by David Smith
However, looking through the wallet at Disneyland was difficult as there was no place to find that they could truly be alone and where there would be enough light to see clearly. Instead, they decided to wait until they could look at it in Blain’s car or in the lobby of Malaysia’s hotel after they left the Park.
With a quiet air of mystique about him, Blain purposefully led Malaysia all the way to the back of the ship where there were benches that faced the rear or stern of the ship, overlooking the large paddlewheel that rotated slowly in the dark, murky waters below. Blain sat on the bench, Malaysia stood next to the edge of the bench where Blain sat, to his right, looking out over the back of the big boat.
After a few minutes, the Mark Twain’s distinctive steam whistle blew, one long toot followed by a short one, and then the ship started to back up, allowing the mooring lines to be loosened and unhooked from the metal cleats attached on the edge of the dock. A moment later, the big paddlewheel reversed again and the ship started forward, slowly moving out from the dock and towards the center of the river where the unseen track that ran along the bottom of the river guided the large boat through the narrow river channel as if it could actually be steered. Dixieland Jazz music could be heard softly emanating from various speakers on the boat. Similar to the jazz band that she had listened to the day before with her sister outside the French Market, Malaysia tapped her fingers on the rail to the lively beat.
The two were quiet for one of the first times since they had been at Disneyland. Against the night-lighted New Orleans Square, Blain looked over at Malaysia, seeing her figure silhouetted against the backdrop of the area. Petite and curvy, Blain felt the natural allure of seeing her outline contrasted against the illumination of the area beyond the ship. He wanted to reach out and hold Missy, feel the curves of her waist, the texture of her skin against his fingers. Yet, he also felt a certain reservation; his goal was to treat her to a magical day at the magical park…not treat himself to her attractive temptations.
As the ship sailed out parallel to the seawall that lined Frontierland and New Orleans Square, the view from the top deck—the panorama offered of the lighted buildings and trees in the stretch—was spectacular.
“This is a great view,” Malaysia said, looking past the entrance to Pirates of the Caribbean then over at the stately Haunted Mansion as the steamship moved past Fowler’s Harbor where the other large ship, the three-mast sailing vessel, Columbia, was docked for the night. After passing the now-closed canoe dock, the ship gradually turned right and headed into a very dark part of the river and the mysterious uninhabited side of Tom Sawyer Island. Malaysia continued standing at the rail looking out, her arms spread, and her hands gripping the lacquered wood rail. Her stance was striking and not lost on Blain who watched her simply standing there. He continued finding more interest in her figure than anything else. Her legs were shapely, her curves fitting snugly in the white shorts she wore. Her narrow waist was accented by the short, cropped denim jacket she had put on earlier; the warm night air barely warranted the jacket, but there was enough of a breeze to make it more comfortable to wear than to carry.
“I don’t get it. It is so dark out here, you can hardly see anything,” she said, looking to her right at the heavily foliated area that ran along the river. “Hey, isn’t that the area where we took the path to the Indian Village?” Malaysia asked, pointing into the dark embankment, and then looking to her left at Blain.
“You have a good memory,” Blain said. He turned his shoulders and head, looking toward the front of the ship then looked at his watch. “In about five minutes, I think you will have a different perspective on our little trip.”
The Mark Twain reached the old Indian Village, moving slowly to the right around another bend in the river. Suddenly, there was a different sound from the paddlewheel. Malaysia, who had finally sat down next to Blain, stood back up and looked over the rail and said, “Uh, Blain, the wheel is spinning the other way. Are we going to go backwards?”
Blain stood up next to her at the rail, glancing down at the reversed paddle wheel as it churned the river, slowing the big ship.
“No, we are just stopping.”
“Stopping? Why?” Malaysia turned around and leaned back against the rail; her arms again spread apart, her hands holding the rail, looking over at Blain, expecting to hear his response.
Blain just reached out to her face, caressing her cheek and whispered, “Watch.” For a moment, Blain just looked at Malaysia leaning on the rail. She then followed his instructions and turned back around, looking out into the darkness behind the ship, scanning the trees, rocks, sky for something, anything. She didn’t have any idea what she was supposed to be looking for.
“Blain, there is absolutely nothing here to see,” Malaysia said a little exasperated as she turned back towards him. Blain raised his hand and put his index finger to her lips.
“Shhh,” he whispered again, letting his finger linger against her lips.
Suddenly, a deep-sounding “thump” could be heard just beyond the pine trees back behind the Indian Village. It sounded like a muffled cannon being shot.
“What was that?” Malaysia asked, turning quickly around, trying to see where the sound came from. Before Blain could respond, the lights on the Mark Twain dimmed just as a huge, bright white fireworks rocket exploded in the sky directly over their heads. Another couple thumps and several more exploding rockets filled the night time sky with cascading lights filled with color.
There were ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from nearly everyone on the ship, including Malaysia. People on the lower decks came out to the portside rails to watch the show.
