It had been three hours. Velma and Daphne had returned briefly, seen Amanda still sitting at Scooby's door, exchanged incredibly uncomfortable pleasantries, and then left again. Scooby was again confronted with the differing perspectives of his two halves. A dog's sense of time is different from a human's. To a dog, there is now, and there is forever. There is no soon, or someday, or tomorrow, or next week. Two options: now and forever. When a dog's master and/or best friend is there, then it is now. And now is good. But when that best friend leaves, then it is forever. They are just gone and will never be seen again. The dog knows no consolation of knowing they will be back soon because they don't have a soon. While Scooby had his non-dog half providing a human sense of time, the concept of now and forever were a part of him. And, right now, it felt like Amanda was going to stay in his hallway and leaning against his door forever.
He was beginning to realize that lying alone in your room and staring at your butt is what one does when you have no energy and no motivation to get up and do anything - also known as one of the major symptoms of depression. However, lying alone in your room and staring at your butt when you can hear, smell, and generally sense someone sitting in the hallway with their back against your door is no longer doing nothing. It is now ignoring someone – which is emotionally exhausting. He was left with two exhausting options: continue to ignore her or face her and get it over with. And one of those options would last forever. And he really needed to go to the bathroom.
Scooby opened the door. In truth, he was annoyed with her having put him in this situation and he knew that she was seated on the hallway floor and resting her back against the door. So, he opened it inward and very quickly. She fell backward into the room, which was satisfying and a little funny until her head thumped on the floor, and she looked up at him with pain registering on her face. Then he felt bad.
"Rorry."
She pulled herself up to her knees and rubbed the back of her head, "That's okay. I should have thought of that. I think we need to talk."
"Rhere is rothing to talk arout." And he walked out of the room and went to the bathroom. Blessed relief.
When he came back, she was seated on his human bed and waiting. He considered just leaving and maybe spending the day in the park or even walking to the office which was a hike but doable. But he knew that she worked Monday through Friday and didn't have Bettie this week-end. She would be sitting here when he got back and it would be inconsiderate to Velma to not have this resolved at least to the point that she would leave.
He tried the direct approach, "Please reave."
She had expected this one and countered, "No. Not until we talk."
He continued with a standard line, "Rhen, say rhat roo have to say."
"I'm sorry. I'm terrible at standing up for myself which is why my lawyers wouldn't even let me talk during my divorce. But last night wasn't about me standing up for myself. It was about me standing up for you…"
"Rye don't reed roo to rand for me. Rye can rand for myself."
This stopped her for a moment while she revised her words, "Then last night was about me standing with you. I failed to do that and I'm sorry."
The easiest thing for Scooby to do would be to forgive her and try to go back to seeing where the relationship could go. That is what he wanted to do. That is what Scooby Doo would do. Because Scooby Doo always does what is nice and expected. Scooby Doo toes the line and follows the rules. It was all so exhausting. Just so exhausting.
"Rhank roo. Now, may Rye have some time alone?"
She took a final shot, "I have some money left over this week, I would love to take you out to dinner. Wherever you want to go. My treat." She even threw in the fake smile for emphasis.
"Rhank roo. Raybe some other rime." He circled three times and lay down on his dog bed. She was dismissed.
xXx
Shaggy spent the next hour on the phone with Velma and Daphne making sketch after sketch only to reach the point in each trap design where something was required which was too dangerous, he couldn't do in time, or was just flat out impossible. Kyle's wastebasket in his office had passed full and was brimming over when Kyle himself poked his head in the door.
"Any chance that I could get my office back?
Shaggy looked up. The sketch was about three quarters complete and they hadn't found an Achilles heel in this one yet. It was going to take the whole afternoon to find a hardware store and get what he needed, anyway.
He picked up his phone and spoke into it, "Someone just showed up, gotta go. Bye." He hung up and looked up at Kyle, "Yeah, I'm just about to pack up and head out for some errands. A couple of questions before I go, if you don't mind."
Kyle stepped across the overflow of wadded up paper next to the basket, "No problem but I've got a staff meeting in a few minutes between shows."
"I'll be quick. Billy says that you go over the books every month. How closely do you go over them?"
