by David Smith
“Looks like the same kind,” Blain said, watching Riggio. “These lockers, are they still here in the office or in the Park?”
“Used to be. Right over there.” Riggio pointed to a wall where a bank of lockers was located. “The old ones got yanked out. I think about ten years ago, maybe more. Had those lockers since the Park opened,” Riggio said. “I remember because I had number two, way back then,” Riggio said, raising the newer-looking key with the number two stamped on it. “Now I have number one.”
“Who had number one before?” Blain asked.
“Who do you think?” Riggio said as-a-matter-of-factly. “Walt did, of course.”
Blain smiled with discernment. “So even Walt spent time down here…when he was alive?”
“Sure! He loved to get into everything. I heard he had a locker in the carpentry office and the machine shop too!”
“Wow, I don’t think I would have guessed that,” Blain said. He paused for a moment, then asked, “You wouldn’t know where those lockers might have been taken, would you, Willie?” Blain felt it was almost too much to ask, let alone hope Riggio had an answer.
Riggio slowly got up and walked over to one of a half dozen filing cabinets on the other side of his desk. He looked over the subject cards at the front of each drawer and finally found one that he liked. Opening the black, dented filing drawer, he fingered through a number of very old-looking files.
“You don’t throw much away, do you,” Blain said, sitting back in his seat watching Riggio.
“Nope. Walt wouldn’t let us. We still don’t. You should see the warehouses out in back,” Riggio said, still fingering through the various files in the drawer. “They still take you out there for your orientation when you got hired here?” Riggio asked talking back over his shoulder at Blain.
“Yes, well, a couple of them. I was amazed at all the stuff back there.”
“Here we go,” Riggio said triumphantly. “Knew it was here…just had to find it.”
“What’s that?” Blain asked.
“The moving papers; I remembered the lockers were donated. Can’t remember where. I am sixty-eight years old!” Riggio said as if being sixty-eight was an excuse for not remembering something as trivial as the year the lockers were donated. Looking over the top edge of his glasses at Blain, Riggio continued. “But, I knew that we had papers on the donation.”
Riggio took out a folder from the drawer and walked back to his desk, backing into his chair and landing in it with a humph. “Now, let’s see,” Riggio said, leaning over his desk with the file open, glancing at paper after paper. “Here it is,” he said, pulling out a sheet. Blain saw at the top of the page, ‘Amodt School for the Blind,’ printed in scripted letters. There were also Braille dots still visible below the letterhead, most likely spelling the school name in Braille lettering.
“Can I borrow a piece of paper and write down that address?” Blain asked, wondering if the school was still operating. He doubted too many placed kept as good of records as he found Disneyland did.
“Sure, here ya go,” Riggio said, taking a yellow pack of Post-it notes from his desk and pen from the top drawer. He watched Blain write the name down. “Even if you’re lucky enough to locate the lockers, I doubt you’re going to find anything in them,” Riggio said. “They were searched multiple times when Duncan got jolted. I’m sure that school, blind or not, have been through them too.”
“Well, just call me curious,” Blain said and then added with a little laugh, “Got nothing better to do,” he said tossing the Post It pad back to Riggio after taking the top sheet off. “Thank you, Willie, for all your help,” Blain said as he stood up and shook hands with the Landscaping Supervisor.
“Anytime,” Riggio said, wondering to himself just what Blain might be looking for…and, more importantly, what he might find.
CHAPTER 27
Blind Ambition
Monday, June 28th, 2010
1:05pm
Blain greeted Missy in the lobby with a kiss on her cheek. He didn’t know if anyone from her family might be watching so he elected to take the safe route, avoiding a mouth-to-mouth kiss. Also, while the two of them hit it off so exceptionally well the day before, he needed to give her time to digest her feelings. He felt she might want to play it cool since she was leaving in a few days.
Blain didn’t want to assume anything.
“So, tell me everything,” Malaysia said as he opened his passenger side door to his car for her. Blain looked at her for a moment. Wearing a halter-topped summer dress, white with tan accents that were abstract in design and matched the color of her brown hair, Malaysia made for a striking image, one not lost on Blain.
“First of all, has anyone told you how beautiful you are, Missy?” Blain asked, making Malaysia’s face go pink.
“No,” Malaysia said, looking down for a moment. She straightened the short hem of her dress, pressing it against her thighs. She wasn’t trying to dress sexy, yet her dress cradled her curves and accented her legs. Malaysia suddenly felt the same pangs of desire spring up like a well.
“Let me be the first,” Blain said as he leaned forward through her open passenger door and kissed Malaysia softly. He lingered on her lips. Malaysia reached up and put her hand on the muscles of his upper arm. Kissing him back, she wanted more.
Blain pulled away. “We need to get going.”
Malaysia smiled as Blain walked around the car. She had felt her body tremble the first time she had kissed Blain on the Mark Twain. She felt that same tremble once again. In fact, she had not stopped thinking about Blain while she was lying in bed in her hotel room. The last thought before finally drifting off to sleep was the feeling of Blain’s arms around her when they had been on the Mark Twain, the night before.
