Chapter 06

The next few minutes were a madhouse.

The servants were unsure what to do and argued amongst themselves. The only thing they seemed to agree on was that we were to blame, and they refused to let us out of the basement. Oddly, that seemed to extend to Sharon. None of them seemed in the least interested in the welfare of the learning-challenged young daughter of their employer. All of the nearly incoherent debates raging up and down the basement stairs seemed to be focused on the most effective means of covering their butts. So much for my parents' beliefs in the superior sympathy of the working class. People suck at all income levels. The rich can just do more with it.

The debate narrowed to who should be called first—Mr. Weatherby or the police. It took a full five minutes before they seemed to realize that they had multiple phones. Both were called. Where was all this cell coverage when we needed it?

Mr. Weatherby showed up winded and at a dead run within minutes. Sharon had screamed herself hoarse and was nearly catatonic. We heard his voice from upstairs. "Where's Sharon?! Where's my daughter?!"

We couldn't hear the reply, but Mr. Weatherby came bolting down the stairs two at a time, pushing his way past the confused staff, rushed forward, and gathered his daughter into his arms. "Why is she still down here?!"

He screamed at us.

Fred spoke. "Your staff wouldn't let us move her upstairs."

A man who appeared to be the butler tried to explain. "We didn't know what to do, so we thought it best to leave matters as they were until you got here."

Mr. Weatherby looked at his exhausted, spent daughter who was hanging onto his arm and staring into space. I watched the light glint off of a trail of spittle that fell from the corner of her open mouth.

"YOU THOUGHT IT BEST TO LEAVE MATTERS LIKE THIS!"

I had the distinct feeling that the efforts of the staff to cover their behinds had failed.

"You!" Mr. Weatherby pointed at Fred. "Help me carry my daughter out to the car. It will be an hour before those buffoons from the Sheriff's Department make it out here. Tell them I took my daughter to the hospital."

Fred and Mr. Weatherby carried Sharon up the steps. The staff muttered among themselves and shuffled up the stairs to get back to their jobs and updating their resumes. This left Daphne, Shaggy, Fred, and I to handle the Sheriff's Department when they arrived over an hour later.

I understood that the Crystal County Sheriff's Office was underfunded and undermanned. But why was it always Deputy Elton Buckner that arrived at our cases?

His thoughts weren't dissimilar. "Why is it always you meddling kids?!"

At least that proved that he followed the YouTube channel. We had been leaning heavily into the 'meddling kids' line.

Shaggy turned slightly pale and left as soon as he saw Buckner. Followed by Scooby Doo. Shaggy had never spoken of his nights in the police station at the beginning of the year, but I believe that the deputy played a big role in it.

I stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Deputy Bucky."

"I'm Deputy Buckner to you and you will address me appropriately."

I'll admit that I was still a little cowed by authority figures but the same wasn't true of Daphne. "What are you going to do? Arrest us? How'd that work out for you before?"

He grumbled, "Which one of you little pests is going to give me a statement?"

Daphne turned to Fred. "Fred will. Come along Velma. We have things to do." Daphne made her exit.

Having no better plans, I followed dutifully behind.

The 'things' we had to do mainly involved finding Shaggy and Scooby and eating lunch. For a few minutes, we tried to forget that Shaggy was nursing a trauma from the nights he spent in police custody, and we had all thought Scooby was dead the night before. We failed. Shaggy was unusually quiet during the meal even considering that he was coming down off a high. Scooby seemed to be none the worse for wear physically, but I couldn't get rid of the mental image of him being carried away.

In thirty minutes, Fred came into the kitchen and plopped down in a chair next to Daphne. "Thanks for that."

She laughed. "I thought you needed some quality time with Deputy Bucky."

"I found out something new about him."

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I lied. He's still just a jerk with a Napolean complex."

She laughed again. "Listen to you sounding all psychological."

He laughed along. "Let me grab a sandwich and then we'll head to the swami place."

Shaggy almost spat out a mouthful of food. "What?! Why?!"

Fred was halfway across the kitchen hunting through the refrigerator. "We need to finish the case."

"It's finished! Sharon is safe and we know that her uncle did it!"

I stepped in. "Knowing it and proving it are two different things. We need solid evidence or a confession."

"But the police are involved now. That's their job."

Daphne's turn. "Deputy Bucky couldn't investigate his way out of a wet paper bag. If we don't finish this, then Stuart will likely never be prosecuted. You saw what Sharon looked like. Do you want that to go unpunished?"

Shaggy turned to Scooby Doo. "Scoob?"

"Ryme with roo. Ret the cops randle it."

Shaggy looked at the rest of us. "Thanks. I just wanted to know someone agreed with me before I caved under peer pressure. What do we expect to find at this swami place?"

Fred shrugged. "I don't know but we don't have any other leads, and we know that Stuart isn't here. Its either head over there are sit here and do nothing."

Shaggy raised his finger. "As long as you mention it…"

"Sitting here and doing nothing is not an option."

"Rye ras afraid ree would say rhat."

Shaggy scratched Scooby's ear. "Me too, old buddy. Me too."