The exit man, p.10
The Exit Man, page 10
“Anyway, I made some coffee in hopes of sobering him up, and it seemed to be working. After he stopped being so belligerent and seemed okay to drive, I tried to send him on his way, but he said he wanted to talk some more. I told him I was exhausted and had to get to sleep. He begged to stay for just a little while longer. The last thing I remember before waking up on the sofa four hours later was him taking a sip of coffee and grinning at me after I had returned from the bathroom. When I came to around 3 a.m. he was gone and I was lying on the sofa naked from the waist down, knowing for certain that he… that he had done something despicable.”
“Are you saying he raped you?”
“I’m not saying he raped me – he raped me! Motherfucker roofied and raped me!”
Zoe buried her face in her hands and cried as angrily as I’ve ever seen anyone cry. As much as I would have liked to console her by softy rubbing her back, I was afraid to touch her.
“It’s okay,” was all I could manage. Pitiful on my part. I pressed on.
“So when, and where, did you shoot him?”
Zoe raised her head and took a deep breath.
“A little after eight this morning at his house. In the basement.” She recoiled. “Shit, I can’t believe all this is happening.”
“Did anybody see or hear anything?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, nobody else was in the house, and I didn’t see any neighbors when I got the hell out of there.”
“How many shots did you fire?”
“Just one, in the chest. Oh, god!”
“And you’re sure he’s dead?”
“Yes. There was so much blood. I’m pretty sure the bullet hit his heart.”
“That’ll do it.”
“It was like somebody else was holding the gun and pulling the trigger. I was out of my mind.”
“You had every right to be. Can I ask where you got the gun?”
“It was his. I knew he kept it under his bed and I went and grabbed it when I walked into his house – I still have a key to his place. He was in the basement doing laundry. He never heard me come in. Didn’t know I was there until I came down the stairs.”
“What did he say when he saw you?”
“He said ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Drop the gun, baby.’ That’s what did it.”
“What’s what did what?”
“Him calling me ‘baby’ after what he had done to me the night before. Him standing there thinking he still had control. That’s what really made me pull the trigger.”
Zoe wringed her hands and chewed her lower lip. Furious and confused and exposed.
“Did you do anything with his body after you shot him?”
“I just left him there in the basement. I didn’t try to dispose of it or to clean-up or anything. I wasn’t trying to hide what I had done. I figured it wouldn’t matter since I was going to be dead soon, too.”
“Pardon me for asking, but you already had a gun in your hand – why didn’t you just… you know, instead of heading out to the bridge?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t plan any of this out. I’ll tell you what, though, I wish I had used the gun on myself.”
“Don’t say that. It sounds to me like this guy had it coming. Your life isn’t over. The police and the courts will most likely side with you once they know the whole story.”
“I don’t even care about that. Whether I get murder or manslaughter or off scot free, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change how ruined everything is.”
“I know it feels that way now, but –
“You have no fucking idea how it feels.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I think you need to try to ride this out a little longer.”
“Yeah, why’s that? And what the hell ever happened to you giving me advice for a better suicide method? All the sudden you’re softening into Johnny lifesaver.”
Not a moniker that’s likely to stick.
“I’m somewhat of an expert on suicidal protocol and appropriateness. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
“What the? So, you’re suicide-blocking me?”
“You simply aren’t what I consider an ideal candidate.”
“What the hell gives you the right to decide? It’s my life.”
“Look, it’s not like I’m some all-powerful guardian or gatekeeper. I can’t stop you from killing yourself. But I can decline to assist you. You aren’t the right fit.”
“I see. And just what, pray tell, would make me the ‘right fit’?”
“For one, you would have to be dying of an incurable disease.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
“Because I know these things.”
“Yeah, well it just so happens that I have, um, I have a malignant brain tumor. Will you help me now?”
“Please, don’t. It’s insulting.”
“How insensitive of you! I’m dying of brain cancer and all you can say is –
“Zoe, just stop. Show some respect. I have keen sensibilities and strict standards. Blatant lies are useless.”
“But you promised me back at the bridge.”
“I promised nothing. I merely mentioned there were much better methods, and suggested we sit down and chat about your situation. Now that we’ve done that, I see that you do not qualify for my services. It’s nothing personal.”
“What are these services you keep mentioning? What are you, some kind of hired killer for the terminally ill?”
Zoe’s wording wasn’t entirely off the mark, but she made it sound so cold and inhumane. It was hurtful. I wasn’t about to appease her with an affirmative response.
“I’m sorry, now that your request has been denied, it prevents me from further discussing the details of my services with you. Just know there’s a lot more to it than what you have inferred.”
“Whatever, I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I? You’re a cancer-patient killer. A freak!”
