Chapter 6: In the park and a shoeprint

October 9, 1968

(Shaggy's Point of View)

The morning went by as usual for me, and man, am I glad to have not ran into Fred and his gang during lunch period like I did on Monday.

I swear whenever I see them, I just see a cloud of angry hornets pissed off at me for crushing one of their own near their nest, ready to attack.

You really think that after all these months of attending Central High, I would've figured out a way to not run into those guys by now, yet I somehow end up running into them one way or another almost on a weekly basis.

After finishing another rather boring third period Civics class and fourth period Chem, it was off to the radio station for me.

As I made my way down the hallway, I took the time to look around.

No sign of Fred or any of the guys in his gang. So far so good as I reached for the main entrance.

Walking down Union Avenue, I glanced around as Central High disappeared behind me, and then it was the Riverdale neighbourhood I was approaching.

Two blocks down Constitution Boulevard, the buildings around me were getting taller and taller as I approached the city's downtown business district.

The Harman and Ising Radio Tower appeared before me, and I inhaled as I made my way towards the main entrance door.

"Hey Rogers!" A familiar-sounding voice called out just as I was about to push the door open and make my way into the radio station.

Blast! I grumbled as I realized who that voice was, and I immediately moved to push the door open when a hand suddenly grabbed me in the shoulder and jerked me around.

Sure enough, it was Fred Jones standing behind me, what a surprise.

He certainly looked like he was panting, and I said, "What now? Please don't tell me that you just ran after me all the way from school, Jones."

"I...uh...just can't believe that a guy...like you could...walk this fast." Fred struggled to catch his breath. "Unless, of course, you were looking forward to gettin' the h*ll out of school as soon as the bell rang."

I studied the look on Fred's face, and I wasn't really sure if I should take his earlier comment as a compliment or an insult. Either way, not my concern right now.

"Seriously, man, did you just ran all the way from school to here in order to tell me all of that?" I asked. "If so, then quit wasting my time and your time with whatever it is you would want to say to me."

I then pried his hand off my shoulder before turning towards the door and added, "Besides, I'm running late."

But before I could push the door open, he grabbed me by the shoulder again and turned me around.

"No, you're not running late, Rogers." Fred said. "Not unless you keep interrupting me and miss out on what I was going to say."

Reaching his hand once more to pry it off my shoulder, I frowned. "What part of 'I am running late' do you not understand, Jones? Like, I already know what you're going to say, it's about those painkillers you accuse me of supplying to Troy, isn't it?"

"Maybe." Fred shrugged. "What the h*ll is it that you need to take those painkillers everyday anyways? Because I can guarantee that if you keep this up at this rate, one of these days you're gonna overdose on them."

"Sure, whatever." I scoffed. "Not that it matters to you if I do overdose, not with the way you and your gang always gang up on me and accuse me of supplying Troy with painkillers and not giving any crap about why would I want to supply Troy with painkillers when he's the very last person I would want to be in the same room with-"

"This isn't just about you supplying Troy with painkillers, Rogers." Fred cut in. "This is about your addiction and how badly it reflects on our schoolmates, not to mention setting you up on a road towards substance abuse, a road that doesn't end well unless you seek help."

"Maybe if you stop gripping my left shoulder like this, then it will be a start for me getting off those painkillers." I responded as I nodded towards my left shoulder, where he was gripping it tight.

Fred simply stared at me, though for the first time, I can tell that the gears in his head were turning.

Eventually, he let go of my left shoulder, allowing me to reach over to dust off my left shoulder and straighten my shirt.

"Now that's more like it." I said as I straighten my shirt. "Like, you got anything else to say, because I've got a program coming up in there and I don't want you holding me up any longer."

Fred only blinked, which I took as a sign that he's got nothing more to say on the matter, likely taken aback by the way I stood up for myself by telling him to not grip my left shoulder.

Nodding, I began to turn back towards the door as I said, "Thought so."

But before I pulled the door open, Fred finally spoke, "Actually, Rogers, there is one more thing I want to talk to you about. It has absolutely nothing to do with drugs, I promise."

Instincts be d*mned, I turned back around to face him and prompted, "What is it?"

Fred glanced around briefly, then he leaned closer towards me and lowered his voice.

"I've got something coming up at Fred Quimby Park this Thursday, and I could use your help on that." Fred said.

