Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales!

by David W. Smith

  Back at Disneyland, Lance was physically and emotionally exhausted. His rage had increased when he realized he was stuck at the Park without a car. Knowing he had lost both Beth and Adam, it was fruitless to go to the parking structure. They would be long gone by now—not that he could have walked up to them and charmingly asked for a lift home.

  The high emotions, the constant travel and working all times in-between had taken their toll. When the taxi dropped him off, he considered driving straight to the airport and getting on the next plane to Idaho. Standing on his doorstep for a full five minutes, he stared over at the garage. His new Mercedes was gone, but his old stand-by, a 1989 Jaguar Vanden Plas, sat there waiting. One up on you, Father, he numbly thought. Once inside the townhouse, he went straight to the bar and poured the last of his Oban Single Malt. Sitting at his computer he booked a flight for the next morning to Lewiston, Idaho. It was the closest airport he could find near the Nez Perce Reservation in the northwestern portion of the state. It would be a one-hour drive to the tribe headquarters. Might as well start at the beginning. He vaguely congratulated himself on not going straight to the airport. The flight didn’t leave until 10:35 in the morning and the drive to the airport would have been too much for him. Plus, there would have been the problem with airport security and his gun.

  Pulling the silver handgun out of his jacket, he set it on the desk next to his computer and stared at it. Cursing the Fates for putting him in the predicament he was in, he went on to curse his father for taking away the only lifestyle he had ever known. He cursed Adam for wanting a third of the treasure and cursed Beth for meddling and involving herself in something in which she didn’t belong. He cursed Adam again for bringing her in—ignoring the fact that it was he himself who had suggested her. He quickly ran out of people to blame. It wasn’t his fault he liked the taste of silver spoons.

  The Scotch took its toll on his already-tired body. Fingers idle on the keyboard, he knew he should start researching ‘Sunnee’ to get a head start on tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow. For some reason, the plane took all day to get from California to Idaho. He wouldn’t get to Lewiston until 6:40 p.m. He’d have to get a motel room and get a fresh start on Thursday. Returning Saturday, that should be plenty of time before Adam and Beth showed up. They were probably still cowering in a closet somewhere.…

  Stumbling to his bedroom, he fell onto the bed. The combination of Scotch and fatigue put him to sleep within minutes.

  The alarm, which Lance didn’t remember setting, jolted him awake. Still numb and with a pounding headache, he showered but didn’t bother shaving. Throwing some clothes in a carry-on, he jammed his laptop in with the clothes. Not liking the look of his red-rimmed eyes, he figured he could sleep on the plane. He just hoped flying coach would be comfortable enough to allow it. Taking some cash out of the dwindling supply in his hidden wall safe, he stashed the gun inside before closing the thick door.

  During the hour-long drive to the airport, Lance tried to regain his anger and irritation. But he was just too tired. Probably having to fly coach will bring it back, he told himself with a ghost of a smile.

  Walking to his boarding gate, he was oblivious to the smiles that followed his every step. Had he been himself, he would have had plenty of company to pass the time while he waited for his flight.

  But he wasn’t himself. He had one goal in mind—find the treasure. He was tired beyond belief. And, he was miserable.

  After the tenth fruitless glance out the window at every passing car, Adam finally relaxed and concentrated on their search for ‘Sunnee.’ Adam was again going through the thick book he brought on Walt’s life while Beth researched on the computer. She found over 25,000 entries. Groaning, she dug in.

  She found the name associated with:

  1. a location in Thailand

  2. a type of Muslim

  3. part of a work by Alfred Lloyd Tennyson

  4. a girl’s name meaning warmth, strength, even temperament, born during summer

  5. an exotic plant,

  and,

  6. many, many different people from photographers to artists to classmates searching for others from their school.

  She decided to skip the links dealing with Muslims and the Qur’an since she knew Walt was not part of the Islam faith. Adam looked over when he heard her chuckling to herself, but didn’t want to break her concentration.

