Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Synopsis

  Inside Cover

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Disclaimer

  Acknowledgements

  Dear Readers

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Next book

  The Quest - Answers

  Hidden Mickey Fan Club

  About the Authors

  HIDDEN MICKEY 1

  Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales!

  First book in a series of action-adventure mysteries about Walt Disney and Disneyland (age 10 to adult).

  TWO FRIENDS FIND WALT DISNEY'S LOST DIARY

  Who knew it would lead them on a wild cross-country search filled with discoveries, about the famous man, his life, and about themselves.

  THE DIARY HINTS OF A HIDDEN TREASURE

  Beth, Adam's former girlfriend, was fired from her beloved job at Disneyland, thanks to Adam. Now he needs her help in untangling a web of clues that Walt left behind. Can she put their past aside and work with him again? Can the three friends decipher the eccentric clues that Disney himself may have ingeniously devised?

  WHO ELSE IS SEEKING THE TREASURE?

  As the clues lead them closer to their goal, and deeper in the legacy of Walt Disney himself, will they find some long-lost treasure?

  IS THIS ONE FINAL ILLUSION BY THE WORLD'S GREATEST STORYTELLER?

  Anyone who loves all-things Disney will be swept up in the intrigue of the sometimes subtle, sometimes obscure, and always amazing facts surrounding one of the most recognized, beloved and ingenious men of all time. Walk in the shoes of our intrepid treasure hunters as they scavenge historical records and discover amazing connections, while they seek out what Walt may have left behind.

  An "E-Ticket" ride through Disney's history.

  HIDDEN MICKEY 1

  SOMETIMES DEAD MEN DO TELL TALES!

  FIRST NOVEL IN THE HIDDEN MICKEY SERIES

  REVISED EDITION eBOOK - VOLUME 1 - OCTOBER 1, 2015

  ISBN 13: 978-0-97-490265-4

  COPYRIGHT © 2009 NANCY RODRIGUE & DAVID W. SMITH

  Library of Congress Catalog number 2011378544

  www.HIDDENMICKEYBOOK.com

  Flesch-Kincaid Grade 4.2 - Flesch Reading Ease 83

  FIRST EDITION eBOOK - MAY 2010 - ISBN 13: 978-0-97-490265-4

  REVISED EDITION eBOOK - OCTOBER 2015 - ISBN 13: 978-0-97-490265-4

  FIRST EDITION PAPERBACK - SEPTEMBER 2009 - ISBN 13: 978-0-97-490262-3

  FIRST EDITION HARDBACK - OCTOBER 2015 - ISBN 13: 978-1-93-831900-6

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  NO PART OF THIS BOOK BE USED OR REPRODUCED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER, ELECTRONIC, MECHANICAL,

  PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING, OR OTHERWISE WITHOUT THE PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER

  Double R Books Publishing

  740 N. H Street, Suite # 170

  Lompoc, California, 93436

  www.DOUBLERBOOKS.com

  COVER CONCEPT BY NANCY RODRIGUE

  www.NANCY.RODRIGUE.org

  COVER ARTWORK & COLOR BY CHRISNA RIBEIRO

  www.JUHANI.DEVIANTART.com

  COVER COPYRIGHT © 2015 BY DOUBLE R BOOKS

  www.DOUBLERBOOKS.com

  PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate my part in this

  joint venture to my own General

  Contractor, my husband Russ Rodrigue.

  His support, assistance, advice, patience,

  and even more patience have

  been invaluable to me.

  Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  I dedicate my efforts in this book to

  the two women most important in my

  life: My wife, Dr. Kerri Smith, who has

  provided the means for me to do what I

  enjoy doing, and my Mother, Donna

  Winchester, who has always faithfully

  supported me and my projects.

  David W. Smith

  Disclaimer

  Walt Disney Company Trademarks: Hidden Mickey is in no way authorized by, endorsed by or affiliated with the Walt Disney Company, Inc., Disneyland Park, or MouseAdventures. Disneyland Park is a registered trademark of the Walt Disney Company. Other Disney trademarks include but are not limited to Adventureland, Audio-Animatronics, Critter Country, Fantasyland, Frontierland, Magic Kingdom, New Orleans Square, PeopleMover, Space Mountain, Tomorrowland, Walt Disney, and Walt Disney World. All references to such trademarked properties are used in accordance with the Fair Use Doctrine and are not meant to imply this book is a Disney product for advertising or other commercial purposes.

  While some of the events and persons contained herein are historical facts and figures, other persons named and the events described are purely fictional and a product of the Authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental.

