Chapter 9: Revelations and at the hospital

October 13, 1968

(Third Person)

It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon as Fred and his pals took part in their football practice as usual at the Fred Quimby Park.

Fred certainly didn't like the looks of the dark clouds in the sky. Sure, he and the team have played a number of games and practiced under rainfall, but for this particular afternoon, the clouds were particularly dark.

He could've sworn that he heard thunder in the distance, and he can feel that the wind was starting to pick up speed.

At present, their head coach, Jackson Clay, was busy helping new members of the team in their practice, which leaves Fred to toss the ball around with Ethan and Dylan.

"Heard on the radio that it's gonna start pourin' right about now and into the evening." Dylan remarked as he caught the ball tossed by Fred.

"Wouldn't I know it." Fred nodded as he tossed the ball towards Ethan and glanced towards where Coach Clay was at.

Seeing that one of the new kids stumbling during a tackle practice, the blonde scoffed.

Ethan, who also noticed the stumbling, tossed the ball towards Dylan as he said, "The sooner Coach Clay finishes up with those wimps and gets us inside, the better."

"No sh*t, Sherlock." Dylan replied. "Though knowin' those new dudes that made the team and the coach, don't suppose we're gonna be headin' home anytime soon."

Fred turned towards the flagpole and seeing the national flag flapping furiously with the wind, he nodded.

"Tell me about it, Dylan." Fred agreed. "Anyways, you guys know a guy named Harry Kinsella?"

Dylan and Ethan glanced at each other before the former replied, "Yeah, he's in English with me. Heard that he frequently goes bowling on Wednesdays."

"Heard that he wants to study film at UCLA after graduating." Ethan added.

Fred nodded thoughtfully before asking, "Is he a nice dude?"

Dylan and Ethan glanced at each other once again before they both shrugged and the former replied, "He rarely interacted with anyone in class, so I wouldn't know, man."

"Why?" Ethan added.

"Well, there's this thing in my English class that I've been struggling with, and since you also have Mr. Morgan for English, Dylan, I was thinkin' we could do a study group at his place." Fred shrugged.

"Don't we always have study groups at Scott's place?" Ethan frowned.

"Yeah, though I could sure use a good change in scenery, not to mention that Harry could use some socializing." Fred shrugged again. "Besides, I'm sure you guys got a few questions yourselves about the essay on Othello and that we could use the study group to get together and come up with ideas."

Ethan and Dylan both glanced at each other once again, and Fred could see the gears turning in their heads as they continued to pass the ball.

Eventually, Dylan nodded. "I could talk to him tomorrow during English class, I suppose."

"Of course, you do that." Fred said.

October 14, 1968

Dylan came through with his discussion with Harry, because that afternoon, Fred, Velma and a few others were at the Kinsellas place after school.

"Here it is, home sweet home, guys." Harry said as he stood at the front porch with the door keys in hand.

As Harry unlocked the door, he added, "By the way, appreciate the offer to come together for this study group at my place, Fred. I myself got a few questions about the essay and wasn't sure where to start on it."

"Ah, no need to thank me." Fred waved his hand. "That's what classmates do when we strive to succeed."

Harry stared at Fred briefly before he nodded, then he turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open.

"Right this way, guys." He said as he stepped into the house, and everyone else followed suit immediately.

Eventually, the group was progressing through the essay in the living room while enjoying refreshments of bottled cream soda and listening to some fine music.

Fred himself already had jotted down some very good ideas, and then he leaned backward and gulped down the remaining cream soda from his bottle.

As the blonde put the bottle down, he winced briefly before standing up.

"Say Harry, you mind if I use the washroom?" Fred asked as he stood up. "I might've drank too much of the cream soda here."

Velma rolled her eyes, noting that Fred had just finished his third bottle of cream soda, though she stood up as well.

"Same here." Velma said as she stood up. "I need to go relieve myself as well."

"Of course, by all means." Harry nodded as he stood up and gestured towards the hallway and added, "The washroom is right at the end of the hallway."

"Perfect." Fred and Velma both nodded before they took their leaves, and the others in the study group immediately resumed their discussions.

Once the duo were out of hearing shot of the others and were covered by the hallway walls, Fred walked right over to the washroom.

"You know what to find?" He whispered to Velma.

"Of course." Velma whispered back. "I'll be quick."

Fred nodded before they split up, with Velma glancing to her back briefly before entering Walter Kinsella's home office.

She figured that there were only two places in the house where a knife would be held, and only one was in the living room, where the others in the study group were all at.

Of course, there was nothing in the living room that would suggest that a knife was being held at, which leaves the home office as the other option.

The home office wasn't exactly tidy, and Velma could see the various diplomas and certificates hanging on the walls.

