The exit man, p.26
The Exit Man, page 26
“Not really. Not recently, at least.”
“What do you mean, ‘not recently’?”
“I just mean she’s had some bouts of depression in the past, but who hasn’t?”
“Was she on any medication?”
“I know she had once been prescribed lithium for bipolar disorder – but she stopped taking it regularly years ago.”
My responses were far too coherent and concise given the situation. I should have been crying my eyes out. I reached deep inside for tears, but failed to produce any. The adrenalin must have been blocking my ducts. Talking to a cop will do that, especially when you’re concealing the fact you’re a mass murderer – albeit it a socially conscious one.
“Do you live here, too?” the detective asked.
“No. I have a place closer to downtown. Zoe usually stayed with me. Mostly she just worked here – she is… was a music teacher.”
I thought of her poor students who, after hearing the news, would spend the rest of their lives wondering if their pitiful scale-playing was what prompted their instructor to slash her wrists.
“Yeah, I know she’s a music teacher,” the detective said. “She and I met about a year ago – when she was called in for questioning after her ex-fiancé turned up dead of a gunshot wound. Were you two together back then?”
“No. I actually met Zoe a little bit after that. His murder really messed her up for a while.”
“I know. She’d call us on occasion to find out if we’d made any progress on the case. Always sounded shaken up.”
Excellent performance, Zoe. Hopefully my acting can measure up.
“The person who killed Keith, is he still on the loose?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The case is still open, but we’ve pretty much exhausted all our leads.” The Detective didn’t take his eyes off me as he bent to scratch his knee. “Let me ask you,” he said pointing in the direction of the bathroom, “do you think this had anything to do with her never fully getting over Keith Carlson’s murder?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so. Like I said, she’d been doing okay lately. But who knows, maybe she was scarred much more deeply than she let on.” I lowered my head and placed my hand over my eyes to show the detective how upset I should have been.
“How did the two of you meet?” he asked.
“With all due respect, Detective, how is that relevant here? I’m sorry, but my girlfriend is lying dead in the other room – I’m not quite up for a trip down memory lane.”
“I know this is difficult. I’m just trying to create the clearest picture possible. It’s not my intention to upset you.”
“It’s too late for me not to be upset.”
“I understand, and I’m indeed sorry for your loss. Tell you what, let me just get your contact information. That way if I have any other questions for you, I can just get in touch after you’ve had some time to cope with all this.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. I’m not trying to be uncooperative, it’s just –”
“No need to explain.”
He took down my name, address and phone number before extending his hand.
“Again, sorry for your loss, Mr. Edelmann. You are free to go, unless you prefer to stick around.“
“I think I’ll go, if it’s all the same. I already said my goodbyes before you all arrived, and I’d rather not see her being brought out in that bag.”
“Of course, sir. Are you okay to drive? Do you need us to call somebody or drop you anywhere?”
“I’ll be okay, thank you.” I turned to leave, then stopped and turned back around. “Just one thing, Detective. Who’s going to notify her family, her mother and her sister? I never met them and have no real way of getting in contact.”
“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry. You just get home safely and try to get some rest. I’ll get in touch with you again if necessary.”
Sounds good. Maybe over donuts you can ask me if I know anything about my dead girlfriend’s suspected killing spree.
After shaking the detective’s hand, I made my way toward the door and walked out into the shards of the evening. I wondered if any neighbors had noticed me hanging around the house for nearly an hour before the police and paramedics arrived. I wondered if anyone had seen me empty Zoe’s trunk. If so, I wondered if they’d bother to take time away from their TV and their laptop and their tablet and their smartphone to share what they’d seen.
I climbed into my Pathfinder and tried to fathom how I’d lost the most dangerous and divine woman I’d ever known. I was alone again. Before Zoe, such a statement would bring relief, uttered as a slow yet joyful sentiment. A welcomed melancholy following a forced romance. But now alone meant alone. Without. Without the woman I might have loved.
Gone not only were fragments of my heart, but also the backbone of the exit team. The deaths of dozens of people hung in the balance. People who’d been patiently awaiting the release I’d promised. I couldn’t possibly handle the schedule on my own. In fact, I couldn’t even handle my usual share. Until I was certain I was off the police’s radar with regard to Zoe’s death, I’d have to suspend operations.
Imagine the only cardio-thoracic surgeon of his kind telling leagues of eager patients he was taking a break, that they’d have to wait a couple months for the new ticker they thought they were getting, and desperately needed, in a week or two. It was actually worse than that. A surgeon didn’t have to worry about patients trying to perform operations on their own, nor about reporting him to the authorities out of anger over his sabbatical.
CHAPTER 28
How I got from Zoe’s home back to mine without plowing into any vehicles, pedestrians or trees is beyond me. Of course, I’m merely assuming my dazed and confused drive across town occurred without any accidents or casualties. For all I know I could have run over some dog or cat or child – something too small to jolt me out of my daydreams or change the trajectory of the Pathfinder. But for now let’s give me the benefit of the doubt and just say I did not unknowingly commit and get away with a hit and run. I’ve dodged enough charges as it is.
