She's Not Coming Home (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

Still trying to
figure out why Ruth would need five hundred dollars other than to finance leaving him, Matt hurried down Washington Street. It was nearly midday, and presumably the workers at Cambridge Pharmaceuticals would be starting their lunch breaks very soon. There was another bus stop with a bench right outside the building – the next bus stop from the one he had previously stopped at, in fact – and he stood by the stop, leaning on a
Boston Globe
vending machine, as the bench was full of people waiting for a bus. He made himself as comfortable as he could, half sitting on the machine and began to watch the glass doors of the building.

Just before twelve a man – Matt estimated mid-twenties – dressed in a suit and having an animated conversation on his cell phone entered the building. Matt jumped slightly as there was a loud hiss behind him. A bus had arrived at the stop. Matt turned his head ninety degrees and looked up at the dot matrix indicator display: the bus was Route 275 heading Downtown. All but one of the occupants of the bench got on the bus; the remaining occupant shuffled up to the opposite end and buried himself back in that day’s
USA Today
.

Matt winced as he caught the full force of the roar of the bus’s engines as it accelerated away from the stop and headed Downtown. As he rubbed the inside of his ear with one finger he noticed some figures leave the Cambridge Pharmaceuticals building: two men and three women. He recognized none of them; certainly Ruth was not one of the group. As he watched them walk down Washington, talking and laughing, he considered catching them up and asking if they knew Ruth. He decided against it – for now.

A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman left the building, followed shortly by two younger men.

Over the next ten minutes, around a dozen people left the building: all headed in the same direction, down Washington. Two of the three women he saw leave earlier returned, each carrying a small brown paper bag, presumably with a sandwich or something.

‘Excuse me dear, it this where I catch the airport bus?’

Matt looked up into the face of a white haired elderly woman.

‘Excuse me?’ he asked.

‘I am looking for where I can catch the bus for Logan,’ she repeated.

Matt looked around, trying to make sure he wasn’t missing anybody leaving the building.

‘I-I don’t know, sorry. I…’ he stuttered.

The man at the other end of the bench looked up from his newspaper.

‘You’re best walking up to the Medical Center and catching the Orange Line for Oak Grove,’ he said. ‘Transfer to the Blue Line at State, and then you can get a free shuttle bus from Airport.’

‘Right, thank you very much,’ she said, then turned and began to wheel her little case up towards the station.

‘You’re welcome,’ the man said, and returned to his newspaper.

Involuntarily, Matt looked in the direction of the man as he gave the directions, and out of the corner of his eye he saw two figures – a man and a woman – walk past. As the man looked at the woman, Matt recognized his face. It was the jerk he spoke to at Ruth’s office yesterday. And the woman he was with…

She was unmistakable, even from behind. The five feet six slim figure, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the dark hair, slightly wavy, down to halfway down her back. He didn’t recognize the clothes, but she was always shopping anyway. As they walked, their arms got closer and closer. The body language was not that of two colleagues picking up a sandwich. Then he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

‘I knew it,’ Matt muttered as he got up and followed them down Washington. Suddenly his concern and worry turned to anger: so she was having an affair with this asshole. Why not just tell him? Why put him – and Nathan – through all the worry of not knowing?  And was she really walking out on their son?

He quickened his pace as they ran across the first street before the
Don’t Walk
sign lit up. He braved the traffic as he crossed the street after them; only one driver sounded his horn at him.

As he got back onto the sidewalk, he could no longer see them. He had lost them. Muttering an oath, he looked around. He was now outside the Safeway store. Standing on tiptoe, he looked through the glass doors to try to pick them up.

He ran his hands through his hair. How could he lose them? No problem, he thought; they would have to go back to the office within the hour. He would return to the bus stop and wait there. Then confront them.

He returned to the street. Just before turning to go back to the bus stop, he glanced to his left. And saw them again. Now they both had an arm round the other’s waist. They had stopped and were going in somewhere. Matt walked briskly down the street, checking the premises to see which was the most likely one. After half a block he found a bar. The fascia was cream with green borders. He looked up at the sign: McGann’s Irish Pub.  One of many hundred in Boston. He paused a moment, then went in.

The bar was quite full, as one would expect this time of day. He looked around, as his eyes started to get accustomed to the dim lighting. He looked round at the tables: all were occupied, but not by Ruth and her co-worker. There were around a dozen people sitting at the bar. Squinting, Matt looked down the backs of the customers there. At the end of the bar, he saw them. They had just been served: he had a glass of dark beer; Matt couldn’t make out what Ruth was drinking. She normally had white wine when they went out.

Matt walked up to them. As he got to six feet away, the man got up.

‘Sorry; bathroom, honey,’ he laughed, rubbing her shoulder. She put a hand up to her shoulder to touch his.

As he turned to go to the restroom he caught sight of Matt. A couple of seconds passed as he figured out why he recognised Matt. He opened his mouth to say something.