It didn't take long for her to find the knife. Turns out that it was held in the top drawer of the desk.

Glancing towards the doorway briefly, Velma quickly took out her Polaroid and snapped several photos of the knife from all angles possible, then she surreptitiously put the knife back to its place and closed the drawer before heading back out, in time for her to hear the toilet flush.

When Fred emerged from the washroom, he asked, "Find anything?"

Velma held up the recently-developed photos of the knife with a grin on her face. "It wasn't that hard at all."

"If Walter Kinsella's indeed the killer, he sure isn't making any efforts covering his tracks." Fred nodded proudly. "Good work."

Velma nodded and smiled as well. "Now to see if he's really the killer or not."

October 15, 1968

It was relatively easier for the gang to get their hands onto the knife owned by Roy Graham.

The businessman was a major donor to Barty Daggett's campaign, and given Graham was a frequent guest in the Blakes' social circles, it meant Daphne was able to get her hands on the knife and snapped photos of it before returning the Polaroid to Velma the next day.

When Daphne ran into Velma during lunch period, the latter told her to ask Fred and Shaggy to meet up with them at the library after school.

Based on the tone in Velma's voice, Daphne figured the news couldn't be good, given that Velma was working on analyzing the knives they've captured photos of the whole Monday evening.

When the gang gathered at the public library after school, Velma was straight to the point.

"So I suppose you've finished analyzing the knives we've found, Velma." Fred began once they settled down in a booth.

"Yes, and I don't have any good news, unfortunately." Velma nodded. "Neither of the knives could've been used in any of the werewolf attacks. Both of them have cutting radius' that are too large to leave the type of marks and cuts we see in those crime scene photos."

"So we're back to square one on that." Daphne's shoulders slumped.

"I mean, regarding this particular development of the case, yes." Velma said. "But that's not the only thing I've got going on. Since you've gotten us the files on the Werewolf case, I've been trying to work the case from a different angle, one that could've been significant enough but wasn't picked up by the cops."

"And?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's nothing substantial if you're thinking about solid evidence." Velma explained. "I mean, if you think about it, most of the victims of the Werewolf shared similar traits as described by their parents."

"Girls all in their mid-late teens and all with blonde hair, right." Fred nodded. "Continue."

"Yes, and for the sake of this discussion, lets divide up the Werewolf's victims into two categories." Velma continued. "The blonde-haired girls in their mid-late teens are in Category A, while the remaining four victims, who don't have anything in common whatsoever, are Category B."

"When you put it this way, it sounds like you might've discovered some links in the victims that are part of Group B." Shaggy interjected.

Velma and Daphne both glanced at him before the former nodded.

"Like I said, it's nothing substantial in terms for hard evidence." Velma said. "Sure, those four are involved in politics in one way or another, but they were all working for different sides."

Velma then took out her notepad from his backpack and flipped through the pages before stopping at the page she was looking for, then she placed the opened notepad on the desk.

"Victim B1. Name: Jefferson Kenney." Velma began. "He worked briefly for Duncan Reeves, who was State Senator Barty Daggett's number one challenger for this State Senate District seat in the State Senate elections two years ago, though his role was more of a minor assistant campaign advisor."

As Daphne and the boys nodded, Velma flipped the page and continued, "Victim B2. Name: Lawrence Nickson. He was involved in an independent third-party candidate's race for the 3rd Congressional District."

Flipping the page, Velma continued, "Victim B3. Name: Chad Gallant. He was a legal advisor for Congressman Moss."

And flipping another page, Velma concluded, "And Victim B4's name is Derek Smith, who worked security for Blake Enterprises."

"Doesn't sound like a connection if you ask me." Fred frowned.

"It's not much, not with what I've got so far anyways." Velma admitted.

"But even then, it's a start, isn't it?" Shaggy offered.

Fred, Velma and Daphne all glanced at him briefly before the former two nodded thoughtfully.

October 16, 1968

That morning, Velma was making her way down the hallway, en route to her locker, as usual when she spotted Fred at his locker.

Fred spotted her and immediately waved her over towards him, and Velma glanced around. Red and the others were nowhere to be seen, and she exhaled before she made her way towards the blonde.

"Where are the big guys?" Velma asked in greeting.

"Runnin' late." Fred shrugged. "It's not like them to arrive at school more than ten minutes before first period."

"Figures." Velma remarked before noting the look on Fred's face and added, "What's going on?"

Fred wordlessly pulled out the day's morning edition of the Coolsville Gazette and flipped it over to show Velma the headline. "I feel like an idiot."

