1973

—

The girls’ house was at the end of a long sandy road a mile past the edge of town. It was a wide, two-story Cape Cod house with what seemed to be the confusing layout imaginable. It looks like the house from Psycho,” Lynn had shuddered the first time she’d seen it. Despite their excitement at having gotten a big house so cheaply, Amy and Rachel had to agree. It stood like a guardhouse at the edge of the Atlantic, almost saying “are you sure you don’t wanna turn around and go back the way you came?” And that was on a summer day. A few months later, as they drove back from a beach bonfire at what had to be close to midnight, the rolling clouds overhead made the big old Cape Cod house look downright –

“Haunted.” Amy wrapped her arms around her waist. “That’s gotta be haunted.”

“Why would you say it?” Rachel hissed from the backseat. “Now it’s definitely gonna be true. Lynn, you go in first and make sure there’s no ghosts in there. It’s part of your job.”

Lynn pulled the car into the driveway. “That’s absolutely not what ‘designated driver’ means. C’mon, we’re all going in at the same time.”

Amy laughed. “The door’s not that big at all.”

They opened the front door, each of them wishing they’d left a light on. Through the front hall and the sitting room, Lynn could see out all the way to the ocean’s horizon. A tiny white light from a ship miles and miles away blinked at her. On either side of her, Amy and Rachel peered wide-eyed into the house. “Is one of you gonna turn the lights on?” Lynn growled. 

That was when they heard it. A high-pitched whine. Then another. Then a wet hack, followed by a wheeze. The girls froze. It was coming from upstairs. 

Rachel gasped. “Rex!”

She charged upstairs three steps at a time, the other girls following her. The hacking and wheezing grew louder. They turned a corner and came face to face with the anus of a Doberman. Its body was spasming, its head thwacking against the hardwood floor.

“Rex!” Rachel vaulted over the dog, whirled around and knelt down. She opened its mouth and examined it. “He’s choking, I think.”

Amy sank to the floor. “What’s he choking on?”

“I dunno, ‘s too deep to tell.” She looked up at Lynn, eyes full of fear. “Can you…can you Heimlich a dog?”

Lynn whipped her car keys into her hand. “I’ll take him to the vet. You guys stay here and I’ll call when we know what it is.” Lynn heaved the dog into her arms with a “go-o-o-od boy, that’s it.” As she did, the chandelier above the stairs shook - hard enough to sway the shadows on the wall. She froze. “Was that you guys?”

Amy and Rachel were still in the hall. “It wasn’t you?” Rachel asked.

“Wouldn’t be shaking that much, would it?” As Lynn stepped slowly down the stairs with Rex in her arms, she heard…something in one of the far rooms downstairs. A footstep? A knock? “Dammit. Oh-h-h, dammit,” she muttered, then louder: “Hey!”

“Hey what?” Rachel’s voice rang out from upstairs.

“Can you guys check and make sure the doors and windows are locked?”

Rachel’s head poked out from the bannister. “Why?”

“‘Cause I heard something down here,” Lynn hissed. “Can you just come down real quick?”

Rachel yawned. “Yeah, hang on.”

—

As Lynn drove the fifteen minutes to the vet, Amy and Rachel checked the doors and windows. All locked. “Should we check the shed?” Amy wondered aloud, nodding to the flimsy structure a few dozen yards down the beach.

“Why? There’s no way in from there.”

Amy had also had the idea to check for tracks outside. Sadly, or fortunately, they found nothing there either. But as they came back inside, shoulders hung in relief, a distant thud made them pause in the kitchen. Another thud and their shoulders went back up. But the metallic clang had Amy back out on the back porch, while Rachel darted for the phone. Before she could dial, the phone rang in her hand, making her scream and drop it. Fumbling, she picked it back up. “H-hello?”

“Rach! It’s Lynn. Get outta the house right now.”

“Why…?”

“Did you find any sign of burglars or anything?”