  The actions depicted within the book are a result of fiction and imagination and are not to be attempted, reproduced or duplicated by the readers of this book. The Publisher and Authors assume no responsibility or liability for damages resulting, or alleged to result, directly or indirectly from the use of the information contained herein.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks and Acknowledgements go to

  our proofreaders and editors :

  Alyssa Colodny, Proofreader

  Karla Gallagher, English B.A., Editor

  Kimberlee Keeline, English PhD., Editor

  www.KEELINE.com

  Dear Readers,

  Writing the first novel in the Hidden Mickey series, HIDDEN MICKEY 1: Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales!, was an adventure for both of us. No one could have predicted the interest and success it has received since its release in 2009. From Disney fans to Mystery/Adventure fans, Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! has found a following among almost everyone who has read the book! Yet, this is just the beginning. To us, the book was our way of sending readers on a nostalgic—if not just plain fun—adventure as they visited places in Disneyland, relived their youth, and shared in the common goal of keeping Walt Disney’s legacy alive. The sequel, HIDDEN MICKEY 2: It All Started… turned out to be every bit as much fun to write...and, we hope, as much fun for all who read it.

  Because the Hidden Mickey series of novels are mysteries, for the best reading experience we recommend readers begin with this novel first. Then continue by moving to the second book, then third, etc. In this way one would get the most enjoyment out of the series. However, each novel was also written to stand on its own. After each novel, readers may be left with unanswered questions. We are happy to say that customarily these questions are answered in the following book of the series.

  So, sit back, get comfortable, and dig into the quest for Hidden Mickeys!

  Best Wishes,

  Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  David W. Smith

  DECEMBER 14, 1966

  “It all started with a moose.”

  The words were mumbled, faint. It took too much effort to chuckle at his own private joke, but the corners of his eyes crinkled as a smile passed over his pale lips.

  The only other person in the room glanced up
from the paperwork in front of him. Seated at a small desk, a wave of sympathy and grief flooded his face before he could say anything to the man lying in the hospital bed. He self-consciously coughed to clear the lump in his throat. How am I ever going to be able to carry this off? he thought to himself before speaking. “You say something, Walt?” he managed to ask out loud.

  Walt’s eyes drifted back to the present and rested on the man peering anxiously at him. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, a gesture that rose only two inches off his bed. Energy spent, the hand dropped soundlessly to the covers. “Oh, just having some fun reminiscing.”

  His idea of fun was doing the impossible…doing what everyone else said was foolhardy. Over the years, he had not only proven the naysayers wrong, he was now considered a living legend. However, as he labored to breathe, he came to the same conclusion his doctors had come to several days prior: He was soon to become a non-living legend. He gave a slight, resigned sigh. There was so much left to do. There were so many projects going. So many ideas still waiting in his active mind.

  “I think I have everything I need, Walt.” The young man, who looked to be in his early thirties stood, straightening the small stack of papers before he carefully placed them into a manila folder. “I’ll make sure your instructions are followed to the letter.” It was a promise he would keep no matter what it cost him. He then reached over to a black, leather-bound book that had been sitting on the small table next to him. “You’re positive about this?” He had to ask one last time as he held up the book in his hand.

  Walt issued a nearly imperceptible smile. “Yes.” It was all he was able to say. It was said with such a breathy sigh that it resonated with the man as an absolute finality, as if it was to be the last word ever to be spoken by this individual. The man nodded and turned to leave. He would have turned back to say good bye but he didn’t want Walt to see the tears welling up in his eyes.

  Walt’s secretary Louise slowly walked down the hospital hallway carrying a painting under her arm. It was Walt’s favorite tree, a smoke tree, painted by artist Peter Ellenshaw—something that would end up being Peter’s farewell gift to his long-time friend.

  As she approached Walt’s room, she saw a young man come through the door and close it quietly. The man quickly dabbed at the corners of his eyes with a white handkerchief before turning to walk down the hallway toward her. Dressed in a freshly pressed suit, he carried a manila folder in his hands along with a little black book. His fingers were curled underneath, holding everything firm, his other hand grasping the top of the items as if he was in fear of dropping something. The blonde-haired man nodded briefly in Louise’s direction. She had never seen this man before, but she noticed his eyes. There was grief in them—the same look that haunted everyone who left that room. But there was something else in this man’s eyes. There was an almost conspiratorial look, one that seemed out of place here in this hospital and especially coming from the room where one of the most famous men in the world was clinging to life.

  Louise watched the man until he went around a corner and out of her sight. She turned back to the door, drawing a deep breath as she prepared herself emotionally to enter her boss’s room.

  Walt smiled when Louise stepped into his room. Glancing around, she marveled at the color and fragrance of the dozens of bouquets that lined nearly every flat surface of the room. She looked at Walt; his color contrasted with the vibrancy of the flowers around him. His pallor was ashen and his cheeks more sunken than the day before. A full glass of tomato juice sat next to a plate of uneaten breakfast items.

  “Walt, you really need to eat.” Worried, Louise perched on the edge of the bed next to her boss.

  Giving a weak smile, he closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth very slowly. “Can’t eat anything right now,” Walt whispered as he glanced at Louise’s side. “What did you bring me?” His lined face momentarily brightened at the thought of a present.

  “Peter Ellenshaw painted this for you.” Louise turned the small ten-inch square painting toward Walt revealing a perfect smoke tree with its lavender leaves spreading out among narrow branches centered within an open field. She then stood it up against a water pitcher that sat next to his plate of untouched food so he could see it.

