An Apple for Zoe: Book One ~ The Forsaken

'I don't give a shit if you're Inspector fucking Gadget. I'd like you to explain to me what exactly you're doing here.'

'Didn't Detective Kirkland tell you why we are here?'

'He told me. So what? You don't have any proof and no warrant, so until you have one I'd like you to stay the fuck away from my hotel,' ordered the manager.

'And what is your name?' asked James.

'It's Richard Grantham,' he said coldly.

 James and Grantham stared silently at one another for a moment, each sizing up the other. James wanted to put the arrogant prick in his place, but knew ultimately he would get father by using diplomacy. James decided to bluff first and see where the cards fell.

'Well Dick, we have a small problem here. You're obstructing justice. Now I know you are concerned for the guests of your hotel. But what are the owners of this hotel and every media outlet in the country going to say, when a bomb goes off killing everyone within five hundred feet of the blast? And you didn't do a thing about it.' James could see the manager was way too egotistical to care.

'You storm into my hotel without a phone call or any kind of warning of what you claim is going on. Stopping my guests from leaving. Now you have people scared and panicked. I know my rights. Hamilton Bransford is a personal friend of mine, and a frequent guest here. I suggest you tread carefully Inspector James,' said Grantham in a conceited tone.

James smirked as Grantham tried to actually scare him by using the mayor's name.

'Actually we haven't been inside yet, to scare or prevent anyone from going. Your hotel is locked.'

Kirkland smirked as he watched Grantham grab the doors and try to move them. He then reached into his pocket and retrieved a set of keys. 'I'll thank you both to stay outside until you've got a warrant,' growled Grantham.

James had come to the end of his rope with Richard Grantham. As Kirkland walked over to report everything was sealed, James took his handcuffs off his belt.

'Detective Kirkland, arrest Mr. Grantham for obstruction of justice.'

Kirkland took the handcuffs and grabbed one of the manager's wrists.

'Mr. Grantham, you have the right to remain silent.'

Grantham jerked away. 'Wait, wait a minute!'

'Mr. Grantham, are you resisting arrest?' asked James.

Grantham looked worried for the first time. His face became flushed with fear.

'No I'm not resisting, I'm trying to understand what the hell you are doing here!'

'We told you, and you decided to be rude and belligerent. So now you're going downtown.'

'I'm not fucking going anywhere!'

Kirkland grabbed Grantham's other wrist. 'You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.'

Panicked Grantham shouted. 'What do you want?'

'I want you to knock off all this fucking bravado and take us to Room 1219!'

Grantham fell silent. His face became a blank slate, but his eyes revealed to James he knew exactly what he was asking for.

'You want the...' Grantham couldn't finish the statement.

'Yeah Dick, 'The Fatty Arbuckle room.'  I want you to take me to the very room where he used a Coke bottle on Virginia Rappe.'

James and Kirkland could see Grantham's behavior changed in an instant.

'Why do you want to go in there?'

'We have our reasons.'

'But those rooms are not available to guests in the hotel.'

'Rooms?' questioned James.

'Yes, rooms. Arbuckle booked three rooms that weekend. 1219, 1220 and 1221.'

'Which one was Virginia in?'

'All of them. But I still don't understand why you want to go in there. What does any of that have to do with a terrorist in my hotel?' questioned Grantham. James looked at Kirkland who in turn gave him a look that gestured to let Grantham in on the real reason for their presence. James could see it was time to drop the bluff and give diplomacy a try now.

'Detective Kirkland and I are working on a homicide case, where a credit card was found in a victims purse. The name of the credit card holder is Virginia Rappe and the address on the card is this hotel, room 1219,' stated James.

Grantham looked shocked, yet his face revealed he wasn't telling James and Kirkland everything he knew.

'So, if these rooms are not available to your hotel guests, what are you doing with them Mr. Grantham?' asked James.

'After what happened in 1921, the hotel owners had the rooms cleared, cleaned and locked.'

'You're telling me, no one has been inside these rooms since 1921?'

'No, after the original hotel owners died. The new owners decided enough time had passed and they re- opened the rooms until 1950.'

'What happened in 1950?' asked James.

'Vaudeville performer, Al Jolson died in room 1220.'

Chills ran down both James and Kirkland's arms. 'So you closed the rooms for good in 1950?' asked Kirkland.

'The owners decided they didn't want to take any more chances or bad press. No one would admit that there was something wrong with those rooms. In 1966 the rooms were turned into the maintenance man's living quarters. Since they are suites, they're big enough for someone to live in full time. We figured this was a chance to keep a man always on the premises at all hours. Also it was another way of deterring every sicko from wanting to book them on the Labor Day anniversary. Do you know how many freaks want to fuck in the Arbuckle suite?'

James reached behind Grantham and removed the handcuffs. He could see the manager relax.

'We need your help and cooperation, Mr. Grantham.'

'Very well, ask me anything you'd like to know.'

'Who is living in room 1219?'

'Our maintenance man, Mr. Skylar.'

Now it was James and Kirkland's turn to appear shocked. James cocked his head to the side.

'Excuse me? Did you say Mr. Skylar? Do you mean Richard Skylar?'

Grantham nodded quickly in agreement.

'Yes. Why is there a problem? Mr. Skylar isn't in any kind of trouble is he?'

'Why would you ask that?' questioned James.

'Well I mean the man has been with us since 1966.'

'Mr. Skylar has been with the hotel for over 43 years?'

'Yes, I came to The Aleris as manager in 1986 and originally I planned to replace him. However, when I realized he already had been with the hotel for 20 years and carried an impeccable work record, I thought, why bother?'

'And since 1966, The Aleris has not had another incident in the Arbuckle suites?' inquired James.

'Not one. We always thought since Mr. Skylar was such a sweet old guy, he changed the karma of the room, he was good luck for the hotel. So we kept him on, even after he started collecting social security.'

James and Kirkland both grimaced in disgust. 'Only in America, huh Mike?' said James as he suddenly remembered Skylar's drivers license gave a Hollywood address.

'Mr. Grantham, any reason to think, Mr. Skylar was leaving the hotel? Moving away I mean?'

Grantham shook his head. 'No, Mr. Skylar never gave us any indication he was planning on leaving.'

'Has he got any family, in southern California that you know of?'

'No, no family at all. He said his wife died during the war. It's why he left Europe and came to the United States. No kids, I mean it's like the guy was totally alone,' said Grantham.