The chubby little geeky brunette with the thick glasses and absolutely no fashion sense. That's what Velma was. Daphne suppressed a sigh. She really didn't want to do this. But, she couldn't think of anyone else who would help. "Vel, someone's out to get me... Yeah I know, it serves me right for being famous, but... these letters... They are scaring me. I guess that's what they want, huh? You always were the brains, no matter what Fred liked to think. Please, you have to help?"<br/><br/>Daphne dressed casually as she talked on the phone to her friend. She had something of a soft spot for the brunette, but the question really was, could she afford to be seen with her? After all, Daphne's career had taken off, but Velma's, but all accounts, was taking a nose dive. "I ca....." She stopped. To say she could pay her friend would be insulting. "... can come right over, sorry, someone was waving at me..." That covered the pause nicely. Velma would probably figure it out, but she had no proof. And then a familiar voice in the background came down the phone. "SOOOB! Hey Scooby Doo! I'll bring a box of you know what!"<br/><br/>Daphne checked the address on the card and pulled her boots on, then locked and left the trailer. She climbed into her car, the one she'd bought from Penelope Pitstop when the latter had retired from racing, and drove in to LA proper. She stopped at a retail outlet and picked up a box of Scooby-snax, and hid them in her purse,<br/><br/>She arrived at the rather seedy run-down area and parked the Compact Pussycat, hoping the car would still be there when she got back. Up the stares past the faded plaque with "Dinkley Detective Agency" on it. She got to the top of the steps and opened the door, calling out "Scooby Doo, where AAAARE you?"