“No…”

“Have you been hearing stuff?”

“Yeah, just now…what’s going on?”

“Rex was choking on fingers. Human fingers.”

Rachel broke out in goosebumps. “Should we call the cops?”

Lynn scoffed. “After the Reisman thing? I’ll call the gang and send ‘em over.”

“The gang?”

“The gang. I’ll call back later.”

“Oh. Good idea.” Rachel hung up and turned around to see Amy standing in the doorway to the back porch. She shooed her outside and joined her, pulling her sweater tight around her against the September chill. Rachel took a shaky breath. “What’s the Reisman thing?”

—

Twelve or fifteen years before, the Reisman family had lived at the other side of town, far in the New England woods. Father, mother, aunt, four children. Lynn and Amy had gone to grade school with the youngest two. For a few weeks, the kids would complain about hearing things - sometimes in the walls, sometimes the storm cellar, always late at night. The parents didn’t believe them. “See?” Lynn remembered Mr. Reisman checking the windows at a sleepover one night to make sure they were locked. “No ghosts or ghoulies getting in here.”

One night, evidently a ghost or ghoulie did make it in. After the family didn’t show up for church and all four children had been missing from school for two days, neighbors stopped by and found all the doors and windows locked. Using the spare key the Reismans had given them, they made their way inside. They described the house as “tomb-like.” And once they went upstairs…that description fit way too well.

The neighbors had burst out of the house. One of them threw up on the front porch. “Their heads…” he still remembers. They rushed back home and called the police, who…made it round to the house several hours later. Hands in their pockets, toothpicks between their teeth, they took notes and photos, and promised to investigate “all avenues.” This amounted to neighbors, family members and business associates, and the town drunk. After a week or so, they determined foul play by a transient who’d come in on the railroad near their house. By the time of the funeral a week later, they’d closed the case. At the wake, eight-year old Lynn hadn’t let the police chief tussle her hair and tell her everything was safe now. Even at that age, she figured she could do a better job. Fortunately, by 1973, they also had the gang.

—

A few minutes later, Rachel and Amy heard a familiar screech in the driveway. The doors shut, and footsteps traced the outside perimeter of the house. Though the girls knew who it was, they still braced themselves. Then…

“Guys!” Daphne came bounding up the back porch steps and hugged them both. They hadn’t realized they were shaking. 

“Jinkies,” Velma observed behind them. “Something’s really got you guys shaken up.”

Amy shook her head, eyes wide as saucers. “Vel, it’s…this friggin’ place is…”

“Haunted?” Daphne looked into the sitting room. Behind her, Fred ambled onto the porch. “Lynn said she was hearing stuff. You guys hear stuff too?”

The girls nodded. Velma whipped out a notepad. “Gimme what you got.”

Rachel walked her through the last half hour, Amy jumping in to elaborate. “Did you guys see anything?” Daphne asked. 

Amy looked at Rachel. “Oh! We forgot all about…gee-zus, we forgot about Rex…” She sighed and buried her face in a sob. Daphne put her hand on her shoulder. “It happens when you’re freaked. You’re still a good dog mom, promise.”

Fred sat on the railing next to Velma. “Lynn said on the phone that he was choking on…human fingers?” Seeing the girls nod confirmation, he glanced at Velma. Then Daphne. “Say, where’s Shaggy and Scoob?”

Daphne shrugged. “Still in the van. They probably already put it together by now.”

“No way. If Velma hasn’t figured it out –”

“I have.” Velma snapped the notepad shut and nodded kindly to the girls. “You were right to call us. This fits my theory of what happened with the Reisman family.”

The what?” Shaggy, who’d just stepped onto the porch, froze. “No way. ‘Cause that could mean, like, eight different things.”

Velma frowned. “What?”

“Could be the same killer. Could be the Reisman family ghosts. Could be…” Shaggy waved his hands in the air. “I could think of more possibilities if I had time, but even the two I just came up with are pretty not good, wouldn’t you say?”