‘Very cosy,’ said Matt, sarcastically.

The man straightened up, keeping his hand on her shoulder.

Ruth turned round.

Chapter Twelve

Only it wasn’t
Ruth.

Remarkably similar to be sure, but definitely not Matt’s wife.

The figure was the same, the walk was the same, as were the hair colour and style; as she turned round to face Matt, he could see she was of Asian descent – Japanese, Matt assumed.

Matt froze, lost for words.

‘I – I…’ was all he could manage.

‘It’s you,’ said the guy. ‘The guy from the elevator yesterday.’

Matt said nothing.

‘Who is he, Danny?’ asked the woman, in a worried voice. She reached up and put her hand on his arm. ‘Who is this man?’

‘Nobody, baby,’ Danny replied, resting his hand on hers. ‘Just nobody.’

‘I – I’m sorry,’ said Matt. ‘I saw the two of you, and I assumed…’

‘You assumed she was Ruth Gibbons,’ Danny said. ‘That was her name, wasn’t it?’

Matt nodded.

‘I said I’m sorry,’ he said. Then turned to the woman. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

‘Well, you were wrong,’ Danny said. ‘This is Aki, my girlfriend. She’s just met me for lunch.’

Matt nodded and began to back away.

‘Like I said, I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, turned and made his way out of the bar. Back on Washington, he rubbed his chin and looked up and down the street. He stood outside the bar a moment while he considered what to do next. He decided he would take up his place by the bus stop and continue his vigil. If this abortive trip to the bar meant he had missed Ruth going out, he could still catch her returning. He walked back up to the bus stop and sat down again on the concrete bench. The man reading the
USA Today
was still there.

After five minutes he saw a figure he knew. She was a young African American returning to the Cambridge Pharmaceuticals building carrying a brown
Subway
bag. Matt recognized her as the receptionist he spoke to yesterday.

‘Ayesha,’ he called out, getting up from the bench. She paused momentarily, and began to hurry on once she realised who he was.

‘Ayesha, please,’ Matt said, catching her up.

‘Please go away, mister. I don’t want no trouble,’ Ayesha said nervously.

‘I just want to show you a picture,’ Matt said. ‘That’s all. Then I’ll leave you.’

She nodded hurriedly. Matt retrieved a picture of Ruth on his phone and showed it to her.

‘This is Ruth Gibbons,’ he said. ‘My wife. She might be calling herself Ruth Levene.’

‘I told you yesterday, mister. I don’t know her.’

‘But have you ever seen her going in and out of the building? Please?’

She took a closer look at the photograph, then shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, mister. I never seen her. Never.’

‘Okay. Thanks anyway. Sorry to have troubled you.’

Ayesha nodded, and hurried off, and through the glass doors. Matt returned to the bench.

Over the next hour, he witnessed a dozen or so more groups and individuals leave the building, and return, normally with some type of bag containing their lunch. Just before one thirty, two young women walked past, both talking and laughing, each carrying a
Subway
bag. Matt recognized them as having left the building a little earlier. One was very tall, well over six feet, and towered over her companion, who was at least eighteen inches shorter.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, standing up and walking over to them. They stopped and looked over to him.

‘I’m so sorry to trouble you,’ he asked, ‘but do you work for Cambridge Pharmaceuticals?’

They looked at each other, and then nodded. Both had a puzzled expression.

‘I was just wondering if either of you knew a Ruth Gibbons. Ruth Levene, maybe.’

Before they had the chance to reply, he took out his phone and showed them Ruth’s picture. The taller one looked down at the other, then back to the picture.

‘No. I’m sorry, I don’t,’ she said.

Matt nodded and turned to the shorter one.

‘And you? Do you know -?’

‘No. I’ve never seen her before.’

The two women turned and walked away, back to work, the taller one a couple of paces behind.

Putting the phone back in his pocket, Matt returned to the bench. He checked his watch: it was almost one thirty.  He considered if there was any value staying there any longer. If he was going to catch Ruth leaving the building for lunch – and that was if she
was
working there – he would have seen her by now. He needed to get back to Beacon Hill to pick up Nathan, and the last thing he wanted was to bump into – what were their names? Danny and Aki – as they returned.

He gave it another ten minutes, then stood up, stretched and began to walk up the street.  He called in at a Starbucks on the next block and bought himself a coffee and a roast beef sandwich.

Pausing at a trash can to throw away the empty cup and sandwich wrapper, Matt wiped his mouth with a napkin, tossed that away also, and started to walk briskly up Washington Street. He passed the Medical Center, decided against taking the T, and continued up the street. The heavy clouds he saw earlier had come to nothing: now the sky was a clear blue, crisp and cold. He crossed over Kneeland, and made a left at Boylston Square.  Soon he was back at the Common, and the Central Burying Ground.  Rather than cross the Common, he carried on Boylston and took a right up Charles Street, which is the division between Boston Common and the Public Gardens. He checked his watch again: even though he now had plenty of time before Nathan finished, he wanted to get home first, get online, and check their bank accounts.