“Fine, if that’s what you want to believe.”
“That’s some sick shit.”
“Listen, would you like to continue with the ignorant epithets, or would you like me to help you figure out what to do about your dead ex-fiancé situation?”
“I already know what I want to do about it – I want to kill myself, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to help me with that.”
“You don’t want to kill yourself.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. If you really wanted to, you would have done so already. You had two golden opportunities – one with a pistol and one at the bridge – and yet here you are in one piece.”
“I told you, I wasn’t thinking straight after the shooting. As for the bridge, you interrupted the jump.”
“Interrupted, yes, but I gave you a second shot at it – one you opted not to take.”
“So now you’re daring me?”
“No, I’m submitting clear evidence that deep down you want to live. You want to live!”
Zoe bristled, then softened. What I had said struck her like a new invention. As my words sunk in, I saw the muscles in her jaw release, the swollen arteries in her neck contract. My statement served as a catalyst. Her subconscious desire to keep breathing cracked the surface. However, she refused to acknowledge this verbally.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, almost in a whisper.
“I think I do. And I think you know it.”
Admittedly, “Ha! I’m right, you’re wrong” is not typically the tack to take with somebody in the midst of a meltdown, but I felt Zoe required tough love more than sympathy.
“Fuck off!”
Okay, maybe a little sympathy.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I look at you and I don’t see a hopeless case, a life extinguished. I see a troubled, frightened girl who’s dealing with some major shit and who needs some help.”
“’Major shit’ is a bit of an understatement, wouldn’t you say? I murdered a man.”
“Shhh. Don’t go bandying that word about. From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like murder. More importantly, you might get away with it.”
Apparently it wasn’t enough sneaking around helping sick people disguise their suicide as natural death. I needed some excitement in my life.
Most people, after hearing about the mess Zoe was involved in, would have urged her to turn herself in, or would have turned her in themselves. I’ve never cared much for most people. Just those who throw extravagant parties or who don’t have very long to live.
Evidently, I was also partial to those who did have long to live but who just needed a little more convincing – and a little assistance averting the law.
I was going with my gut on this one. For all I knew, Zoe could have been lying about the whole rape thing. She could have been a psychotically jealous woman who couldn’t bear to be without the man she shot, or for him to be with somebody else. She might have killed him in cold blood rather than out of revenge in the heat of the moment. There may have been pre-meditation of a point-blank bullet. But I was giving Zoe the benefit of the doubt. From what I could gather, she was telling the truth.
I just couldn’t imagine this woman destroying anybody or anything in a cold and calculated manner. Except maybe herself.
I felt compelled to help. Doing so further fueled my ever-burgeoning sense of purpose. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous.
“Where is the gun now?” I asked.
“I threw it off the bridge before you showed up.”
“Okay, that’s good – assuming it didn’t hit anybody walking down along the gorge. That would be most unfortunate. Still, we should hike down there tomorrow, gather up whatever’s left of the gun and bury it.”
It was odd hearing myself hatch such a plan. I sounded less like a party-supply guy and more like a character from a Tarantino film. All the exit experience had apparently sharpened my “cleaning” skills.
Zoe just nodded, seemingly still in a mild state of shock, but no doubt a little impressed by my take-charge tactics – however improvised and possibly erroneous they were.
“Now I need you to think,” I continued. “Did you leave anything at the scene that could incriminate you? Anything at all?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, there’s always hair and fingerprints that could be found, but I didn’t do anything stupid like leave the gun or my purse or some other item of mine behind.”
“Good. And you didn’t scratch him or spit on him or anything like that?”
“No. Not this time.”
“So there was a history of fighting? Violence?”
“Nothing serious, just your typical couple spats. Not physical, and nothing that was public.”
“Okay. Now, how long ago did you say you guys ended things?”
“It ended about a year ago and, like I said, without much drama. I mean, he was pretty upset when I called off the wedding and broke up with him, but –”
“So you ended the relationship?”
“Well, it ended up being a mutual decision, but yes, I initiated it.”
“That’s great – pretty much eliminates you as a spurned lover seeking revenge.”
Zoe smirked.
“Now, did anybody know anything about what he did to you last night? I mean, would anybody say you had a motive?”
“No. Nobody knows anything. I let him into my house last night before he drew the attention of any neighbors. And I assume he left my place quietly, the son of a bitch.”
“Did you tell anybody – a friend or family member – that you were going to see him this morning?”
“Nobody.”
“Had you spoken to him via phone recently?”
“Not that recently. Maybe two or three months ago.”
“Excellent. Do you have your cell phone with you now?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because it’s important you answer any calls that you receive from this point on, whether you recognize the number or not. In fact, especially if you don’t recognize the number.”