To be honest, his answer sort of knocked the wind out of me, for I sure as not expecting that.

"My-my help?" I asked, and he nodded, prompting me to add, "Whatever for?"

October 10, 1968

It may have been a day since my run-in with Fred at the entrance to the radio station, but I am still trying the process what the devil did Fred ask me to help him on that afternoon.

Specifically, Fred asked me to meet up with him and two other guys in finding this wolf near the Fred Quimby Park this afternoon.

Like, seriously, a wolf.

But not just any wolf. From what I understand, it's the mysterious Werewolf that has been making headlines lately, the one allegedly responsible for snatching girls off the streets, that we're supposed to be looking for.

In the context of that, it makes a lot of sense for Dad to vividly warning Mags never to go out alone at night, especially in downtown and the Fred Quimby Park area, which I heard is where the Killer Werewolf is the most active at.

Either way, I still can't process what could have possessed Fred to decide to find a bunch of guys, yours truly included, in finding this werewolf.

Or what made him think he and this team he has assembled has whatever it takes to stop this werewolf, something the cops has so far not been successful in accomplishing.

Last I checked, wolves are very dangerous and if we make the wrong move, we would end up as wolf chow.

But somehow, Fred think that a bunch of guys and I have the capability to find this werewolf, something the cops have yet to accomplish.

As far as I know, being the son of an Assistant DA, Fred's the last person you would've expect to be the type that would do something like this.

After all, with his father's work in the DA's office, I'm certain he has made no secret about his disapproval of anyone who takes the law into their own hands, so it was surprising when Fred explained that his father was the one who asked him to help find this werewolf.

But then again, I've read about a lot of trials involving non-white defendants, especially blacks, have an awful tendency to end up with a speedy guilty verdict by an all-white jury, especially if the charges were for a serious conviction.

And that's on top of the controversies and scandals torching Crystal Cove's justice system that I've read about plenty, especially that jury-planting scandal that was spurred by the murder of a defence attorney two months ago, a scandal that I would've imagined would only come from the plot of a thriller novel.

Perhaps having had started out with optimistic idealism when starting out in the DA's office, over time Fred's father's idealism in the justice system slowly eroded away.

Dealing with that latest scandal, coupled with his team stretched for his upcoming run for district attorney and a number of cases coming up, were likely the tipping points that led to him asking Fred to look into this werewolf business for him.

But even so, it wasn't just him asking me to help him find the werewolf that's bothering me right now.

Maybe it was me wanting to be on his good side after being emboldened by the way I stood up to his unjust accusations earlier, or maybe I wanted to take that opportunity to prove to him, and our schoolmates, I suppose, that I am not just some slacker with need to take painkillers everyday.

Either way, the minute he asked me to help him out finding the werewolf, I agreed to help him out without any second thought.

In spite of my instincts warning me that I have no d*mn idea what I was about to get myself into if I agreed, I agreed to help him out and even committed to meeting him and whoever else he recruited for this here in the park at this time in the afternoon.

Anyways, as things turned out, there was this bonfire taking place at the park tonight, which is also when Fred told us to meet up.

Given that Mags is at a sleepover with a friend and Dad working overtime tonight, it is up to me to take Scoob out, so I decided to bring Scoob along as I go meet up with Fred.

With the sun in the process of setting over the horizon, the park sure looks dark even with the lampposts on and the light from the bonfire.

As Scoob led the way, I took the time to glance over my shoulder. It's not the Killer Werewolf I'm worried about as I glanced over my shoulder.

Should word get around that a bunch of high school students were hanging out at the scene of where the werewolf snatched its latest victim, the news will quickly spread around town like wildfire, and being a small city, everyone pretty much knows everyone.

The last thing I need is for Pops to have a fit when he hears that I was spotted at a crime scene with a bunch of guys, and when I said that Pops will have a fit, he would.

After all, Pops made no effort to hide his disapproval of those that decides to take the law into their own hands.

It was then that Scooby barked, and I froze as I looked towards where Scooby was looking at.

There were two figures up ahead, and through the fading light from the sky, I recognized Fred as one of them.

"Relax, Scoob." I quickly said. "They mean no harm."

"Rogers?" I recognized Fred's voice as he stepped forward. "It's me."

(Third Person)

Fred Jones felt the tension inside him loosening up when he saw Shaggy and Scooby approaching him and Velma.

