All Gone Read Online Free

idea.”
    I call the police station in his precinct. The officer who answers says “We’ve nothing on a Mr. Schulter. But being that you say he left your apartment this morning, phone your precinct station,” and she gives me the number. I call it and the officer on duty says “Something did come in today about someone of his name—let me think.”
    â€œOh no.”
    â€œHey, take it easy. It could be nothing. I’m only remembering that I saw an earlier bulletin, but what it was went right past me. What’s your relationship to him before I start searching for it?”
    â€œHis closest friend. We’re really very very close and his nearest relative is three thousand miles from here.”
    â€œWell, I don’t see it in front of me. I’ll locate it, though don’t get excited when I’m away. It could be nothing. I might even be wrong. It was probably more like a Mr. Fullter or Schulton I read about, but not him. Want me to phone you back?”
    â€œI’ll wait, thanks.”
    â€œLet me take your number anyway, just in case I get lost.”
    He goes, comes back in a minute. “Now take it easy. It’s very serious. He had no I.D. on him other than this artist society card with only his signature on it, which we were checking into, so we’re grateful you called.”
    â€œPlease, what is it?”
    â€œAccording to this elderly witness, he was supposedly thrown on the subway tracks this morning and killed.”
    I scream, break down, hang up, pound the telephone table with my fists, the officer calls back and says “If you could please revive yourself, Miss, we’d like you to come to the police station here and then, if you could by the end of the night sometime, to the morgue to identify your friend.”
    I say no, I could never go to the morgue, but then go with my best friend. She stays outside the body room when I go in, look and say “That’s him.” Later I call Eliot’s mother and the next day her brother comes to the city and takes care of the arrangements to have Eliot flown to Seattle and his apartment closed down and most of his belongings sold or given away or put on the street. The uncle asks if I’d like to attend the funeral, but doesn’t mention anything about providing air fare or where I would stay. Since I don’t have much money saved and also think I’ll be out of place there and maybe even looked down upon by his family I’ve never seen, I stay here and arrange on that same funeral day a small ceremony in the basement of a local church, where I and several of our friends and his employers speak about Eliot and read aloud excerpts of his letters to a couple of us and listen to parts of my opera records he most liked to play and for a minute bow our heads, hold hands and pray.
    According to that elderly witness, Eliot was waiting for a train on the downtown platform of my stop when he saw a young man speaking abusively to a girl of about fifteen. When the girl continued to ignore him, he made several obscene gestures and said he was going to throw her to the platform and force her to do all sorts of sordid things to him and if he couldn’t get her to do them there because people were watching, then in the men’s room upstairs. The girl was frightened and started to walk away. The young man grabbed her wrist, started to twist it, stopped and said he would rip her arm off if she gave him a hard time, but didn’t let go. There were a few people on the platform. Nobody said anything or tried to help her and in fact all of them except Eliot and this elderly man eventually moved to the other end of the platform or at least away from what was going on. Then Eliot went over to the young man, who was still holding the girl by her wrist, and very politely asked him to let her alone. Something like “Excuse me, I don’t like to interfere in anyone’s problems. But if