Chapter 07

I was startled awake by my phone ringing. Startle number two was seeing that the caller was Fred Jones. This was the second time that the almost obnoxiously handsome boy had called me. I was feeling my oats… just a little. Then I leaned forward to get the phone and all I could feel was my side. Pain cascaded through my body from the fractured rib and bone bruise, and I gasped.

Luckily, the gasp was under control before I hit the green 'answer' button. "Hello?"

"Hi Velma. It's Fred."

What should I go for? Sultry? Demure? Sirenesque? "Hi…" Another wave of pain shot through me and sultry turned into a puppy-like whimper. I finally finished the two-word sentence. "Fred."

"I wanted to call and see how you were doing."

We all know that I am terrible interpreting body language and tone of voice. But 'word choice'? That was my sweet spot. I immediately recognized that he did not say 'I just wanted to call and see how you were doing'. He was leading up to what he really wanted.

Putting together the available information, I rendered a guess. "You want to go back to the Chamber of Commerce tonight?"

This was usually the part where the other person was shocked by my insightfulness or accused me of reading their mind. Fred rolled with it. "Yeah. The mask glowing red is a clue we have to investigate and the key to the whole mystery has got to be the secret room."

Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn occasionally. "You're right. I'm beginning to think that the two might be related."

He got another point when he didn't ask me to explain the cryptic statement. I'll admit it. I love making cryptic statements. "Do you think you'll be up to us picking you up at 9:00 PM?"

I checked the time. "Holy cow! It's after noon!"

"Yeah, Shaggy said those pain pills they gave you would knock you for a loop. I think he's envious."

"I'll make him envious right now and take a couple. I should be okay to go back tonight."

"We'll pick you up at your house."

We said our goodbyes and that left me with nothing to do but think about how I was going to explain to my parents that their daughter (me) who was injured and had, just weeks before, been kidnapped, was going out late at night again with a group of kids with whom she had once been arrested. Or, more accurately, detained.

I made my way slowly and painfully down the stairs and found my parents sitting together in the kitchen. This was unusual on a Saturday afternoon and a little Norman-Rockwell-ish, but it gave me the chance to explain things to them both and not have to repeat myself.

They took my plans for the evening well. "And Daphne Blake is one of this group?" My father was spiraling at the name 'Blake'.

"Yes, Daphne. She knows my name and everything." The great thing about speaking in a robotic monotone was that you could get away with a little sarcasm every now and then.

"Watch the sarcastic stuff with your father." Except with my mother.

"Yes, ma'am. Daphne is one. And Fred Jones is on the football team. And Shaggy is… Shaggy."

My mother asked the appropriate motherly question. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

"I'm fine." This was a bald-faced lie. Why didn't I take the pain pills first and have this conversation second?

"And you're going to be careful this time and not fall down any stairs?" Yes. I used the fall-down-the-stairs excuse. It had been late, and I was in pain. It was not a time for imaginative storytelling.

The conversation kept going for what seemed like eternity but was probably five minutes. Then I was required to eat something before I could take the pills. So, it was thirty minutes before the sharp spreading pain dialed down to a dull throbbing. And it was another ten minutes after that when I fell asleep on the couch downstairs.

Sleeping was a big part of the rest of that day. Nighttime, however, was about pain. My alarm woke me at 7:30 PM and my painkillers were overdue. But knowing that I was going to need my brain to be unfogged, I decided against taking the next dose. That was not my best decision.

Fred rolled up right at 9:00 with Daphne already in the truck. I squeezed into the purgatory of physical contact again for the trip to the Chamber of Commerce. While I was braced for my usual aversion to being touched, I was not ready for the sudden blinding flash of pain when Shaggy got in and my broken rib was pushed into Daphne's elbow. I yelped loudly and then couldn't breathe.

Shaggy jumped back out. "Are you okay?"

"Reah, are roo rokay?" I don't know how Scooby got his head around into the door opening from the back of the truck, but I wasn't about to twist around to figure it out.

Through the fireworks display going off behind my tightly-clenched eyelids, I replied "I'm okay. Just give me a second to take a breath." It took three tries, but I finally got enough air into my lungs, and we tried again. The pain was the same, but I kept the yelp in and, after an eternal ten-minute drive, we were parked behind the spooky chamber building.

The method of entry was much improved over the previous night with Fred bringing an extension ladder which was long enough to reach the unlocked window on the second floor and Shaggy climbing up and in without injury.

A moment later, Shaggy opened the door. "It seems deserted."

We all stepped inside and were greeted by nothing but silence. I took the lead and limped to the mask with the mysterious glowing eyes. The red glow was still there. I reached behind the mask and pulled out a small, black plastic device with a small glowing red light. "Just as I thought. An electronic door opener."

I'll let you in on a secret. I thought it was going to be a motion-sensitive security camera and that we would have to track down the security control facility and erase the videos of our previous night. This had all happened in our last mystery. My guesses were as often wrong as right even though every time I would state the correct answer after the fact as if I had known it all along.

I have never been beautiful, charming, tall, or athletic. Brains is my thing. And sometimes even I have to fake it a little.

But it all came together for me quickly enough. "Follow me."

I led the group to Mr. Wickles' office and pointed the opener at the bookcase which promptly popped ajar. Fred pulled it open, and a draft of freezing cold air hit us in the face.

"Rit stinks!" Scooby backed away with a wrinkled nose.

There were two things that might be making Scooby's talented probiscis recoil. The first option was that my main guess about what we would find in this room was correct. It was obviously a laboratory and probably for the creation of illegal narcotics. Therefore, it was full of different chemicals each blending to make a harsh nostril-inflaming aroma. The second option was laid out on a table under a sheet against the exterior wall. This item was exactly the size and shape of a human corpse.