  Pulling up a few of the Thailand links, she found them to be too far-fetched. With a smile she asked Adam if he was interested in going to Thailand to investigate. She got a non-committal grunt as Adam was deep in his own thoughts. Quit goofing around and get back to work, she grinned to herself.

  The poem by Tennyson was interesting. But, other than the “sometimes my heart is like an island” clue they had solved, she didn’t consider Walt as very poetic. Artistic, yes. Driven, yes. Far-sighted, yes. But poetic? She didn’t think so.

  She gave a sigh that Tennyson hadn’t provided a clue, and started on the list of artists and photographers. Maybe she would find a link to Walt through their words or work and pulled up the first name on page three of the searches.

  Busy reading through the extensive work on Walt’s life and achievements, Adam hadn’t heard what Beth had asked. The book was over seven hundred pages, filled with references on just about everything involving Walt and his studios. That same book had helped when he and Lance had to go to St. Louis and Marceline. Of course, he had first checked the index to see if there was a listing for ‘Sunnee,’ but no such luck. He would have to do it the hard way—page by page.

  Margaret brought them lunch when they failed to come downstairs at noon. She was surprised it was so quiet in the study. Usually those two laughed and kidded around. Even more so when Lance had been involved, she sighed to herself.

  The part about Lance bothered her a lot. If there had ever been anyone born under a gilded star, it had to be Lance. She never heard a cross word from him. His manners were impeccable. He had the ‘look’ of money, but never flaunted it. If someone needed anything, Lance was the first one to provide it. Charming. Graceful. Handsome. No, this was very hard for Margaret to comprehend. Knowing Beth as well as she did, Margaret knew it was killing her. And Adam? Well, Adam made friends for life, choosing carefully and choosing well. With the exception of his dumb-as-a-brick mess-up with Beth, he kept his friends. Thank goodness that relationship seemed to be getting straightened out.

  Despite all her stalling, Margaret couldn’t see what they were working on. Knowing only that it had something to do with Disneyland, she couldn’t come up with anything that would be so important, so vital that it would be life-altering for someone like Lance. It just didn’t make sense. When she was politely thanked again for lunch, she took the hint and left them alone.

  “You have anything, Adam?” Beth sounded far away. Adam brought his word-weary eyes off the book and looked over at the desk, only to find the chair empty. She was stretched out on the sofa, her feet just inches from the chair in which he sat. He wondered how long she had been there.

  At his questioning look, Beth repeated her question, her voice sounding so tired. He shook his head. They had been working at it all day. “You?”

  She sighed. “Nope. But I did find some fascinating photos.”

  “Of Walt?”

  Adam sounded so hopeful she was sorry she brought it up. “No, sorry. Just a photographer with that name. She does excellent work. People, animals, landscapes. A little bit of everything. Interesting website.”

  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” His comment came out drier than he probably intended.

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “Hey, we’ve been at it all day! I’m on page twenty-one of the search engine, I’ll have you know. 25,000 entries, Adam! 25,000 entries for ‘Sunnee.’ My eyes are starting to cross.”

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry.” Instantly remorseful, he rubbed a hand over his face. “I haven’t found any reference at all. Lots of interesting facts I’l
l probably need for my next Mouse Adventure…if I ever do another race, but nothing we need now.”

  “Who’ll be your partner this fall…if you do it again?”

  Adam was about to automatically say “Lance” since they had run the last four together. But, unless some miracle happened, it didn’t look like that would be the case ever again. He realized how upset he was over the loss of his friend. Having Beth scoot over on the sofa, he lay down next to her. It felt good to relax as she immediately curled into his side and put her head on his chest. Silently stroking her hair, they both thought about Lance.

  “Where do you think he is by now?”

  Adam gave the start of a chuckle. The situation with Lance was both funny and sad. “Probably half way to Idaho. When he didn’t turn up here, I figured he would head there.”

  Beth thought that was probably true. “You don’t think he researched it first like we’re doing?”

  “I don’t know. If he did, he wouldn’t be on his way to Idaho.” He moved his hand to stroke her back. “That was pretty quick thinking in the cave. How did you remember Lillian was born there?”

