Who Censored Roger Rabbit? (22 page)

“You planned to use the money from this deal to bankroll the startup of your own cartoon syndicate?”

“Yes. In fact I had already approached my father through an intermediary, with an offer to buy up the contract of a ‘toon I could use as the cornerstone of my new enterprise.”

“And that intermediary,” I said, “was Sid Sleaze, going by his real name, Sid Baumgartner.”

“Correct,” said Little Rock.

“And the character you were going after,” I continued, “was Roger Rabbit.”

“Correct again, but Father refused to sell. I consider myself a very astute judge of ‘toon talent,” bragged Little Rock. “I told Father many times that Roger Rabbit was one of the most talented ‘toons in the DeGreasy stable. I told Father over and over that Roger should get a strip of his own. But Father refused to listen. He wouldn’t star the rabbit, nor would he turn him loose. I always suspected it had something to do with Jessica.”

“You mean Rocco used Roger to hold onto Jessica?” interrupted Roger. Why did that rabbit refuse to give up his dogged belief that Jessica loved him when anybody with even half a brain could tell otherwise? “So long as Rocco kept the rabbit, he kept Jessica, too?”

“So it appeared,” said Little Rock, sending Roger’s spirits soaring to the moon. “Jessica would never have stayed with him of her own free will. Jessica did not love my father. How could she? She was so cultured and refined, and he was such a boor. No, she loved someone else. That was quite obvious to even the casual observer.”

Roger beamed, but not for long.

“Jessica loved me,” said Little Rock, and Roger’s self-proclaimed hard-shell exterior flattened out quicker than a turtle out for a Sunday stroll on the Golden State Freeway. “That’s the other reason I got involved in this nefarious scheme,” said Little Rock. “For Jessica. She never said this in so many words, but she certainly led me to believe that, if I ever became independently wealthy, she would leave Father in a flash, no matter what he did to stop her, and would run away with me.”

“To a grass hut on some tropical island where you would both eat coconuts, never wear clothes, and live happily ever after,” I said. “It never occurred to you that a guy with your old man’s clout could track you to Timbuktoo and haul you back?”

Judging from the look on his face, it never had. I’m constantly amazed how people kid themselves into believing love can conquer all.

I didn’t want Roger to hear my next line of questions, so I trumped up a dangerous assignment for him. “Who was that?” I asked pointing toward the window. “Out there. Somebody’s out there. We’re being watched.” “We are?” said Roger and Little Rock almost in unison. I pulled Roger to me. “You wanted action, here’s your chance. Go outside and collar that snoop. Just remember, this isn’t make-believe. Whoever’s out there is playing hardball, and he’s playing it for keeps.”

The rabbit nodded bravely. If you didn’t count the garbage can he tipped over on the way, you could say he slipped silently out the backdoor.

“Rocco called you the night he died,” I stated to Little Rock after the rabbit was out of earshot. “Why?”

“To tell me he knew about my forgery scheme. He ordered me to come to the house immediately to discuss it with him.” “And did you go?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m not a courageous man by nature, Mister Valient,” he said, stating the obvious. “The thought of facing my father in full fury was more than I could handle. Instead, I came home, got thoroughly swacked, and passed out on the living room floor.”

That I could believe. He was so chicken he probably got homesick walking by a Colonel Sanders. Now came the part I didn’t want Roger to hear. “How did Rocco use the rabbit to hang onto Jessica?”

“It’s a mystery to me. There appeared to be a connection there, but I could never figure it out, and I didn’t want to risk offending Jessica by asking her outright.”

“Holding onto Roger would have worked if Jessica had loved the rabbit. You say you’re pretty close to her. Did she? Did she ever love the rabbit?”

Little Rock tittered. “Heavens, no. Who in their right mind could love a rabbit?”

Roger crept by the window. He had gotten hold of a knife somewhere and had it clenched firmly between his teeth. If he bumped into a tree, he would slit his own throat. Never a stand of timber around when you need one.

