Chapter 4: A Whore in Sheep's Clothing
Over a period of around two days, Velma got to thinking—really got to thinking, about one thing in particular: Is Fred gonna come get his van back?
Legally, it was his, and Daphne had just stolen it, though she didn't explain it as a theft. What worried Velma the most was whether he'd show up alone or with the police.
Meanwhile, Daphne seemed not to be bothered by this prospect. She went about her business as usual, with Potey in tow.
She'd been made an "official tour guide" at the curio shop, and just like on her first day, she was the main attraction. Tourists and locals alike crowded her, and she was thriving. It didn't seem like she loved being noticed or anything like that; rather, it appeared that she enjoyed her "work," and that being noticed just came along with it. Regardless, she handled it gracefully, and Velma never tired of watching how she could command the attention a group of strangers.
On this Tuesday afternoon, they were going about business as usual at the shop. Daphne had taken her flock towards the back of the shop, and Velma was looking off into space, lost in thought.
Velma, it's been since, what, May since you live-streamed? It's a good source of income, and they can't expel you again.
Velma's logic, however, sparred with her ego: Where are you gonna do that, Velma? The room you share with Daphne? Or any room in your parents' house, for that matter?
What a dilemma.
But another one swiftly presented itself not long thereafter when she heard Daphne saying, "Oh, hey, you two!"
Velma got a sinking feeling, and her stomach plummeted when she finally worked up the nerve to look. There stood Daphne chatting with none other than Paw and the boy. It seemed that they didn't have any outfits other than the overalls and dirt they wore so proudly.
"Hello, madam," said the boy. "Good to see you!"
"Likewise!"
Her group, which she'd abandoned at the back of the shop, was looking around with an unfocused, childlike ennui.
The boy shook Daphne's hand.
Wait a minute.
Velma looked out into the parking lot: no tractor. Had they walked here? Was there even a point in finding out?
"So," said Daphne, "what brings you two back here?"
"You mean other than seeing your pretty face?"
Daphne blushed and twirled her hair.
The boy continued: "Well, ya see, Miss, you remember when I was tellin' you 'bout our chickens?"
Daphne furrowed her brow in thought. "Yeah, I do. Is it still a problem?"
"Yes, unfortunately. But it's gotten even more peculiar."
"How so?"
"This is gonna sound crazy, so buckle up."
Daphne looked intently at the boy. "I'm all ears."
"Okay: last night, me and my paw were lookin' 'round the coop, and sure enough we saw a hole in the wire. But then I was lookin' around for somethin' or other so we could find the coyote that's doin' this, and I found one of our chickens. Thing is, it looked like it'd been bit on its neck, like somethin' was drinkin' its blood."
Daphne listened carefully to every word he said.
"I doubt it's a coyote," the boy went on. "I ain't never seen a coyote that drinks chicken blood instead of just eating the thing."
Daphne nodded. "You're right, that doesn't sound like a coyote."
"So I went to the library and flipped through through some o' the books they have on Crystal Cove wildlife and such."
"And?"
"Nothin'. So I found some other books on 'less researched' wildlife, and I found this." The boy presented Daphne with a crumpled piece of paper.
He ripped the page out... Because of course he did...
"Let me consult with my partner," said Daphne.
Partner?
Daphne walked over to the cash register and showed Velma the page that had been ripped out of the book.
"El chupacabra?" Velma was incredulous. "That was debunked. It was on the news a few years ago, it was just some weird breed of dog."
"But Velma, doesn't it sound like exactly the same problem they're having?"
"El chupacabra is a Spanish myth anyway, isn't it?"
"Yes. Says here it was first sighted in Puerto Rico."
"Uh huh... Anyway, I doubt that's what they're dealing with."
"But something's fishy about this. I can feel it, Velma."
Paw and the boy had wandered up behind Daphne, and they looked at Velma pleadingly—especially Paw.
"Please, Miss," said the boy to Velma, "we really need help, and y'all are the smartest people I've ever met."
Go figure.
Still, Velma looked into Paw's eyes, and that blank stare, while just as blank, carried unspeakable weight somehow.
Velma sighed. "Okay, I'm willing to help."
Paw's eyes brightened, though his face didn't move at all.
"Really?" said the boy. "Oh, thank you, Miss, thank you!"
Daphne mouthed "Thank you" to Velma.
