Adam rolled his eyes. “Silly me.”
“So, you know how these things work?”
Adam just glared at him. “Yes, I use them all the time on the job. How the heck would I know how to operate a camera like that!?”
“Now don’t get testy. You know your blood pressure.”
“My blood pressure would be just fine if I kept away from you!”
Lance ignored him. “Here’s how it works.” He hefted the huge camera onto his shoulder, setting the harness firmly in place. “You hold it like this with your left hand and push this button with your right. See the pretty light come on? That shows it’s filming.”
Adam frowned. “You don’t actually expect me to work this thing, do you?”
Lance lifted it from his shoulder and set it back on the bed. “Well, you are the cameraman, Adam. Of course I do.” Before Adam could begin with his next string of objections, Lance held up his hand. “No, you don’t actually have to frame anything or even have the sound on. The light just has to come on so it looks like we’re filming. You could be shooting a hole in the wall for all I care. Just point it in my general direction and I’ll be doing what I do best—talking—and working our way out to the garage.”
Adam was starting to get the picture. He felt like an idiot around Lance most of the time—something he figured Lance had a lot to do with orchestrating.… “Ok, I get it. How do we keep them from following us out to the garage?”
“Oh, this is a sensitive microphone and picks up the least little noise. Well, it would if it actually worked. I think Sandy said it was already broken so I don’t have to be too careful with it. Just make sure you don’t bang the camera into any walls or anything. I don’t want to have to replace it.”
Lance had Adam lift the camera into place a couple of times to get used to the feel and to make it look as if he knew what he was doing. It wouldn’t look very convincing to have the camera pointing backwards.
“What time are we supposed to be there tomorrow?”
“Around 10 a.m. That gives us plenty of time to search for the capsule. It ought to be pretty easy to find the Mickey mentioned in the clue. I have a feeling Mickey is the plaque even though I never saw a picture of it.”
Adam hefted the camera again and nodded. He could do this. “Is there any film in here?”
“Of course not. You might actually figure out how to turn it on and waste it.”
As they were leaving to go out for dinner, Adam casually wondered if strangling Lance with the microphone cord would be considered aggravated assault or justifiable homicide.
Parking the rented Jaguar down one house from their objective, Lance emerged from the driver’s seat like the Phoenix rising from the ashes. It was a sight to behold. He gave a beaming smile to whoever might be looking out the windows and, tilting his head back, shook his brown hair to achieve that special windblown look. He ran a hand through his hair just to make sure it was perfect and fiddled with the lapels of his shirt for no apparent reason. Taking up the microphone, he tested it and ran a sound check. Adam had to keep from grinning as he hoisted the camera into place. Talking into the microphone, Lance walked backwards toward the red house at 3028 Bellefontaine Avenue. Adam remembered where the switch was and started the camera, red light prominent as he followed Lance at a good distance, keeping him in the viewfinder. He had no idea what Lance was saying—probably Lance didn’t either—as they worked their way up the front walk, Lance gesturing around with his free hand. Adam wasn’t sure if he was supposed to film what Lance was pointing out or not so he kept the camera on Lance.
The front door of the house opened and the owner was surprised to find a camera in her face. She blushed and stammered and told them to go around to the back. They would find the garage with no problem. Touching her hair, she smiled at the camera as Lance thanked her and gave his special smile. Adam continued to look through the eye piece at his left eye. He had found it worked better if he kept both eyes open and navigated with his unencumbered right eye.
Lance walked down the narrow side yard as several neighbors came out to see the excitement and were peering from the front sidewalk. Figuring it would be just a matter of time before they started coming through the alley to get a better look, he motioned to Adam to cut and went out to talk to them.
Being Lance, he charmed them all. Smiling and shaking their hands, he was pleasant and asked their help to make this something special. He told them about the sensitivity of the microphone and asked that they give the two men about an hour to work; then they would be available for questions if anyone had any.