Traffic lights and lane lines and road signs just don’t captivate the mind like dead lovers and lost clients and evidence trails do. All I could think while blindly maneuvering two tons of steel through the city was, Zoe’s dead Zoe’s dead Zoe’s dead how can the police NOT uncover something what with her recent serial slayings of men who have something very obvious in common so common all the cops would have to do is do a search on who’s been searching the sex offender site unless Zoe was smart enough to do her searches from a public computer like the ones at the library but if not it’s only a matter of time before an investigation ensues if one hasn’t already begun hey maybe the detective was already on to something when he talked to me at the house Zoe’s dead Zoe’s dead Zoe’s dead but there’s still the matter of them figuring out the helium piece of the puzzle they’d have to exhume some dead men and do an autopsy and still likely wouldn’t find any traces of our noble gas in his system but they’re also going to be going through all her online activity including those Party Down purchases and surely they’ll wonder why helium why helium what do people do with it besides inflate balloons “Has she celebrated any birthdays or thrown any parties recently Mr. Edelmann and if so why didn’t she just use tanks from YOUR shop seeing as how you’re her boyfriend and all?” not sure how I’ll field that one though I could always concoct something about how I had suspected her of having an affair and this whole helium thing seems to confirm it goddamn it she threw a party for the guy and everything man that hurts I might want to consider taking acting lessons and Googling “how to beat a polygraph” I guess you could call it karma for when I told Zoe how she could outsmart one with ease in case she had to take one after shooting Keith that seems so long ago everything was just starting well not everything but everything with us and now Zoe’s dead Zoe’s dead she’s fucking dead and now the police will be keeping an eye on me so I can’t very well continue going to group meetings and even worse my clients will have to stay alive longer than they should ever have had to or force a friend or loved one to fill in for me I really can’t blame them for that but it’s a goddamn shame that I won’t be able to be there for them and do my job it’s very difficult going back to being a man when you know something about what it’s like to be a god.
I remained inside my head for the next few days. It wouldn’t be accurate to say I was hiding, as my body, from what I can gather, did make several public appearances. A receipt I found in my jeans and a bottle I found by my bed show that I purchased some whiskey at one point. The fact I didn’t starve to death or even lose weight leads me to believe I went to a restaurant or grocery store, as well. I’m told I also popped in to Jubilee to check on business and to finally explain – falsely, of course – the missing helium tanks to Carl. I was sent home and told not to worry about it.
I recollect remnants of some phone calls, too, the most notable of which came from Zoe’s sister, who explained that the body was being transported to Denver for burial, and that their mother had requested I stay away and not attend any of the services.
“I’m sorry, Eli, but my mother doesn’t want to have to bear the added burden of being kind to you.”
I also got a call from my mother, who still had no idea the girl I’d been dating was dead. Mom just wanted to know if I could come for dinner that Sunday. “You seem a little out of it, Eli,” she said at one point during the call.
“It’s been a tough week, Mom. I’ll explain when I see you Sunday.”
I wanted to tell her what had happened to Zoe right then and there over the phone. I wanted her to rush over to my place and make me some hot cocoa and hold me while I wailed and screamed. But it’s very difficult going back to being a boy when you know something about what it’s like to be a god.
Besides, I didn’t deserve to be consoled.
It had been four days since Zoe’s death and I hadn’t been contacted by the detective, or by any other member of the force, for that matter. Perhaps, through a conversation with one of Zoe’s past doctors or pharmacists, the police had chalked her suicide up to a simple chemical imbalance. No need to dig deeper when a serotonin shortage is involved. Surely they were still investigating the mysterious case of the three dead sex offenders, but maybe Zoe had effectively covered all her tracks, and thus mine as well.
I returned to work, much to the relief of Carl, who had covered every shift during my absence and even managed to accrue some decent sales numbers. As my first order of business back at Jubilee I raised Carl’s pay by $2 an hour, not only in appreciation for his coming through in a pinch, but also for having dropped the little matter of the missing helium tanks. The way things were going, I doubted the police would ever be questioning Carl about me. Nevertheless, I considered the extra $50-$75 per week I was now paying him to be a kind of insurance, even though it was entirely possible that Carl had completely forgotten all about the inventory issue. There’s nothing wrong with a little subliminal greasing of the palm. A karmic bribe of sorts.
Work served as a welcomed distraction, a way to erase Zoe from my mind for a few minutes here and there. Burying myself in cartons and customers and complaints kept me from bloody bathtubs and imagined arrests. But there’s only so much hiding you can do when you’ve got a bunch of people expecting you to subtract them in the very near future. It was early April and, according to the schedule, we – I mean I – had seven exits to administer by the end of May. Seven clients counting on me to sweep them off their feet. Seven people who were about to be severely disappointed.
