“Rough night?”
Adam sighed. He didn’t know if he wanted to tell Lance about the dream and be subjected to his probable ridicule. Ah, why not? “I had a bad dream last night. Couldn’t get back to sleep.”
Lance grinned and held his arms out. “Aww. Need a hug?”
“Get away from me.”
“What was it, then? Rose coming after you in a bikini?”
Giving a grimace, Adam took another swallow of strong coffee. “Thanks for the mental image I could do without. And, no, it wasn’t that. I would think that would be your dream, not mine.”
Lance helped himself to a cup of coffee and munched on some crackers he found in the cabinet. “Hardly. So, what was your dream? You know I’ll keep asking.”
Again Adam hesitated. Dreams are just dreams. They don’t really mean anything. He shook his head, fingers surrounding the coffee cup, feeling the warmth. “Oh, it was just something stupid about finding a clue in a gold capsule and being chased and shot at…and a flying dog.” The last words were mumbled into his coffee cup as he took a sip.
“Ok, now it’s getting interesting. Tell me about the flying dog.”
“Would you like me to lie down, Dr. Freud?” Adam wondered where Lance had found the crackers. His stomach growled.
“Well, if you did, you would probably be asleep within minutes, so no. So, did the dog have wings?” He seemed to find this very amusing.
Adam rubbed a hand over his tired face. “No, he didn’t have wings! He was just a dog who was leaping into our car on the freeway. You slammed on the brakes and the dog went flying past the car. That was all.”
“What happened to the dog?”
“I don’t know. I wondered that myself when I woke up. I think I yelled myself awake.”
Lance offered Adam one of his own crackers. “Did this dream take place in one of the locations we’ve already been to?”
“Lance, it was just a dream!”
Lance just calmly stared at him, dunking the crackers in his coffee.
“Fine.” Adam gave a sigh. “No, it wasn’t. It was someplace different. A farmhouse. Middle of the night sort of thing. You wanted me to give the capsule to the men chasing us.”
That perked Lance’s interest. “Did I now? How interesting. Why?”
Adam poured himself the last of the coffee. “I don’t know. We were arguing. I didn’t want to give it up, but you said something like it might belong to them, not us.”
“Sounds like a little guilt coming through.” Lance kept his eyes on his coffee mug.
“Guilt? I don’t….” Adam had to stop and think about it. Did he feel guilty about finding all these wonderful things Walt left behind? What did he plan on doing with them? Sharing? Giving them back? Keeping them all to himself and enjoying them? He didn’t know. Not having thought that far into the future, he was more intent on their next destination than what would happen afterwards. Perhaps he should be thinking about it.
Lance just let him puzzle it out. He had had the same thoughts that must be going through Adam’s mind. What were they going to do after they found the last clue? Lance didn’t know how the search would end, but he thought it would be big. How could it not when it involved the man who started with $40 in his pocket and ended with a beloved multi-national empire? He, Lance, had taken an important step he felt would help them in the end. It had already helped them. But, that was his secret for now. Yes, he definitely felt the final treasure would be something to behold.
He just wondered if Adam realized that yet.
Later that morning Lance was sitting in Adam’s office chair, typing something into Adam’s computer. Adam, book dropped in his lap, had his head back on the sofa and was sound asleep. Lance let him be. He was busy canceling the Feed Lance reminder that Adam hadn’t yet figured out how to delete. Just so Adam wouldn’t feel completely unloved, he programmed Do Lance’s Laundry to chime at 6 a.m. every morning. Password protected, of course.
Next, he pulled up his travel site to book a flight for two leaving next Monday. He had been a little surprised at having to fly out again. They both thought the search had finally settled in California. Apparently Mr. Disney didn’t want them to get complacent or lazy. Walt never got that way himself so it made sense he would keep his searchers on their toes. Lance figured by now he should expect the unexpected.
Lance knew Adam was going to have a hernia when he learned they had to fly out again. The treasure hunt had taken up a lot of Adam’s work time and it bothered Adam to be gone so much from the job. Adam had pride in his work—and did excellent work to earn that pride. Good work didn’t come from being absent all the time. Well, that was one of the benefits from having excellent people work under you. Another lesson Walt knew was valuable. What did he say in the diary? ‘You might need some help.… Choose well. I always tried to.’
At least Lance gave Adam a few days before they left. Lance gave a slow smile. That would also give Adam some time to figure out the clue for himself. He certainly wasn’t going to tell him.
After printing out the itinerary, Lance erased the final destination. Making a copy of the altered page, he added a note on the bottom: “This time BE READY when I come at 5:30 a.m. to pick you up. You are out of coffee. Love, Lance.” Tearing off a small piece of duct tape he found in a drawer, the note was stuck to the sleeping Adam’s chest. Taking the original itinerary with him, he left, carefully closing the door behind him. There was an important phone call he had to make. If he could find an unlisted number, that is….
Adam awakened with a jolt. The book in his lap fell to the floor, reminding him where he was and what he was doing…. What they were doing.… Lance was supposed to be working at his computer. But Lance was gone—a circumstance that didn’t overly surprise him. Reaching for the fallen book, he heard paper crinkling on his chest. Pulling the gray tape from his shirt, he immediately saw it was an itinerary for three days from now. He gave a mild curse when he saw the destination had been removed and knew Lance was going to make him find the solution himself.