Coming back to Adam, he started talking about the history of the garage and grandly gesturing around the yard. Adam panned the garage and brought the camera back to Lance’s face. Lance seemed so natural at this Adam wondered if he had any training.
Lance opened the door to the garage but kept talking before going inside. He finally finished whatever he was saying and went in, Adam following, and the red light obediently glowing. When he slid the door shut, Adam carefully lowered the camera onto a bare spot on a work bench. Finding the plaque was no problem. Lance had already gotten permission to use a ladder, saying Adam might need to shoot higher for atmosphere.
“Okay, the clue said ‘look up from Mickey. Something doesn’t fit.’ Do you see anything out of place, Adam?”
Adam was up on the ladder with Lance below looking up at everything piled on the rafters. “No, this is just a bunch of usual attic stuff. I don’t think it’s anything in this pile. I don’t see anything right above Mickey either.… That’s a nice plaque. Did you look at it?”
Lance nodded. “Yeah. I still think it’s brilliant. Forty years later and it’s still here.”
Adam was about to get down to move the ladder when he put his hand on a beam to steady himself. “Wait a minute. Hey, Lance, look here. Notice anything?”
Coming over to the ladder, Lance looked up at Adam. “Other than you needing to tuck in your shirt, no. What am I looking at?”
Adam patted the beam next to him. “Notice anything about this rafter?”
“Does it have his initials carved into it?”
Adam shook his head. “Nope. But notice how wide this section is compared to all the other rafters? It’s double width. You can’t see it, but there are screws in each end of this rafter. I think this is it. Find me a flathead screwdriver.”
“Of course,” Lance mumbled, looking at some tools strewn on the work table. “Here, finally,” handing it up to Adam.
Adam anchored his legs on each side of the ladder and sat on the top rung as he worked on the screws. Having been set for so long, they didn’t want to give. He wished he had his Makita cordless screw gun. They would have been home by now.
Handing the screwdriver back Lance, he pulled the rafter away from its perch. A gray capsule fell from the hollowed-out wood. “Grab it!”
Lance missed, but the capsule was undamaged after bouncing on the floor.
Adam brought down the rafter to show Lance. “Walt really had this one figured out! Look at the color of the wood. The outside doesn’t match the back that was nestled against the original rafter. It was stained to match. You’re right. It was brilliant!”
Lance pocketed the capsule. “We need to go out and finish our documentary. Our audience awaits.”
“What should we do with this rafter? Should I put it back?”
Lance looked around. “How about tossing it in that wood pile? It’ll probably be a while before anyone finds it.”
Adam buried it in the bottom of the pile and put both the screwdriver and the ladder back in place. Bringing the camera to his shoulder, he activated the switch.
Lance slid open the garage door and began to talk into the microphone again. “So that concludes our special visit to Walt’s original studio. We hope you enjoyed our stay here in Kansas City. We sure did. Just remember: Great things can come from humble beginnings. That’s a wrap.”
He had to motion for
Adam to quit filming. There were more people standing around now, so Lance waved and went over to chat. He thanked them all for their hospitality. But he was vague when asked when the movie would come out. “Oh, you know these Hollywood things,” he laughed. “Who knows? But we got what we came for and thank all of you for your help!”
“That’s the first honest thing you said.” Adam muttered to Lance as they walked back to the Jag, carefully stowing the camera and mike in the backseat.
“What do you mean?” Lance gave a final wave to the people as he started to pull out from the curb.
“That we got what we came for.”
Lance smiled. “Well, we did, didn’t we?”
It wasn’t until they were driving away that Adam recognized the house as the farmhouse in his dream.
A group of neighbors stood on the sidewalk and watched the Jag drive off. Some waved back to the departing men.
“Now that was a real gentleman. Don’t you think so, honey?”
He gave a snort. “He was as much a filmmaker as I am. Must think we’re a bunch of hicks.”
“Why do you say that? That camera was huge.”
“Yeah, it was big alright. Did you notice that blonde fella never once adjusted the lens or zoomed in or out or checked the film? The idiot was shooting into the sun half the time they were out there. All he did was hold it up on his shoulder. Filmmaker, my Aunt Fanny.”