“Jessica despised Roger,” said Little Rock. “She told me so many times. She dated him once, as a lark. She had no intention of getting serious with him. Then, totally out of the blue, she experienced an overwhelming urge to marry the furry fellow. She was never able to really explain it. It just came over her, too strongly to resist. Like an uncontrollable itch. She said later that it was as though she had been bewitched. She struggled every day for a year to break the mysterious hold the bunny seemed to have over her. Finally, one day, just as quickly as it came, her obsession vanished, and she managed to break free of Roger’s spell. She packed her bags immediately and walked out on the rabbit, without so much as a backward glance. She came back here to be near me, she said. While she played up to Father, it was really me she loved. It was a glorious period in my life. We went to dinner together, and to plays, and dancing. We even shared her new hobby.”

“And what was that?”

“Shortly after her return, Jessica became interested in ‘toon mythology. We signed up for a course in it together at City College.”

“She ever give you any reason for her interest?” “No, but it certainly fascinated her. She and I went to the university together almost every night to use their reference library. I delighted in it, because it gave me a chance to be close to her. It was one of the happiest periods of my life,” he repeated.

“Was she interested in any particular aspect of ‘toon mythology?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, she was. Magic lanterns. She read every work she could find on magic lanterns.”

Roger came in the backdoor. When he opened his mouth to speak, the knife fell out and nearly cut off his toe. I don’t know why he wanted a job with more danger in it. He created enough for himself on his own. “I checked around out there, Eddie, but I couldn’t find a thing.”

“He might have gone away for reinforcements,” I said. “We’d better take it on the lam before he gets back.” I headed for the front door.

“Are you going to turn me in?” said Little Rock plaintively to my back.

I told him what I had told Carol Masters, maybe yes, maybe no, depending on how well he played along from here on in.

He didn’t take it any better than she had. To which I delivered my usual response. Tough.

Sleaze’s secretary did everything but barricade the door with her desk to keep us out of his office. When I bulled past her and got inside, I could see why. Her boss had a very nasty secret.

We caught him just slipping on one of those red and white Little Orphan Annie numbers that became the rage after the kid struck it big on Broadway. He stood there in black padded brassiere, lacy garter belt, and sheer nylon stockings, his dress bunched around his shoulders, staring at us over his frilly white collar in embarrassed surprise. “This isn’t the way it looks,” he said lamely. “I’m not a transvestite. I’m incognito. You can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for me lately with these people parading around outside. Having them yell at me and pelt me with spoiled vegetables. I wear this getup so I can come and go without being recognized. Really. That’s the only reason.”

Sure it was. And I’m the Ape Man’s uncle. He pulled his dress down the rest of the way and gave us our first clear look at the bottom half of his face, completely done up with rouge, powder, and lipstick. In a beauty contest between him and Elsie the Cow, he might get the nod. Call it a toss-up on looks, but at least Sleaze didn’t drool.

Sleaze straightened out his stocking seams to plumbline perfection. He sat down at his desk, pulled out a makeup mirror, and began gluing on a set of long, fluttery, false eyelashes you could have used as decoys in a butterfly hunt What is it you want?” he asked.

I tossed him the envelope of negatives, which he caught girl-style, with his forearms in together and his hands spread apart. “Little Rock DeGreasy cracked and told me about your torgery racket,” I said. “I want to hear your version.”

Sleaze gave the negatives a casual look and flirtatiously handed me the envelope back, holding onto it just a fraction of a second too long after I’d grabbed the other end. Swell. On top of every other wacko in this goofball case I had an amorous drag queen, too.

“I wanted badly to get out of the porno business,” said bleaze taking great pains to arrange himself so I had a clear shot at his shaved legs. “It’s not nearly as lucrative as most people assume. Tastes change so rapidly. So I agreed to go along with Carol and Little Rock’s scheme. I duplicated their stolen negatives, and they sold them as originals.” He smiled. Lipstick speckled nearly every one of his teeth. “I’m very proud of my process. I invented it myself, you know. It’s absolutely foolproof. I can duplicate a negative so perfectly that not even an expert can tell.”

“You used that process to duplicate the negatives to Jessica s comic book, didn’t you?” said Roger. I knew it was true, i knew that’s what Sleaze had done, but I’m sure I never told the rabbit. Imagine that. He must have figured it out by him•

self. Imagine that. “You sold the originals to Jessica,” he stated. “And a set of duplicates to Rocco.”

“It shows you how good they were,” said Sleaze. “Not even an expert like Rocco DeGreasy could spot them as phony.”