The boy had told Daphne and Velma that they should come over in the evening. He also gave them a crude drawing for directions to their farm. Velma tried asking around so that she could just get the address, but seemingly no one in Crystal Cove knew these men, so the drawing would have to do.
Velma had gotten Daphne into the Mystery Machine and started driving—that was thirty minutes ago. Now, she was hopelessly lost, and she most certainly was not going to let Daphne know that.
She turned the headlights on and drove slowly down the gravel roads. They seemed to just wind on forever, snaking around land Velma didn't even know existed. Daphne, blissfully unaware, was controlling the music, so as Velma tried to get her bearings, she was also hearing Daphne rap along to "Spookie Coochie."
"Are we close?" asked Daphne out of the blue
Velma's heart jumped. "Yes!"
Daphne looked at her confusedly.
"Hah...sorry," said Velma. "You just scared me."
Daphne turned the music down a bit. Now Velma could hear the steady crunch of the Mystery Machine's tires on the rocks.
"Hey, Daphne."
"Yeah?"
"I wanted to ask you...uh...about the, uh...the Mystery Machine."
"Okay, what's up? Do I need to take it to the shop?"
"No, it's not that...I'm thinking more along the lines of...how you came into possession of it..."
"Ah hah, I see." Daphne nodded sullenly.
"Right."
"…Well, it is called the Mystery Machine for a reason. Right now, we're solving a mystery, so therefore, we have more need for it than Fred does."
"Okay, sure, but I don't know if that'll matter if he wants it back and calls the law down on us."
Daphne laughed. It was dry and throaty, and resembled a witch's cackle. "He can try if he'd like."
There was a silence.
Please, Daphne Blake, don't be up to something.
"Ooh, look!" chirped Daphne. Somehow, while they were talking, Velma had accidentally stumbled upon a farm. Before Velma could wonder if it was the right farm, she saw Paw's boy waving at them in the distance. He directed her to a little driveway next to their home.
"Welcome!" he said warmly. He offered a hand to Daphne to help her step down from the van, and she eagerly accepted.
He then gave the same gesture to Velma, and she said, "Oh, no, that's fine, thank you much."
The boy led them into the small house. It resembled a cabin on the outside. It was dwarfed by the silo nearby, as well as the large red barn to the east.
As they walked inside, Velma took a look around the place.
Lordy be.
Everywhere she looked was decorated with signs of their pride and joy: camouflage wallpaper here, a buck's stuffed head there, and a fully assembled 200-piece puzzle of a duck hung on the wall with the same reverence as a da Vinci.
"Make yourselves at home. My paw's makin' a stew—it's almost done."
"Ooh!" said Daphne excitedly. "What kind of stew?"
"Bear."
Bear stew? Are there bears in Crystal Cove?
Evidently, Daphne wasn't bothered by this in the slightest: "Bear? Awesome! I've never had it, but I've heard great things."
"They weren't lyin', Miss. Bear meat makes for some real good stew."
Daphne was practically shivering with anticipation.
Velma peered into the kitchen. There was Paw, tinkering away with a pot and a spoon. His eyes looked absent, but his hands moved with purpose. Velma couldn't help but think that the biggest mystery of all was just who Paw was. Alas, perhaps it was a mystery that could not be understood by mere mortals, at least not in this life.
When he finished, he tapped the wooden spoon on the pot, and the boy led Velma and Daphne to the table, where he started placing bowls of the stew along with plastic utensils.
Velma took the first bite with caution. First she blew on it, and then, very deliberately, she brought it to her mouth. She took as small a bite as she could while still being able to taste it.
Hmm...huh...this is...pretty goddamn good.
She looked over at Daphne, who seemed to have the same opinion as she shoveled the bear stew into her mouth (somehow still appearing elegant and feminine as she did so).
They sat at the table in silence as they all finished their meal. When their bowls were empty and their stomachs were full, they leaned forward to discuss the matter at hand.
"So," said the boy, "here's the game plan I got so far: at least two of us should hide by the chicken coop and wait for the culprit to show."
"What if it's el chupacabra?" asked Daphne. "Wouldn't that be dangerous?"
"Well, I've got just the thing for that. I've got some grass camouflage outfits that're covered in some kinda odor, so whatever shows up won't pick up your scent."
Velma wasn't ecstatic about the idea of wearing nasty grass suits and lying flat on the ground, but Daphne wasn't fazed.
"So what about the other two people?" asked Velma.
"I've got this here handy dandy rifle." The boy picked up what looked like a military-grade sniper rifle. Velma let out a gasp at the sight of it. "I think me and Paw oughtta handle the firearms department, unless one o' you is experienced."
