by Dixon, Jeff
“The sheriff’s department was just here. We couldn’t find anyone who has seen Farren for the last three days. Since he doesn’t have any family locally and he has never just missed work or meetings without checking in, this is serious.”
“I agree, it is serious.” Worry knotted Hawk’s stomach.
“I wanted to give you a heads-up that I gave them your number and told them who you are.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I hope that’s okay. They wanted to know who his friends were and who he might have talked to before he disappeared. You’re one of his best friends and you were one of the last appointments he had on his calendar when he met with you and your staff.”
“Sure, that only makes sense.” He was glad the late-night appointment they’d had was apparently not on Farren’s calendar. “Not a problem at all. Did they say they would be coming by?”
“I don’t know. They were here for well over an hour getting information. I’m sure we’ll be seeing them again. I hope they find something out soon.”
“Me too.”
“Hawk, do you think something bad has happened to him?”
Hawk paused, thinking back to the night at Gamble Place. He had initially figured the person who had chased him off the grounds was a security guard. While that still made sense, the car he’d passed as he made his escape did not fit into the scenario.
“Hawk, are you there?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, sorry, I’m concerned like you are. If there is anything I can do to help, you know I will.”
“I know you will. I was wondering if you could . . .”
“What is it Nancy? If I could . . . what?”
“I was thinking that maybe you could pray for Farren,” she said almost apologetically.
“I promise you I already have been. And I have been praying for you as well.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. Her voice was choked with emotion. “Bye.”
The connection ended and Hawk hung up the phone. If indeed the sheriff’s department did come, he’d have to let them know about the after-hours trip to Gamble Place and the Dwarf’s Cottage. If his disappearance was somehow related to the events from that night and the key to the kingdom, then Hawk must keep chasing the mystery. Perhaps if he could figure out what Rales had been trying to tell him, he might be able to find out where Farren had gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
Day Five
Afternoon
THE DECISION HAD BEEN MADE unconsciously.
The grumbling sounds emerging from Hawk’s stomach reminded him he had worked straight through lunch. Over the last couple of hours he had managed to return e-mail correspondence, return a list of phone calls, answer a handful of letters, and clear out the bulk of the things on his calendar for the next few days.
His plan was unfolding similarly to his plan from the night before: a little action, mixed with a smidgeon of hope, and trust that he could make creative decisions on the fly.
The last thing he did was to leave brief voice mails for Juliette, Jonathan, and Shep on their office extensions asking them to hold down the fort because he was going to be “out” more than he would be “in” for the next day or so. He kept the message vague, telling them to call his cell phone if they needed him.
Hesitating a moment, he looked at Mickey sitting on his desk. Hawk was counting on some of his conclusions being correct. If they were, the Pal Mickey in his possession was a clue that Farren had placed for him alone to find. His limited understanding of the technology used caused him to summarize that either the system within his Mickey was loaded with very specific information Farren wanted him to have, or there was a unique set of emitters designed to send information to this unit exclusively. Somewhere in this complex combination of thought, Hawk decided the transponder system for his Pal Mickey was the best source to find more information. The data on the Web sites he’d researched clearly instructed him on how the miniature tour guide would work the best.
Hawk opened up his desk drawer and rifled through the jumbled mess inside. Rummaging through the clutter he found was he was looking for, a Velcro strap. The strap was intended to be used to hold together a cluster of computer cables, but he had a different use for it in mind. Grabbing the stuffed doll he spun it around, found the clip designed to attach to a belt or bag and went to work. In a moment he had successfully added Velcro reinforcement to the clip just in case he might need it. Now as he attached it to the waistband of his jeans, he could ensure its staying in place in an emergency with the Velcro wrapped around a belt loop.
He exited his office and climbed into his car to begin his journey back to Disney World. Since the key and the mouse had been found at the Disney Hollywood Studios, this would be the place to start. On the short drive to the park he was counting on his techno-tour guide to reset and update itself as he entered the park. If it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what his next step would be. He turned his car into the entrance and traveled with no other traffic as he approached the attendant distributing parking passes. When he flashed his annual pass, the attendant smiled and waved him through once again into the parking area. Following directions given by a series of waving arms and pointing fingers, he parked his car and made his way to the waiting zone for the next courtesy tram. Momentarily the late afternoon arrivals hoisted themselves aboard the rolling caterpillar-like transportation vehicle and listened as a host reminded them where they were parked and what time the Studios closed. Hawk leaned his head back and with eyes closed offered up a silent prayer that what he was doing was going to work and that he would have the wisdom to know what to do next. The tram arrived at the main gate and he exited with the other guests toward the entrance. Picking out the shortest line, he inserted his pass and pressed his finger on the biometric sensor. His fingerprint was analyzed and verified. The cast member at the gate handed him back his pass and he pushed through the turnstile.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
Day Five
Afternoon
IMMEDIATELY HAWK FELT A VIBRATION against his hip and heard a cartoon voice say, “Ha-ha!” Based upon his research he knew that Pal Mickey should have just reset itself as he entered the theme park. With his right hand he unclasped Mickey from the belt loop and held him up by his right ear. Squeezing the mouse, he listened to the information Mickey had to share.