The same week I returned to Jubilee I had plans to attend a meeting of each support group to start shutting down production. Telling individuals you won’t be able to help them die is a lot more difficult than promoting your services in the first place.
The initial meeting took place the evening of my first day back in the shop. There were three members of this particular group I had to speak to urgently. I cornered the first one, Garrett Kirby (pancreatic cancer), on his way to the restroom 10 minutes before kickoff.
“I have some very unfortunate news,” I said to the man I was set to dispatch in three days.
“In my condition, how bad can the news be?” Garrett said, his smirk outdueling his concern.
“I no longer will be able to ‘assist’ you.”
“What? Why not?”
“There’s been a… an incident. And I believe the police may now be keeping an eye on me.”
“Did somebody tell on you?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s rather complicated. I can’t really go into detail on the incident right now… just know that my hands are tied.”
“Well, what about your partner. I know you have an associate who works with you – can she maybe help me?”
“I’m afraid she was the incident.”
“She got caught?”
“No, she died.”
“Jesus! I’m so sorry. Wow. Weren’t you two, like, together?”
“Is that what you’ve heard?”
“Yeah, there’s been some talk.”
“I guess there’s no harm in sharing now. Yes, she was my girlfriend.”
“Oh my god! I’m SO sorry. Damn. Was she sick?”
“No. She… she killed herself.”
“Christ! That’s horrible! When?”
“A few days ago.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not yet, but I’ll get there.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are the police watching you? Do they… suspect you had something to do with her–”
“No, no. It’s not that. She slit her wrists, an obvious suicide. But I must lay low now, as it’s quite possible the police or her family might discover some things about her… about us… that could be suspicious.”
“Shit. So, is this just a temporary thing, or do you think you’re done?” Garrett asked.
“I don’t know, man. Things have gotten a little out of control. The risk factor seems to have gone way up, you know?”
“Sure, sure. I understand.” He was lying through his teeth for my benefit. It’s difficult to empathize with anyone when you have less than six months to live.
As Garrett started to walk away, looking like a kid who’d been forced to return a found puppy to its rightful owner, I realized I was making a huge mistake. I wasn’t ready to call it quits, to take off my cape, to relinquish my power. You don’t get into the exit game to play it safe. You don’t come that far and make that much of an impact on the lives and deaths of others only to toss in the towel at the first real sign of trouble. And what life would I be returning to if hung up the helium tank? I had a dead girlfriend, a dead-end day job, and a drinking problem that would only get worse if I didn’t have the hood to get me high.
Thou giveth and thou taketh away. But thou can always choose to giveth back again.
“Garrett, wait,” I said as I caught up with him. “You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I want you to forget everything I just said. You can count on me to be there for you on Friday, as scheduled.”
“Wha? Really? What about all the–”
“Don’t worry about all that. I have a tendency to be a little overdramatic.”
“Overdramatic? Your girlfriend just killed herself and possibly left a trail to your euthanasia ring. I don’t think ‘overdramatic’ is possible here.”
“Listen, I want to do this for you. I’m not going to pull out just because the cops might end up with something that gives them an inkling something’s up.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be the reason why you get put away.”
“You won’t be. So, Friday at ten in the morning, like we originally discussed?”
“I don’t know, I just feel–”
“Garrett, if your hesitation has to do with you having fears and second thoughts over the actual procedure, then yes, let’s definitely call this off. But don’t cancel just because of what I told you before. I’m totally ready and willing to help you… if you still want me to.”
“I do,” said Garrett, fighting to hold back tears. “I’m ready.”
“Then I’ll see you Friday, my friend.”
Garrett put his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you… for sticking it out.”
“Please, Garrett, it’s hardly a burden. It’s my calling.”
There’s a feeling of tranquility that comes when you allow something to be bigger than you.
I no longer felt I was powerful and important because of the work I was doing – I now saw only the work itself as being powerful and important. I was merely fortunate enough to be in the position to carry it out. This is very different than feeling invincible. This is knowing you are not and still pressing forward. Without fear. Without resignation.
This is being willing to die for a cause.
Perhaps “die” is a little strong. This is being willing to wear an orange jumpsuit for a very extended period and have your name reduced to a number. For a cause.
Of course, that doesn’t mean you don’t take some extra precautions.
Zoe’s helium tanks. The ones I had removed from her trunk and brought home. One of them was full, the other had enough for at least one more exit. Between the two I easily had enough for my next four or five clients, thus could go a month or more without drawing any investigator’s attention to inventory issues, assuming an investigation was even going on. That would give me time to come up with a plan on how to attain helium discreetly going forward. Perhaps I could hop around to other party suppliers in the region for a while and pay cash for the goods. Then, once I was certain I was in the clear with the police, I could go back to using Jubilee tanks. I’d just have to hope Carl would go back to college or find a better job in the meantime. Otherwise, I’d have little other choice but to keep giving him pay raises.