"No, we're definitely not experienced, you can handle the guns, thank you." Velma couldn't make it clear enough how little she wanted to be handling the weapon.
"Alright, then. Are y'all down with the grass camo thing?"
No.
Before Daphne could say "yes," Velma spoke up:
"Isn't the barn right next to the chicken coop?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then how about this: you and Paw watch from the top level of the barn with the gun, and Daphne and I will stay on the ground to handle it if it's not dangerous."
"That could work."
Daphne looked a bit dejected. "But what about the sce—"
Velma clapped a hand over Daphne's mouth. "Then it's settled!" She took her hand away and shot Daphne a glare that said, Please let me handle this. She went on: "I'll go with Daphne to the Mystery Machine and see if we've got anymore useful equipment."
"Sounds good," said the boy.
Velma was propped up on her elbows, rummaging through the junk in the back of the Mystery Machine. Of course Daphne had secretly taken Potey along, so he was already nestled in her arms.
"Hmm…" She pushed things around until she saw a pair of binoculars. She grabbed them.
"So," said Velma, "when exactly is this stakeout supposed to start?"
"He said the chicken was still warm when he found it, and that it was around eleven, so at least before then." Daphne glanced at her watch. "It's nine o'clock now."
Splendid.
Then, Velma had another thought. "Daphne, did he tell you where he put the chicken's body?"
Daphne nodded. "He said it's laid out in the barn."
"Why don't we go take a look at it?"
"Oooh, I like how you think."
Velma, Daphne, and Potey all walked over to the barn. It took some force to get the massive doors open. They walked in, the dust making them cough. All of the stables were empty, and it seemed they'd been that way for quite some time. Potey wandered off from Daphne's side to sniff about.
"Look, here," said Daphne. She and Velma knelt down to inspect the bird's corpse. It was lying next to a burnt out candle—perhaps Paw had wanted to give him a proper send-off.
Velma would have very much preferred using gloves, but she wasn't going to bother looking for any on this farm; so, she gently nudged the chicken's head to the side to get a better look at its neck. The wound was where the boy had said it was. She looked closely at the puncture marks. Then, she said, "Daphne, come look at this."
Daphne moved next to Velma. "What is it?"
"Look at this wound. He said it was a bite, right?"
"Right."
"But this is one clean puncture. And it's a pretty small one, too. If I had to guess, I'd say it looks more like a needle was used on it."
"You're right…and look here!" Daphne held up the chicken's wing. "This wing's been broken. And so has the neck, for that matter. You think someone was holding it while they injected it with something?"
"Or drained its blood after breaking its neck."
"But what's the motive for this? I don't know anyone who has anything against these guys."
I don't know anyone that's aware of these guys.
"Even then," said Velma, "it's a pretty strange way to go after chickens when you could just use a dog to get the job done." She looked over at Daphne. "What time is it?"
She looked at her phone. "Ten-oh-four."
"Let's get hidden away for now."
"Right."
Velma found a little cranny between two of the stables. It was a tight fit, but she was completely out of sight, and she had a great view of the chicken coop. And great access to the overwhelming smell of chicken shit.
Daphne had also found herself a hiding place behind one of the walls. She was holding a pitchfork for self-defense.
They saw Paw and his boy walking towards the barn. The boy was holding the rifle in both hands, while Paw was holding—
Daphne squinted, then whispered back to Velma, "Is that…?"
A spear. Yes, it was. It was a spear. And the blade looked like it'd been taken from a machete and sharpened to a smaller point. Velma thought about how much she'd like to research this mystifying man.
After about an hour of just waiting, Velma was starting to nod off. Her glasses sat lower on her nose, and her head tilted forward as she fought off sleep. Just as she was about to succumb, Daphne hissed, "Velma!"
It was enough to wake her up, but what she saw definitely got her attention (and would probably haunt her nightmares): Daphne had taken mud or paint or something and plastered it all over her face. She looked like a caveman with a strong sense for fashion. Somehow, she hadn't gotten a drop of whatever it was on her clothes or her hair, which was pulled back tightly into a bun.
How much did I miss when I was nodding off?
As of yet, nothing had approached the chicken coop.
Velma was just about to nod off again when Daphne once again got her attention. This time, she added, "Look!" Without questioning it, Velma brought the binoculars up to her eyes. At first, she didn't see anything, but after a moment, she saw what looked like a child in a fur suit creeping up to the chicken coop. She focused more intently.