Velma leaned forward to take a closer look at the headline, which read:

"WEREWOLF STRIKES AGAIN
Local man in his 30s in hospital following attack by Werewolf at the Fred Quimby Park"

Upon scanning the first few paragraphs of the article accompanying the headline, Velma turned towards Fred and began, "You don't really think-"

"We really should've seen this comin'." Fred cut in before Velma could finish. "With that Werewolf the way it is, we should've acted faster, and-"

"Fred, the course of action we've taken was going well." Velma cut in. "Granted, we haven't find much, but that doesn't mean-"

"Exactly!" Fred snapped. "If it really went well, then someone else wouldn't have been attacked."

The minute those words flew right out of the blonde's mouth, he instantly felt guilty of venting his frustrations right on Velma.

Velma placed her hand on his left shoulder as she said, "Cool your jets, Fred. It's not like we've tipped off the culprit or anything, and besides, we were only getting started. You really expect that our course of action would've worked immediately?"

There was a long pause, during which Velma continued, "And besides, the good news is that we've got someone to speak to about the attack instead of having to rely on police reports and draw up conclusions from there."

Fred exhaled, then he looked at Velma and nodded.

"Right." He said. "In that case, we need to draw up another plan of action."

"What are you suggesting?" Velma asked.

"I really don't like this, Fred." Velma said later that afternoon after school as they approached the Coolsville General Hospital. "Not one bit. You do realize that if we get caught, I might as well find a new hospital to intern at."

The trip to the General Hospital came after Fred decided that they will speak with the victim of the latest werewolf attack, which the newspaper article identified as 55-year old Steve Benson, from his hospital room.

According to the police report, Benson was out on a jog at the Fred Quimby Park the previous night when he got attacked.

A witness, who was walking his dog nearby, happened along when Benson was in the midst of a struggle and the figure attacking him immediately scrammed.

Benson was in a pool of his own blood when the witness turned towards him, and suffice to say, police and emergency services were summoned, and Benson was swiftly transported to the Coolsville General Hospital for treatment.

Fortunately, the witness made the emergency call in time, as doctors were able to effortlessly save Benson's life.

At present, Benson remains in the hospital for his recovery, which is what led to Fred to decide that they visit him at the hospital, though Velma was clearly reluctant to go along, mainly because it would involve looking through patient records to locate Benson.

As a matter a fact, Velma's concern is that searching through records for the purposes of investigating the attack would raise eyebrows, on account of the fact that neither of them are licensed private investigators or are empowered by the law to do so.

And even if they were both licensed private investigators, Velma was very certain that there would be a warrant required.

"Come on, Velma." Fred insisted. "You do know that this is a great opportunity for us to get a firsthand account on what went down at the park last night, huh?"

"Yes, I know that." Velma said crossly. "But I really don't understand why do we have to go through the trouble of going into the hospital right now just to speak to the victim? Heck, I'm not even scheduled to intern here on Wednesdays, not to mention that patient records are meant to be confidential for a reason."

"I know, though I'm sure you're smart enough to come up with something when you see your colleagues, right?" Fred turned towards her.

Velma paused her lips, ready to argue back, though by that point, they were already in the main lobby.

The receptionist at the front desk perked up as the duo approached, and she arched her eyebrows briefly as she saw Velma.

"Velma?" She asked, and Velma smiled. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"Hello to you too, Marcie." Velma said. "I wasn't expecting to be here today either. However, when I finished up yesterday afternoon, I seem to have misplaced my canteen before I clocked out. Would you have happened to have saw it here at the desk?"

Marcie frowned and shook her head. "I don't think so, are you sure you last saw your canteen here?"

"If not here, then perhaps at the records room." Velma offered.

"Maybe, you can go check there, Velma." Marcie waved her hand dismissively.

Velma glanced at Fred briefly before they made their way down the hallway.

Soon, at the records room, Fred stood by the door while Velma searched through the room.

"Are you sure you last saw your canteen at the records room, Velms?" Fred called as he glanced at his watch, maintaining the cover.

"Of course, Fred." Velma nodded as she searched through the records. Belmont...Belsen...Benson! Found it!

At the sight of the file she was searching for, Velma pulled it out and flipped it open and scanned it briefly before she swiftly pulled out her Polaroid and snapped several photos of the contents in the file, then she quickly closed the file and placed it back in the drawer.

Fred was about to peek into the records room when Velma emerged with her Polaroid in hand.

"Got the file." She whispered to Fred before pulling out a developed photo, showed it to him and added, "The victim is at Room 31969, which is just down the hallway from here."

"Good." Fred nodded. "Let's go."

When the duo walked past the reception desk, Marcie paused from her typing and perked up.

"Did you find your canteen?" She asked.

