If you, my dear readers, have any suggestions for me, please don't be afraid to tell me about them! Review! Also, I'm sorry that all of my stories have been with ghosts haunting places so far, but I promise I'll add a little more variety after this one.
Note: I don't own the Scooby-Doo characters or anything like that.

Chapter 1 Mystery Mentioned in the Malt Shop

Fred Jones, a handsome blonde teenager, walked into the Malt Shop, a local hangout where Mystery, Inc. could be found nearly every Friday afternoon. Upon looking around, he noticed that his friends were already sitting at their usual booth, waiting for him. Velma Dinkley, the most intelligent member of the group and the mastermind who usually solved all of their mysteries, was reading a newspaper and frowning. Next to her, Shaggy Rogers and their dog, Scooby-Doo, were eating, no, inhaling giant ice cream sundaes, each topped with a pickle rather than a cherry. Seated beside them was the red-head that made Fred's heart flutter excitedly. Daphne Blake was looking into a small mirror and fixing her already perfect hair. She seemed to sense Fred's presence and looked up, smiling sweetly to form most perfect expression he had ever seen.

"Hey, guys," Fred said, slightly breathless. He slid into the booth next to Daphne, trying not to seem too eager to be near her, and looked around at his friends once more. "What's wrong, Velma?" he asked, noticing the brunette's slightly disgruntled expression.

"You all know who Jeffery Marks is, right?" she asked, receiving a nod from everyone at the table but Shaggy. "He's the really rich old man who lived in that mansion on top of the hill," she explained to the boy next to her, who was looking more interested in getting another ice cream than listening to her talk. "Well, he died this morning," Velma told the rest of the gang, causing them to gasp, for they had not been expecting such sad news about the man. She gestured to the small article about it in The Coolsville Times that seemed to be what was bothering her. "It says here that the police are telling everyone that it was from natural causes but some people are starting to suspect that it was homicide."

Scooby looked at her dumbly. "R'homicide?" he asked.

"It means murder," Fred told the dog.

Scooby gulped loudly but said no more as Velma explained that she had known Mr. Marks and had met with him only a few days earlier. "He was perfectly healthy, nothing wrong with him at all. Something about this whole thing just doesn't add up," she said slowly, her mind analyzing and processing as it so often did when a mystery was involved. "He wasn't even that old."

"Well, why don't we head up to Mr. Marks' house and see what we can find out?" Fred suggested, smiling kindly.

"Like, can it wait until tomorrow?" Shaggy whined. "It's going to get dark out soon." He gestured to a nearby window, though the sky was still a clear blue for it was only four o'clock in the afternoon.

Velma rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a chicken," she said, chuckling at Shaggy's reaction.

He narrowed his eyes and scoffed in what was meant to be an offended expression, though it looked rather hysterical. "I am not a chicken," he snapped, raising his chin and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Bok, bok, bok," Scooby said, flapping his paws like wings in attempt to mimick the animal.

Shaggy stuck his tongue out at the dog, who just laughed. "I just happen to know that, like, whenever we go somewhere in the dark, Daphne gets kidnapped or something like that and then we have to run around trying to find her while some creepy ghost chases us."

"Hey!" Daphne shouted, glaring at Shaggy and promptly punching him in the arm.

Fred started to chuckle a little at this, for Shaggy's statement had been completely true. This earned Fred a punch in the arm as well. "Daph," he said, rubbing his arm. "It's not our fault that your super danger-prone!"

"Come on," Velma pleaded with the arguing group. "Please just do this one favor for me and I promise I'll never ask for anything from you guys ever again."

Daphne sighed and agreed to go to Marks' house if everyone would quit teasing her about the many times she had managed to get herself captured whenever they went somewhere. "It's not going to happen today," she told her friends confidently. "I mean, there's not even anything haunting the place, so there's nothing there that could kidnap me."

Velma now turned her attention to Shaggy, putting on her most convincing "puppy-dog face." She looked at him with those big brown eyes that he couldn't refuse. "Please, Shaggy," she said softly. "For me?"

"Fine," the coward muttered grudgingly. "But, like, first, we're getting something to eat."

"Reah, reah, reah," Scooby said eagerly, licking his lips. He took a napkin and tucked it in to his collar, also grabbing a knife and fork.

"But didn't you guys just have that huge bowl of ice cream?" Fred asked, gesturing to the empty dishes in front of them.

"Well, yeah, but that was just, like, an appetizer to tide us over while we were waiting for you to show up," Shaggy responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have ice cream sundaes before the main course.

The rest of the gang laughed at their never-ending hunger but agreed to buy the boys hamburgers, shakes and french fries before they left.