He wouldn't have considered a dog bark good news if it weren't for Shaggy, because should word around on him being near a crime scene, there's the danger that he could give someone the wrong impression that wouldn't be of much help to his father's ongoing campaign to replace Dayton Knight as district attorney.

Either way, as Shaggy and Scooby approached him and Velma, Fred's eyes were focused on the Great Dane accompanying him.

Did this guy really brought his huge a** dog along for monster-hunting? Fred wondered.

As if knowing what Fred was thinking, Shaggy quickly said, "My sister's at a sleepover, my Dad's working overtime and I never leave Scoob home alone except during school time."

Fred paused his lips and was about to say something when Shaggy turned towards Velma and almost sputtered.

"Velma?" Shaggy asked.

Velma was in the process of recovering from the double-take she had when she first spotted Shaggy, and she quickly sputtered back.

"Norville?" Velma said, and Fred almost snorted.

What kind of a name is Norville? Fred wondered as Velma continued, "It's been a while."

Pushing aside the thought he had on Shaggy's real name, Fred glanced at Shaggy and Velma awkwardly.

"Sounds like you guys...knew each other." Fred remarked.

"Like, Velma and I go way back when she was my next door neighbour in Brooklyn." Shaggy explained.

"That's right." Velma nodded. "We went to the same public school for two years before my family and I moved here after my father got his current job."

"Sounds like there's more to you moving out of Brooklyn than you claim, Velma." Another voice remarked, and the group turned around and saw Daphne approaching them.

Almost immediately, Velma glanced at Shaggy and noticed the way he tensed at the sight of the redhead approaching them.

"What are you suggesting?" She asked as Fred turned towards her and Shaggy.

"Just an observation, maybe your parents thought that he was not exactly a good influence on you and thought that the job transfer would work in your favour." Daphne shrugged.

"Well, for your information, Daphne, Norville and I knew each other while in kindergarten and Grade 1." Velma scoffed. "He's always been the cheerful chap and is always fun to hang around with, especially when he cracks jokes."

"Ah, is that right." Daphne remarked before glancing at Shaggy and continued, "Then, how is it that your friend went from that to becoming a slacker who goes by the name of Shaggy?"

As the redhead was making the remark, her eyes rolled towards Fred with a glare that was throwing daggers at him for inviting Shaggy.

"Well, slacker or no slacker, figured that I could use a guy like Shaggy in getting to the bottom of this." Fred shrugged.

"Like, and now that we're all here, mind if I ask what's the plan?" Shaggy added.

"Yeah, what's the plan now, Fred?" Velma asked.

"So the latest victim's place is just on the edge of the park near the hiking trails, and given that the victim's room was facin' the woods, near the fork in the trail where it splits into two, I figured that we could take a look around and see if we can find something worth lookin' into later." Fred offered.

"Sure, though do you really think we're gonna find something that the police missed?" Velma asked. "After all, we're just a bunch of high school students."

"And a dog." Shaggy added.

The girls both sort of glared at him at the remark, but they both huffed before making their way to the fork in the trail.

(Shaggy's Point of View)

I could've sworn that you can cut the awkwardness with a knife as we followed Fred down the trail. Like, seriously, does the guy know what exactly we should be looking for?

Fred himself didn't look too sure, and it took some awkward glances towards him before he decided to take the lead once we reached the fork.

Even now, I still don't know how on earth does Fred expected us to find something in the bushes off the fork.

Sure, the area is within the vicinity from the house in which the Werewolf's latest victim resides, but even then, shouldn't there be tracks or footprints around?

Maybe it was the darkness. There wasn't much light left anyways as the sun sets, and the lights from the lamp posts aren't strong enough to shine towards the bushes we've been trying to get through.

I can hear Fred swore under his breath, and I can't say I blame him. Should've thought about bringing flashlights with us.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Velma suddenly asked.

I glanced around. Is she directing the question to Fred or Daphne or me? I didn't hear any of us dropping something, nor have I heard much rustling from the nearby bushes.

Just then, I felt someone tapping on my shoulder.

"Rogers, I think Velma's talking to you." Fred said, and I turned towards her.

"What?" I asked.

"Maybe you should keep an eye on your dog for a change, because I just saw him taking a dump at the tree over there." Daphne said to me as she pointed towards the nearby tree.