“Why’s that?”
“It could be the police calling to inform you what’s his name… Keith has been killed. After the body’s been found – by whomever – the cops are going to want to talk to you, you being his ex-fiancé and all. You don’t want to be dodging such calls. That will only rouse suspicion.”
“Okay, but when I speak to the police, do I –”
“You were never there.”
“But I thought –”
“Zoe, you were never there.”
“You said that once my side of the story – the true story – was heard, the punishment might not be that severe.”
“That’s true, but that was before I knew there was nothing putting you at the scene. Completely innocent is a hell of a lot better than three to five, don’t you think?”
Zoe winced. It was hard to say if her discomfort was caused by the thought of lying to the police or of being incarcerated. Either way, I took her negative reaction as a positive sign. Those with a serious eye on suicide don’t show concern over personal ethics or freedom.
“Even if my claim that I wasn’t there sounds plausible, they might still give me a polygraph. I don’t know if I can trick one of those machines.”
“Don’t worry about that. Worry about perfecting your role – about seeming genuinely shocked and saddened by the news about Keith when you receive it. Do that, and a lie detector won’t even enter the picture.”
Zoe scowled at me.
“This is all nice and easy for you – you’re not the one whose life is fucked. You’re not the one who has to put on a convincing show for the police and others. It’s like some kind of game for you, but I’m the one with everything to lose.”
“You don’t think I have anything to lose? The very fact that I’m not turning you in or reporting Keith’s death to the police could make me an accessory to murder, or manslaughter, or whatever. And I’m pretty sure my actively trying to help you get away with it all makes me an accomplice or something.”
“So then why aren’t you turning me in? You should. As for your plan, I didn’t ask you for help. I certainly didn’t ask you to become my partner in crime.”
“I guess I just like teetering on the edge of the law at times.”
“Yeah, well, you should have left me teetering on the edge of that bridge.”
“Now that would have been a crime. Against humanity.”
Zoe just shook her head – mostly at me for my stubborn persistence and attempt at charm, but perhaps also at herself for liking it a little.
Now that I was no longer laughing uncontrollably or investigating a murder, I was ready to drive. I inserted the key into the ignition and lightly revved the engine.
“So, where to now?”
In asking this I was relinquishing control. Up to that point, I had been calling all the shots. But we had come to the point where me blurting out what I thought was the best next step in the plan might have caused Zoe to feel uneasy. “Let’s find a motel so we can get an early jump on finding the gun in the morning” would sound inappropriate. And while I was concerned Zoe might still be a danger to herself if left alone, I couldn’t presume to start monitoring her every movement.
“Could you just take me home?” she said.
“That’s a bad idea.”
Relinquishing control is overrated.
“Why’s that? If I ‘didn’t do anything’ then why should I be staying away from my house? Me not being home might actually make me look suspicious.”
She had a point. It wouldn’t look good if the police discovered she spent the night just outside the city the day her ex-fiancé was killed. If I proposed my motel idea now it would look like I was a sexual predator, or a miser over gas miles, or both.
“Okay, you’re right,” I said, feeling awkward about my sudden switching of gears. “Where do you live?”
“Just north of Blackport.”
“I live in Blackport, so that’s easy enough. Are you cool with me coming by to pick you up early in the morning to go look for the gun?”
“I guess so, assuming the cops haven’t picked me up by then.”
There was certainly a chance of that, but the fact Zoe hadn’t yet received any calls from the police or any mutual acquaintance of Keith’s most likely meant the body had yet to be discovered.
“Does… I mean did Keith live alone?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Is… was he one to get frequent visitors at home?”
“Um, not really. The occasional friend might pop by now and again, but most of his friends and family live in Seattle.”
“Good, then there’s probably some time before people notice that something’s awry, especially with it being a Sunday. Tomorrow might be a different story. Where did he work?”
“In an office in the city. He’s in finance.”
“Folks at work will wonder where he is and why he hasn’t called in sick. Still, it will be at least a day before the cops get wind, and I doubt you’ll be the first person they’ll be contacting. Still, we want to get to the gun before anybody else might stumble upon it. How about I pick you up at, say, six tomorrow morning.”
“Christ – so early?”
“Sorry, but we need to get cracking as soon as the sun comes up. It could take a while to hike down to the gorge and locate the gun.”
“Fine. I’ll try to be ready at six.”
“Do more than try. And if by chance the police contacts you between now and then and asks you to come in for questioning, I’ll hike down to the gorge myself tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I will.”
Zoe just shrugged.
You’re welcome.
The drive from the diner to her house emulated our earlier drive from the bridge to the diner, with Zoe dozing most the way, waking briefly whenever a road bump would lightly rattle her head against the window.