“Welcome back to the Disney Hollywood Studios, Hawk.”
Once again, although he was expecting it, the personalized greeting from the interactive tour guide unnerved him a little. Before he thought too much about this, the stuffed animal vibrated and laughed again. “Ha-ha!” Hawk tightened his grip on the soft belly and listened.
“Oscar’s Super Service Station is the only gas station in the Studios . . . but you can’t get gasoline here, pal. Oscar’s is named for the statue given out at the exciting Academy Awards Ceremony each year. Mr. Disney got a very special Oscar for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. I love that movie, don’t you?”
It had been a long time since Hawk had watched the movie, but over the last few days he had a growing curiosity about it. The night at the Dwarf’s Cottage, as Farren had told him about how the movie had inspired Alfred Nippert, he’d decided he would need to watch the film again. The desk his key to the kingdom had opened was once used to display the special Oscar that Disney had been awarded. Now the name of the movie had been mentioned again. In all that he had learned from Farren about the art of storytelling, he was certain the repetition was not an accident. If this was some sort of story he was supposed to be hearing—and understanding—the mention of Snow White again was not a coincidence. He had no idea what it meant, but knew it was something of importance. Looking absently toward Oscar’s Super Service Station, Hawk waited for another message, but the mouse was silent. Securing it back on his hip, he moved down Hollywood Boulevard toward the giant Sorcerer’s Hat. The crowd flow in this area of the park was light and Hawk made his way along the
street alone in a bubble of space between himself and other tourists. The sun was still bright and he felt the blazing heat on his face. The warmth wrapped him in a glow of confidence and excitement as he anticipated what might happen next.
The first intersection on the main street finds Vine Street meeting Hollywood Boulevard. He paused on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, uncertain whether he should take a left along Vine Street or remain on his present course. The vibration on his hip, accompanied by the welcomed “Ha-ha” was about to make Hawk’s decision for him. Freeing Mickey from his resting place, he raised him up to his ear.
“Hooray for Hollywood! This is a place where people can dream, wonder, and imagine. We have a lot to do, pal; we have to find the place where it all began. Hollywood and Vine is the perfect spot to do a little valiant detective work for ourselves.”
Hawk stood looking at the mouse, waiting for him to say something else. The ensuing silence convinced him there was nothing else to hear. Standing in the middle of the street at Hollywood and Vine, Hawk slowly and meticulously spun in place, taking in his surroundings. If he had just been given a clue, it was one without much detail. Not knowing what he was searching for, he tried to absorb everything. He looked at the buildings, studied the signage, and even looked at the billboards creating the illusion that you had stepped into a Hollywood that had never really existed but was forever alive in the imagination of all who had been fascinated by the movie industry.
Street actors suddenly emerged on the street. Hawk was in the way as the actors began to engage a gathering crowd in an audience-participation event on the corner. Forced across the street, he moved away from the activity toward a less congested area. His mind whirring, he decided to buy a frozen shaved ice cola from Peevy’s Polar Pipeline, the street kiosk set up in front of the Cosmetic Dentistry shop. We have to find the place where it all began. Drawing in a mouthful of the frozen concoction too fast sent a rush of pain into his brain. He closed one eye and cocked his head, waiting out the brain freeze. Out of his one opened eye he saw a door next to the kiosk which read, Holly-Vermont Reality Company. There was something about the name that he recognized; it was significant in some way. He allowed his eyes to glance up the side of the building. His gaze stopped at a sign in the second-floor window: Office Space For Rent. Suddenly his thoughts locked into place, sending another rush through his brain. This time it wasn’t pain, but clarity. Standing under the street sign reading Keystone Street and Echo Park Drive, he remembered. Walt and Roy Disney had started their business in a garage until they saved enough money to rent their own studio space. They rented a second floor office where they opened their studio. It was right above the Holly-Vermont Reality Company. Their first studio was a humble start, to say the least, but here in the Studios was a humble tribute to those beginnings. The place where it all began.
Stepping up on the curb he turned away from the previously unnoticed tribute back toward the direction from which he had come. Facing a restaurant now in front of him, he smiled. He made the short walk to stand directly in front of the building and studied it. The sign supported above the covered entrance featured an oversized street sign with the names Hollywood and Vine imprinted on each cross piece. The street sign was flanked by lit neon stars and surrounded by a silver oval highlighted with more neon. Wrapping the ledge of the entrance the words “Where Famous Stars Dine” glowed in blue neon to greet the diners. Since he had found the place where it all began, he was certain this must be the perfect spot the plush pal had mentioned. Hawk noticed something else barely visible from his sight line. Moving to his left he positioned himself where he could get a better view. Emblazoned on the second story window just to the left of the marquee entrance were the words:
Eddie Valiant
Private Investigations
All Crimes
All Surveillance
Missing Persons
The stuffed tour guide had said to do some valiant detective work. The window sign, which was a tribute to the detective from the film Who Framed Roger Rabbit? verified he was on the right track. Immediately the preacher moved toward the entrance of the appropriately named Hollywood & Vine. At the front door a hostess was waiting behind a check-in station.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Actually I don’t,” Hawk replied. “But I’m only a party of one, do I have to have one?”
