Chapter 04
We had something to work on so it was time to leave. Mr. Wickles was still embroiled with the deliverymen in setting up the suit of armor and barely noticed when we said our goodbyes. I had already remoted into my home computer and uploaded the photograph to my photographic recognition software.
By the time we were sitting in the car waiting for the heater to actually start working, I had a hit.
"Pharmaceutical tools."
"Ray rwhat now?"
Sometimes I forget that other people can't hear the thoughts in my head. I gave them some background. "My computer just finished matching the box of tools we found against pictures on the internet. They're identical to a set of pharmaceutical tools that can be easily purchased on Amazon. Specifically, it is called a 'capsule-filling set'."
I couldn't read body language as a rule, but I could discern patterns. Fred always straightened his shoulders when he was about to make one of his one-for-the-gipper speeches. "That settles it. There is something fishy going on in that chamber of commerce."
From the back seat, Scooby reacted. "Roo mean?"
"Right, tonight we're going fishing."
"Do rye have to be right? Rye don't want to be right."
Shaggy chimed in. "I'm with Scooby. I want the answer to be that we'll leave this thing alone and I'll avoid ticking my father off."
I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that this was the first point at which I realized that Shaggy was speaking in complete, coherent sentences. He wasn't high. As I've said, the number one button that can be used to manipulate me is boredom. Right behind it is curiosity, and I was curious.
I had seen Shaggy coming down off a high and I had seen him in the process of getting high. Most of the time, I had seen him full-on high. But this was the first time I ever saw him when he was exhibiting no signs of drug use. My curiosity was getting the better of me and I needed the solution to this abnormality. But I had to come up with just the right words to subtly coax the information from him.
"Why aren't you high?" And that's why they call me 'Velma the Glib'. Actually, they don't call me that. In reality, I don't know who 'they' are. I suck with words.
I expected an angry glare from Shaggy and that is what I got but it was not aimed at me. It was aimed at Scooby Doo.
"Raggy's stash has rysteriously risappeared."
Shaggy's demeanor didn't improve. "And it better reappear soon if someone wants to ever see a Scooby Snak again."
"Rye rever see them now. Roo eat them refore Rye get near them."
Shaggy instantly blushed and looked at all of us. "What?! Me?! I don't eat dog treats. Really. Who would even think such a thing?"
Anyone who had ever seen him eat would think it but the rest of us remained politely silent.
xXx
Later that night, Fred picked us up again but this time he was in his father's work truck which included a complete set of all types of hand tools. It also included a single bench seat in the cab which was extremely tight for the four of us. I was wedged into the middle between Daphne and Shaggy who pressed against me from either side. My dislike of being touched was a hatred of being squeezed—and squeezed I was.
Since there were no seatbelt restraint laws for dogs, Scooby Doo got the relative freedom (albeit cold) of riding in the back. Judging from his head hanging out over the side with his tongue lolling out, he appeared to enjoy it.
We got to the chamber of commerce building and checked every door and window around the exterior ground floor. They were all properly locked. We had learned a few months before to check for cameras and alarm switches. We found none.
Fred leaned against the last door. "This place is locked up tighter than a drum. Has anybody gotten any better at picking locks since we last tried it?"
I had been on-line and researched it but apparently there was quite a bit of art to it along with the science. I was not good. No one else volunteered either.
"Then, how do we get in?" Shaggy asked.
"Easy. One of us starts trying the upper floor windows and see if one of them is unlocked. And the logical person is you."
Shaggy stepped backwards. "Me? Why me?"
"Because the ladder in my dad's truck won't reach all the way and you're the tallest and the thinnest. Now give me a hand with the ladder."
Every OSHA violation you saw in the original network kid's show in this scene really happened. There were a lot of bad decisions made over the next few minutes. Don't try any of this at home, kids.
Fred and Shaggy pulled out the ladder and it was too short even for Shaggy to reach. Fred got the jack from the truck and put it under the bottom rung of the ladder and jacked it up while Shaggy balanced precariously on the top rung. The ladder swayed side to side as Shaggy's fingers probed for something to grab on the upper window.
"It's locked." His voice came down from above.
Fred lowered the ladder and Shaggy climbed down and, in an unparalleled feat of masculine stupidity, they repeated the effort on the next window. Amazingly, they found it unlocked but that still left Shaggy tittering at the top of the ladder with his fingers barely reaching the windowsill.
Daphne's line that Shaggy was the swingingest gymnast in school was added a year and a half later in post-production by the networks and could not have been further from the truth. Shaggy had the window open about three inches and, for some reason known only to the inner moron that resides in every male, he tried to jump from the top rung of the ladder and punch his hand through the opening in the hopes of finding something unseen on the other side to hold onto.
In a weird and painful way, it worked. Shaggy leapt up and punched his hand forward and almost succeeded in getting it cleanly through the gap. The upper side of his hand caught the locking mechanism of the window and peeled the skin off the back of his hand like an apple peeler. He cried out in pain but still somehow managed to grab onto the interior windowsill and hold on. All while bleeding profusely all over everything.
As he held on and got his other hand inside, he repeated "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, and—if I forgot to mention it—ow." Then he had both hands on the windowsill and hung there.
Fred called up. "What are you waiting for? Pull yourself in."
"Reah, Rull rourself in." I don't know why Scooby added his two cents. He seemed to be enjoying the whole thing.
Shaggy's voice came down again. "You know. Pulling yourself up from this position looks a lot easier in the movies."
It took him several minutes to flail around enough to get his elbow thrown into the window and then his second elbow and then he shimmied the rest of the way in. At no point in the process did he look like the swingingest gymnast in school. But he was in.
He disappeared inside for another few minutes while we nervously paced outside. When he finally came back to the window, his hand was covered in paper towels held together by scotch tape. The blood was already beginning to seep through. "We're in luck."
Daphne answered this time. "Why?"
"Vinyl flooring. We can wash all the blood off easier. It could have been carpet."
"Just come down and let us in." Fred urgently whispered. "We'll take care of all that then."
Another thirty seconds passed, and the door opened.
Daphne began to fuss over Shaggy's wound while Fred continued to be Fred. "I think we better split up, Daphne and I will check out the upper floor and you two take the lower floor. Scooby, you stand guard."
Scooby shook his head violently. "Ruh-uh. Ruh-uh!"
Fred looked at Shaggy. "Can you get your dog to obey?"
Shaggy and Scooby looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Fred's frustration was beginning to rise to the surface. "How do you get him to do anything?"
"Well, he can be bribed."
"As rong as it does not riolate my moral and ethical codes." Scooby stood on his rear legs and crossed his front paws. It gave the statement more gravitas.
Fred was still talking to Shaggy. "What do you bribe him with?"
"Scooby Snax."
"Rye moral code is rery malleable where Rooby Rax are involved."
Fred shook his head. "Then would you do it for a Scooby Snak?"
Scooby seemed to ponder this. "Roo?"
Fred shrugged. "Okay. Two it is."
Shaggy pulled out a baggie full of little brown balls and handed two to Fred who gave them to Scooby. The dog did not yell his own name and then salute. He absolutely hated it when the network made him yell his name. That was also forced on him in post-production. Like I said, terrible contract.
Fred and Daphne went upstairs to do whatever they did when they went searching alone. It wasn't like they ever came back with any actual clues. I called after them as they started up the stairs. "Make sure and clean up Shaggy's blood."
Daphne didn't even look back. "Clean up blood? Ewww! Not gonna happen."
Fred followed. "I'll handle it." Score one for the big guy. Maybe he wasn't a complete dork after all.
