Chapter 03

Daphne and Fred dropped us off at Shaggy's house before heading down to the Coast Guard Base. Shaggy's parents were out but that is when I met Suggie for the first time. She was nice enough but reminded me too much of my own little sister for comfort.

Shaggy passed out on their couch with Scooby on the ground next to him, leaving me basically alone. I used the time to make up a lie to tell Captain Cutler's widow about doing a school report on boating safety and wanting to speak with her about Captain Cutler's accident. Were I better with my soft skills, I would have realized how cold and heartless this particular lie was. Shockingly, when I called her, she agreed to meet with us at 7:00 PM. I confirmed whether she was comfortable with a large dog in her house. I was getting used to working with Scooby Doo.

I shook Shaggy roughly awake at 5:30.

"Wha… What's the matter?" He mumbled. His eyes weren't open yet.

"You need to get ready and we need to go."

His eyes popped open. "Velma? What are you doing here?"

"How much of this morning do you remember?"

"It's not morning?" He looked outside.

"No. It's early evening and we have to be in Danforth in an hour and a half."

"Danforth? Why are we going to Danforth. Where are Fred and Daphne?"

"They're at the Coast Guard base."

This was clearly making no sense to him.

"We have to meet with Mrs. Cutler in Danforth."

"Whose driving?"

"You are."

He looked out the window again and saw a car in the driveway. "Who are we meeting again?"

"Mrs. Cutler."

"Is she a ghost?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay. My head hurts."

"You're on your own with that."

He rolled off the couch and nearly landed on Scooby and then brought himself slowly to his feet and traipsed into their kitchen. When he came back, he was chewing something.

Scooby was instantly alert. "Rwhat are roo eating?"

"Tylenol."

"Roo're chewing them? Reck!"

I had bitten into a Tylenol once and I was with Scooby. It's not recommended.

I waited another thirty minutes for Shaggy to shower and change clothes. When he came down, he said "I have to do one last thing before we go. I'll be back in a minute."

He headed for the backdoor but Scooby intercepted. "Roh no roo don't. Rot if roo're driving."

I caught on. "Absolutely out of the question. Put whatever you have back in your hiding place and leave it here. I'm not riding in a car with an illegal substance."

"Fine." He trudged back up the stairs and returned in a few minutes, reaching into the kitchen to retrieve some keys from a rack. "Like, I guess we're ready to go."

Shaggy drove, I navigated, and Scooby sat in back and questioned both. It was irritating. But we got there just before 7:00.

Contrary to the network episode, it was not an old lighthouse. It was a nice, well-maintained mid-century ranch house on a one-acre lot. A Volvo was parked in the front driveway.

We walked up to the front door and I pressed the doorbell. Footsteps from inside ended with the door slowly opening to reveal a short and slightly stocky older woman with white hair. She was wearing a blue dress and a purple shawl with black leather high-heeled boots. Without the boots, she was probably my height.

"Well, there you are. Won't you come in."

Shaggy gestured toward the door "Ladies first."

I stepped in and noticed that neither Shaggy nor Scooby had followed me. "Well, come on!"

The inside of the house was nothing like the outside. It was dusty and old and looked like a combination of a kitchen and a laboratory.

Shaggy looked around as he entered. "Wow! Like, this place is furnished in early Halloween."

The book shelves were covered with books on magic, sorcery, voodoo, and the occult. I couldn't believe what I was about to say. It came out in a whisper in deference to the woman who was walking about four feet ahead of us. "It's obvious. She practices witchcraft."

Shaggy stopped cold. "Wait! You said no ghosts." He whispered.

"She's not a ghost, she's a witch." I thought I was hilarious.

Scooby eye's narrowed at me. "Remantics."

Mrs. Cutler stopped and turned with small smile but said nothing. It was as if she was inviting us to explore.

Shaggy was looking at jars on a table in the middle of the room. "Hey, look at these. What weird labels...eye of a newt?"

I was drawn to the bookshelf and pulled one off. It was dusty, but the dust looked more like flour than actual dust. "Look. Witchcraft for Dummies. Very interesting." At the time, I thought I was just parroting the way my father said that. I didn't yet know who Arte Johnson was.

Mrs. Cutler reached out a long, skinny hand and rested it on Shaggy's shoulder. "Now what can I do for you?"

Shaggy cringed back from the touch. "Zoinks! I've been hexed, cursed, jinxed!" He did, very literally, jump into Scooby's arms which were not built to catch a full-grown human. So, Shaggy fell heavily to the floor.

It looked like it was up to me to carry the conversation. "Mrs. Cutler, I presume?" First, I quoted Arte Johnson and now Spencer Tracy. I would not get bonus points for improvisational skills that day.

The older woman's voice was low with a hint of an accent. "Aye. Now, what's your problem?" She made her way over to a cauldron (there's no other word for it) which was being heated over a wood fire in the fireplace. She began to stir it with a large spoon.

As I followed her, I was in a quandary. This woman apparently thought that she was a witch and therefore she probably had some bats in her belfry. Feeding her delusion violated the protocols of any recognized psychological practice. But I wasn't her therapist and I needed answers.

"It's about Captain Cutler. We were told something from a less-than-reliable source about having seen your late husband's ghost."

She spoke as if she were making tea rather than discussing the supernatural. "That's very possible, dearie. It was me and my witchcraft that brought Captain Cutler back from his watery grave."

I didn't turn my head when both Shaggy and Scooby gulped.

Again, my monotone vocal delivery served me well as it hid any hint of sarcasm that wanted to creep into my voice. "Then it's his ghost that made that yacht vanish?"

"I fear that to be the case. Had I known he'd take his revenge, I'd have left him under the sea."

Then she cackled. I mean, a real witchy cackle from a B-movie. As she finished the long, drawn-out, melodramatic pseudo-laugh, she lifted the spoon and then poured the viscous contents back into the vat. It didn't smell bad—a little like lemon.

I wasn't the only one who noticed the pleasant smell. As Mrs. Cutler stepped away from the cauldron and headed toward the front door in an obvious hint, Scooby Doo took her place and lifted the spoon to his lips and took a sip. He seemed to like it as he dipped the spoon in for a second serving.

Mrs. Cutler whirled and pointed her bony fingers at him. "What are you doing?"

Scooby's eyes went large and he dropped the spoon.

The witch looked to me. "Your dog can use a spoon?"

Shaggy jumped in. "He's smarter than average—used to be in a circus."

Mrs. Cutler looked back at Scooby who seemed to be fishing around in the cauldron for the spoon. "He's not so smart that he didn't just drink my laundry water."

At this point, Scooby lifted the spoon out with a wet blue dress draped over it. He stuck his tongue out and wiped it with his paw.

On that note, we had returned to the front door. "Well, we have to go now. Thanks for your help."

"Anytime, dearie. Anytime." Then she cackled again. This time, it was less of a B-movie cackle and more of a cartoon character cackle—like something from a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Stepping out from the dungeonesque décor of the interior of the house to the Better Homes and Gardens exterior was still a culture shock and we stopped on the front porch to get our bearings and to call the others to see how they were doing.

Fred seemed pretty excited over the phone and we arranged to meet on the back deck at Shaggy's house to compare notes.