"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.
James noticed Grantham was about to speak again but stopped himself.
"Something else you want to add?" asked James.
"Why are you asking all these questions about Mr. Skylar?"
"I think you should show us to room 1219. Then we can answer all your questions."
Grantham could tell something was very wrong. He called his assistant manager over and informed him to comply with police and explain to the guests this will be only a minor inconvenience. He then placed the keys inside the lock and opened the door. The four men stepped inside the lobby door. Grantham turned around and relocked the doors. Lee crossed the lobby calling to Mr. Foster.
"Hey Mr. Foster, didn't you hear me calling to you?" James, Kirkland and Grantham stepped into the main lobby and looked around. "What the hell is this?" asked Grantham as they noticed no one in the lobby had moved. "Mr. Foster?" called Lee. He turned to the others, "Hey, I think something is wrong with Mr. Foster."
"I think you're right Lee, I think he's dead, along with everyone else in the room" said Grantham. James could see Grantham was right. No one was moving. Men and women were frozen dead in their armchairs. Cups of coffee were still lukewarm as if time had just stopped.
"Guys, don't take another step. Something is seriously wrong here. Everyone cover your mouths and back out slowly. Let's get back out on the street. Mike get on the phone and call Hazmat, the bomb squad and get as many officers over here as fast as you can and take Lee with you. God, I wonder if anyone else is alive in here. Dick, how many rooms are in this hotel?"
"The Aleris has 629 guest rooms, 20 additional luxury suites," said Grantham as he relocked the lobby doors.
"Any vacancies?" asked James.
"We're a five star hotel in an international city, what do you think?"
"I think we're about to face some serious shit."
"You still want to go upstairs?" asked Grantham.
"Yeah, I do. Once Hazmat gives us the all clear. Something tells me whatever is going on in room 1219, it's going to be connected to all of this."
The four men methodically retraced their steps back to the street. Once outside, Grantham made certain the lobby doors were secure. Leaning against them he turned to James. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Shaking his head no, James added "But after today nothing would surprise me."
Within the hour the city police had blocked off every street leading to The Aleris Hotel. Crowds of people had been gathering with several activists trying to break through the police barriers. James laughed to himself. Every time there is some kind of media event in this city, the liberal hardliners think it's their personal mission to be in the middle of it all. James loved arresting people who thought the rules didn't apply to them. Hazmat had arrived and they were putting on their nuclear suits while some jerk shouted in the background, "The people have a right to know!"
Standing at the lobby doors, James and Grantham waited for Lee and Kirkland to return. Looking at his watch, James became more and more annoyed that it was taking so long. He could feel valuable clues slipping away from him.
Finally, James could see Kirkland and Lee leading the Hazmat crew to the hotel's main entrance.
"Tom, this is Steve Vermillion. He's the crew leader for Hazmat. Steve, this is my partner, Inspector Thomas James." The two men shook hands quickly and Steve asked who had the keys. Grantham reached into his pocket and retrieved them.
"Here you go."
"Thanks, we will let you know as soon as we can what we find," said Steve.
"Wait a second, hold it, Steve. You can't go in there without us. This entire hotel is a crime scene. You gotta take us with you," commanded James.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, I'm not. I can't take the chance that you or your men could accidentally compromise my scene here. We not just dealing with one homicide, everyone in this lobby is a murder victim."
Steve sighed and radioed for someone to bring up some more gas masks. "But you're taking full responsibility for everyone who's not Hazmat cleared right?" Steve stated. James nodded in agreement as another member of the Hazmat crew arrived with respirators for James, Kirkland and Grantham.
"Lee, I want you to wait here at the lobby doors, handle any questions that Steve's back-up crew have about the hotel. You're also going to be our outside liaison," instructed James. He then turned to the rest of the men and spoke, "Are we ready?"