Looking towards where Daphne was pointing at, I stared briefly before my eyes adjusted to the darkness, whereupon I saw what Velma and Daphne were talking about.

"Scoob!" I groaned as I saw the deposit Scooby has made by the tree.

Scooby whined as he sit by the tree, as if he was telling me that I should've let him go relieve himself before we head out to meet up with the others.

I can feel Fred and the girls staring right at me as I knelt down with a plastic bag in hand, ready to scoop up the deposit Scoob has made by the tree.

Sheeze. What's with these people? Haven't they ever seen someone trying to clean up after his dog? Or more like they were expecting Scooby to take off while I was still cleaning up after him.

Instead, I can feel Scooby watching me scoop up the deposit he has made, and I grumbled as I finally got the deposit in the bag without getting my fingers onto it.

"Say, Rogers, mind if you check out the bush on your left when you're done?" Fred suddenly asked, and I glanced to my left.

It certainly looked lopsided, as if someone had walked through the bush recently. I'm sure it wasn't any of us, though, because the bush wasn't at the direction where we've came from.

"Wouldn't the dog just have done that?" Daphne asked. "Doesn't look suspicious to me."

"Well, Scoob isn't the type who likes to poke around the bushes, he's pretty mellow." I said as I glanced at Scooby once more.

He was still standing at his spot, even when I'm not holding onto his leash, and he definitely doesn't look tempted to move a muscle and watch what I'm doing.

And that's when I spotted something in the bush, and I immediately called out, "Zoinks! There's something here in the bush, guys!"

I can hear their footsteps approaching from behind, and Daphne asked, "What is it?"

Quickly shifting the leaves around for them to get a better look, I then said, "Like, it's a footprint, or more to the point, a shoeprint. Either way, it was hidden under the leaves, as if someone had accidentally stepped into the bush."

"That could be from a police officer responding to the call about the latest victim." Velma offered.

"No, that can't be." Daphne quickly said as she looked closely. "The crime scene is way over at the house, why would a police officer come all the way here and step into the bush?"

I nodded. She does raise a good point on that. And besides, I know that the shoeprint can't come from a cop, since the treads aren't anything like the issued footwear worn by police officers.

(Third Person)

Fred also nodded as Daphne made the remark. It was a good point indeed.

His father works with a lot of cops, and several times when he sees a cop enter his father's office during a raining day, he spots the footprints that look nothing like the one they're currently looking at.

"Right, right." He nodded. "We should definitely take a picture of this."

It was then that Velma whipped out her Polaroid 200 Series folding camera, which she uses for her photography club, and she said, "Of course."

Once she snapped several photos of the footprint under the bush, Velma held out her camera as it began developing the photos.

As Velma handed the photos to Fred and Daphne, she then added, "Now, is there anything else we should be looking for?"

Shaggy and Daphne both glanced towards the blonde, and he shrugged.

"I suppose not at this time." Fred replied.

"Good, then let's get the h*ll out of here." Velma said. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm freezing."

Fred nodded. Being in early-October, summer was already long over and with the sun setting earlier than the previous days, the temperature changes can be swift.

"Alright, guys." He said. "Let's head out, though I'm gonna figure out a time for us to meet again, since this is just the beginning."

On their way back towards the trails, Fred could've sworn he heard Velma mutter "Of course it is." under her breath.

October 11, 1968

Fred was still racking his mind that afternoon about their next moves in the case. They've got photos of the shoeprint from yesterday evening near the scene of the crime, but that was about it.

He had met with Daphne earlier during lunch period, and she admitted to him that she herself have no ideas on how to proceed with the case.

Fred knew that turning to Velma and ask her for advice was out of the question. To do that will mean her potentially asking for more favours from him that would make him feel like he's snitching on his pals from the football team.

Besides, Velma herself was quite occupied already. If it isn't the school's science and debate clubs, she's got her photography club outside of school.

Shaggy doesn't seem like the type who would be able to offer ideas on how to proceed with the case, and Fred was pretty sure that the slacker wasn't interested one bit in getting further involved in this.

Then, out of the blue from the afternoon's football practice, Fred found himself with extra time in his hands as he sat on the bench in front of the lines of lockers for the football team.

Running practice has been a total bust after Troy had somehow decided to ram himself right into Fred, and their teammates were forced to pry them apart before Fred had a chance to get back at him.

