Chapter 07

On the best of days, words were no friend to Velma. And she was well-versed in how to do 'speechless'. But 'completely agog' was a new one. Her mouth dropped open and she stared. Then her skepticism took over and, previous trepidation forgotten, she walked past the dog and into the shadows amongst the trees.

"Okay! Who's back here? It's a pretty good ventriloquist act but you have to have better things to do with your time."

The dog turned around. "Rit's not a rentriloquist. Rit's really me."

"You're a dog and dogs don't talk. So, by the transitive property, you don't talk."

The Doo did logic. "Replace rogs ron't ralk with ALL rogs ron't ralk."

Velma had now walked completely around the dog and examined his collar. Poking around at a strange dog—especially one that came up to her shoulder when it was on all fours—was generally a bad idea but her curiosity had the best of her now. She needed to know how this was done.

Scooby giggled. "Rat rickles."

"Where's your speaker?"

"Rit's called a mouth."

At this point, she actually put her hand into Scooby's mouth, much to the chagrin of both. She wiped her hand on her skirt and he spit on the ground.

"Ratisried now?"

"I'll assume, just for the purpose of finding out more information, that you can talk. What do you want?"

"Rye want your relp in freeing Raggy."

"Whose Raggy?"

Scooby had forgotten how annoying it was when he first started speaking with someone. "Raggy with an S and an H. Raggy."

"Shaggy? Then whose Shaggy?"

"Roo rot arrested rith him resterday."

"Do you mean Norville? The stoner guy?"

"Reah. Rhat's him. Ree's still in jail."

"His parents didn't come get him?"

"No. His rother came but ree is still in there."

"They must have charged him with the crime."

"Rut ree didn't do it."

"How do you know?"

"Recause Rye met him right rhen ree left the school. Ree didn't have anything."

"He could have stashed it in the school."

"If ree had held rots of money, rhen Rye could smell it. Money smells bad."

Velma processed this. A dog using his acute sense of smell was a realistic assumption. Of course, a talking dog wasn't, but she had already made her decision about that. This was a data point in figuring out this puzzle.

But Velma viewed herself as a physicist, not a detective. "What should we do about this?"

"Ret Raggy out of jail. Then we can talk rith him."

"How do we do that? I'm just a teen-ager and you're… You're a talking dog! That would at least make them listen to you. Maybe you could…"

"Roe. Rye'm not allowed to talk with anyrone rexcept Raggy and his parents. The rovernment rill take me and cut open my brain."

It took two seconds for Velma to process this. "Agreed. Then why are you breaking the rule and talking to me?"

"Recause Raggy needs rye help. Do roo have rany other ideas?"

"Well, I certainly don't have any clout with the police but I know someone who does."

xXx

It was a long walk from the school to Blake Mansion. As a matter of fact, it was a long walk from the public street to the front door of Blake Mansion. This had given Velma time to get the details from Scooby Doo about what he had overheard in Paula Rogers' various conversations.

The building was immense as was the front door. The doorbell, however, seemed tiny and Velma noticed that there was no 'welcome' mat. She pressed the button.

DING DON DONG DONG… DONG DONG DING DONG…

The ringing inside the massive house sounded like real bells. In her peripheral vision, Velma noticed red lights appear on two different cameras. After a moment, the massive door swung open revealing a man dressed in a traditional butler's suit. Velma felt very small.

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I am here to see Miss Daphne Blake."

"May I ask your name?"

"It's Velma Dinkley. I am a schoolmate of hers. May I ask your name?" Velma didn't know the proper protocol of speaking with a butler. She had never spoken to one before.

"It's Jeeves, Miss Dinkley."

Velma, being Velma, could not help but comment. "Jeeves? That's a little spot-on isn't it? Your parents must have been fortune tellers."

"It's not my actual name. Its in my employment contract that I will answer to Jeeves."

"That sounds pretty annoying."

"A paycheck is a paycheck."

"What's your real name?"

"It's Aaron, young ma'am."

"May I call you Aaron?"

"It would be appreciated, Miss Dinkley. I will see if Miss Daphne is available. You may wait in the entry parlor." He gestured off to his left toward a room the size of Velma's living room which was outfitted with plush furniture and paintings of family members on the walls. As Velma sat down, she wondered whether, if this were the entry parlor, how many other parlors were there? And what exactly made a room a parlor?

It was just a moment before Daphne came down. "Irma? What are you doing here?"

"Well… just for point of fact… my name isn't Irma. It's Velma."

"Really. Why haven't you ever told me this before?"

"I think yesterday was the first time that you had ever addressed me by name."

Daphne paused and thought for a moment. "That makes sense. Why should I? Which brings us back to the question of why are you here?"

"I have someone waiting outside that probably can explain it better than me."

"You want me to leave the house with you? What if you're a felon? This could be a kidnapping."

"We won't leave your front porch. I promise. It really is important and only you can help."

Daphne's instinct was to ask this boring little person with the hideous taste in clothes to leave. But this whole thing was so weird, she was curious. "Okay. But just for a few minutes."

The entry hall was empty and their footfalls echoed as they crossed to the front door and exited the mansion. Velma led Daphne to the far end of the massive porch and whispered "Scooby Doo?"

Scooby stepped out of the carefully-manicured boxwood bushes and hopped up onto the porch.

Daphne stepped back slightly to make room. "It's a dog." She looked Scooby up and down. "A very large dog." Then she looked at him from nose to tail. "Not a thoroughbred dog." Then she bent over and looked underneath. "And a male."

Scooby spoke. "Ray! Ret's not get rersonal!"

Daphne stepped back two steps at this, violating a Blake family rule. A Blake never steps backwards from anything.