  “You aren’t the only one who knows Disney trivia.” The rubbing on her back felt good. She would fall asleep if she stopped talking. “It just popped in my head. I wasn’t sure if he would buy it. He seemed so….I guess desperate is the best word I can come up with.” She broke off a minute. “Adam? Do you think he would really shoot us?” That part had really scared her.

  He held her closer. When Lance had fired that first shot at the door, he really did think it was possible. Now, with time and distance, he wasn’t sure. He hoped not. “I don’t think so, sweetie. He had to know, deep down somewhere, we’re his friends. I don’t think so,” he repeated quietly and hoped he was right.

  They were silent and enjoyed the warmth of contact and the respite from their work. John came in a few minutes later.

  “So, this is how the younger generation gets work done. No wonder the country is going to….”

  “Dad!” Adam broke in. “Sheesh. We’re just taking a break.” Beth struggled to sit up but he wouldn’t let her so she pulled a hair out of the nape of his neck. “Ouch! Fine,” and released her. She seemed embarrassed to be caught in that position by his father—who actually thought it was cute.

  “You two ready to come to dinner?” John was amused by Beth’s discomfiture and Adam rubbing his sore neck.

  “Dinner? We just had lunch.” Adam then looked over at the clock on the wall. “Oh, man, its 7:00? How did that happen? Beth, are you hungry?”

  She was already out the door to go help Margaret.

  “You two find anything besides time to snuggle?” John looked extremely pleased with himself as he goaded his son.

  “Nothing wrong with a good snuggle.” Adam refused to be baited. He knew his dad adored Beth. “And, no, we haven’t found anything yet. How is Scott doing with the Anderson project?”

  They walked down the stairs towards the dining room. “It’s fine. I took care of your miscalculation in the French doors. No big deal.”

  “Miscalculation! What miscalculation….”

  His mom immediately cut Adam off. “No work arguments at my dinner table. I had enough of that for twenty years.”

  John threw a smug smile at Adam and carved a slice off the roast. Adam let him have his moment. Dinner wouldn’t last forever.

  Adam was dreaming of a tropical paradise and an umbrella drink sang him a song. He didn’t know the song but was fascinated by the drink. “Adam? Adam?” He smiled in his sleep as Beth entered his dream and danced with the umbrella. Then the umbrella shoved him.…

  “Adam! Wake up! I found it!” Beth shoved him again and he bolted upright, instantly awake. The blanket fell off his bare chest.

  “What? Beth?” He suddenly smiled, realizing she was in his bedroom. “Is this invitation number three? You know, third time is a charm…,” he broke off being cute by her hands-on-her-hips stance, not the inviting pose he had in mind.

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “I’m a guy.”

  “Yes, you are and you’re really good at it.” She slapped his hand away as he reached for her. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I couldn’t hear you over the singing drink.… Never mind. What did you say?”

  “I said I found it! I found Sunnee.”

  He glanced at the clock beside his bed. It was 2 a.m. “What’re you doing up? I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

  “I did but couldn’t sleep. Aren’t you coming?”

  He could tell she was really excited as he threw back the covers.

  She glanced down. “You’d better put on a robe, Adam. This is your parent’s house.”

  “Fine.” With a sigh, he grabbed his jeans and tugged them over his sagging boxers. “What did you find?”

  She took his hand and pulled him into Margaret’s office, pointing at the screen as he sat down to read. “You found it! I don’t believe it. Who would have thought of something like that! This is.… This is…,” he broke off, sitting back in the chair when his excitement suddenly changed into confusion. “This is really odd. Now what do we do?”

  Beth just shook her head slowly side to side, stuck on that point too. She had found was that Sunnee was.…

  The family dog.

  1927

  The Tudor-style house on Lyric Avenue was finished. He had chosen the Silver Lake District right next to the Los Feliz hills. It wasn’t a huge house, but it was home, their first real house. Now he wanted a dog.

