Ace Atkins - Devil’s garden

McNab, being McNab, got right to it.

“Mr. Arbuckle, where were you on September fifth, 1921?”

“At the St. Francis Hotel. I secured rooms 1219, 1220, and 1221.”

The spectators looked genuinely mystified, the block of black-hatted Vigilants whispering to one another, wide-eyed and in shock that the beast could speak and had a voice and was not just some kind of spirit conjured up from a projector. That morning Roscoe had decided to speak slow and deliberate, McNab telling him don’t be a goddamn actor, don’t enunciate, don’t project, they smell a phony and you’re done for.

“Did you see Virginia Rappe that day?”

“Yes. She came into my room about noon.”

“Who was present when she entered?”

“Lowell Sherman, Fred Fishback, and a nightgown salesman named Fortlouis.”

“Did Miss Rappe come there at your invitation?”

Roscoe tapped the stenographer’s desk with the tip of the pencil and turned his eyes to the jury. “No. And I did not invite Miss Blake, Miss Prevon, or Mrs. Delmont and her friend Mr. Semnacher either.”

“They crashed your party, so to speak.”

“Yes.” Roscoe’s eyes lingered on the jury, running down each one, face by face, name by name, cataloging each one of them.

“And a Miss Taube. May Taube?”

“She was invited. We had an appointment at three to go motoring.”

“How were you dressed when the others arrived at your suite?”

“I wore pajamas, socks, slippers, and a bathrobe.”

No running from it, lay it all out like McNab said. When he asks a question, tell it the way it happened. Tell the truth down to the last detail, McNab said. And as Roscoe sat there running down that day, it felt good to say it just as it happened.

McNab walked over to the defense table and brought Roscoe his blue robe, letting him feel the rough, rich texture and identify it. The old man cataloged it into evidence, showing no shame at the attire, nothing scandalous about a fat man wearing a robe at lunchtime.

“Where, previously to seeing her in 1219 taken ill, did you see Miss Rappe?”

“In room 1220. And I saw her go into room 1221.”

“When did you go into 1219?”

“About three o’clock.”

“Was the door leading from room 1220 to 1219 open at that time?” Roscoe thumped the pencil on the desk. “Yes.”

“Did you know Miss Rappe was in there?”

U’Ren was on his feet, objecting, sniffing the air with his feral nose, and the judge sustained the bastard. A smile crept onto U’Ren’s lips, almost frothing to get hold of Roscoe. In a moving picture, he’d be rubbing his hands together. Roscoe would be on a silver platter, an apple in his mouth.

“Where in 1219 did you see Miss Rappe?”

“I found her in the bathroom.”

“Now,” McNab said, talking and walking. “Tell the jury, Mr. Arbuckle, just what you saw and did.”

“Well,” Roscoe said, smooth and slow, though not enunciating and projecting but just talking, finding it odd as hell being up on the stage with all these people and talking regular. “I went from 1220 into 1219 and locked the door, and I went right to the bathroom. I found Virginia Rappe”-saying her last name because he decided that was more appropriate and all-“lying on the floor, rolling around, moaning, and very ill. When I opened the bathroom door it stuck against her and I could only open the door a little ways and had to edge my way in. I lifted her up and I held her head. I held her head, pulling back the hair from her face, while she vomited into the commode.”

“What else happened?”

“Well, after I had helped her sit up, she asked for water and she drank a glass and one half. I wiped her face with a towel. She said she wanted to lie down, so I helped her from the bathroom and assisted her to lie down on the smaller of the two beds in the room. I went back into the bathroom and closed the door.”

“When you came back out of the bathroom again, what did you observe?”

“I found Virginia Rappe on the floor, between the two beds, rolling as if in great pain and moaning. I got her up and got her onto the large bed. She at once became violently ill again. I went at once to 1220, expecting to find Mrs. Delmont. I found Miss Prevost, told her what had happened, and she went right into 1219. I went back into 1219 and Virginia Rappe was tearing her clothes. She acted then as if she were in a terrible temper. She pulled up her dress and tore at her stockings. She had black lace garters on and she was tearing them, too. Then Fishback came into the room. At that time, Miss Rappe was tearing her waist. She had one sleeve almost torn off, and I said, ‘All right, Virginia, if you want to get that off I’ll help you.’ And I did help her to tear it off.”

“What did you do then?”

“Well, I went out of the room for a few moments. When I came back, Miss Rappe was nude on the bed. Mrs. Delmont was rubbing her body with ice wrapped up in a towel. I saw a piece of ice on Miss Rappe’s body and I said, ‘What’s that doing there?,’ and Mrs. Delmont said, ‘Leave it there. You let us alone. I’ll take care of Virginia.’ She then tried to order me to leave the room. I said to Mrs. Delmont, ‘Shut up or I’ll throw you out of the window.’ ”

“What happened then?”

“Mrs. Taube came in and I told her to telephone Mr. Boyle, the hotel manager, and she did. She used the telephone in 1220. Then I went back into room 1219 and I told Mrs. Delmont to get dressed, as the manager was coming. I pulled the bedspread over the body of Miss Rappe. Then Boyle came upstairs. I took him into room 1219.”

“What was done then?”

“We got Fred Fishback’s bathrobe out of a closet and put it on Miss Rappe and then I picked her up and, with Mr. Boyle, started to carry her to room 1227.”

“How did you leave 1219?”

“Through the door leading into the corridor.”

“Was that door open?”

“Boyle opened the door.”

“What next?”

“Well, I carried Miss Rappe about three-fourths of the way. She kept slipping and I asked Mr. Boyle to help me. We put her in bed in room 1227. Then I walked back down the corridor with Mr. Boyle as far as the elevator and then went to 1219.”

“Was the door from 1219 into the hall unlocked on that day?”

“Yes. Fishback went out that way when he left to take my car.”

“How was it opened when you removed Miss Rappe?”

“Boyle walked right up to it and opened it.”

“Was the window to 1219 open?”

“Yes. It was always wide-open.”

“While in 1219, did you hear Miss Rappe say, ‘You hurt me’ or ‘He hurt me’?”

“No, I did not. She spoke to me several times, but no one could understand just what she said.”

“On the next day, or at any other time, did you have any conversation with Al Semnacher with regard to the ice on Virginia Rappe’s body?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did you ever, at any time, in room 1219 on September fifth, 1921, have occasion to place your hand over that of Miss Rappe’s on the door of your room?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you in any way come into contact with that door leading out into the corridor?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know Fred Fishback?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you ever, on any occasion, have a conversation with him in which you are alleged to have asked him if he had the key to Virginia Rappe’s room and in which he is alleged to have said yes and in which you further are alleged to have said, ‘I’ll give this for it,’ showing him a roll of bills?”

“No such conversation ever took place.”

“Now, Mr. Arbuckle, are there any other circumstances that occurred in room 1219 that you can tell this jury?”