“Of course.”
“Rag top?”
“Duh.”
“Stick?”
“Automatic.”
“Lazy,” Lance snorted. “Can I drive her?”
“No!”
“Please exit to your right.” The three friends looked up in surprise at the cast member. Their boat had stopped between the waiting guests on their left and the exit on their right. First to react, Lance climbed over the still-seated Adam to grab Beth’s arm. “Sorry about the jerk, Captain.” His words were quiet as they walked toward the ride’s exit.
“Which one?” Beth smiled sadly as they emerged from the Pirate’s exit corridor into the late afternoon sunlight.
“Where are you going!?” Adam finally caught up to them as they headed over the bridge into Adventureland, bypassing the entrance to Pirates.
Lance looked at her and gave his grin. “I thought that was obvious.”
She never could resist that smile of his. She laughed for the first time in hours and gave his arm a squeeze. Looking back over her shoulder at Adam, her eyes shining. “Puerto Rico.”
“Puerto Rico?” Adam echoed. “That’s not right….” He had to trail off as Lance and Beth kept walking. Hurrying down the slope of the Adventureland bridge to get in front of them, he finally got them to stop in the shade near a little waterfall. “That’s not right.” As he spoke, his eyes dropped to her arm still tucked into Lance’s.
“What’s not right?” Beth’s eyes followed his and leaned a little closer to Lance, daring him to say something else.
He shook his head, frustrated. “No, Puerto Rico isn’t right.”
“But the fort…,” Lance started, only to be cut off.
“No, it may be true the fort was patterned after Puerto Rico, but the rest doesn’t fit.”
“But it fits the clue, too, ‘My heart is sometimes like an island.’ Puerto Rico is, after all, an island. I thought that was obvious.” Beth gave a little smile at her own joke.
Adam started pacing, still frustrated. It just didn’t feel right. But why not? He went over the tie-ins they had found so far and Puerto Rico just didn’t fit. Nothing happened there of any importance in Walt’s life. He leaned against the railing to face away from Beth and Lance and the hundreds of guests moving to and from Adventureland. He stared unseeingly at the baby elephant squirting water into the tropical stream that wound down from Tarzan’s Treehouse and emptied into the Jungle Cruise river. Lance leaned back against the rail next to Adam to watch the crowd go by. Beth stood apart and stared at Adam’s back, mentally going over the clue and trying to see where their mistake might be.
The scream of a leopard could be heard over the excited laughter of children. It was followed by the noisy din of pots and pans being pounded as musical instruments. Tarzan’s Treehouse. Beth looked at the exit gate next to them and saw the Kitchen Area of the attraction. There must have been fifteen kids in there, two of them pulling on the rope that activated the leopard scream. As she stood there, a few tired parents managed to herd their children out of the exit with a grateful sigh at the relative quiet outside. Smiling at the parents’ expression of relief, Beth opened the little exit gate and went up the stone steps. She wandered around the Kitchen thinking about the scene from the movie Tarzan that inspired it. The movie’s version of the noisy racket had been a lot more enjoyable than the clamor she was now hearing.
Beth looked up at the higher elevation and thought about the view of the Jungle Cruise from up there. As the guys still seemed to be working on the problem at hand, she thought about taking a stroll through the Treehouse. Figuring she needed to go back to the entrance and do it the right way rather than fighting against traffic all the way up, Beth turned back the way she had come. There was a lull in the noise as she walked towards the exit. In that moment of peace, she heard the scratchy organ music that was used as subtle background noise.
She froze. That background music—and something else. How could she have forgotten? She laughed as she stood there and looked up again at the Treehouse. It wasn’t Tarzan’s place she saw, but what came before. The music was a tribute to the first family that occupied the Treehouse before Tarzan and Jane moved in. The music was the SwisskaPolka. The Swiss Family Robinson had been in the Treehouse when it opened in 1962. The Treehouse had been built after the tremendous success of the movie. She loved that movie, had a secret crush on Ernst, and always visited the Treehouse whenever she came to the Park.
