The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 44

The next few weeks saw more clients arrive, more services and more pain. It can safely be said that pain is part of your existence and can, on occasion, have something to teach us. But experiencing too much pain, either first-hand or as an observer, can take a toll on anyone, and although Frank had been well-trained in how to deal with such things, he was only human. Jonathan and Emily began to notice how often he was isolating himself and going into his office, expressed their concern. Between the two of them, it had been agreed that Jonathan would initiate the conversation. He had been working there for several years and felt that if there was any bond between them, he might be the one to most easily reach him.

“Frank,” he said. “Got a minute?”

With the two of them standing in front of his desk, Frank looked up from his computer display, providing his full attention.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied.

Sitting back in his chair, he briefly studied their faces, seeing the concern in their expressions. “You two look a bit worried,” he said. “What’s up?”

He tried his best to disguise his troubled state of mind while clutching his hands together in an attempt to hide their trembling. His effort was successful this time. Yet, this did not prevent Jonathan and Emily from expressing their continued belief that Frank was beginning to crack under the strain of his circumstances.

“Well,” Jonathan said. “We’ve been noticing that you’ve been spending a lot of time in the office. I mean, we hardly ever see you anymore, and we were wondering if you were okay, and maybe, if there was something you might want to talk about.” Frank had always been something of a lone wolf, and occasionally thought of himself as being too independent for his own good. This was one of those times. But he also wanted to hide his drug use from them and thought that isolating himself was the only way to evade their suspicions. So far, it was working. While he appreciated their concern, he wanted none of it. Yet, pushing them away too aggressively would, no doubt, raise more concern. “Guys,” he responded. “Listen to me. I’m fine. Yes, I’m still going through a lot with Dorothy’s death, but both of you know about the grieving process, right? So, just let me get through this on my own. If I need to talk, I’ll let you know, okay?” And there, the conversation ended. Not wanting to risk a confrontation, Jonathan and Emily left the office and returned to the cool room, where they continued working on their newest client. But after closing the door, they engaged in quiet conversation about what they had just seen.

“Something’s wrong,” Jonathan began. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

Emily was quick to pause the conversation as she turned on the fluid pump. They had already inserted the tubes into the vessels of the decedent’s leg, so running the pump was the next step. Its sound would also muffle the conversation they were having. The last thing they wanted was for Frank to overhear them and come barging through the door.

Turning up the flow rate of the pump would likely do nothing to damage any tissue. Too much, however, could blow the tubes out of the blood vessels of the leg, requiring the cleaning up of what the state considers hazardous material. This would certainly upset Frank, who went above and beyond to adhere to the state’s stringent regulations. With the pump running, they continued speaking quietly. “Okay,” Emily said. “I think that’ll do it.” Stepping back to the stainless steel table, Emily checked the placement of the tubes and, feeling confident they were secure, paused to get Jonathan’s feedback.

“So, what do you think’s going on?” she asked. “I mean, we see grief here all the time, but something’s different, don’t you think?” Jonathan paused in his response, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I don’t know what to make of it,” he replied. “I see what you mean. I’m just not sure what I see. Maybe we’re just reading into this too much. Maybe we’re just being overly concerned.”

Emily considered this and agreed. But she also thought that there was something odd about Frank’s behavior that she just couldn’t pin down. “What if we just kind of kept an eye on him?” she asked. “Just out of concern. I mean, he is our boss.” Listening closely, Jonathan began messaging the rigor out of their client’s muscles while nodding his head in agreement.

“That’s a good idea,” he replied. “As long as we’re not obvious about it.”

As though he had heard every word, Frank suddenly barged through the door, startling both Jonathan and Emily, who quickly believed that a confrontation was about to ensue.

“Jesus Christ!” Jonathan shouted. So severely was he startled that his shoulders began to cramp, while Emily had been frightened to the point of feeling her heart race.

“Boss,” he continued. “No disrespect, but how about if you knock next time?”

Ordinarily, Emily would be quick to speak up, but given the circumstances, she suddenly discovered words difficult to find.

“Oh, shit,” Frank said. “Guys, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll knock from now on. Uh, about our talk in the office -- I get it, and I think maybe it might be time to get a little help. I don’t think I’m handling this very well. But thanks for being there, okay?” Walking out into the hallway, Frank closed the door as he went back to his office, leaving Jonathan and Emily puzzled. It seemed to be a day for new experiences, and this certainly qualified.

Giving them no time for a response, Frank quickly went to his office and, opening his desk drawer, obtained the help he promised to get. While Jonathan and Emily were still in the cool room, he closed and locked the door, ensuring there would be no interruptions. It was not the help he said he needed, but Jonathan and Emily would never know. So, as they were busy embalming the new client, Frank sat with his head bent over the small mirror with the end of a rolled-up dollar bill near his nose. Help was on the way. Soon, Frank found himself sitting back in his office chair, enjoying the effects of the band-aid he had applied to his infected his soul. He felt better, but the effect would not last long, and by week’s end, he had rediscovered the way to ecstasy, purchasing more from the unnamed man who was still trying to gain a foothold in Frank’s business. For him, it seemed to be a reasonable means of establishing a small empire, stretching throughout Fulton County. Once word got out to the right people, the money would come pouring in. In the eyes of the man, who was clearly a dealer, it was the perfect plan – a business plan, if you will. He knew the risks but believed that a funeral home was the perfect cover for an operation such as this. He simply had to convince Frank, and he knew how to do it.