Or, he could just hop on the plane and see where it took him.
No, that wasn’t right. He knew as soon as he thought it that he wouldn’t do it. Never liking things just handed to him, he preferred working for them, earning them somehow. It should be no different for this search. Even though he had found some of the answers and Lance had found some of the answers, they both had been active in looking. Lance knew he would find this one himself, too. But, it wouldn’t hurt to yell at Lance a little. Lance probably even expected it.
Going over to the phone on his desk, he punched in Lance’s cell number, but there was no answer. Not surprising. He then called the home number. Again no answer, so he left a message on Lance’s machine knowing full well it wouldn’t be returned. He also knew he wouldn’t see Lance again until.…he checked the handwritten message…5:30 Monday morning. Adam also knew he would be ready and packed this time.
He gave a last glance at the research books that had already been taken back to the library and checked out again. As he began to get ready for work, he wondered how many more times he would have to keep checking them out.
Putting Lance and the books out of his mind, he concentrated on work. The replacement beam had come in early and would go up this afternoon. It wouldn’t be cut to size until he was standing over it watching. Once the beam was in place, they would finish the ceiling, set the Jacuzzi and the windows, and texture the walls. They also need to install the flooring and the French doors, paint, and hang the lighting fixtures. The mirrors, window treatments and towel bars would go up before the final inspection and final payment.
Well…that was how it was supposed to go. It was Mrs. Anderson, after all. He mentally added another three weeks to the job. Even that might not be enough.
1963
Smiling to himself, Walt strode up the familiar walkway to the familiar porch and knocked on the familiar door. At least I didn’t just walk right in! It still gav
e him an odd jolt when a stranger answered. There were so many other faces that should have opened the door to greet him.
He was greeted warmly, if nervously, and asked in. They glanced at the black valise he carried in his hand. Walt was prepared this time with the capsule ready to be put into place. He already had the location in mind. There was even a little speech for the new owners of the house. And he had something else handmade to guarantee the capsule would be safe no matter how long it took before somebody came looking for it.
How he wished he could watch the whole search process! It would be keen to be a fly on the wall and watch that person or persons figure it all out. To see the look on their faces when they opened each capsule! He always liked seeing the end result of his work. It felt strange knowing he wouldn’t see this.
Walt accepted the offer of a cold lemonade as the day was muggy. Looking around the familiar living room, he remembered the original furniture and pictures. His glance fell on the expectant faces around him, silent faces, a mixture of excitement and wariness in their eyes. He had asked if he could visit his old place and had only told them he had something for them.
He stood, and they became alarmed. No, he wasn’t leaving just yet. He just had something to show them. Opening the valise, he pulled out a wooden plaque specially made in his shop back at Disneyland. It was solid golden oak carved into the shape of Mickey’s head. The ears were plain, except for two of the three holes for hanging. The face of the plaque was engraved and there was a bright brass nameplate toward the bottom, below the darkened lettering. The plaque read: ‘My 1st studio. Thank you for preserving my memory for future generations.’ Etched into the brass was Walt’s own signature. A third hole was under the brass. The oak was about eight inches wide and about eight inches tall and an inch thick. It was a striking piece.
Walt gave them his speech on how much his family had loved this house and what had been accomplished out back where the plaque would go. He told them he appreciated the care they had taken of the place and hoped it would continue for years to come. And, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would it be alright with them if he picked out the place and hung the plaque in his old studio himself?
Stunned, the family accepted the plaque and looked it over, handing it to each member. After it made the rounds, it was handed back to Walt. He again thanked them and asked if he could have some time alone in his studio. Who knew? Maybe he would be inspired for something new!
When they stood to take him out back, he chuckled and told them to stay. He knew the way. They laughed with him, finally at their ease. When the back screen door slammed shut, they tiptoed to the kitchen window to watch him walk slowly across the backyard. When he stopped to look around, they ducked down and laughed at themselves, going back to the living room to wait.
Entering the old garage, Walt thought about the old mahogany camera he had borrowed from the president of the Kansas City Slide Company, a Mr. Cauger. There had been incandescent lights overhead. He had enrolled in night classes at the Kansas City Art Institute. A lot going on at that time. 1919? Was that right? Was I really only eighteen years old? he asked himself, shaking his head.
Looking around at all the usual stuff in a usual garage, he picked out a clear wall on the west side of the building. The garage, like the house, faced east. For the most part, there were vacant lots behind the garage. Only one house faced the other street. Setting down the black bag, he took out a plain piece of wood that was a two by six and twelve inches long. The size matched what had been above his head in the garage. Artificially aged, it matched quite well except for the staining which wasn’t quite right. But, that was the effect he had wanted. Turning the wood over, he smiled as he looked at the back, the side that would be hidden from view. Walt’s little two by six had been hollowed out. The opening was one and a half inches deep and four inches wide by eight inches long. Out of the valise he now drew the gray capsule and fit it inside its new home. Pocketing some screws, he found a ladder leaning against the side wall. Whistling softly to himself, he set up the ladder, got out a screwdriver and set the new two by six in place on the side of an old beam so it wouldn’t be seen from the doorway. Climbing down, he took three bright brass screws and set the new oak plaque onto the bare wall.