Velma turned to Rachel. “Did you guys check the whole house?”

Rachel looked at Amy. “N-no…”

“So it could still be a home invasion?”

She shook her head weakly. “We checked the doors and windows. No tracks. No way anyone could’ve gotten in.”

Velma rose, looking at the upstairs windows. “They could’ve covered their tracks.”

“Everything was locked.”

Daphne stood and followed Velma. “Mind if we go inside?”

Amy shivered. “Mind if we don’t?”

—

The gang swept the house together - first floor, left to right. Greenhouse to garage. Nothing. No sudden clangs or crashes, no shadows moving out of the corners of their eyes. Not even Shaggy and Scooby, bringing up the rear, came across anything that frightened them out of their wits. (Except the stair that creaked under Scoob’s weight, sending him airborne into Shaggy’s arms. But that happened twice a week.) 

Upstairs, they followed the same routine. Left to right. Study, reading room, bedrooms. Fred even poked his head up around the attic. “Guys,” he said, shaking cobwebs out of his hair, “I really don’t know that there’s –”

“In here!” Velma called from Lynn’s room. They followed her. A couple drops of blood lay on the floor near the doorway. Then several more in the middle of the floor. Their eyes turned to the closet door, where a thick puddle of the stuff fell from the handle onto the floor. 

Daphne reached into her purse and pulled out a switchblade. Fred whipped the car keys between his fingers. “Get ready, gang,” he whispered. Swiftly, Velma opened the door.

A scruffy man in a dirty coat looked up at them with glazed eyes. He was clutching his hand, and blood ran down his arm. Three fingers were missing. “You’re not…you’re not Carson…” And his head fell back.

Fred leaned in and felt the man’s neck. “Still alive. Shaggy, wanna call the police now?”

“On it!” Shaggy called from the hallway.

—

“I still don’t wanna sleep here tonight.”

Daphne and Fred had coaxed Amy and Rachel into the sitting room while Shaggy had called the cops. After they’d taken the burglar away, Fred and Velma had accompanied the cops upstairs to look for clues. Shaggy and Scoob were in the kitchen making tea. Daphne sat with the girls. “Well, the danger really is gone,” she said. “But your nervous systems still haven’t caught up. Might be a minute or two before they do,” she added as a footstep from upstairs startled the girls again. “You’re welcome to come stay with us for a night or two.”

“You guys breathing?” Shaggy brought mugs of tea over. “Breathe in slow, hold for a few, then out slow. Gets your heart rate down.”

Amy looked up at him, amused. “You learned that from track & field, didn’t you?”

Shaggy saluted faithfully. “Coach Schwartz is a genius.”

Footsteps down the stairs announced the end of the search. Fred and Velma filled the doorway. Behind them, the outlines of two officers. “All clear, ma’am.” One of them tipped his cap. “Call back if you catch anything else.” And they left. 

Fred sank into the couch next to Daphne and rubbed her shoulder. “See? Crisis over. Did Daphne mention you’re welcome to stay with –”

Thud-thud-thud. 

Everyone froze. “That came from upstairs,” Velma whispered shakily.

Amy bolted upright. “Haunted it’s haunted there’s a spirit up th–”

Headlights filled the front window. “That’s Lynn,” Rachel said hoarsely. “We gotta go tell her.”

“Scoob, go with ‘em.” Shaggy scratched Scooby’s ear. In response, Scooby blinked at Shaggy and shook his head.

Velma cleared her throat. “Scoob, not the time. C’mon.”

Scooby became very interested in the beach out the window.

“C’mon, Scoob. Scooby snack?”

A thin trail of drool fell from Scoob’s chops onto Shaggy’s jean.

“Two Scooby snacks?”

Scooby sighed, whirled around, smacked Shaggy’s shins with his tail, and followed Amy and Rachel across the house to the front door. Alone, the gang looked at each other. “So,” Fred said quickly. “Haunted or not?”

