by David Smith
Blain pulled out his own wallet and removed a folded piece of paper. “I retyped Nathan’s note, the one we found in the envelope with the key to Nathan’s locker that we found in his wallet. I didn’t want to lose or have the original disintegrate on us,” Blain explained with Malaysia nodding her understanding.
Unfolding the printed copy of the note, Blain, with Malaysia leaning over him, her hand resting on his arm, the two of them read the note again.
‘Lynie, I hope I am able to hand this note to you in person. If not, then one of two things has happened: I was unsuccessful or I have been caught…or worse. You should have the other half of these instructions that I sent you. Together, and with my notebook, you should be able to locate what I’ve left for us.
No matter what, you will always be my ‘Becky.’”
Our favorite book is the key. But you have to use this key to find “my” key. Then the rest of these instructions (those you already have), will show you what to unlock.
I love you,
Nate
“I see what you mean,” Malaysia said, washing down her chicken sandwich with a drink from her diet Coke. “It seems that there is a piece of the puzzle missing.”
“It would seem that Nathan didn’t want someone finding the stolen money by accident,” Blain said. “He wisely separated the three parts of the puzzle. Unfortunately for him, he got killed. Unfortunately for Disneyland, he obviously dropped his wallet at some point where we eventually—and very luckily—discovered. However, unfortunately for us, we don’t have the other half of the note.”
Malaysia was listening to Blain, following his explanation.
“If we can find the other half of the note, it should tell us where to use the key that he alludes to in whatever book they enjoyed reading,” Malaysia said filling in the last piece for herself.
“Right.”
“And that will lead us to the money and the pendant,” Malaysia said picking up her ice tea and taking a long, slow sip.
“And I think I know where we might be able to find the missing half of the note,” Blain said, sticking a French fry into his mouth.
CHAPTER 36
Lynie Too
Wednesday June 30th, 2010
2:50pm
Blain got on the Costa Mesa Freeway, heading north. He needed to look something up on a computer and since his apartment was only fifteen minutes away he elected to go there first.
Getting off at Chapman, they headed east until the road went up the hill towards Orange Park Acres. He turned before the hill onto Crawford Canyon and then a quick right into his apartment complex. Malaysia was looking forward to seeing where Blain lived, curious in what his style of living might be like at home.
“I’m impressed,” Malaysia commented on the nice furnishings and even legitimate artwork on the walls. Blain had a nice flat screen television on a cherry wood entertainment center; tall, narrow speakers sat on the floor at each end of the center like book ends.
“Thanks. It isn’t much but I’m not here most of the day,” Blain said as he stood for moment in the middle of the room.
“That’s an understatement,” Malaysia said, figuring he had spent even less time here while she was in town. With his teaching schedule during the school year, Disneyland, the band, and tennis, Blain probably did little more than sleep in his apartment.
“Have a seat, please make yourself comfortable,” Blain said. “Would you like some ice water or tea or a Diet Coke?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Malaysia said, sitting down on the comfortable leather couch, picking up a book called The Nickel Tour from his coffee table. The book was an enormous and impressive compilation of nearly every single ‘nickel postcard’ ever produced about Disneyland.
“This is fascinating,” Malaysia said, flipping through the pages of reproduced postcards depicting the early days of Disneyland. There were dozens of pictures showing the construction of the Park and aerial views of where Disneyland was to be built among the orange groves that made up the area. Malaysia located many of the areas that she and Blain had seen or walked over. She was amazed to see the changes that had taken place the how much the Park had evolved in the fifty-five years since it first opened. She found one postcard of the Indian Village that Blain had taken her to after they went on the Pirates of the Caribbean and the area where she stumbled upon the rock that ended up revealing Nathan Duncan’s lost wallet.
“I can’t believe that one man dreamed up all this,” Malaysia said, flipping from page to page depicting both in pictures and in some text almost all that encompassed Disneyland over the last fifty-five years.
Blain was over on the side of the room at his computer desk, waiting for the computer to boot up. “Disney was quite a man…quite the visionary, if you ask me,” Blain said, leaning back and watching Malaysia as she looked intently at the pages.
“I heard that he had only forty dollars in his pocket when he came to California,” Malaysia said. “Is that true?”
“Yes…forty dollars and a dream.”
“Quite a dream,” Malaysia said quietly flipping through more of the colorful pages depicting Disneyland both then and now.
“Here we go,” Blain said as he pulled up a person search on one of the social networks. After cross referencing names, he was finally able to pull up an address and even a phone number of one Evelyn Duncan who, a) used to go to Anaheim High School, b) was sixty-five years old and, c) appeared to still be alive.
“Hello, Ms. Duncan?” Blain asked, hoping he had the right person.
“Yes,” an older woman’s voice replied in the receiver.
“My name is Blain Walters and I am doing a research project among people who worked at Disneyland and went to Anaheim High School,” Blain said quickly, hoping she didn’t think he was a phone solicitor and would hang up on him. Malaysia was listening in, sitting close to Blain on the couch.
“Oh,” the woman said, her voice sounding a bit more spry.