Velma shook her head. "I must've been mistaken about having had left it at the records room, perhaps it might be somewhere in Building 3. You know what busy afternoons could do to you."

Marcie nodded. "I know that feeling."

Velma nodded back before she led Fred down the hallway without another word, and Marcie resumed her typing.

As they made their way down the hallway, Velma asked, "So what are you planning on asking the vic?"

"Uh...what?" Fred asked absentmindedly, having had been momentarily distracted by the sight of a deeply attractive nurse walking past them.

"You know, what questions are you gonna ask the vic?" Velma asked.

"Well, maybe asking him to provide an account on what happened last night, something that wouldn't have made it to a police report." Fred shrugged.

As Velma nodded, the blonde continued, "Though we definitely wanna play this like a casual conversation, 'cause the last thing we need is..."

"Yeah, yeah." Velma said. "I get it."

Benson studied the duo as they enterred his room following a gentle knock on the door to his room, and he sat up straight on his hospital bed.

"Can I help you kids?" He asked in greeting.

"Hello, Mr. Benson, I'm Fred Jones, and I would-" Fred was about to begin when the victim cut in.

"Fred Jones, as in Assistant District Attorney Skip Jones?" Benson asked in recognition.

"Yes, he's my father." Fred nodded.

"Ah, good, then tell your old man that he does very good work and keep raising h*ll when he reaches the DA's office." Benson smiled.

"I'll be happy to do so." Fred smiled back. "But anyways, I was wondering if you'd like to talk to us about the attack last night."

Benson's smile disappeared. "You mean the wolf attack."

"That's right, Mr. Benson." Velma stepped in. "By the way, I'm Velma Dinkley. I'm Fred's...friend."

Benson grunted briefly, and the duo glanced at each other as he pondered what to say.

"A lot of what I've got to say has already been covered in my interview with the cops." Benson finally said.

"That's okay." Fred replied. "We just wanna get a first hand account on what had happened, if that's okay with you."

Benson visibly relaxed, and he nodded.

"Of course." He said. "I was out jogging at the trails at the park as I've always done, now that this has happened, I suppose I'd have to stick to jogging around the block at my home once I get out..."

"What happened?" Velma gently pressed before Benson could trail off.

"Right, right." Benson scratched his head briefly. "Anyways, there was some rustling at some bushes off the trail, no big deal, so I just jogged past 'em. But then, when I was at where the rustling was at, I spotted something at the corner of my eye."

"'Something'?" Fred frowned.

"This is where it gets all weird." Benson said. "The cops said that what I've got came from a wolf, and maybe they're right, since with something like this happening, I could be imaging things when trying to recall the exact details of what went down last night..."

"But?" Velma asked, judging from the hesitant tone in Benson's voice when he described what the cops had told him.

"I could've sworn that not long before the rustling began, I saw a man walked right past the spot of the rustling." Benson insisted. "And until I jogged right by that rustling spot, no one else emerged from there."

"And you're very sure about it." Fred pressed.

"Kid, I used to work as a cop and over the years, my memory's never failed me." Benson said as he looked at Fred in the eye before he scoffed and shook his head. "But the stick sleeves these days...let's just say that they could use better leadership."

Fred and Velma glanced at each other briefly.

"Well, with all due respect, maybe your age is catching up on you, Mr. Benson." Velma offered.

"Maybe." Benson said. "Either that, or they deliberately cooking this up to destroy my credibility."

"What makes you say that?" Fred arched his eyebrows.

"Because I've seen things." Benson said as he looked at Fred in the eye. "And take it from me, kids. There's something screwy about this whole werewolf thing, especially with the way the investigators are handlin' the case."

"Hmmm..." Fred and Velma both murmured as they glanced at each other, then the former said, "Well, Mr. Benson, we deeply appreciate your time. Do take care of yourself."

After Velma explained to Marcie at the reception desk that she might've forgotten that she had left her canteen at school before her shift, she and Fred took their leaves.

As soon as they were out of the hospital, Fred turned towards Velma and asked, "So what do you think?"

Velma shrugged. "At this point, it's too early for me to say, though the victim sure seemed determined to get his story out, one that would sure raise questions on the way the police is handling the Werewolf case."

"No doubt about it." Fred agreed. "In fact, I'd like to go further on what Benson meant on 'something screwy'."

"Safe to say it might have something to do with what the feds are sniffing for." Velma said. "Besides, I've read up on him before our trip here. Benson worked security for Mayor Jones shortly after he quit the force, and get this, he was the first officer at the scene of a sixteen-year old cold case."

"What was the cold case?" Fred arched his eyebrows.

Velma turned around to face him. "The 1952 murders of Vincent and Rebecca Crown."

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