The clue suddenly made sense. It wasn’t ‘my heart is sometimes like an island.’ It was “My Heart was an Island.” Mother sang that song in the movie while puttering around her new kitchen.
“Adam!” Beth yelled for the guys and laughed again. “Lance! Get in here!” She ignored the angry looks of those into whose ears she just hollered.
The guys came in frowning at her rude call. Puzzled, they saw her laugh, arms outstretched as she turned a full circle pirouette.
She laughed at their looks. “Can’t you hear it?”
Adam looked over at the table of pots and pans and the kids joyfully beating on them. “All I can hear is that awful racket. Is that what you find so amusing?”
Beth ignored the sarcasm. “Wait for it,” was all she told them.
When there was a lull, she pointed at the gramophone in the laboratory scene and the delightful music coming out of it. Lance still didn’t understand. Adam listened for a moment. “It’s a polka.”
“It’s not just a polka. It’s the SwisskaPolka,” she elaborated, still smiling.
It took Adam a full minute. He was still frowning at her but the frown faded as he thought it through. Suddenly his face lit up. That was it! “SwisskaPolka from Swiss Family Robinson.” With a whoop, he grabbed her by the waist and led her into a wild two-step polka around the stone-covered floor. She effortlessly fell into step with him.
Still puzzled, Lance watched as the impromptu dance continued and saw them laughing together. “So? I don’t get it. This isn’t obvious to me, Captain!” He didn’t like being left out of the loop.
She was a little breathless as she broke from Adam and two-stepped over to him, still exhilarated. Lance’s attitude couldn’t take the happy look on her face. “And….,” he prodded in a more decent tone of voice.
Beth got her breathing back to normal. “And one of the songs in the movie was ‘My Heart was an Island.’ And,” she paused for some dramatic impact. Lance looked like he would strangle her. “And the movie was filmed on…an…island.”
“Which island?”
Her giddy expression faded. She looked back at Adam who was also puzzled. “I…hmm…I’m not sure. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out, should it? Adam?”
“I don’t know either. How could we not know that? Do you have the movie?”
She tilted her head to the side, and gave him a “Duh” expression. Did every female on earth feel the necessity to give him that same look? “Of course you do. Let’s go check it out.” He made a move to grab Beth’s hand, but she took a step back toward the relative safety of Lance.
Her reaction had been immediate and involuntary. Too many years of hurt. Embarrassed at herself and not knowing how to fix it, she looked down at her feet, her expression guarded again. “How about if I bring it over to your place?” He just stared at her, silent. “Well, all the research you’ve done is already there.” Her words sounded lame and mumbled.
Hurt, he glared at her a moment longer. “Fine. Lance, you coming?”
But Beth wasn’t finished. “Look, guys, it’s been a long exciting day. Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow afternoon.”
“Afternoon? Beth, this is important. We have a lot to do yet.”
“I know, but I have something to do in the morning. I should be back around 3:00.” She looked up at Lance for help and support. He could see a little desperation in her eyes. “You’ll be there, right?”
Lance looked back and forth between them and rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t miss i
t. I’ll bring the popcorn.”
She managed a smile for him. “Thanks, Sparky.”
“No problem, Grouch.”
“Slacker.”
“Tyrant.”
“Slave.”
Lance got in “Dragon,” before Adam let out a loud groan as their favorite game resumed and led the way out of the Park. Adam knew he had to let Beth’s rebuff roll off him right now. He would somehow fix it later—somehow. For now, they had work to do.
They had to find Walt’s island.
While her T-Bird warmed up in the garage, Beth hurried around her condo to get what she needed for the day. Check-in for the car show at Pearson Park in Anaheim was 9:00 a.m. She was putting a couple of sodas and water in her cooler when there was a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock and considered ignoring it.
After the bell rang three times in a row, a familiar voice called through the door. “I know you’re in there, Guppy! Open the door.”
Surprised, Beth flung the door open. “Lance! How did you know where I lived?”
Ignoring her question, Lance gave her a smug smile, looked around and headed into the kitchen.
