[b]Coolsville, California 1997[/b] "I just can't believe it," Fred Jones said softly to himself. "Stanley Jenkins," Daphne Blake shook her head. "Who would have thought?" "I did," Velma Dinkley replied. "The second we saw that phosphorus paint on the dock. No ghost leaves marks like that." The three teenagers stood on the shore of the beach while Stanley Jenkins was led away in handcuffs by police officers. He was still partially dressed in the glowing green outfit of a pirate captain. Rumors of some kind of ghost pirate near the beach had been plaguing the town for two weeks before the boys and girls of Mystery Inc. decided to get involved. The four teenagers spent three nights investigating the area until Velma found enough clues to spring the trap. With the help of the sheriff's department, they had uncovered that the so-called ghost was actually Stanley Jenkins dressed in glow in the dark clothing and paint. He'd been scaring people off from the beach because that was how he was making money. Mr. Jenkins was smuggling in guns out of the beach and into the waters so they could be smuggled into Mexico. The trap had been set and Jenkins had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. "So long, Mr. Jenkins," Daphne called out with a wave. "I would have gotten away with it too!" Jenkins snarled. "So fuck you!" "Like, no thanks," Shaggy Rogers said as he walked up to the group, his Great Dane Scooby Doo by his side. "But I imagine you'll have a lot of that where you're going, man!" "Shaggy!" The other three teens all said at once before they laughed all together. --- [b]Cool County, California Now[/b] Velma adjusted her glasses as she got out the car. She had her notebook, pen, and voice recorder in her hands as she approached the ramshackle house. Besides her unmarked car, a single patrol car sat outside the house with its lights still on. The deputy who called it in had been instructed to wait on her before deciding on backup. He called it in as a DB with a possible 187. If it was a 187, then more cops would be called on scene. "Coming in," she announced as she came through the door. "It's me, Dinkley." Deputy Mathis stood in the middle of a dirty living room piled with old food boxes, waterlogged newspapers, and moldy magazines. The smell was strong enough that if a dead body was rotting somewhere in the house she'd never been able to smell it. "Come this way, Detective." He led her to the body in the bedroom, face down on the floor. A pool of blood was underneath it. "There's blood, but I don't see an exit wound," said Mathis. "It's why I'm not sure what happened." "Call for backup," Velma said as she squatted. "It's likely it's a .22 round. Those little bastards and pinball through a human body and never exit." Mathis did as he was told, speaking into the mic on his shoulder, while Velma removed a pair of latex gloves from her jacket. She put them on and squared her glasses before trying to find a wallet on the dead body. Nothing in any of the jean pockets. She looked up at Mathis. "What got you out here?" "Check up call," said the deputy. "Guy who lives here hadn't shown up for work for at least four days now, and his boss was getting worried. Said he didn't have many friends or family so somebody needed to see if he's alright." "What's the name of the employee?" Mathis pulled out a notebook and looked through it until he found the page he needed. "Rogers. Norville Rogers." Velma felt a cold spot form in her stomach. She looked at the dead body. She couldn't tell from the back... but the dead body was tall, about the right height. Could it be? No... "Detective?" Mathis asked. "Everything okay?" "Yes," she said quickly. "Come here, help me flip the body." "Shouldn't we wait?" She shoved a pair of latex gloves into Mathis' hands and ignored him as she grabbed the dead bodies' shoulder. Mathis joined in and the stiff body flipped over on to its back, revealing a face heavily bruised and beaten. She spotted the bullet entry wound just below the neck in the upper chest. The face was swollen, and twenty years had not been kind to him, but Velma had no doubt as to who the dead body on the floor was. "Oh, Shaggy..." she said softly. "Who did this to you?"