“Now why would they lie about a thing like that and go to all that work?”
He gave another snort. “Probably just wanted to poke around Walt’s old stomping grounds. We’ve heard bigger whoppers than that since we’ve lived here. Hmmph, all they have to do was ask.” He turned to go to the backyard.
“Where are you going now?”
“I’m going to check the garage. If that plaque is gone, I’m getting my double-barrel. And I ain’t loading it with birdshot.”
“Now, honey. I think that tall one was just lovely.”
‘Honey’ didn’t answer. He was already heading toward the garage. “Filmmaker, my ….”
In the ten minute drive back to their hotel, Adam cautiously shook the capsule and heard nothing inside. They figured it was another paper trail.
The content of the plastic container turned out to be one page torn out of the diary. It read:
“Go to the only place outside of Disneyland to fly the official Disneyland flag.
60 07 17 19 55”
“Well, now, that’s better.” Adam gave a sigh of relief, “It looks like we can finally go home.”
Surprised, Lance looked up from the clue. “You know where the flag is? That’s great.”
“Uh, no, but it has to be at the Burbank studio.”
Silent for a moment, Lance didn’t agree. “Why do you say that? Did you see it when we were there?”
“Well, where do you think it is?”
“Now, don’t get testy. I’m not sure, but Walt had to have brought us all the way back to Missouri for a reason. He didn’t leave anything else in the container. I don’t think we’re through here.”
Adam was looking out the hotel room’s window at the architecture of downtown Kansas City. He was tired of flying back and forth across the country. Yes, this was fascinating and he was intrigued by what Walt had done, but he had work to do at home. There were things he had to take care of. And, he was just plain tired. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to get something each time. I don’t know.” He gave a frustrated shrug. “Why don’t you fire up your computer and see what you can find. There are also those numbers to consider.”
“Good idea.” Lance pulled the computer out of his travel bag. After their mistake the first time they flew to Missouri, they weren’t going to travel without it again. “While I’m doing this, why don’t you look at those numbers again. See if you notice anything familiar about them.”
“Already did. Looks like a combination code, but there are too many numbers.” Adam looked over the clue once more. A smile slowly spread over his face. “Ah, I see it now. Surprised I missed that. I don’t know what the 60 means, but the rest of it is the date Disneyland opened—July 17, 1955. Maybe 60 is the flag reference?”
It took a few minutes for Lance’s laptop to boot up. “Have you seen the flag the clue is talking about?”
“I think so.” Adam’s words were slow as he thought back. “I didn’t notice when we were running the race, but it used to fly over Walt’s apartment. Be…someone pointed it out to me once. I remember it was kinda plain with a big Mickey face on it.”
Lance caught his slip of the tongue and hid his smile. “Be..someone huh?”
Adam shot him a warning look. “Don’t go there. I didn’t mean to mention her. Are you finding anything yet?” Seeing Lance was engrossed with something on the computer screen, Adam hoped to turn the conversation away from his personal life.
“Oh, sorry, I was checking e-mails.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Do you think you can concentrate on the clue for a minute? I’d like to get back home and back to work while I still have any customers left, if you don’t mind.”
Lance didn’t respond. He could tell Adam still wasn’t seeing the possible Big Picture here. But, he wasn’t going to get into that discussion yet. The way Lance figured, they were still in the Enjoyable Search phase at this point. But he felt the Final Big Search was coming. Just not yet. “Sorry.” He attempted to sound affable. “I’m sure the search will be more enjoyable than reading messages from my father as to why there are so many flights to Missouri charged to his business account.”
Forgetting his grumpiness, Adam became all ears. Lance didn’t mention his family much. Okay, he amended, never. “Problems? I told you I’d pay for my share of the tickets.”
Lance waved him off. “No problem. What’s the point in having a Gold Card if you can’t use it?”
“You could tell him you’re on a research project. That might appease him.”
