Chapter 07

The swami's place was identifiable by the old, fading, hand-painted sign above the storefront window which contained the one word: SWAMI. It was midafternoon and it took us a few minutes to find a parking spot on the street. Daphne's car stood out amongst the scratched, dented, and rusty relics which lined the broken curb.

Daphne looked at Scooby Doo. "Scooby, could I talk you into staying here and guarding the car?"

Scooby looked around and saw the same things I saw: gang tags on the walls, broken doors into the buildings, broken car windows covered with plastic and duct tape, and the general atmosphere of a decaying urban area.

"Rope!"

She tried again. "How about for a Scooby Snak?"

"Rope."

"Two Scooby Snax?"

He looked around again just as a sudden yell erupted from an alleyway. "Rive up. There aren't enough Rooby Rax in the rorld."

Not one to give up easily, she turned to Shaggy.

His head shook vigorously. "Nope! I'm with Scoob. We all stay together on this one."

She took one last apprehensive look around, bwooped her car lock, and resignedly followed Fred down the street to the swami's place. With my short legs and the awful Mary Jane shoes, I never got anywhere first and I arrived just as Fred tried the front door. It was unlocked and opened inward. Fred continued to lead the way and took us into a large open room. The décor was deliberately spooky and occultish. There were lots of heavy, deep purple curtains hanging around the place. They were not really serving any function than aesthetic and possibly sound-dampening. There was a collection of weird matching wicker chairs with cows' horns stuck on top. Not a fashion choice that you would find in Better Homes and Gardens, but they fit the ambience of the place.

In the far corner was the standard set-up with a table with a crystal ball, two chairs (these were overstuffed chairs but still had the horns on top), and one of the chairs contained a crumpled-up cloak and turban.

No one was there.

Shaggy spoke first. "It looks like the Swami is out swamieing somewhere else."

Fred was in full mystery mode. "Then I guess he won't mind if we take a look around."

There was a utilitarian door marked 'Storage' which Daphne opened and found odds and ends of the fortuneteller trade piled haphazardly on shelves. Nothing fell out or buried Shaggy and Scooby. That was another scene which was added later.

The bell at the front door rang.

Shaggy's head jerked toward the door which was still in the process of opening and whispered, "Uh-oh. Like, someone's coming!"

We scattered for hiding places behind the various curtains around the room except for Scooby Doo who tried to burrow under the cloak and turban which had been left in a chair.

An elderly woman (who was kind enough to sign a release later) stood next to the door. "Yoo-hoo! Swami! Oh, Swami!"

Scooby slipped from the chair and made a slight thumping noise and the woman heard him. "Oh, there you are."

Her vision was obviously not up to handling the dim lighting since she reached out in front as she walked feeling for obstacles. And, of course, she also didn't see that Scooby was a dog.

We were all squeezed together behind the curtain that was behind Scooby's chair. Fred whispered softly, "Shaggy, you be the Swami's voice."

Shaggy looked at him, perplexed. "What?... Oh. Got it."

The woman found the other chair and carefully sat into it. "Mr. Swami, I have something to ask you. Tell me. What do you see in the crystal ball."

I've told you before about Shaggy's awful sense of humor and it came out in full force. "I see… my reflection!" It got worse. "No wait! I see a tall, handsome man in your future. You and he are dancing. He puts his lips to your ear and whispers."

"What does he say?"

"You're standing on my foot." I wanted to groan but I couldn't give away our position.

The woman stood unsteadily to her feet. "You think this is funny! How dare you!" And she stormed out of the shop.

Shaggy had one last dad joke. "How about that? All of that advice and she didn't even pay us a dime."

I stepped out from behind the curtain. "I hope that's the end of the customers for a while." I went to the front door and locked it. And then there was a weird sound in the room. It was a vibrating noise. I could see that everyone else heard it, too, since we were all suddenly making slow turns trying to pin down the source.

Scooby's keen hearing again paid off and he zeroed in on the table with the crystal ball. It was shaking. And, when we all gathered around, the head of the 'ghost' appeared within the ball. "Do not ignore my warning! If the Weatherby fortune is not delivered to me at the Kingston Mansion tonight, then you will all suffer the fate of Stuart—regardless of whether you are of the Weatherby bloodline!"

I tried something. "What about Sharon?"

The ghost continued as if I had said nothing. "For now, she is mine! But she will be returned once the money has been given to me. Remember! Tonight! Or your youth will be lost!" And the crystal ball went blank.

This was an insult to my intelligence at this point. "Turn the table over."

Fred removed the ball, set it aside, and turned the table upside down. As expected, there was a projector, a microphone, and two speakers duct-taped to the bottom of the table with the projector pointed up through a hole so that the image appeared in the ball.

Fred looked at the projector. "Quick! Search the building. Maybe he's close!"

I shook my head. "No. The projector is cellular equipped. He could have been broadcasting from China."

Fred nodded in agreement. "But we know that he doesn't have information on what happened at the Weatherby Mansion. He doesn't know that we already found Sharon."

Given that this was the most critical information we discerned, I was mad at myself for not coming up with it first. But, not to be outdone, "And he is still expecting payment to be delivered at the Kingston Mansion tonight."

Fred had been waiting all day for this. "So, that is where we'll set our trap!"

"About the trap…" I raised my pointer finger. I couldn't help myself.

Fred was immediately wary. Traps were his turf. "What about it?"

"Don't overthink this one. I believe that Sharon's learning disability may be genetic."

Daphne understood immediately. "That would explain why all of Stuart's actions have been so infantile."

"Exactly. If we go too subtle, he will probably miss the trap entirely. We need to think more in lines with a I-got-your-nose level of trap—obvious and childish."

Fred was thinking. "So, if he thinks that he could frighten us with a ghost, then that means he believes they're real."

Shaggy perked up. "They're not?"

"Retter rafe than rorry. Ree rill assume rhosts are real until proven otherwise."

Somebody had to be the adult in the room. "Should we call the Sheriff?"

Fred had clearly already been thinking about this question. "Not yet. As soon as we lay eyes on him, then we will call it in immediately. No reason to confuse things with a lot of extra bodies until we know for sure he's even there."

His logic seemed self-serving, but I didn't want to see Deputy Bucky any sooner than necessary. So, I went along.

I would regret that decision.