He got home just before two thirty, logged onto the Bank of New England website, and retrieved his and Ruth’s accounts. As well as the joint checking account, they had a savings account, also in joint names, and an account for Nathan. First of all, he went to the checking account. The screen confirmed what Larry had told him earlier: the two withdrawals totalling five hundred dollars from the ATM at the Safeway store. Matt went back three months, but there were no unusual transactions. Then he clicked onto their savings account. It occurred to him that if Ruth had drawn the five hundred to finance her disappearance, she may have done the same with their savings account. Withdrawals from there might not come to light for months.

Matt checked the account: all was in order.

He logged off and sat back in his chair. Now he felt guilty. Sure, there was still the question of those two withdrawals, but what was he doing suspecting his wife of absconding with their savings? When he first saw that office manager – Danny – and his girlfriend, he was sure that it was Ruth he was with, that they were having an affair, and that was the explanation. But of course it wasn’t. Once again, it all came back to Nathan – she would never ever leave him.

Nathan. He checked his watch: almost time to go to Bambinos. Time for one more phone call. One call he was not looking forward to making. To his parents.

Matt’s parents – Matthew and Estelle – were both retired, now in their early seventies. When Matthew Snr retired from his job with the City of Charleston, they bought a small white clap-board house a short walk from the coast in Sandwich, the first town you find when arriving on the island of Cape Cod. Matt was relatively close – he felt – to his parents, but for some reason they and Ruth never quite hit it off. It had always been as if they had reservations about her suitability as a wife for Matt, and for her part, Ruth was always reserved towards them. All parties denied this, saying it was Matt’s imagination. Ruth’s own parents had died long before Matt met her. One thing which was in no doubt, however, was how much they loved their grandson. Matt would visit them at least once a month, always with Nathan; sometimes Ruth was unable to accompany them, due to work commitments. Neither Matthew Snr nor Estelle would seem particularly bothered that Ruth had to work.

How would they react now? Matt picked up the phone and dialled. His mother answered the phone.

‘Hello, Mom. It’s Matt.’

‘Oh hello, dear. What’s the time? Are you calling from work?’

‘No, I’m not at work today. Listen: I have something to tell you.’

‘Oh, what’s that, dear?’

‘It’s Ruth. She – she didn’t come home Tuesday night. I don’t know where she is.’

As Matt expected, Estelle said, ‘Matt, here’s your father. Speak to him.’

As Estelle passed the phone across, Matt could hear her whisper, ‘It’s Matt. He says Ruth’s left him.’

‘Matt? It’s your father here,’ came a gruff voice.

‘I didn’t say she’s left me, Dad; I just said she didn’t come home the other night.’

Then Matt spent the next ten minutes relating to his father the events of the last two days. His father said nothing, just grunting and muttering ‘u-huh’ every so often.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ his father asked.

‘I guess I’ll just have to carry on at present. There’s nothing else I can do. Make sure Nathan’s okay, and wait until the police contact me.’

‘Here. Your mother wants to speak to you.’ With that, Estelle came back on the line.

‘Matt, why don’t you and Nathan come down at the weekend? We can all talk then. Be nice to see you both.’

Not Ruth
.

‘That’d be nice. Wait though: I have to work Saturday till around three. We’ll make an early start Sunday morning.’

‘You’re working Saturday? What about Nathan?’

‘Ruth’s friend Gail and her partner Ryan have agreed to look after him. Nathan likes them; he’ll be okay.’

‘Right,’ said his mother, not entirely approvingly.

‘Listen, Mom, I have to go now. Have to pick Nathan up from kindergarten. See you Sunday.’

‘Right you are, dear.’

‘Call you if I get any news.’

‘Yes, please. Do that.’

With that Matt hung up and left the house to pick up Nathan. On the way to Bambinos he decided to tell Nathan that his mother had gone away on a training course and would be back at the weekend. Nathan seemed to accept what Matt had told him, and to his surprise and relief asked no further questions. Matt was dreading being asked if they could telephone Ruth, but his son was more interested in the southern fried chicken and the DVD of
Land Before Time VIII.

By eight, Nathan was bathed, had brushed his teeth, had been read a story and was snoring soundly.

For the first time since Tuesday night, Matt poured himself a whisky and soda and slumped into an armchair.
What a wasted day
, he thought. He was so convinced he would see Ruth that lunchtime. And still more questions, like where did that five hundred bucks go? Maybe she had had her purse stolen? He shook his head: no, that just raised more questions. In any case, she was very punctilious about PIN security.

Back to work tomorrow.

He looked up at the ceiling, in the direction of Nathan’s room. He thought about his story of Ruth being on a training course. He said that on impulse. As he said it, he knew it was a bad idea, but he swore he would tell his son the truth on Saturday night.

Whatever the truth was on Saturday night.