“Haunted.” Shaggy held up a hand. 

“Not haunted.” Velma crossed her arms. 

They looked at Daphne, who was deep in thought. Suddenly she stood. “Either way, I need to use their bathroom.” She crossed the room and went down the hall. The tapping of her low heels announced her entry…upstairs?

Fred frowned. “Why wouldn’t she use the one right there in the hall?”

Velma’s head was down. The gang knew the look. She was working something out. After a long moment, she lifted her head slowly. Then her eyes flicked up, jumpscaring Shaggy. He hated when she did that to him, partly because he knew she enjoyed it. “She’s figured it out,” Velma said, a smile creeping across her face.”

“Figured what out?” Shaggy wondered aloud.

Velma stood and clapped her hands. “The Reisman thing! My theory! Nice job, Daph!” she called out into the house. In response, a sharp thud hit an upstairs wall. Then a ba-a-a-ang! “Shoot,” Velma muttered, and was down the hall in a flash. The boys followed. 

They found Velma in the upstairs hall between the bedroom doors, looking around wildly. “Where is it, Daph?!”

Clang! Thud-thud-thud –

“Is it in one of the rooms?”

Ka-BOOOOM. Shaggy and Fred exchanged a look. “What’s she talking about?” Fred asked.

“Like I know?” Shaggy shrugged.

“Rit’s raunted,” Scooby offered helpfully.

Shaggy crossed his arms. “Oh, welcome to the party! Why don’t you ever do that when other people are around? You know how dumb we sound talking to you when you don’t talk back?”

Velma shushed them. “Daphne! Knock on the wall if you’re okay!”

Bang-bang-bang -

“Is it in the attic?!”

Bang-bang-bang -

“It’s in the attic!” Fred yanked the attic ladder down. And climbed up.

“What’s in the attic?!” Shaggy almost yelled.

“I dunno!” Fred grinned, then disappeared into the attic. Shaggy sighed and followed, then Velma and Scooby. After searching around for a few minutes, Fred came upon a piece of plywood. “Is this important?”

Velma stuck her head up. “Yep. Wanna lift it up?”

Fred raised the plywood with a heave and the gang peered under it. A black tunnel stared up at them. “Daphne! Y’in there?”

“Took you long enough!” a voice replied from the darkness.

Fred shoved the plywood aside and they hopped into a narrow corridor. Fred flicked on a flashlight and led the way. As they went forward, Velma sighed contentedly. “This used to be a hiding place for booze during Prohibition. I bet it goes all over the house.” She nudged Fred. “And I bet it’s how the Reisman family was killed, too.”

Fred probably frowned. “Still doesn’t explain how the killer got in.”

“There’s gotta be another way in through these tunnels.”

On they went, taking a sharp left and down a ladder into what Velma guessed was the first-floor kitchen on their right. They kept going. The ground under them sloped down. “Daphne!”

“Hi!” Her voice was closer. By now, they had to be past the edge of the house. They smelled sea salt now. Fred turned right and his flashlight shone on a smiling, squinting Daphne. A man lay at her feet, tied up by her belt and Fred’s ascot. Fred reached for his neck. “How’d you get that off me?”

Daphne winked at him. “I keep telling you, we gotta work on your surroundings.”

Fred slung the man over his shoulder and they made their way down the tunnel, then up a short ladder and out of the shed into the fresh night air. Lynn, who’d returned with Rex, was standing on the back porch when she saw them coming down the beach. “What happened?” she called out.

Daphne ran up and hugged her. “You’re not gonna believe what just happened.” She turned to Amy and Rachel. “You guys don’t have a choice anymore. You’re all definitely staying with us tonight.”

They looked at Scooby and Rex, who were sizing each other up. “Found yourself a new best friend there, Scoob?” Shaggy grinned. Scooby looked up at him and blinked. Shaggy turned to the others. “He knows what I’m talking about. He’s just, like, pretending he doesn’t.”