"That sounds like a loaded question."
"Questions aren't usually loaded. It's the answers that tend to have a kick. How closely?"
"Billy's been doing the books for years and we have an accountant audit our books at year's end. They've never found a problem."
"But the auditors only compare the numbers against other numbers on the sheet. I'm wondering how closely do you compare the numbers on the sheets to the what you see around you."
"What's the purpose for this question?"
"I don't really know. Something is just not adding up. Could this have been an accident? There is a very logical trail of clues that points to an accident. Could it have been a murder? There is an equally logical trail of clues pointing to that."
"Murder?! Why on earth would anyone want to murder Jerry Pollack?"
"Which is exactly what I'm trying to figure out. Now, how closely do you look at the books each month?"
"It's all in a computer spreadsheet, so I don't have to check the math. Honestly, I usually just check to see what my take-home is for the month and make sure that we're not scrimping on our taxes. I don't want the IRS breathing down my neck, ever."
"Okay, why did you hire Tommy?"
"Ralph asked me to. He said he would like to try and straighten the kid out. In reality, he was trying to impress Rachel. It's too bad that he didn't understand what it took to impress her."
"And that is?"
"Money. She's not a complicated woman."
"And you have enough money to keep her satisfied?"
Kyle smiled at that, "Interesting turn of phrase and, in many ways, apt. This park wasn't always the dump it is now. Back before the interstate highways were completed through this area, this was a major tourist draw and it made my grandfather lots of money. Rather than giving all his money to my father as an inheritance, he set up a trust fund. And my dad, when he passed, left that trust fund to me. As long as I keep the park open, the trust fund pays me a monthly stipend. And a pretty healthy one at that. We're not Rockefellers or anything but between the monthly stipend and my take-home from the park, I can provide for Rachel the lifestyle she wants."
"What happens if you don't keep the park open?"
"The trust fund goes with the park. Whoever the new owner is gets it but they would have to use it for renovations to keep it as a park. If they were unwilling to do that, it would be assigned to a series of charities that the board of the trust would determine."
"Who's on the Board?"
"Some banker and a lawyer in Vegas. I've never met either of them. They call me once a year and ask if the park is still operating. As long as it is, they don't have much to do."
This was beginning to sound like something from one of the old shows. Shaggy pursued it, "Who might benefit if you quit the park?"
"I don't know. Nobody, as far as I know. It's tied to the park tighter than a drum."
"Who knows about the trust?"
"The lawyer and the banker. Nobody else."
"Don't you keep files on it?"
"Not here. They're in a safe deposit box in Vegas. I don't want Rachel to find out about it. I want her to keep thinking the money all comes from the park. It makes my job running it seem more important."
"Is there any way that Jerry Pollack might have found out about it?"
"Not that I can think of."
"Anybody else that might have found out? Ralph or Billy?"
"They've been here a long time. So, maybe. But I can't think of how."
"Ahem" Both Shaggy and Kyle jumped a little and then looked to see Ralph standing at the door, "We're here for the staff meeting." How much had he heard?
Shaggy leaned over and picked up the fallen wadded up plans and shoved them into the wastebasket, "I'll empty this for you and leave it outside your door. I'm heading into town for a few hours but I'll be back tonight.
This led to Shaggy spending four hours in the three hardware stores within an hour of the park – all the while running a Facetime conversation with Fred who was excited that a trap was being built. None of them had all the parts he needed and there were some of the parts that none of them had. He had to improvise and there is nothing like improvising during one's first time doing something. But he returned to the park with about an hour to go before sunset and three hours to go before the park closed. He would have to hurry. The first half of the trap was behind-the-scenes and ran from the storage building to the edge of the kiddy park. The second half was in the park itself and he would have to wait until closing to lay it all out although he could get a lot of the prep work done.