"It talks?!"

Velma nodded. "I have kept a running conversation with him while we walked over here. All evidence indicates that he talks."

Blakes are nothing if not resilient in the face of unforeseen events. "Okay. The dog talks. And what is his name?" The question was aimed at Velma.

"Scooby Doo."

"Like the Frank Sinatra song?"

Scooby was getting miffed at being spoken about in the third person as if he couldn't answer for himself. "Roe. Rye'm ramed after Rooby Snax."

Daphne was still talking to Velma. "Ruby Snax?"

"It takes a while to get accustomed to his speech impediment…"

"Rhat reech impediment?" Scooby interrupted.

Velma continued, "I think he said Scooby Snacks."

Daphne didn't know what those were and decided that she didn't care. She turned to Scooby Doo. "What do you want from me?"

"Rye want relp getting Raggy out of jail."

"Whose Raggy?"

Velma jumped in. "Apparently, he is saying 'Shaggy' which is what he calls the new stoner guy, Norville."

"The one who stole the money?"

"Ree ridn't steal the money!"

This was followed by multiple repetitions of the same explanation which he had given Velma.

Daphne looked to the smaller woman. "You're, like, smart. Do you buy this?"

"It makes sense."

"So, you think the stoner kid is innocent?"

"More accurately, there is now reasonable doubt that he is guilty."

Daphne turned back toward Scooby. "And, since… Shaggy, as you call him, is your friend, are you sure, Scooby Dooby Doo, that you are not adding or subtracting anything from what you remember to help him?"

"Rit's rust Rooby Roo not Rooby Rooby Roo. And yes. Rye am sure. Ree is innocent."

"Then, I'm sure that his lawyer will have him out in no time."

"Ree roesn't have a rawyer."

"But everyone gets a lawyer. They're free. It says so on television."

Velma shook her head. Her previous trust of the American justice system was beginning to wane through this experience. "I don't think that the funding of the Public Defender's Office gives the free lawyers much chance to really defend a client. They are just there to check a box. Without a real lawyer, this guy might go to jail for something he didn't do."

"If he didn't do it, then why did they arrest him?"

"Did you do it?"

"No!"

"They arrested you."

Daphne's eyes flitted back and forth between Velma and Scooby standing on her front porch. Why was she even talking with them? She definitely had better things to do withy her time and certainly with more appropriate… people? How does one refer to a talking dog?

But, if the stoner kid was actually innocent, then it just wasn't right for him to be punished and the person that actually took the money to get away with it. Was it? And why did she care?

"I'll see what I can do." The words were out of her mouth and her word was given—another one of those darn Blake rules. She now had to follow through. "I'll talk to you, Irm… I mean Velma tomorrow."

Velma finished off. "And one last thing. You can't tell anyone about the talking dog. The government would take him away."

Daphne nodded. "And the government is bad." A lifetime of training as a potential heir to Blake Industries.

Daphne watched the two walk away and realized that she had no idea how to proceed. Whenever such a predicament presented itself, she always knew where to find the answer.

Re-entering the mansion, she passed the butler on the way toward her father's wing.

"Did you have a nice visit with your friend, Miss Daphne?"

"They're not my friends, Jeeves. Just acquaintances."

"Friends? I just saw one person, the young woman, Miss Velma and her dog."

"Yes. Velma and I are school acquaintances. We are working on something together."

"She seemed very nice."

Was she getting grilled by Jeeves? "I don't know her very well, Jeeves, and excuse me but I am needing to discuss something with my father."

She hurried from the entry lobby and worked her way back to the southern wing of the house which her father used as his home office headquarters. He would be working until family dinner at 6:30. The door was open, and he was alone at his desk working on his computer.

"Father?"

"Is this something that can wait until dinner, Daphne?"

"Not really, Father. I am needing a favor. Or, someone I know is needing a favor. Maybe you can help."

He immediately looked up from the computer and turned to face her. "Someone needs a favor? What type of favor?"

"One of the people got arrested with me is still in jail. I have reason to believe that he is innocent but getting railroaded because he's too poor to afford a real lawyer."

"So, they want us to provide this poor unfortunate lad with a high-powered lawyer?"

"They didn't say that in so many words but that seems to be what they need."

"And you want to do this?"

"I think so."

"Then we'll do it."

"Really?"

"Certainly! I'm glad you finally asked for something like this. I was beginning to worry that Delilah would be the only one."

"I don't understand."

"You are rich. Everyone else is poor. The poor believe that the rich owe them something. So they come asking whenever their own decisions or actions have gotten them into trouble. Then, when you do the favor and get them out of their self-imposed problem, they hate you because they had to ask you in the first place. To them, its unfair that you have money and they don't. This is a great object lesson for you to learn."

"You think they'll hate me for helping them?"

"No, they hate you now. You're getting more closely involved in their lives gives you the opportunity to see how much they hate you and to understand that there is no favor you can do that will change that. It is something we all have to learn."

"But what if this guy really is innocent and the system isn't working?"

"That is even better! You're going into your 'social justice warrior' phase. That's another thing that everyone of our status needs to go through to understand that these people lie and lie well. Within a week after you get him out, he'll be back in jail again reaching out to you with his 'poor, poor, pitiful me' story and needing more money that he'll probably just be shooting into his arm. The system isn't perfect but it serves its purpose and that is better than every other system in the world."

Barty Blake continued, "So, I will contact our family attorney's right now and they will send someone down to the jail in the morning to see this young unfortunate and get him freed."

Daphne's head was spinning. She had felt one way before talking to her father and was now feeling completely different. But she had fulfilled her word to Velma and now she was done with this business.

"Thank you, Father."