Roger turned to me. “Sorry for the interruption, partner. You want to take it back?” His balloon came out the size of a blackjack and as hard as last week’s biscuits. It hit the floor and sent up a balloon of its own with “THUNK” in bold letters inside.

“No, go ahead,” I said. “You’re doing great.” The rabbit plunged right back in without so much as a thank-you smile. “You went to Rocco’s house the night he died to sell him the negatives,” Roger said. “He examined them and gave you a check for ten thousand bucks. Then he tossed them into the fireplace.”

“Yes. Can you believe it?” said Sleaze. “If he’d only known what fine artistry had gone into producing them. All that work, up in smoke.”

“Once that transaction had been completed,” continued Roger, “you gave Rocco another proposition. Hiram Toner dealt with wealthy collectors through a middleman. That middleman was you. Toner gave you photos of the artwork he’d gotten from Carol Masters. You knew where they had come from, but you took them to Rocco anyway. Except you didn’t intend to sell them to him. At least not the artwork. You intended to sell him the story
behind
the artwork. Right so far?”

Sleaze nodded. He opened a cylindrical case atop his desk and took out a long blonde wig. He set it on his head, wiggled it around until he got the look he wanted, and pouted at himself in the mirror. “I showed Rocco the photos of his stolen artwork and told him that for another ten thousand I would tell him a very interesting story about them.”

“So he paid you another ten thousand, which accounts for the fact he wrote you two checks that night rather than one. You then outlined the entire hoax.” Sleaze nodded again, but carefully, so his wig wouldn’t slip.

I felt like suggesting he tack it in place with a stapler, but I wasn’t in the mood for humor.

“What did Rocco do when you told him his son and his best photographer had conspired against him?” Roger asked.

“He went to the phone and called each one.”

“You were with him when he did it?”

“Yes.”

“You heard what he said to them?”

“Yes. He told Carol he knew she had stolen his artwork and had duplicated it for multiple sale. He told her he planned to turn her over to the police. He told Little Rock pretty much the same story, that the scheme had come apart. But he didn’t mention anything about involving the police. Instead he ordered the boy to come to his house immediately for a chat.”

“Did either one of them, Carol or Little Rock, arrive while you were there?”

“No, neither one.”

Roger then asked a question that, I must admit, hadn’t occurred to me. Oh, it would have sooner or later. It just hadn’t yet. “Why did you put an end to the scheme anyway? Weren’t Carol and Little Rock paying you nicely for producing their negatives?”

“Sure. But, according to one of my contacts, several collectors who’d bought those photos had met by accident, compared notes, realized they’d been taken, and were tracking their way back to the source.”

So the scam was unraveling, pretty much the way Carol and Little Rock figured it eventually would. What little Sleaze had to lose by bailing out when he did, he stood to make back and then some with one big score off Rocco. “Rocco also wrote a check to Toner that night,” said Roger. “Why?”

“Rocco decided to go ahead and buy the artwork, even knowing it to be forged. He planned to use it to keep Carol and Little Rock in their places. I don’t think he really intended to turn either of them over to the police. He just loved to make them worry. He put Toner’s check into an envelope and asked me to mail it on my way home, which I did.”

The rabbit then switched topics a hundred and eighty degrees. A good technique. Keeps your quarry off balance. “Little Rock told us you approached the syndicate numerous times on his behalf with offers to buy out Roger Rabbit’s contract.”

Sleaze went to the window and listened to the concerned citizens chanting, “Hey, clown, get out of town,” on the street below. He shut the heavy drapes, muffling out the sound completely. “True, I approached the syndicate,” said Sleaze. He rifled through his purse for a cigarette, held it to his lips, and waited for some gentleman to step forward and light it for him. I was inclined to watch him die of a nicotine fit, but Roger caved in and did the deed. “Little Rock and I discussed Roger Rabbit quite often, and we shared the same assessment of him,” said Sleaze, tapping his cigarette into his ashtray after every puff. “The rabbit had a tremendous amount of talent, talent which Rocco let go to waste. Little Rock could not approach his father outright with an offer to purchase, since his father would refuse out of general principles, simply to deny Little Rock something he wanted terribly. So Little Rock asked me to act as go-between. But Rocco wouldn’t sell. I offered him nearly twice Roger’s fair market value, but no. Rocco remained dead-set on keeping the rabbit in his stable. Why, I don’t know, and I never found out.”