“Are you Evelyn Duncan, the sister of Nathan Duncan who worked at Disneyland in 1966?”
The woman could be heard breathing on the other end for a moment. “I am. Yes, Nate was my brother.”
Excited that he had indeed the correct Evelyn Duncan, Blain said, “I am working on doing a documentary on Disney employees, especially those who grew up here in Anaheim.” Blain paused, then asked, “Would it be too much to ask to come meet you personally, Ms. Duncan?” Blain asked, hopeful.
After a moment’s hesitation, Evelyn replied, even sounding cheerful, “Of course. I have a lot of things here that were from the days Nathan worked in the Park. Would that be helpful?”
“That would be terrific,” Blain said.
4:15pm
As luck would have it, Evelyn Duncan lived not far from Disneyland. She had a small apartment in Anaheim off of Katella and State College Boulevard, just west of Anaheim Stadium and the Honda Center.
Pulling into a visitor’s parking spot in the “Westgate Apartment Village” Blain and Malaysia walked along a curving path between sets of four attached apartments.
“A little nicer than Lynette’s pad,” Blain said. In fact, the area was well manicured, no bars on any of the windows, and a clean, fenced-in pool was just in front of the two sets of apartment buildings. They worked their way around the building they parked behind and found the unit number Evelyn Duncan had told them.
Evelyn Duncan, like Lynette the day before, cheerfully greeted them at the door of her apartment even before they could knock; obviously she either heard Blain’s car pull up in the visitor’s parking area behind her apartment unit or heard them walking up towards her door, they surmised. They were a little surprised that she was every bit as enthusiastic to meet them as Lynette had been yesterday. Thinking that talking to the sister of a man who had died at a young age while working at Disneyland might bring up painful memories, Blain and Malaysia were more than pleasantly surprised at the greeting.
Immediately invited in and offered
both hot tea, Blain and Malaysia felt most welcome in her home.
“Yes, a number of people who went to Anaheim High worked at Disneyland,” Evelyn said, walking to a bookcase in the living room of her apartment. Evelyn Duncan was sixty-five. Blain thought she looked like antique version of the picture he had seen of her in the Anaheim High School yearbook. Her hair was gray, but she had retained a reasonably fit figure for a senior. She reminded Bain of many of the older women who played tennis at the courts he often played at. Evelyn had firm arms, not those sagging folds of flesh under each arm that many women her age had acquired. And, she moved with fluid grace that belied her age. Unlike the pictures he had seen of her brother Nathan, Evelyn’s eyes were full of warmth and vitality.
Blain and Malaysia sat together on a love seat in the small but inviting room, sipping hot tea that Evelyn had just poured for them and listening to Evelyn Duncan tell them about her youth. “In fact, we used to joke that we all went to ‘Disneyland High School’ since it seemed about half of each senior class either worked on rides, marched in the parades, or worked in merchandise or foods. In Nathan’s case, he was a landscaper in the Park.”
Evelyn pulled out a yearbook from the bookcase she had walked over to; it was the same Anaheim High School yearbook that Blain recognized as the one he had looked at when he visited the Anaheim Library the day before.
“Nate had a gift for landscaping, especially working with trees, like our father. This is Nathan’s senior year, my sophomore year,” she said, handing the book to Blain and Malaysia. “This was the year before our dad passed away,” Evelyn said, without a hint of sadness.
“Wow, he must have died pretty young,” Malaysia offered.
“Yes, he did. He and Nate were working together in my father’s tree cutting business. I think Nathan had just turned nineteen,” Evelyn said, obviously trying to connect time periods. “Nate hated working for Dad.” Evelyn laughed. “Couldn’t blame him.”
“Why is that?” Blain asked.
“Dad was a mean drunk,” Evelyn said, crinkling her nose as if smelling something that was too ripe. She then softened. “I exaggerate…he wasn’t that mean. But he did take a lot out on Nate and me.”
Blain had turned to the page that he remembered seeing the picture of Evelyn and Nathan at a table. “This is a great picture of the two of you,” Blain said.
Evelyn leaned over from the wingback chair that sat close to the love seat. Laughing, she commented, “Nate helped me with everything. I owe him my high school graduation diploma, really,” she said with a smile. “We did everything together as kids and even later,” Evelyn said, reminiscing. “When Disneyland opened in 1955 we begged our mother to take us. We would play on Tom Sawyer’s Island for hours, playing like he was Tom Sawyer and I was Becky Thatcher.”
Blain suddenly realized the connection to the name “Becky,” he had read in Nathan’s note.
Malaysia inconspicuously pointed to some hand written words under the picture. Blain nodded imperceptibly as he too saw the writing.
“We loved to read together at home. He helped me with my math and spelling too,” Evelyn said, leaning toward the table where she picked up her tea cup and sat back, sipping from the small cup.
Blain and Malaysia quietly read the hand writing that was below the picture of Nathan and Evelyn:
Lynie, I will always be your Tom Sawyer, you will always be my Becky. I will always be there for you. Love Nate.
Blain caught Malaysia looking at him. They exchanged knowing glances. Quickly, Blain turned to another page. Flipping through, he found the other picture of Nathan, sitting in the library reading a book.