  He was gone a lot, working late at the nearby studio—that was certainly nothing new. Lillian’s mother moved in with them to help ward off the loneliness Lillian faced with his long hours. Sometimes he would be gone all night, working so late it was easier to sleep at the studio. He sympathized with Lillian’s feelings, but work was work.

  As the holiday season approached, he prodded her about getting a dog. However, Lillian would have none of it. A dog in her new house? Dog hair all over, the mess, the dog smells. Still, Walt kept after her. He loved dogs and finally asked her, if she had to choose, what kind would she want? It came up that chow dogs didn’t shed, had no fleas and very little odor. If she had to choose, it would probably be a dog like that.

  The very next day Walt went to a kennel and found a chow pup about eight weeks old. He would leave it in the kennel since it was still about a month before Christmas. The day before Christmas, he brought the dog over to Roy’s house next door. Finding a big hatbox, he decorated it with a fancy ribbon.

  The family was all together and the women were busy in the kitchen. Walt had his niece bring in the big, wiggling hatbox and put it, unnoticed, under the tree. When the niece began to hand out the presents, she placed the large box in her aunt’s lap.

  The reaction was not the one he had hoped for. Lillian didn’t like anybody—not even Walt—picking out her hats for her. “Oh, you didn’t!” Shaking her head, she started undoing the huge ribbon on top. When the box jumped in her lap, she gave a little shriek. But when she opened it, a fuzzy, black-nosed face peeped out. It was love at first sight. The imagined hat fiasco was forgotten.

  That scene was so special to Walt that, decades later in 1955, the scene was used in the animated feature Lady and the Tramp.

  The dog became a constant companion. When the family went out for ice cream, Walt would get one for the dog and feed it to her on the sidewalk outside. They named her

  Sunnee.

  2002

  Lance drove through the green rolling hills of the Nez Perce reservation. The reservation sat on 770,000 acres of prairies, rivers and canyons with the Clearwater River cutting through the land. He had learned that much during a quick look-through in a guidebook at the airport the night before. It wasn’t much info, he reminded to himself, certainly different than the trips he had taken with Adam. Because each clue was subject to subterfuge, subtlety, and obscure references, he and Adam would have had pages of not
es by now; streets, landmarks, buildings, people. This time, though, he only had a name and a vague location. He should have forced Beth…. He rolled down the window of his rental for two reasons: To attempt to alleviate a strong smell of cigarettes from a previous driver, and to let the fresh air blow over his flushed face. With that warm summer breeze, he tried to make himself forget his friends—his former friends, he amended. He was in control now. He could do this without their help. He was as competent as they were.

  He was alone.

  It wasn’t a good feeling for someone as gregarious as Lance. His sharp anger hadn’t returned—try as he might. If it flowed through him, perhaps it might justify his actions. Crammed in coach on the airplane, having to sleep in a dingy motel room, watery scrambled eggs and cold toast for breakfast, given a piece of junk car to drive—nothing worked to refuel his anger.

  It was fifty miles to the reservation headquarters and he could see mile after mile of a waving blue horizon. The blue shimmer was the Camas flower with its vivid blue spiky petals on a green stalk dancing in the breeze that swept through the plains. The bulb had been a food staple and even Lewis and Clark had eaten it when they had passed through. Beautiful sight, thought Lance.

  Pulling into a well-kept parking lot, he got out into the heat of the day. There were a few other cars at the historical museum. Walking into the wooden building, he glanced at the artifacts that depicted the history of the Nez Perce. Under normal circumstances he would have loved to study them more closely. But these weren’t normal circumstances. He had to find this ‘Sunnee’ person and get the answer to the clue.

  Lance was greeted warmly by the caretaker whose nametag identified him as ‘volunteer Mitch Longtree.’ After Mitch asked if there was some question he could answer, Lance smiled at him with a self-deprecating grin that opened more doors than a master key. Lance then explained he was searching for a person who might have been important about forty years ago. He wondered if they could possibly help him search records, or if they knew of a great chief named Sunnee. He even tried different pronunciations of the word: Soon’ee, or Sunny, or Sun Nee’.