Chapter 01

Shaggy, who had been quiet for most of the trip as we headed back home, suddenly, as soon as we found out that the trip was being extended, came to life.

"Daphne, where is this Weatherby Estate place, anyway?"

"It's on the other side of Crystal Cove, right on the beach."

Something changed in Shaggy's tone of voice, but I didn't know what it meant. "Do we have to stop in Crystal Cove for anything?"

Daphne answered over her shoulder. "I don't need to. Anyone else?"

Fred and I both replied in the negative.

Shaggy ended the exchange. "Okay."

This memory for me has a Mandela Effect. When I remember it, I clearly remember him saying 'Okay good.' But I checked the raw footage later and he just said 'okay'.

Shaggy continued in his oddly outgoing mood. "What's this place like?"

Daphne shrugged. "I don't know. I've never been there but I assume it's the standard mansion with a pool and tennis courts…"

"Rand a ritchen?"

"Yes Scooby, and a kitchen."

Shaggy took back over. "Then it sounds like a pretty nice place to be. There's swimming and eating and tennis and eating."

We had to reshoot the drive sequence for the network show later since we didn't yet have the Mystery Machine but Shaggy's last line was on brand so we worked it in.

It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening when we arrived at the Weatherby Estate. Sharon Weatherby came out to the car after we pulled up. She was not much taller than me with light brown hair that fell just below her shoulders. It was inappropriate to ask but I assumed that she was about a year younger than I was.

"I'm sorry, we don't have overnight staff anymore. Can I help you with your luggage?" She was noticeably attractive and her attractiveness was noticed by Fred.

"No problem. We can handle it, Sharon." Fred stepped out of the car and stood too close to her. Had it been me, I would have either backed up or punched him. She did neither.

Daphne stepped up next to Fred and did not quite shove him toward the trunk of the car. "Fred, why don't you and Shaggy unload the bags?"

"Uh-h-h-h. sure." He grudgingly walked away to join Shaggy who was not unpacking his luggage as much as he was unpacking food from it. And eating it.

I stepped up next to Daphne, assuming that she wouldn't shove me aside, and listened in.

Daphne and Sharon exchanged air kisses next to each others' cheeks. I'm not making this up. Rich people apparently really do that.

Sharon started. "Thank you so much for coming. I didn't know who to call!"

"We're here now. So, why don't you start filling Velma and me in?"

That was the point when I realized no one had introduced anyone. I stuck out my hand. "Hi, I'm Velma Dinkley. You have a lovely home." I didn't learn until later that you weren't supposed to say that until you had seen the inside but I was young and naïve in the ways of the world. Especially the rich person's world.

Sharon ignored my faux pas and smiled. "The house has been in our family for nearly two hundred years. And, of course, I know who you are, Velma. I'm an absolute fangirl of your YouTube channel. I never miss it!"

This was certainly gratifying and I noticed that Daphne and Sharon seemed to have dropped all the 'Darling' and 'Sweetie' words from the conversation. I guess that's rich person etiquette for speaking on the phone but not for face-to-face communications. Learning Japanese was easier than learning rich-girl-speak.

Sharon continued. "My Uncle Stuart has been staying with us for a few weeks. When Mary, our kitchen manager, went to his room to announce lunch, she came back saying that he wasn't there and his bed hadn't been slept in."

I figured since I had been invited here to investigate, I might as well chime in. "Is it possible that he made his own bed and went out?"

Sharon looked at Daphne and then back at me as if I had spoken in gibberish. "That's… um… unlikely."

"Does he have a car?"

"Yes. Some domestic brand. It's called a 'Buick' or something like that. It's still here and he's not in it."

"And he was here last night?"

"Yes. This is just like one of your mysteries on YouTube. It's so exciting!"

The fangirl stuff was wearing thin quickly. "Sure. What time was it when you last saw him?"

"He was still watching television in the Queen Victoria den when I went up to my suite at about 11:45."

"And no one else has seen him since that time?"

"I don't think so… no."

"Was anyone else here last night?"

"The staff all left at 8:00. So, it was just me, my father, and Uncle Stuart here overnight. The staff starts arriving again at about 6:00 AM."

Fred stepped up and again stood too close to Sharon. "Can we speak with your father?"

This time she did step back. "He would… rather not."

This peaked Daphne's interest. "Why not?"

Sharon slowly edged farther away from Fred. "My father thinks that my calling you was a dumb idea. He thinks that the only thing worse than a bunch of meddling incompetent police is a bunch of meddling incompetent kids."

I was less than thrilled with this variation on our catchphrase even though it was not officially our catchphrase yet.

But there was investigating to do. "Can you give us a description?"

"Of what?"

I was beginning to realize that Sharon wasn't the sharpest tool in the toolbox. "Of your uncle."

"Oh. Of course. Well, he's about forty and has light brown hair that's going a little grey and a beard. And he's about as tall as my father."

Seriously? I dragged it out of her. "How tall is your father?"

This seemed to be a poser to her as she tilted her head like the puppy on the old RCA commercials. "He's not as tall as either of these boys and taller than Daphne."

"So, he's about five-nine or five-ten?"

"I suppose."

That was the best description I was going to get. "Is there any place within walking distance from here that he might have gone?"

She tilted her head again. "Well…"

This was beginning to make my fillings hurt. "Well?"

"There is the old Kingston Mansion. It's a spooky old place. No one has lived there since Mr. Kingston committed suicide when I was just a baby."

I had forgotten that Shaggy was there until he reacted. "Committed suicide? Old empty mansion? That has ghost written all over it."

Sharon looked at Shaggy and smiled. "He really acts like this? I thought that was fake."

I held my sarcasm as much as possible. "No. That's the real Shaggy." I needed to get things back on track. "How far is the Kingston Mansion?"

"It's about a twenty-minute walk by road. It takes about ten if we cut through the cemetery."

Shaggy remained fully involved. "Well then, I vote for either twenty minutes or never. The shortcut through the spooky cemetery at night is not an option!"

Two Scooby Snax later, we were walking through the cemetery. Sharon's appreciation of our investigatory expertise may have taken a hit while watching Shaggy eat dog food but that was just our lot in life. The cemetery itself was legitimately spooky. The moon was nearly full but there was a misty fog hanging over everything and my clothes felt slightly damp before we made it to our destination. I tripped several times on the walk since I was filming everything. It was going to make a great backdrop for the video.

The mansion itself exceeded expectations. The exterior architecture was neoclassical with ionic and doric columns mixed haphazardly throughout. The exterior walls were either stucco or stone with the stucco stained, fading, and cracked. The neoclassical motif continued as we passed through the front door stepping on the plywood that had once been used to nail the opening shut.

The floor in the expansive entry lobby creaked as we entered. The extreme protest which it sounded when Fred wandered into the center of the room made me worry that he was going to fall through another floor, but it held.

Daphne's eyes acclimated to the darkness much more quickly than mine and she pointed into a dark room off to the right of the lobby. "Look! Someone's in the shadows!"

I looked. And saw nothing but more shadows. Gradually, a figure emerged and shuffled unsteadily into the room. It was a man of about eighty years old with a white beard and a fringe of white hair around a bald pate. He had on black, horn-rim glasses, a blue shirt, a brown sweater, and a dark-colored tie.

Scooby screamed.

I looked at the other members of the Gang and we all hoped that Sharon didn't notice Scooby's completely undoglike reaction.

But her focus was elsewhere. She pointed at the old man. "Uncle Stuart!"