Sliding in the driver’s seat and starting the Camaro, Blain turned in his seat slightly and looked over at Malaysia. “Okay, here is what I know,” he said. “Nathan Duncan…our wallet’s Nathan Duncan? Is dead.”
“No, really? That’s too bad,” Malaysia said, looking both disappointed as well as sad.
“But wait. There’s more,” Blain said as he started describing for Malaysia first the information he found on Nathan Duncan on the internet, and then about his mysterious death, the missing money, and about his job at Disneyland.
“So, what about the key we found and the note?” Malaysia said.
“I’m getting to that,” Blain said as he put the car into gear and drove south on Harbor Boulevard. “That’s where I was today, speaking to a Willie Riggio, the landscaping foreman who was working at the Park when Nathan worked there…and still is working there.”
“Really? He must be pretty old,” Malaysia said, looking at Blain, thinking about the age of the wallet and what they figured was the minimum age Nathan had to have been at the time when he lost the wallet.
“Riggio is sixty-eight come this August,” Blain said matter-of-factly. “The guy was still pretty sharp. But here’s where it could get a little interesting. The key from the wallet? Well, it turns out that it was from the lockers that were there when Nathan was working at Disneyland.”
“Did you open it, the locker?” Malaysia asked.
“It wasn’t there,” Blain said, shaking his head shrugging, keeping his eyes on the road. “Turns out that the lockers were moved about ten years ago.”
“Moved? Moved where?” Malaysia inquired, hoping Blain knew the answer.
Blain looked at her while stopped at the signal where Harbor and Lampson streets intersected. “That, my beautiful Missy, is where we are headed after lunch.”
2:05pm
Blain and Missy finished their lunch at Mimi’s Café on the corner of Harbor and Newport Boulevards in Costa Mesa.
During the meal, Blain gave more details on his discussion with Riggio at the landscaping office as well as the mystery about Nathan’s reported dash through the Park and subsequent electrocution. He told her about the lockers being donated, and that Riggio still had
a similar key. Blain told her about the school for the blind and that the lockers, he hoped, were still there.
“That was a great lunch, Blain! Thank you so much!” Malaysia had eaten all of a croissant sandwich while Blain had the Chicken Jack Ciabatta.
“You are welcome. Hope it holds you until your dinner tonight with your parents,” Blain said, holding the door open for Malaysia as they left the restaurant and walked out to his car in the parking lot.
Malaysia had almost all but forgotten about her performance in a few hours.
“Where is this ‘Amodt School for the Blind’,” Malaysia asked.
“It isn’t too far from here, hence my decision to eat lunch here in Costa Mesa. The school is in Newport Beach which begins just a few streets over.”
“We are at the beach?” Malaysia asked surprised and excited. She had heard so much about the Southern California beaches. Her perception not the least affected by the songs of the legendary Beach Boys that her parents would occasionally listen to, and even she had one of their CD’s.
“Well, we are near the beach. Why?”
“I’ve always wanted to see a California Beach,” Malaysia said.
“I did have a special ‘surprise’ for you, but it may have to wait,” Blain said as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed south on Newport Boulevard.
“Wait? I don’t have that long,” Malaysia said, now sounding like she was a cancer patient with only a few days to live.
“Relax. While I was waiting for you in the lobby, Laura came down and we had a nice chat,” Blain said, smiling.
Malaysia suddenly was concerned. “What...what did you talk about?” she asked almost suspiciously.
“Oh, not much. I did find out that you have all day tomorrow free, however,” Blain said with a grin. “All day and night,” he added, raising his eye brows.
Malaysia relaxed. “Oh, yes. She’s right. We don’t have anything planned.”
“Okay, then tomorrow, I was going to see if you wanted to go to the beach with me?”
Malaysia smiled broadly. “Really?! Oh, but I didn’t bring a suit.”
“In that case, you have to swim naked,” Blain said, sounding serious. “I’m just kidding. I forgot we aren’t in France,” he said quickly when he saw the look on her face. “Today, we are also going shopping.”
“Wait a minute, Blain. Aren’t you working at Disneyland tomorrow?” Malaysia asked.
The signal ahead turned red and he slowed to a stop. “Let’s see, Missy,” Blain said, holding his hands out in front of him, palms up over the steering wheel, imitating a balance scale. “Spend the day with a stunning Swiss girl, at the beach no less, or, sweating eight hours paddling a canoe.” Blain moved each hand up and down as if weighing his options. “I’ll take the spectacular babe on the beach any day.”
Malaysia smiled, thinking what it would be like on the sand, at the beach…and with Blain.
“I can change shifts with someone,” Blain said as the light turned green. “There are a dozen guys who really like to get extra hours at work,” Blain said. He signaled left and moved into the left-turn lane. Up ahead, he turned left onto Pacific Coast Highway.
Malaysia could smell the ocean air. She felt so excited.
She was going to go to the beach tomorrow!
* * * * * *
Blain had phoned the Amodt School earlier, after he had left the landscaping office where he talked with Willie Riggio.