“Well, why don’t you come on in,” she said dryly.
“Thanks. I came to see your car. I saw smoke pouring out of a garage and figured I was at the right place.”
“Yeah, well, it takes a while to warm up.”
“Don’t we all?” His voice was muffled as he rummaged through her fridge.
“What did you say? So, can I get you anything, or do you just want to graze?”
“Where are you going?” he asked instead as he grabbed an apple.
She watched his perfectly-formed mouth bite into the apple and wondered, for the thousandth time, why she had never been attracted to him. Something has to be wrong with me, she sighed to herself, thinking instead of another man’s mouth.
“You’re staring at my mouth.”
“What?”
That perfectly-formed mouth smiled and carefully enunciated every word: “You… are… staring… at… my… mouth.”
Beth reddened and began fumbling with her purse. “No I’m not. I was just thinking.”
“About…,” he prompted, taking another bite.
“Human idiosyncrasies.”
Lance just chuckled at her mumbled words. “Where are you going?” He tried again when her heightened color began to fade.
“I have a car show at Pearson Park. I really have to leave.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced. “Did you want something? I thought I was going to see you later at Adam’s.”
“Can I go with you?”
“To the car show or Adam’s?” Beth gave him a half smile.
“Yes.”
“Fine.” As if she was a mother hen, she tried to herd her chick out the door. “But I have to leave right now. Out. Out. Out. Do you want to meet me there?”
“I’ll ride with you. Can I drive?”
“Fine. Yes, you can ride with me and no, you can’t drive.” She came to a sudden halt halfway out the door. “Oh, wait! I forgot. I’m supposed to pick up Anne.”
Lance perked up. “Anne with the curly black hair?”
That surprised her. It had been five years since Lance had seen either Anne or her…as far as she knew, she reminded herself. It was typical Lance, after all. “You remember Anne?”
Lance grinned as he looked around to throw away the apple core. “Of course I remember her. She never struck me as a car person, though. You usually met her at the mall. Does she really want to go?” Lance spotted her open trash can at the side of the garage. With a perfect basketball-like shot, it landed squarely inside. With a self-satisfied smirk, he looked back for Beth’s admiration—only to see she had missed his excellent shot.
“Of course she does.” At his skeptical look, she gave a sigh. “Ok, fine. She was coming as a favor so I didn’t have to go alone.” She tapped her finger on her lip, debating. “She would probably rather go shopping. Let me call her.”
Leaning against the door frame, Lance listened to her side of the conversation. “Hey, Anne.... Yes, I know I’m late…. Listen, something’s come up. You remember Lance?” She held the phone away from her ear at the shrill, happy noise at the other end. “Yeah, that Lance. He showed up and wants to go with me to the show.… No, I don’t know why.“ She put her hand over the phone and looked at Lance. “Anne says hi.… Would you mind terribly if I took him instead.… I’m sure you will.… See you then. Thanks, bye.” Hanging up the phone, she handed him the cooler. “She said she’ll see us there later. We really have to go.”
As she locked her door he asked for the second time, “Can I drive?”
She mentally envisioned getting his six-foot-two frame behind the steering wheel. It would be like watching a giraffe come in through a doggie door. “Nope. Trust me. You won’t fit. It’ll be tight enough for you in the passenger seat.”
He shrugged indifferently. Folding himself into the T-Bird’s bench seat, he gave her the ‘see, I told you I would fit’ look. Waiting, Beth let him get settled. Then she flashed him a smug smile as she moved the seat all the way forward so she could reach the pedals. There was a muffled curse as his knees connected with the chrome dash. She almost expected him to hang his legs out the window.
“Ready?” she asked sweetly.
“For anything, darling.” He draped his left arm across the seat back, his fingertips brushing the back of her neck. “Turn on the radio.”
“Doesn’t work.”
“Air conditioning?”
“Roll down your window.”
“Piece of junk.…”
“Hey!” she cried, carefully backing out of the driveway. “This is a classic!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Classic piece of junk.”