  “That’s terrific.” Walt’s words were abrupt as he stifled a deep-throated cough.

  “Walt, who was that man who was here a moment ago?” Louise tried to sound nonchalant as she indicated the door.

  Walt closed his eyes. Louise thought his illness had taken his memory for a moment. His eyes suddenly popped open with the same twinkle Louise had seen hundreds of times when Walt had a new dream.

  “He is going to help keep me alive!”

  Louise was puzzled because the man looked nothing like a doctor. She glanced back at the door picturing the man whom she had passed outside moments before. Just as she was going to ask Walt about the man’s profession, she turned back and noticed his eyes were closed again. He was breathing in easy, but short, shallow breaths. Knowing Walt needed rest, she quietly rose from the side of the bed and gave her boss a gentle kiss on his forehead.

  As she silently opened the door, she took a Patient Sleeping card from inside the door and placed it on the outer handle. Struggling with the emotion tightening her throat, Louise took one last look at the man who she knew would live forever in the hearts of anyone and everyone who had ever heard the name Walt Disney.

  WINTER, 2040

  “It all started with a moose.”

  Adam Michaels was relaxing in his comfortable living room, a large Golden Retriever asleep at his feet as he chuckled at the confused expression on his interviewer’s face. He had just been asked how he had gotten as far as he had in his 68 years.

  “Yes, I said moose, not mouse.” Before explaining further, Adam settled back into his chair to stare into the flickering blaze in his fireplace that warded off the chill of that cold, blustery day. His eyes were drawn upward to eight framed animation cels mounted above the fireplace as he remembered just how he came to own those rare pieces. Dopey, Doc and, of course, the Little Princess all played a part in Adam’s history.

  Heaving a satisfied sigh, he began his story. “No, I said that right. It did all start with a moose—for me. Way back in 1995 or 1996, Lance Brentwood and I were double-dating at Disneyland one hot day in August. We didn’t usually double, but I did it as a favor. You see, there were these two blondes and Lance asked me to help with one of them. Can’t even remember which one was supposed to be mine—they were both glued to his side the whole day.” Adam looked into the fire and chuckled. “Those girls no more remembered I was there than, well, Adam!

  “Lance got hungry, as Lance always did.” Adam leaned forward as he warmed up to his story. “We decided to have lunch at the Hungry Bear in Critter Country. I was bored by that time, bored of being ignored by my so-called date. We sat up on the upper level and the girls were busy feeding Lance French fries. I occupied my time watching the canoes start out from the dock down below us.” Adam tilted his head as he thought back. “Not too long after the Mark Twain went by, I could hear banjo music coming from a Keel Boat approaching the canoe dock. It was too far away to see, but I could hear the pilot poking fun at the canoe guides coming in for a landing. Oh, I could tell she was ripping into them even though I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying.” Adam paused, knowing the question that formed in his listener’s mind. “Yes, I said ‘she’. She was a female Keel Boat pilot—only one that was a girl, I found out later.…”

  Adam picked up his drink and took a sip of fine Single Malt. Swirling the amber liquid around inside the Wedgwood tumbler, he held it up to the firelight. A dazzling array of fireworks exploded from the crystal. Taking another sip, he continued. “I didn’t pay too much attention right then because the blondes were arguing about which ride to go on next. Then the banjo music got louder as the Keel Boat got closer and the pilot was telling the passengers: ‘As we leave the last outpost
of civilization and head deep into the back woods, keep a sharp hunter’s eye out for wild game. You never know what you’ll see.’ This gal suddenly says, ‘Oh, hey, look over there on your right. That’s old Bruce the Moose. Did y’all know that Bruce the Moose runs footloose through the spruce after his girlfriend, Lucy Moose?’”

  His companion gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I thought it was cute, too. The Keel Boat—the Gullywhumper—slid by and I saw this little brown-haired gal literally steering the Keel Boat with her rear end because she was using one hand to hold a microphone to her mouth and her other hand was using her hat as a pointer.” Adam paused here for a moment. “You knew the Keel Boats weren’t on a track, didn’t you? The pilots had to actually steer that double-deck boat by its rudder. Well, this little gal steers the boat over to the canoes that were just leaving and started telling those passengers that the guide in the back had a motor under his seat and if they didn’t feel like paddling, don’t worry, he can just turn it on and they can sit back and enjoy the ride!” Adam chuckled a bit. “The canoe guides didn’t like that much. There was no motor and if the guests didn’t paddle, the guides had to provide the muscle!”

  Taking another sip, his eyes were far away. “I tell you, she kept in on them as the Keel Boat and the canoe continued out of sight around that first big bend. I never heard anything so funny. And, that’s all it took.” Adam gave a wry smile. “Well, it didn’t hurt that she had a cute little figure. I had to meet her. I turned to Lance, but he hadn’t seen anything. He was just basking in the attention of his blondes. I asked if they wanted to ride the Keel Boats next. Well, my blonde looked at me as if she couldn’t remember who exactly I was. But, Lance agreed. He didn’t mind where we went. He was like that. Pretty easy going.