“OH MY!” Malaysia said, her eyes wide, taking in the spectacular show. Fireworks of all colors, shapes and sizes lit up the sky in a dazzling display; the contrasting darkness of the backside of the river and island made the display that much more spectacular. In fact, the depth of darkness and the ship sitting in the middle of the uninhabited river made the fireworks show seem to be a performance just for those on the ship. It was truly an intimate setting for everyone on board.
“Now THIS,” Blain said, slipping his arm around Malaysia’s waist. “…is my surprise.”
Malaysia, with her eyes turned upward, put her hands to her mouth, in total awe of the show. She had never seen fireworks so close in such a unique location. Halfway through, Malaysia, without even thinking, put her arm around Blain.
They watched the twelve-minute show at the back rail of the Mark Twain. Except for the fireworks, the setting of them standing at the stern of the ship reminded Blain of the movie Titanic, thankfully minus the icy, distressing demise of the liner.
There was a ‘Grand Finale’ where dozens of rockets ignited the sky in unison, in a roaring, luminous display of momentary colorful brilliance.
The people on board began clapping as the last of the rockets twinkled out. The lights on board the Mark Twain brightened back up to normal levels and the big paddlewheel began rotating, moving the large ship forward.
“So, you liked my surprise?” Blain asked, turning to face Malaysia. His hands were holding her waist; Blain felt the softness of her skin at her waist just above the top of her shorts with his fingers.
“I love fireworks,” Malaysia said softly. In the mood-lighting of the ship, Blain could see her eyes were watery.
“Are you okay?” Blain asked using his hand to brush aside her dark hair from the side of her face. His hand lingered in Malaysia’s hair, his fingers grazing along her neck just below her ear. Blain felt Malaysia shudder; he watched her eyes close for a brief moment.
“I enjoyed those fireworks…But,” Malaysia said opening her eyes then paused, looking into Blain’s eyes.
“But…?” Blain whispered.
“But, I like these fireworks better,” she said as she put her hands on his face and guided his lips to hers. She felt her own body tremble again; a deep hunger stirred within her core. Malaysia felt her nerves being stoked by a gro
wing passion upon the touch of her lips to his, kissing Blain for the first time.
It took Blain but a second to overcome his surprise. He kissed her back with his own pent-up passion and emotional warmth. Hungry mouths found each other; theirs was a perfect fit. Malaysia felt the firm gentleness of Blain’s lips pressing, exploring, and sharing. Clutching her with tender strength, Blain held the length of her body against him. They passionately and ardently held each other’s lips. Malaysia ran her hand up the back of Blain’s head, her fingers unconsciously kneading and grasping at his hair.
It was at least a minute before they moved their heads back from each other. For that minute, the world didn’t exist; they were completely unaware of anyone near them. They cared nothing about the moving ship they were on or the darkness around them or that they were at Disneyland.
Blain moved his hands to her face, holding her with a tender touch.
“I didn’t expect this, Missy,” Blain said.
“Funny…neither did I,” Malaysia said, moving her hand to Blain’s chest, caressing him. “But, I have a confession: I’ve been thinking about this since this early morning,” Malaysia said.
Blain moved his lips to hers and kissed her again, wanting to take in the essence of everything about kissing her. Her subtle fragrance, the fullness of her lips, the taste and shape of her mouth.
“You take my breath away,” Blain whispered a moment later, feeling his chest tighten.
Malaysia didn’t respond with words. She simply moved into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, holding him, feeling his heartbeat against her face.
Malaysia felt something inside her that she had never felt before.
When the boat returned to the dock, the relative brightness of the landing area seemed like being in Las Vegas after the near-darkness that enveloped the ship for most of its journey. Holding hands, Blain and Malaysia moved down the steps to the bottom deck and then waited their turn to step off the gangplank they had first used to board the ship. They let their hips brush against each other, moving with the other guests through the narrow exit.
“Did you and your sister go on Big Thunder Mountain yesterday?” Blain asked as they walked through the exit gate to the left of the Mark Twain landing pavilion.
“I don’t think so. What is it?”
“It’s that, right there,” Blain said, pointing to the left where the large, orange mountainous rollercoaster, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, was seen. A train just appeared to come out of the mountain, careening around and around a central butte. Simulated sounds of screeching wheels on the track could be heard among the screams of excitement by the riders on board.
“Another roller coaster?” Malaysia asked, surprised there was one more in the Park, one that neither she nor Laura had seen the day before. She didn’t think they had even come around to this side of the Park yesterday.
“Oh, you don’t like roller coasters?”
“No, I love them! Can we go on it?” Malaysia said, quickly, tugging on Blain’s hand with both of hers.
Blain said, “Follow me!”
Standing in line for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Blain and Malaysia enjoyed each other’s company in a completely new and exciting manner than earlier in the day. While they chatted more and more about things they had done, things they looked forward to doing, and things that they had in common, they never let go of each other’s hand except to get into the train at the loading station.
Once on the wild ride, they held the lap bar to keep from sliding around on the seat as the run-away train went through a configuration of turns, climbs and sudden drops, all the while seeing fleeting scenes of goats chewing sticks of dynamite, tree-hanging possums, and other creatures that were visible along the route for those who didn’t close their eyes.