He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. It looked good. Glancing up, he knew where the capsule was hidden, but nobody else would see it that easily. Good.
Good luck! He saluted his unknown followers in the future. Turning, he gave the garage a fond final once-over and went to say good-bye to his hosts.
He knew the plaque would not be touched.
2002
“So, how long did it take you?”
Settled into his seat on the airplane, Adam had leaned back and closed his eyes. It was too much to expect Lance to allow him to sleep. “Take me for what?” He knew what Lance meant.
Lance gave him a half smile. “To finish setting the beam.”
Adam’s eyes came open. “The beam? Oh….” He broke off when Lance grinned at him. He would never get one over on Lance. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again as the plane hurtled down the runway for takeoff. “Half of Saturday and most of Sunday. I was still looking in California.”
Lance was amused. “Even though you had the itinerary showing we had to fly somewhere?”
Adam grunted. “I thought it was a joke. I never figured Walt would send us back to Missouri again. How long did it take you to figure out the clue?”
“Less.” That was all Lance would tell him. Much less.
Realizing Lance wouldn’t let him sleep, Adam was inclined to be chatty as the plane leveled off and headed for Denver. “I guess I didn’t think of Little Red Riding Hood and the Four Musicians of Bremen as ‘Disney.’ Well, I guess they weren’t, as we know ‘Disney’ to mean.” He gave a slight shrug as he looked out the window for a moment. “I finally found a reference to them and saw some of the drawings. Pretty different than what we’re used to.”
Lance had to agree with him. “Yeah, they were. Pretty rough. But, considering how new animation was and how young Walt was, it is amazing.”
“He drew them all himself, too. The Four Musicians got a little more attention with the watercolor wash he used in the backgrounds.”
“My, you did do your homework.”
“You aren’t the only one who knows how to read, Lance.”
Lance laughed at him as he got the flight attendant’s attention. He got each of them a drink and an extra bag of peanuts.
“Lance, it isn’t even 10 a.m. and you’re ordering cocktails?”
He shrugged. “We have a long day ahead of us. We might need them.” He thanked the attendant and handed Adam his cup. “Ah, nothing beats a gimlet served in plastic.” He took a tentative sip and picked up the thread of Adam’s conversation. “So you knew which studio the clue meant?”
Not caring for gin, Adam ignored the gimlet. He popped a few peanuts in his mouth before he answered. “Actually, I first thought we were going back to the McConahy building. Wasn’t sure why, but I thought that was his main studio around that time period. Wrong. Took me a while to figure out how far back and how primitive we had to get. Are you sure the place is still there?”
Lance sipped his drink. “Oh, yes, it’s still there. We get in too late today, so we have an appointment tomorrow morning.”
Adam finished his peanuts and looked sideways at his friend. “An appointment with a garage?”
“The garage is still standing, as is the family house.” Lance started on Adam’s gimlet and eyed Adam’s empty peanut bag. He had meant to grab that.… “I had a nice chat with the owners. They assure me the plaque is still there in the garage.”
Adam hadn’t read anything about that. “What plaque?”
Lance settled back further in his seat, head resting against the back as he sipped Adam’s drink. “Well, that was the interesting part. I hadn’t found anything about it either. They told me the story about Walt himself coming t
o the house thirty-nine years ago and presenting the owners with a lovely award of some sorts thanking them for preserving his first studio.”
“And you find this so humorous because….”
“Don’t you see? Walt did this to make sure the garage would be there for all posterity. Which includes us. It’s just an old garage. Sure it has special history, but it’s just a jumble of wood. Look what happened to the Hyperion Studio! But, with the special blessing of Walt and the plaque, no one would dare tear it down. It is brilliant, actually.” Lance gave an appreciative chuckle. “Brilliant!”
In Denver, they had to run to catch their connecting flight and had no time for lunch. Once airborne, Lance managed to get them some extra snacks from their new flight attendant.
With the Rocky Mountains behind them and the open plains below, Adam asked Lance what story he used to get an appointment. He doubted they could just go out in the garage and look around for the capsule.
Lance yawned. The cocktails were taking effect. “Oh, the usual. I’m making a documentary about Walt and you’re the cameraman.”
“Of course I am. What else would I be?” Adam couldn’t believe what Lance came up with at times. “How will you explain the lack of camera or sound equipment that usually accompanies a documentary?”
Lance was almost asleep. “I brought them.”
Adam shook his head and looked out of the little window over the open prairie. “Of course you did,” he mumbled at the window. He stared at the huge dark green circles 32,000 feet below them. They had been seen on every trip, but he had never asked what they were. Great. Crop circles. And maybe the little aliens are going to come back for Lance sometime soon.
Hands on his hips, Adam stared at the camera and microphone on the bed in Lance’s room of their suite at the President Hilton. “You really brought a camera and sound equipment.”
Lance was checking something on the camera. “I told you I did. You never believe me.”
Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! Page 16