As they neared the park, they followed a candy-apple red ’41 Willys. A ’56 black and white Chevy BelAir fell in behind them at the check-in.
“Wow. I thought you were just going to see a car show, not be in one.”
“Shoulda asked.” Beth took her entry number and goodie bag from the event volunteers and received directions on where to park.
After rooting through her goodie bag, eating the candy bar, and pocketing the free pen, Lance sat in awed silence. As Beth drove to her parking spot, he looked down each row at all the classic cars and hot rods already there. He spotted a silver ’54 Mercedes 300SL Gullwing Coupe parked between a British Racing Green ’61 Jag E-Type and a super-sleek black ’94 Jag XJS V-12. He let out a low appreciative whistle. “You keep some nice company, Squirt.”
Hating backing up, she was concentrating on getting into her assigned spot without damaging anything. “Thanks, Colossus. Ooh, I’m in the shade. You want to help set up the chairs or wipe the car?” Beth looked up as she took her dusting cloths from the trunk. Lance, however, was striding off toward that little Mercedes pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Or not. I’ll do it myself. Thanks,” she called after his retreating back.
She was parked next to a Goldenrod Yellow ’55 T-Bird. Shoot, I’ll never win now, she smiled as she got to work wiping off the street dust. Several car owners walked by and said hello. Smiling her greeting, she placed the camp chairs behind her car. An extra, empty chair was a neighborly invitation to her fellow car show participants to sit and chat, many of whom she had come to know by name.
Knowing Lance would find her when he wanted something, Beth headed over to registration to finish signing in and get her lunch voucher and raffle tickets. She bought an extra lunch voucher for Lance, the bottomless pit.
Wandering around the cars, she enjoyed the quiet time before the crowds started filling the park. Some of the owners were still wiping off their cars. Some were taking the time to look at the competition before they sat in their chairs to answer questions or keep youngster’s hands off their $20,000 paint jobs. The cars were as colorful as an English garden in the spring. Good turnout, she noted. Close to three hundred cars and more were pulling in every
minute.
A ’23 T-Bucket with blown Offenhauser Flathead roared into the park, its orange metal flake paint sparkling in the sunlight. A large stuffed Mickey Mouse was strapped in the passenger’s seat. The owner, George, had on his trademark brown aviator hat with black Mickey Mouse ears sticking out of the sides. Beth knew he would change to a black Stetson once he got parked. The Southwestern theme airbrushed on the Bucket was a favorite with its desert silhouette stretched across the pickup bed, a Native American on one side, and a flying eagle on the other. Purple and green flames stretched from the engine frame rails to the body, edged in 24-karat gold. “I know now who’ll get the Best Paint award,” she thought as she admired the artwork.
All across the park everyone’s head turned when a bright yellow ’31 Model A Pro-Street entered. The 18” back tires left wide grooves in the grass, his engine thumping a deep baritone candescence. The five-inch dual exhaust pipes were smoking when he goosed it one last time before shutting down. “Rusty’s here,” Beth heard around her. The car never won any awards, but the guys loved the sound of that Big Block. Beth had looked out of the windshield once. Chopped into the classic eyebrow, it was impossible to see stop lights without the little mirror mounted on the dash.
Beth smiled when an arm slipped through hers. “Where’ve you been? Out breaking a few hearts?”
She was startled when Adam answered her, not Lance. “Not yet. But the day’s young.”
Knowing she had hurt his feelings yesterday, Beth resisted her instinctive urge to pull her arm free and allowed him walk next to her. “I thought you were Lance.”
“I get that a lot.”
“How’d you know where we were?”
“Followed the trail of smoke you left,” he answered with a chuckle.
“Needs a tune-up. No, really, how?”
“The same way I got your phone number.” At Beth’s puzzled look, he explained with the one word that would placate her: “Mom.”
She brightened up. “How is Margaret? I haven’t seen her since we had lunch a couple of weeks ago.”
“Weeks?” Surprised, he stopped in the middle of walkway. “You had lunch with my mother? Is that how she knew about the car show?”
Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! Page 27