Getting sent to the lockers by the coach to cool down gave Fred plenty of time to think, and as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel in his locker, he paused as he noted the Polaroid photos in the back pocket of his jeans.

With no one else around, Fred pulled out the photos from his jeans and take a closer look at them.

The clearest shot of the print depicted Shaggy placing his foot beside the shoeprint for a size comparison, and judging from the width and height of the shoeprint, Fred figured that the shoeprint must've came from a size 11 shoe.

Having been around cops, or more to the point, police investigators that worked with his father, for a long while, Fred knew enough about shoe treads to dismount Velma's cop theory right away.

Even so, the tread looked very familiar, and Fred thought initially that they will match any of the shoes or sneakers he wore.

The blonde didn't have such luck, though, when he compared all his shoes to the print the night before.

Then the idea hit him, and Fred snapped his fingers as he looked up. He was in a room with the shoes of at least thirty other people, and he figured that he could try to match the shoeprints to any of the shoes the other guys wore.

Swiftly, Fred got up from the bench and moved across the room to pick up each of the shoes and compare their treads with the prints on the photo.

Being in a small city, theft isn't exactly that much of a concern, especially since everybody knew everybody, and any thief who decides to steal a pair of sneakers from a high school football player would wish that he had targeted someone else when the victim catches him wearing the stolen sneakers.

Because when their belongings go missing, those guys will make the effort to track them down, and they sure as heck can be relentless in their efforts to do so.

(Shaggy's Point of View)

I finished up at the radio station at the usual time, and after going through my usual routine and signing off, I made my way out.

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Kasem." I said when I saw Mr. Kasem.

"Yeah, see you, Shaggy." Kasem called back.

As soon as I stepped out of the Harman and Ising Radio Tower and onto the sidewalk along Constitution Boulevard, I turned and made my way to the nearest bus stop, where I catch the 9 bus home as I always do.

There was no one else waiting at the bus stop, and I checked the time on my watch.

18:02. The bus should be arriving in a couple minutes, and if everything goes as usual, I should be home in about twenty minutes, in time for Mags to finish up in the kitchen for supper.

It was then that I spotted Fred approaching from a block down, and I arched my eyebrows as the blonde spotted me.

What does he want now? I wondered to myself just as Fred approached me.

"What's up?" I asked in greeting.

"Heading home after whatever it is you're doing at the radio station, Rogers?" Fred asked.

"Yeah." I shrugged as my insides began to tighten briefly. "What's going on?"

Chances are that Fred's still having issues with my painkiller use, but whatever, reducing my intake or not, it's not his business to boss around with mine.

"I just found a match to the shoeprint you discovered last night at the park." Fred replied, and I relaxed briefly.

"Really?" I said. "Which brand shoes does that shoeprint match?"

"The print belongs to that of a size eleven Dunlop Sports sneaker." Fred explained.

I whistled. Size eleven is a pretty large shoe size.

"So our suspect has rather large feet." I offered.

"Yeah, pretty much." Fred shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to know."

"Have you told the girls yet?" I wondered.

Fred shook his head. "You're the first in our group who I figured would be free this time of the day."

"Right, right." I nodded thoughtfully. "Like, in that case, what's next?"

Fred paused his lips as he stared at me briefly, then he said, "Honestly, I have no idea. I don't suppose you'll be up to searching the town to see if anyone wears a size 11 Dunlop Sports sneaker?"

"Not really, no." I shook my head. "Like, come to think of it, what are the chances that the culprit has stuffed something into the sneakers to make it seem like their feet are huge?"

"Good point." Fred conceded with a nod. "After all, it did snatch several others before the latest victim, so stands to me that it would've known better by now how to cover its tracks."

"Perhaps the girls will have any ideas as to how to proceed?" I offered.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking as well." Fred nodded.

It was then that I caught a glimpse of a GM New Look rounding the corner and onto Constitution Boulevard, and as it got closer, I saw it was the 9.

"Anyways, I gotta go now, my bus is here." I said as I nodded towards the approaching bus and raised my right hand to signal to the bus to stop.

"For sure." Fred nodded. "I will keep you posted on anything that comes up."

I nodded back before he walked away and the bus came to a stop, then the doors opened.

As I took my seat on the bus, I was pondering. Just what the devil are we getting ourselves into?

Please read and review!