No, not a child. It's a man, but he's on all fours…?
That certainly seemed to be the case. She looked up to the top level. Paw had his spear ready to fly, and the boy was looking through the scope of the rifle. Velma gave a wave to tell them to hold off.
When she looked back to Daphne, she saw her already outside of the barn, sneaking behind the man as he approached the chicken coop. Next to her, as always, was Potey.
Velma watched through the binoculars as Daphne inched closer and closer to the culprit. Thankfully, she'd left the pitchfork behind. Then, in a flash, she was on him. He kicked and thrashed, but she held on tight. Potey took note of this and followed suit, sinking his teeth into the culprit's leg, which resulted in a squeal.
Finally, after a minute-long struggle, Daphne had him on the ground. Potey let go of his leg.
"Guys, it's okay! I got him!" yelled Daphne, and the two men upstairs lowered their weapons. Velma jogged over to Daphne to see what was up.
Daphne stayed on top of him, keeping him restrained. Velma reached for the man's arm and wrenched something out of his hand.
"Just like we thought, Daphne," she said, and showed her a hypodermic needle, 18-gauge.
Daphne pushed his head against the ground. "Go ahead and start explaining, buckaroo," she said.
It seemed the man was trying to say something, but was having trouble.
Velma said, "Daphne, take your hand off his head, he can't talk."
"Oops, sorry," she said quietly as she took the force off his skull.
"Ugh!" uttered the man. He was breathing heavily. Then, Daphne traced her fingers along the material of the suit; she traced up to the head, and when she'd found a good grip, pulled it off, exposing the man's face.
Both Velma and Daphne were shocked—well, less shocked than just confused.
"Mayor Jones?" they said in unison.
The man looked up. "Daphne? Velma? What're you two doing here?"
"You first," said Daphne, pressing a heel into his back.
"Ow, shit, okay!" She removed her foot. "Jesus, are you trynna break my goddamn spine?"
Daphne glared down at him. "Get to talking, or I might."
"Fine, fine…and by the way, girls, I'm not 'Mayor' anymore, you know tha—fuck!"
Her heel was back in his back.
When she took it off again, he started: "These two backwood bumfucks have been living off the land and all that jazz for quite some time. Only me and a few other people even know they exist. They make their living selling eggs and shit."
"So what?" said Daphne.
"What they're not doing is paying their fucking taxes!"
Huh?
"Yeah, that's right," he went on. "I tried getting the city government to do something about it, but I'm not really in the good graces of those bastards either, so they ignored everything I said. So I thought I'd try to send a message by taking out their source of income."
Velma interrupted: "Okay, wait. All of that mostly makes sense. What I'm stuck on is why your plan was to dress up as el chupacabra and drain the blood from their chickens with a needle."
"If they knew it was just some guy taking out their chickens, they probably would've shot me—or worse, who fucking knows? But being the inbred hicks they are, they've got a lot of respect for fairy tales… Essentially, I Googled 'chicken myth,' and it was the most popular result."
And yet, why take it so far? Are you any better than the country folk you so detest?
"Hey, Daphne," said Mr. Jones, "I heard you and Fred broke up! How've you been holding up?"
"Oh, I'm doing fine, thank you! But how did you find out about that? You're not even Fred's actual father."
"Right, but he still keeps in contact with me, y'know."
Daphne nodded. She seemed quite understanding for a girl still holding a man down to the ground.
Velma stood up, and said to Daphne, "Well, that's that. I'll go get—"
She stopped when she looked up at the second level of the barn.
They're gone. Like, they disappeared.
"Paw?" she called out into the night. (She would've called the boy's name, but he had neglected to give anyone this information as of yet.)
Then, she could faintly hear a distant shout. It sounded like the boy's voice.
Daphne looked over at her. "I'll stay here with Mr. Jones. You go check on the boys."
"Okay."
"Stay safe!"
"You too!"
When Velma was out of sight, Daphne started to chuckle to herself a little. "Heh heh…Mr. Jones…just me and Mr. Jones, heh heh…"
Mr. Jones, still trapped by Daphne, started going "Heh heh" along with her.
They both chuckled together for far too long; then Daphne finished it off with, "Sometimes I crack myself up."
"Yeah, you and I both, sister," said Mr. Jones.
They laughed some more.
Meanwhile, Velma's searching had escalated. She'd found them, no doubt about that. She'd found something else, too.