He noticed in the picture the book Nathan had in his hands.
“You said you and Nathan read together? What books did you read?”
Evelyn smiled. “The classics. Oh, sure, no one reads them today. I’ll bet the two of you have never read Mark Twain’s book, ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.’”
Blain had a guilty look on his face, shaking his head no. Malaysia was shaking her head too.
“Nate’s favorite. He must have read that book twenty times,” Evelyn said. “I would beg him to read it to me. It was my favorite book, too.”
“Sounds like it was a great book,” Malaysia said.
Blain shut the yearbook and looked around the room. “You have some pictures I see of Disneyland. May I look at these?” Blain asked.
“Of course,” Evelyn said. “It was really something, growing up in Disneyland’s backyard, so to speak.”
Blain handed the yearbook to Malaysia as he stood up to look at the wall of pictures across the room. Malaysia absently opened the book and flipped through pages.
He saw one picture that caught his eye. Surprised by the picture, Blain turned to Evelyn and asked, “Is this you?” Blain recognized a young Evelyn in the photograph, the same youthful Evelyn he had seen in her yearbook, maybe a year or two older.
Evelyn turned toward the wall. Proudly, she said, “Yes! I had just tuned eighteen.”
The black and white picture was of her wearing a light blouse and dark vest, dark pants and shoes. An oval nametag was attached to the vest.
“You worked at Disneyland too?” Surprised, Blain asked, looking back over his shoulder at Evelyn.
“I did, but only for a short time,” Evelyn said.
“None of my research said an ‘Evelyn Duncan’ worked at Disneyland,” Blain said, a little confused.
Evelyn chuckled. “I worked first in accounting then in Cash Control. But, no you wouldn’t have found my name there because I was hired under my mother’s maiden name, Jean Briggs.”
“Why a different name?” Malaysia asked, looking up from the yearbook on her lap.
Evelyn turned toward Malaysia. “Walt Disney never allowed married couples, siblings, or direct family members working together at anytime in the Park. Nathan wanted me to join him in the Park my senior year in high school, the year I was old enough to work in something other than foods or parades.” Evelyn paused and then added, “After Nate started working there, enjoying it so much, he wanted me to get a job there too.”
“I’ve had trouble finding Nathan. Does he still live here in Orange County?” Blain asked, wondering what her response might be.
There was a look of loss on her face. “No, Nate isn’t living anymore.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Blain said. “What happened, if I may ask?”
In what seemed to be a practiced voice, Evelyn answered, “He was killed in Vietnam.”
Blain caught a glimpse of Malaysia; a look of Why would she lie about Nathan’s death? was written across her face.
Blain turned back to the wall and moved to his right, looking at other family photographs. It was when he got to the short end table that was situated at the end of the couch did he noticed a different frame; one that was short and wide leaning on its stand on the table top a little behind other framed pictures sitting on the small end table. Casually looking over other pictures, Blain felt his heart skip a beat when he glanced down at the one frame that contained what he now could see was a very old, torn sheet of paper with writing on it. He quickly walked back to the couch and the coffee table where he had a cup of hot tea, a tea bag hanging over the lip. Holding up the cup, Blain asked, “Evelyn would it be too much trouble to ask for more hot water?” Blain said.
“Of course not. Let me put some in the microwave.”
As soon as Evelyn left the room, Blain pulled Malaysia up by her hand. “Look at this,” he whispered.
“The note!” Malaysia said in an excited whisper.
Together, they read the faded letters. Luckily, this half of the paper was far better preserved than the half found in Nathan’s Wallet. Below the torn edge, the note read:
You and I have gone there often. Tom and Becky forever. Find Joe’s “cave” and find what I’ve left us. We will need to use the key from my notebook. If anything happens to me, you will need to find a way to get the bags out
. I should be able to do it early in the morning after I get the pendant, but I need to be very careful. We will never be poor again! And Dad won’t be able to take it from us this time! Love Nate.
Quickly, they moved over to some of the pictures Blain had been looking at earlier. They turned and moved back to the couch just as Evelyn returned with piping hot water in a clear, glass canister.
“How long did you work at Disneyland?” Blain asked.
“Not very long, I’m afraid. I had a nasty accident and broke my collarbone. I left the area to spend time recuperating at my Aunt Margaret’s house in Costa Mesa.
“Sounds like Nathan didn’t work that long before being drafted,” Blain said.
“No. I think he worked for no more than a year,” Evelyn said.
After another ten minutes of chatting, Blain and Malaysia stood and thanked Evelyn for her time.
“Please, feel free to call if I can be of help,” Evelyn offered as she held the door open for them.
Blain and Malaysia walked quietly to their car. As soon as they got in, Blain took out a scrap piece of paper and pencil from his glove box and wrote down part of the note they had read from memory.
“You and I have gone there often. Tom and Becky. Joe’s cave. Use the key.”
“I have to assume that these names, the references, have something to do with the book that Nathan and Evelyn read together,” Blain said looking at the small piece of paper in his hand. “I may need to do a little research.”