“I’m sorry, but we’re booked solid for the rest of the day,” the hostess said apologetically.
Hawk bowed his head and tried to feign disappointment.
“Since I can’t eat, would it be all right if I just walked inside and took a look at the restaurant? I’m intrigued by the detail used in decorating around here.”
Eager to please a guest, the cast member enthusiastically agreed, “Sure, that would be fine. Go right on in and feel free to look.”
“Great, thanks,” said Hawk as he moved into the restaurant. “I promise not to harass the diners,” he added with a smile.
Stepping inside he vaguely recalled having eaten there at some point in the past. The buffet-style dining area was operating at near capacity. Because of a steady shuffle of people moving from their seats to the buffet line, there was greater activity in this restaurant than the others. This ebb and flow of motion allowed Hawk to move about without being in anyone’s way. Looking to his right he saw giant painted murals covering the far wall. Gathering his perspective, he remembered that this restaurant connected to the 50s Prime Time Café through a series of corridors that provided bathroom facilities for both eating establishments. No detail of the murals stood out as valuable information to him. Spinning on his heel he looked toward the opposite end of the restaurant and saw another mural stretching across the length of the far wall. He strode across the room, noticing the outside of the mural was a map painted to include famous Hollywood landmarks. These landmarks were cartoon style drawings of buildings that were a part of the history of Tinseltown. The center of the mural was a full color painting of the famous Carthay Circle Theatre. Painted against a nighttime sky, the blackness was broken by radiating beams from floodlights capturing the excitement of an opening night. Just as he was glancing away, something drew his eyes back.
On the marquee of the theatre in the mural the featured film was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Hawk instantly knew this was what he was looking for. The longer he stared, the more the theatre itself became surprisingly familiar to him. He remembered from his knowledge of Disney Trivia that Snow White had originally premiered at the Carthay Circle Theatre.
Like a fog lifting on a lazy sunny morning he knew he had seen the theatre before. Never having been there in person it must mean that he had seen something similar to it. Locking the image in his mind, he retreated and retraced his path to the door of the restaurant.
He wandered back toward Hollywood Boulevard. The street actors were no longer performing and the crowd had dispersed. Turning left on the corner he angled his way across the main street of the theme park until he came to the next street corner. He stood on the edge of the Studios version of Sunset Boulevard. The resolve Hawk had exited Hollywood & Vine with faded as he stood looking down the street. Glancing at the mouse on his hip, he waited, trying to will the techo-guide to speak. No vibration. The silence let him know it was up to him to figure out what to do next.
In the perfect place, the painting of the Carthay Circle Theatre had reminded him of a building he had seen. Could it be on this street? Much of the architectural work was patterned from classic Hollywood landmarks and design. One of the things Hawk had been fascinated by in his love for all things Disney was the amazing attention to detail hidden in plain view throughout the Walt Disney World Resort. Choosing to move straight down the middle of the street, he studied the buildings closely, straining to remember what had sparked the familiarity as he looked at the mural.
His walk slowed as he moved into the next block of buildings. A familiar design emerged from the architecture, and a grin brok
e out across his face. The building looming before him was unmistakably patterned after the theatre painted into the mural at Hollywood & Vine. The ornate sign above the entrance to the building confirmed this building was patterned after the very same theatre that Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs premiered in so many years ago. The sign read Carthay Circle. Inside the facade of the classic theatre was the Once Upon A Time character shop featuring clothing and items adorned with favorite Disney characters. His pace quickened as he moved toward the entrance.
“Ha-ha.”
Hawk stopped short.
His pulse quickened. He knew Pal Mickey was going to confirm his success. Quickly releasing his speaking stuffed companion, he held the mouse to his ear and listened eagerly.
“Gosh pal, you’re doing swell! The Carthay Circle Theatre was an important place for Mr. Disney. Once things got started here, there was no turning back! Now don’t be scared, but if you need to you can always call for help! Be careful, pal!”
Facing the theatre facade he replayed the message again by pressing the little stuffed hand. No turning back . . . don’t be scared. He was commited to this adventure no matter what. But who was he supposed to call for help?
With a few quick steps he was inside the store. Moving through the displays he saw nothing out of the ordinary inside the Once Upon A Time shop except for some vintage pictures of Walt Disney at the premier of Snow White displayed for viewing, not purchasing. The back of the shop held an exit onto Highland Street, which connected to Sunset Boulevard. Leaving the shop through this back exit, he briskly rounded the corner and cut back to his left. He once again found himself at the front entrance to the shop. Knowing he’d missed something, but not sure what, he moved back down Highland Street to reenter shop and retrace his steps. His peripheral range of sight noticed something just as he was about to enter the door. He stopped and took three steps backward without turning around. Affixed to the wall of the theatre, just to the right of the back door, was a box. It appeared to be vintage and right in place in the bygone era of greatness for the building. It was a police telegraph box. Painted-black steel contained the call apparatus used to get in touch with law enforcement in the case of emergency. This was certainly a way to call for help. He needed help figuring out what to do next; this call box had to be what his talking tour guide had wanted him to find.
