The Key To the Kingdom (15 page)

           
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 broke 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.

Standing directly in front of it he placed his fingers on the edge and tried to open it. The front refused to budge. Testing to see if it needed more coaxing, he wedged his fingers along the edge again and tried to pry it open. Once again there was no movement. Trying yet again he strained to open it, emitting a groan from the effort. The box was locked. Lowering his hands and stepping away he examined it more closely. The words
Police Telegraph
were embossed in white. A fist grasping a handful of lightning bolts adorned the top of the box and the Gamewell Company from New York was the manufacturer. The identification number was 513 and there were two keyholes. One keyhole was marked Citizen’s Key in the center of the box. A second keyhole was along the left side of the door; traditionally local law enforcement would have carried a master key for this lock.

“May I help you?”

The deep voice tore Hawk’s attention away from the box. He jerked his head to the right, the direction from which the voice had originated. He turned so quickly he knew he must have appeared to be guilty of some mischief. A gentleman wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt, a blue tie, and a cast member name badge stood waiting. Obscuring his eyes, a pair of dark glasses rested on a nose so crooked it appeared to have been broken at some point, and it jutted out below a bald head ringed above the ears with neatly trimmed dark hair. Physically imposing at about the same height as Hawk, he showed no expression and waited for some type of response. Hawk wondered how long he had been standing there.

“Um . . . no, I don’t need help. I was just curious and doing some exploring,” Hawk replied as he dusted off his hands and walked toward this cast member.

According to the man’s name tag, his name was Reginald. He wore a radio on his hip with an earpiece placed firmly in his ear. Offering a crooked smile, Grayson Hawkes waited for Reginald to say something. Reginald said nothing. The round face offered no expression whatsoever, and Hawk was convinced that the eyes behind the black shades were boring holes into him. He felt the strong urge to break the stare and look away, but he had learned a long time ago it was better to maintain eye contact. He continued to look back at his own reflection in the glasses. Still Reginald said nothing.

Shrugging and cocking his head slightly Hawk said, “Well Reginald, nice meeting you.”

He moved past him back onto Sunset Boulevard heading toward Hollywood Boulevard once again. Trying his best to be casual he sauntered along the sidewalk and nonchalantly entered the Planet Hollywood Super Store. It was only as he moved through the door that he dared a glance back to see if Reginald was still watching him. He was. Hawk quickened his pace and moved through this shop and into the next, since they were connected. The next shop allowed him an exit that had no direct sight line to Once Upon A Time. Stepping back outside he positioned himself where he could look back down to the Carthay Circle Theatre without being seen. Reginald was gone.

Hawk exhaled loudly. He had to figure out a way to get back to the call box.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

Day Five Afternoon

G
RAYSON
H
AWKES SAT
in the Writer’s Stop drinking a cup of coffee and sinking in an overstuffed chair, trying to relax enough to think. The Writer’s Stop was a coffee shop and bookstore perched on the edge of the Streets of America. Over an hour and a half had passed since Reginald had discovered him at the police telegraph box. He was psyching himself to head back to try to open it again. The caffeine-stimulated brain cells had given Hawk the chance to formulate a more concrete plan. Shaking his head from side to side, he realized he was getting ready to break into another
display here at the Studios. The box was not going to open easily. After trying to pry it open he was convinced it was locked. What he needed was a . . . key.

Patting his hand on his hip he felt the key to the kingdom hiding inside his denim pocket. Consuming curiosity compelled him to wonder if once again the key that Farren had given him would open something else inside the Studios. After rising from the chair he exited the building, tossed his empty cup in the trash, and headed back toward Sunset Boulevard. He walked at a relaxed pace, looking around like any other guest. The kingdom key would be in his hand and ready. He would simply insert the key and see if the key to the kingdom would work its magic again.

As he made his way down Sunset Boulevard, relentlessly studying the people in front of him and looking for the unmistakable figure of Reginald, his confidence faded. Once more Hawk entered the front of the Carthay Circle Theatre. He casually picked up items and looked at them for a moment, gradually making his way toward the back exit of the shop. Deciding it was time for action he pulled the key from his pocket and held it at the ready. He would step out of the shop and insert the key into the citizen’s keyhole. If it failed to open he would try the second lock. If both of these attempts failed, he would retreat and move back to a safe distance and form another strategy to get into the box.