“I could. But I won’t.” Lance’s muttering was more to himself than to Adam. Adam had his uncomfortable zones and Lance had his. “Okay, I am searching Disneyland Flag.” He gave a sudden laugh. “Alrighty. There are only 700,000 references. How many do you want to take?”
Adam looked over Lance’s shoulder at the screen. “Well, that’s less than I found searching Disney Little Princess.”
“It looks like most of them are about the flag retreat ceremony every evening at the Park.… Flags at the Hotel.… Some flag at Pirates of the Caribbean.… Flag pins for sale.… Ah, here we are. Marceline, Missouri. Bingo.”
“What does it say?” Adam leaned in closer to read the computer screen.
“If you want to sit in my lap, I’ll have to push the chair farther back,” Lance commented dryly.
Adam backed off. “Sorry. Just wanted to see what it said.”
Lance read quietly for a couple of minutes. He could hear Adam’s impatient pacing behind him. Smiling to himself, he pretended to read a couple of minutes longer than he actually needed. Finally he told Adam what he had found. “Well, it looks like we’re going back to school.”
That surprised Adam. “School? What for? What school?”
“In 1960,” Lance explained, “Walt came back to Marceline to dedicate the new elementary school that the town named after him. He arrived by train for the dedication ceremony.”
Adam waited for him to say more, but Lance was quiet. “Do you think the 60 in the clue stands for 1960? How does a flag figure into this?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Walt presented the school with a flag identical to the one you saw at Disneyland. Here’s a picture of it.”
Adam saw a huge orange flag with a vintage-looking black and white Mickey in the middle. A group of girls, either cheerleaders or dressed in some kind of school uniform, were sending it up a flagpole. “Well, I guess that’s our destination. But what do we do when we get there?”
“Try to learn something, I guess.” Lance clicked off the picture and looked for the addres
s to the school. It was pretty easy to find. He also found that visitors were welcome anytime. “Tomorrow is Wednesday, a school day. We fly out Thursday. Hopefully we’ll figure it out once we get there.”
Adam was thoughtful. A regular school day meant a lot of kids. A lot of curious on-lookers if they again had to do something obvious—whether it was digging or climbing or pulling up boards. He just hoped Walt knew what he was doing.
Adam should have realized by now that Walt almost always knew what he was doing.
The rented Jaguar made the two-hour drive from Kansas City to Marceline very comfortable. Adam played around with the radio trying to find a station they both agreed on. Settling on a ‘50’s oldies station, they drove in silence, enjoying the clear spring day.
Lance broke the silence first. “I forgot to tell you something: Your folks said hi.”
Adam gave a short laugh. “When did you see my parents?” Lance never ceased to amaze him.
“At dinner last week. It must have slipped my mind.”
“Oh really? You all end up at the same restaurant?” Adam was interested now. If Lance had been out on a date, maybe he could find out from his mom the identity of this mystery woman Lance had been seeing so often lately. Lance sure wasn’t telling him anything.
“Restaurant?” Lance looked momentarily confused. “No. It was at their house. You missed out. Great pot roast. I like their new house, by the way. Great view.”
“And I wasn’t invited because.…”
Lance shrugged as the Jag purred down the I-35. The US 36 highway was coming up soon where they had to head east towards Marceline. “I don’t know. Never came up. We were discussing Rose’s remodel. Your dad likes the design you came up with.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled dryly. He hadn’t been to his parent’s house in ages. And he loved his mom’s pot roast. Okay, he argued with himself, you haven’t exactly checked in with them lately yourself. “I need to give them a call.”
Lance didn’t comment. John and Margaret Michaels always made him feel welcome. They tended to treat him more like a long-lost son than a friend of Adam’s. And they didn’t pry into his personal life. They were curious, of course, but never nosy—a trait he wished their son had inherited. He knew Adam wanted to know about the phone call that caught him at Disneyland. Well, let him be curious. Kept him on his toes. Lance certainly wasn’t going to explain himself yet.
Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! Page 17