Malaysia was laughing, enjoying the ride, long after as the two exited the attraction and walked back through Frontierland. For her, everything took on a heightened sense of awareness now. She was feeling things, emotional and physical things that she understood but didn’t know that she could feel them to this degree. There was a restless desire within her but a sense of happiness that was so acute. Malaysia found simply holding Blain’s hand as they strolled through Frontierland a delight.
“I’ve got to use the restroom,” Blain said, pointing towards the facilities that were between Frontierland and Adventureland near the entrance to the Main Street Hub. “Will you be okay if I leave you here for a few minutes?”
“Go ahead,” Malaysia said. “I need to call my folks and check in, anyway.
“Sounds good. Be right back.”
“I kissed him, Laura,” Malaysia whispered excitedly into the phone. Malaysia sat on a contoured seat built into the planter that was outside the restroom facilities.
“You didn’t!” Laura whispered back. Genevieve was in the room with her at the moment. Laura then whispered, “Well, how was it?”
“Oh Laura. I’ll tell you about it later. Let me just say what a nice guy Blain is.”
“Well, I knew that, Mal. Otherwise I would never have let you go to Disneyland alone with him.”
Malaysia knew that too. “Well, I have to say, thank you. I’ve not had this much fun since…forever! Oh, here he comes. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Okay Mal. Please don’t do anything foolish.”
“Yes Mom!”
Blain and Malaysia walked across the Hub and through Tomorrowland. They went on the Buzz Lightyear attraction which Malaysia found incredibly fun. The unique ride featured each rider with a laser gun and targets that were abundantly depicted in scenes that were from the popular Pixar/Disney Toy Story movie. In fact, the two ended up with tie scores using the laser guns.
After the Buzz Lightyear ride, they walked to the Tomorrowland Terrace where one of the talented Disneyland dance bands was playing on the stage that rose up from underground.
“That has to be one of the coolest stages I’ve ever seen!” Malaysia commented when they saw the stage rise up from below an exotic-looking planter. The five piece band started playing a classic dance song Free Ride by Edgar Winter.
“Hey, do you like to dance?” Blain asked, as they watched a number of people moving onto the tiled dance floor.
“Sure!” Malaysia said, looking forward to the opportunity. They moved through the other people who were listening to the band and they found a spot on the dance floor. They danced, laughing, losing themselves among the throng of other dancers.
After a couple songs, they vacated the dance floor, making room for others.
“That was great!” Malaysia said catching her breath. She had a strange gleam in her eyes.
“What is it, Missy?” Blain asked, smiling at her but wondering why she was looking so animated, so amused.
“I certainly didn’t come to Disneyland expecting to dance!” Malaysia said, still almost panting. They had found a spot away from the main crowd. Malaysia then looked at Blain with an almost curious expression. “And I didn’t expect to find someone—well, anyone—like you, at Disneyland or anywhere else.” She paused and then added, “And I certainly didn’t expect to be doing this,” she leaned up to Blain and kissed him hard.
After they stopped, Blain said, “So I take it you are enjoying Disneyland?” He linked his fingers within hers.
Malaysia smiled broadly. “I now believe that this truly is a ‘magic kingdom,’”
Blain smiled. “Well said, Missy. You could write greeting cards or love songs.”
Malaysia smiled at that. “Maybe I will.”
CHAPTER 23
Stymied
Tuesday, December 20th 1966
4:30pm
There was no mention in the papers or on television news reports about the missing money from Disneyland. Wolf and the Blond-Haired Man contained the information, reporting to cast members and some investigating reporters that the so-called loss was a clerical error and not a theft as had been originally assumed. News would leak out anyway, as some acco
untant who remained anonymous had contacted the local newspaper, spilling the beans. While the report was published, Disneyland officials said that they had no comment on the news.
The report on Nathan Duncan was far more involved…and equally deceiving. The official release to the news reporters covering the “accident” was that Nathan had been working on trimming the encroaching trees and foliage that was infringing on the Monorail path. Nathan had been working on a tall ladder that was perched against the outer perimeter fence, had lost his balance and fell against the monorail track and coming in contact with the high-voltage regulator lines that powered the electric motors on each monorail. Grabbing the bars as an instinct, the 600 volts immediately passed through Nathan’s heart. And, even though he was pronounced dead at 12:17 on the afternoon of December fifteenth, Nathan Duncan was technically dead before he ever hit the ground that day.
It was also reported that he had not been wearing his safety harness that is required of all employees who use tall ladders while working. What had not been reported was that there was no ladder anywhere in the vicinity of where Nathan Duncan had been electrocuted.
Also, there were reports of someone matching the description of Nathan Duncan, running through the Park with several security guards giving chase. Those reports also coincided with the idea that perhaps Nathan Duncan had something to do with the unauthenticated reports of the stolen money.
“Why else would he have been seen running?” one interviewed cast member, who also remained anonymous, was reported having said. Eventually, the news would die down, especially with the world mourning the death of Walt Disney, still the top news story for every news-reporting medium.
Of course, there was no mention of any missing pendant.