Seeing someone in the backstage area holding up a phone and messing with ropes and pulleys was not particularly unusual and no one paid him much attention. With Fred's continuing help, he made better time than expected and was finishing up the backstage portion when the park lights were blinking and signaling the last few – and they were very few – park visitors needed to pack up and leave. The kiddy area was empty, so he began work in there as the lights of the park began to be turned off.
xXx
Velma had asked Daphne to wait for her to check out the apartment before driving away. She opened the door and stepped in. There was no sign of Amanda in the public areas so she tip-toed back and listened at his door. She heard him snoring within. Whatever conversation that Amanda had wanted had apparently happened. She texted Daphne, The coast is clear, you can go.
Daphne texted back, ok. Daphne would make it home before Fred got off work at the hardware store.
That gave Velma time to herself. She changed into comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, opened her laptop, and sat with it on the couch to read through her paper which was due by Monday. It was in good shape and probably only needed one or two more read-throughs before she would force herself to stop obsessing and submit it to the professor. The apartment was silent except for the sound of her tapping the keys. A cup of hot herbal tea was added to the scene. Velma heaven. She heard Scooby's door open once, followed by the bathroom door, a flushing sound, and then Scooby returned to his bedroom.
She didn't really notice when the sun went down. Nor did she make note of the fact that cancelling his appearances at the restaurant and staying in his bedroom all day was completely unlike Scooby. It wasn't that she was not empathetic. She was, in her own way. She just really wasn't strongly cognizant of such things until they were clearly laid out before her. She heard Scooby's door open again and assumed it was another trip to the bathroom or a food run but he softly padded into the living room, climbed on the sofa next to her, laid down, and placed his head in her lap – which required her to quickly move the computer. She laid it to the side. Scooby's emotional needs were now clearly laid out before her and Velma assumed that he had decided he needed to talk to someone. And she was his only option.
Her shorts had been a comfortable choice until Scooby's head was on her thigh and she could feel the dog slobber slowly dripping down the side of her leg. But Scooby needed her, so she would force herself to stand it. He needed a sympathetic ear which was not really in her wheelhouse but she would give it her best shot.
Her best shot started with, "What happened last night?"
"Rye don't rant to ralk arout it."
She pondered this a second and could not find the logic, "You obviously do, or you wouldn't have your head in my lap."
"Is it unromfortable? Rye can move."
"No. I don't want you to move. Given that this is an unprecedented position, I am assuming that it has to do with the fact that Shaggy isn't here and you need to talk to someone."
"Rou're not really very good at this, are roo?"
"It's not something that I have had a lot of practice with. But I'm trying. If you want to talk about it, I'm here."
His next sentence had been revolving through his mind all day, "Is rye dating Aranda an abomination?"
There was no doubt now that Velma was in over her head. Delaying tactic, "Why do you say that?"
"Rye heard somerun say that rhen ree rere kicked out of the restaurant."
"You were kicked out of the restaurant?"
He nodded, which spread the now cold saliva around on her leg. "They refused to rerve us because ree rere together."
"Who refused to serve you? The restaurant?"
He nodded again. "And the other rustomers rere staring and raking comments. It ras humiliating."
Velma thought for a long moment, "You know that I'm supposed to say 'fuck them' right now, right?"
A third nod and the saliva had now crossed over to her other leg. And the adjective 'slimy' was added to 'cold' as Scooby's jowls slathered it around. This 'being compassionate' stuff definitely had a price tag. But when you loved someone, compassion was a necessity. It was a part of the contract.
Words had never been Velma's friend. Numbers were her tool of choice. Numbers either were or they weren't. There was no nuance – no difference between denotation and connotation. Numbers did not allow you to say one thing and mean another nor could they be misconstrued based on tone of voice or non-vocal cues. Velma hated words with a passion but never more than right now.
Well… here goes, "Shaggy told me about your dream the other night."
"Raggy's a rastard."
"No. He is someone that cares about you. Just like I am. But I also surmised the relationship between that dream and how oddly you were reacting around me."
"Rill the rumiliation never end?"
She took a deep breath, "And Scooby. It scared me."
Scooby's head jerked up, slinging dog spit on the front of Velma's t-shirt, her face, and requiring her to wipe the lenses of her glasses, "Rye rould never…!"
"I know you would never. You would never do anything to hurt me in any way. I was not afraid of you. I was afraid of the situation."
"Rhat rakes no sense."