“Today would be a good day, Mr. Walters,” a Janet Manfred, the head master of the school had said on the phone. “We are off for summer break and we have a light staff on hand. As a matter of fact, we do indeed still have the Disneyland lockers. I’d be more than happy to show you them,” Mrs. Manfred said and then added, “We are always grateful when we receive donations, and one that came from Disneyland, well that made the donation have just a wee bit of extra magic, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I do agree. And thank you for the invitation. My friend and I will be coming over around three o’clock if that works for you. Oh, and by the way, how do you pronounce the school’s name?” Blain asked, not sure if he was saying it correctly.
“Everyone gets it wrong. But we don’t mind,” Janet said laughing. “It’s pronounced, ‘Am et’ like rhyming with ‘Janet’. I would give you another rhyming word; however, it is not nearly as appealing as ‘Janet’…if you get my drift.”
It was Blain’s turn to laugh. “I do. Thank you for the correction. I would feel bad if I didn’t get it right,” Blain said. “See you at three o’clock, then?”
“That will be fine. But we tend to all leave around four, so call if you think you will be later than that,” Janet said before hanging up.
* * * * * *
2:38pm
“So what do you think you will find in this locker, Blain?” Malaysia asked as they pulled into the Amodt School for the Blind parking lot.
“Don’t know. Probably nothing. I just thought it would be a good excuse to show you some of the area here,” Blain said smiling. “Somehow, being with you brightens my day. So, if we don’t find anything at all, it is still a win for me!”
Malaysia hit him on the arm as he put the car into park. “You are going to give me a big head, Blain.”
“Well, it is the gospel truth,” Blain said as he leaned over and gave Malaysia a kiss. He tried to pull away but Malaysia pulled him back, kissing him again.
“It’s a win for me too,” Malaysia said.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Blain said after introducing Missy to Janet Manfred, in the school office.
Janet Manfred was an attractive black woman in her thirties. She wasn’t anything like Blain had pictured in his mind after talking to her earlier that morning. Dressed in tight jeans, an attractive but simple light blue western-tailored blouse and flats, Janet Manfred was striking. She looked more like a model to be found Ebony magazine rather than a head master at a non-profit school for the blind.
“It’s a pleasure having you come to the school,” Janet said after shaking their hands while the three stood inside the small room that was her office. “Even if it is just to inspect our lockers,” Janet said with a little laugh.
Just outside her office was a small reception area with a desk, file cabinets and the secretary that Blain and Malaysia first checked in with when they arrived. While the older woman at the reception desk was wearing light colored sunglasses, it wasn’t until they walked out of Janet’s office did Blain and Malaysia notice the red-tipped white cane leaning against the wall next to the secretary. They would never have guessed that the woman there was blind by the way she immediately acknowledged them when they walked in.
“It’s rare we have visitors during the summer. Except for prospective students, it’s as quiet as a library here for three months,” Janet said, walking the two outside the office and down the ramp to the small quad area where there were benches, a couple planters with trees in the middle, and rails. Lots of rails lined the open area. It was a little like being in a maze.
Seeing Blain and Missy looking out across the area of smooth, metal rails, she explained, “The rails help the kids keep their bearings. Each rail has a Braille strip underneath, which tells the student which way they are facing…just in case someone gets turned around.”
Malaysia felt the bumps under one of the rails with her fingertips, amazed that that the individual bumps that were grouped on the strips could be distinguished, let alone ‘read.’
As they looked around the small campus, they could see that there were many needs: paint was faded or pealing on the portable classrooms; the planters around the benches were crumbling bricks in some areas. The classroom doors needed paint and there was a decrepit-looking play set in the middle of an area of woodchips that was obviously for play by the younger students.
Janet could sense their observations. “We are completely funded by donations and parental involvement. We do get a small stipend from the state but that goes to the students
in the form of books and supplies,” Janet said. She lowered her voice a little and added, “It is a labor of love by both the staff and the parents,” she said.
Malaysia and Blain held hands as they walked across the quad area around one of the small portable units.
“Here we go,” Janet said as they turned a corner. Facing them were a slew of mismatched lockers. Obviously the school received more than one donation of lockers.
“I believe this is the set that came from Disneyland,” Janet said, coming to the far left bank of lockers. The set stood five feet tall with each locker almost square; four up and eight lockers across. “Yes, you can see the Disneyland name across the top. The kids that get these lockers feel a little special since they know they came from Disneyland.”
Blain thought about locker number one. He wondered if the kid who gets that locker has any clue who might have used that locker before.
“I don’t see any locks on them, were they removed at some point?” Blain asked.
“Yes, as soon as we got the lockers, the tumblers were removed. Each year, our students are assigned a new locker for which they bring their own lock to keep on the locker for the school year.”
Blain was glad all the lockers were free of any dangling pad locks.
“Do you mind if we look inside any of them?” Blain asked, feeling the key in his pocket, but knowing now he wouldn’t need it.
“No problem. They were all cleared out two weeks ago at the end of the school year,” Janet said.
