A rough and old trinket still shone like a gold coin as Coolsville’s Golden boy, Fred Jones, held it where the sunlight would hit it. It was an odd little thing, a memory of the summer before his senior year of high school, a murder weapon the Mystery Inc. chose not to surrender to authorities but kept as a reminder as to why they were doing what they were doing in the first place.
It was a rough and old trinket used to kill his older brother by the infamous Gallagher Graves. Fred should have felt a pang of pain but he chose to believe in his family’s beliefs. Spirits lived on, and maybe Gregory Jones had turned into a vulture in his next life watching over the reservoir where his mother grew up in. The headquarters was dusty, but understandable that it was considering that they had all been busy. As if on queue, he heard the door open and soft footsteps padding towards him. He looked up in mild surprise to discover one of Mystery Inc.’s very own pioneering detectives entering the quarters.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be this early. I thought it was Velma, I texted her first because I needed her to look into something. Can you guess?”