Is—…
Oh. Oh, yes it is. Yes it sure is.
So I've got like…two, three full minutes left to live. Sweet.
It's a motherfucking bear.
Lo and behold, the motherfucking bear was chasing after Paw and the boy as they ran in zig-zags around the field, trying to get it off their tracks.
"Serpentine, Paw, serpentine!" shouted the boy.
Velma could hear the bear as it roared and growled, chasing after them.
Damn. Bears are fast as dick.
Indeed, the bear was fast. In fact, had no one intervened, Paw and son would probably not have survived. But someone did intervene—or rather, something.
As per usual, Potey was out and about, searching for any signs of danger. He spotted the bear and started to double-time it, sprinting with his short legs into the field. As the boy ran past, Potey positioned himself right in front of the massive beast. It stopped, then stood up on its hind legs.
Paw took the initiative. He aimed his spear and let it fly—it soared through the air in a long arch, missed the bear by at least seven or eight feet, and promptly lodged itself in the side of the barn. But that was enough: the bear let out a strange, fearful pulsing sound, and it turned and ran far out into the field, before finally disappearing over the horizon.
Daphne and Mr. Jones had walked into the field by this time.
"Where did the bear come from?" asked Daphne.
"He smelled it," said the boy, panting with his hands on his knees. "The stew…"
Velma, Daphne, and Mr. Jones stood closely together. Perhaps the town didn't have it out for these two farmers, but apparently the bears did now.
"Well anyways, we've got your culprit!"
"Thank the Lord!"
"But there's one teensie problem."
"There is?"
"This man is actually an old friend of ours, so it's a bit awkward. I just ask, on behalf of myself and Velma that you don't try to lash out against Mr. Jones here."
The boy nodded. "Absolutely. Consider the slate clean." Paw stared at his spear, now stuck in the side of the barn. Whether he intended to retrieve it or not was anyone's guess.
"Oh, and one more thing," added Velma. "Please start paying your taxes."
The boy's face wrinkled quizzically. Velma knew what this meant, but decided she wasn't going to be the one to give financial education to him.
Velma and Daphne had dropped Mr. Jones off at his new house in the suburbs of Crystal Coves, and then returned home themselves. In Velma's bedroom, the two girls prepared for bed.
"So, Daphne," said Velma. "Like I was saying earlier…"
"About the Mystery Machine, you mean?"
"Yeah. You don't think Fred is going to come get it from you?"
"Not a chance. His pride is far too delicate."
"Please elaborate."
"Gladly." Daphne took her cell phone out and scrolled through her camera roll. This took some time. "Ah hah." She looked at Velma. "What I'm about to show you is top secret. I have never told a soul; you'll be the first to know. I ask that you treat this in the same manner."
"Understood."
"Okay." Daphne turned her phone screen to Velma.
Velma could almost physically feel her jaw get heavier and drop. There on Daphne's phone screen was a photo of Fred Jones. A nude photo. But not just any nude photo: Fred was lying on his stomach, wearing assless chaps, and grinning at the camera. He'd taken the photo himself.
"Daphne…why…why do you have this?"
"He sent it on accident. Apparently it was just for him, or maybe to send to me once we were hitched—I don't honestly know. But I've had it for a while now, just in case I ever needed it. And now, the situation has presented itself, and it's proven very useful so far."
"Did you threaten him?"
"I just texted it to him a few days ago. He understood."
Velma laid back in her bed. Fred wasn't just Daphne's ex-boyfriend; he'd been a friend to the entire gang. And now she'd seen him in quite a…vulnerable state, but, more than anything, it just didn't seem like Fred.
"I guess…" said Velma. "…he's into what he's into."
Daphne nodded. "For sure. No kink shaming here."
"But still…weren't you surprised?"
"Honest answer? Nope."
Velma stared at Daphne.
Daphne said, "Really. You guys knew Fred on a 'BFF' basis, but even though we didn't do sex or anything, we still talked about plenty of stuff. Intimate, boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. And based on that, it seems along the lines of something he'd like."
"…Interesting…" Very interesting…but also not something I ever needed to know. I feel so dirty. I'm a camgirl, but this is far more shameful...
With this revelation, Daphne went to sleep peacefully as Velma stared at the ceiling, wondering what would happen if someone from the Gang ever found her stuff online.
But the money…
The issue put Velma to war with herself, and at this point in time, there was no resolution in sight.