It totally didn't. Velma still hated words. But she pushed on, "I was afraid of something that was different from my worldview. I had been raised to believe that everything was supposed to be a certain way. And logically I understood that you had changed the world and that laws had been enacted to confirm that change. But, deep down, my worldview - however wrong – remained unchanged. So, for all intents and purposes, I was one of the people at the restaurant. What I was seeing challenged my worldview and I responded with fear."
"Roo really, really suck at this, roo know that?"
She sighed, "Yes, I know I suck at this. Words just aren't good enough. The best I can say is that I can't change who I am. My only hope is that I can overcome it. And I have to believe that I can because you're Scooby Doo and I love you."
Scooby laid his head back down on Velma's lap. He had known that humans were ruled by fear, and that fear begat anger, and anger begat hatred. And then hatred begat more hatred until it consumed both oppressor and oppressed. He knew history and he knew this was the cycle through which civilizations fell. Cries of 'you are wrong!' and 'you are wronger!' being levied back and forth spiraling, growing, and cycling to destruction. All the while awaiting the one lone voice in the wilderness that calls out, 'I am wrong. Forgive me.' The voice that never comes.
But Scooby had just heard that voice and he felt Velma's tiny hand gently stroking from his ears down his neck. He hadn't realized how knotted his shoulder muscles had been until they began to loosen. His emotions regarding Velma had always been complicated. She was equally pack member and competitor and had been the member of the gang with whom he had the most confrontations. But the bravado that made her such a force to be reckoned with was fueled by fear and, underneath her confidant exterior, she knew as much about being afraid as he did. But she was not afraid of monsters and ghosts. She was afraid who she was and from what she had been crafted.
Scooby slid from the sofa and stood next to it with a long string of saliva extending from her knee to his mouth. He snapped his head to break it.
"Rye rove roo, too, Relma." He then turned and padded off into the kitchen.
Velma heard Scooby's words and realized that the most important words had been spoken, I love you, too. But the rest of what she needed to hear, I forgive you, remained unsaid. She understood. Love was a gift. Forgiveness had to be earned.
Scooby returned from the kitchen with a roll of paper towels in his mouth. He placed it on the sofa next to her, "Ripe yourself off. Rou're covered in spit. Rit's disgusting."
Velma was again lost. This seemed to be some form of transitional moment. In the movies, transitional moments required an action. She had no clue what the appropriate action might be. The standard action for transitional moments in the movies was a hug. But she had lots of experience at doing a hug at the wrong time and getting one of those embarrassing shocked looks which had filled her life. But this was a transition from her trusting just one person in the world to her trusting two. It was a transition from the three of them changing from Shaggy and Velma plus Shaggy's roommate/dog to a family of three. If she was going to include Scooby Doo in her circle of trust, then risking a little humiliation was a pretty simple start.
She leaned forward and hugged him. She had hugged him before but it had been months since the last time. Through all of the years she had known him, she had considered him to be Shaggy's dog. And, as a dog, she did not have the emotional resistance to contact that she had with humans. But, as she had moved in with Shaggy, her time and interactions with Scooby had made her realize that he was as much person as dog and that reticence to contact had arisen more strongly. And it remained. As she encircled his neck with her arms, she had no desire for the contact but felt it necessary. Necessary to convey to him that she trusted him and that he could trust her. She held on.
Scooby was a little non-plussed by the sudden hug but it felt warm and comforting at a time when he needed and wanted to be warm and comforted. His first startled reaction had been to jerk back but he gradually leaned into the hug and gently placed a paw high on her back in return. In that moment, Velma changed from pack member and competitor to family. And, in that moment, he forgave her. He wasn't going to tell her that anytime soon. What good was having a sister if he couldn't yank her chain a little bit?
The hug ended and Scooby picked up the paper towels and dropped them in her lap, "If Rye rad known that roo would react that way, Rye would have brought the two-ply."
Velma took the paper towels and began to mop off the spit – a change of clothes was obviously necessary, maybe a shower. Scooby headed toward the door.
"Rye'm roing out for a while."
She dropped a drenched towel on the floor, "Going to talk with Amanda?"
"Reah."
"I'm glad."
