She's Not Coming Home (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Matt ran along
State Street towards the subway station. He had considered getting in the Toyota and driving down to Cambridge Pharmaceuticals, but the traffic problems he had experienced that morning made him decide against it. After his conversation with Roxanne, his mind was going every which way. How on earth could nobody by Ruth’s name work there? Surely she wouldn’t be using her maiden name? They had been married three years now. She would have used her maiden name of Levene before they were married: maybe she was still using it.

He reached the station, paid his $2.50 for a ticket, and then ran down the escalator to the platform. He checked at the indicator: 5 minutes for the next Orange Line to Forest Hills. Out of breath, he collapsed onto the metal bench. An Oak Grove train arrived at the northbound platform: Matt stared at the faces looking out of the windows.

As the train pulled away for the short journey to Haymarket, Matt thought back again to what Roxanne had told him. After hanging up on her he barely had time to gather his thoughts when his ten thirty client arrived. It was a Mrs Hyman, a widowed lady in her early seventies who, after losing three husbands to cancer, heart failure and a traffic accident, had a considerable amount of wealth. All of her money, as far as she would reveal to Matt anyway, was already with Bank of New England in various accounts and trusts: the purpose of her visit today was to review whether any other accounts Matt could offer her would pay her more interest. They could not. Mrs Hyman was a regular client of Matt’s, paying him a visit every three months or so. Nine times out of ten Matt confirmed to her that her savings were in the best place. He suspected that Mrs Hyman knew this all along, and that she was a little lonely, and just came in to see him for the company and a free coffee.

He tried not to prolong his interviews with Mrs Hyman unnecessarily: he felt it was necessary to keep her happy so he could retain her business, but all the time he spent listening to her talk again and again about her three husbands, he could be getting new business. He needed the commission. Normally, unless there was some actual business to transact, their meetings would last no more than an hour; today he was showing her out after half that time.

After he had seen her out he looked around. No sign of Debra, Larry was sitting talking to two of his clients, and José was standing by a brochure stand checking the literature.

‘Hey man,’ said José as Matt approached him. ‘You get stuck in that traffic too?’

Matt nodded.

‘Some gridlock,’ José went on. ‘All down to a wreck on the expressway.’

‘So I heard,’ said Matt. ‘Look, José – when’s your next appointment?’

‘Not till one. That’s why I’m goofing around here.’

‘Can I ask a favour?’

‘Shoot.’

‘I have someone coming in at eleven thirty, then two thirty. But I have to go out for a while. There – there’s some kind of emergency at Ruth’s place -’

‘Jeez, what’s happened?’

‘Not sure yet. But I need to go down there. Now. Can you cover my eleven thirty?’

‘No sweat man. But will you be back for two thirty?’

‘I hope so. But if I’m not, maybe you and Larry could -’

‘Sure, no problem.’

Matt looked around. ‘Do you know where Debra is?’ he asked.

‘Lying in her coffin somewhere, most like. No, I think she’s on a conference call.’

‘I’ve no time to wait. Can you let her know what’s happened? Say I’ll explain when I get back, and it’s an emergency.’

‘I will, man. Go on. Get off.’

‘Thanks José, I owe you.’

*****

Matt was brought back to the present by the sound of his train arriving at the station. With a screech of brakes and the hiss of air it pulled to a halt and the doors slid open. It was only a third full and Matt easily found a seat, one by the opposite window. With a warning horn, the doors slid shut and the train pulled away.  Three stops later, after Downtown Crossing and Chinatown, Matt arrived at his stop: Tufts Medical Center. Matt left the train and made his way up the escalator to street level. Once on the street, he looked around. The Medical Center was on the opposite side of Washington Street. A large metal 800 was on the wall next to the entrance drive. Matt knew – or thought he knew – the address of Cambridge Pharmaceuticals was 1100, so he pulled his collar up as some protection against the biting wind, and began his walk three blocks down.

He proceeded down Washington Street, across the bridge which goes over the I-90 Massachusetts Turnpike, and after five or six minutes’ brisk walk he arrived at 1100 block.

Situated on Washington and East Berkeley, the Cambridge Pharmaceuticals Building was an imposing ten floor red brick structure. Matt pushed open the glass doors and walked in. The lobby was decorated in a cream coloured marble. There was a bank of four elevators across the lobby, a waiting area comprising a low table and five chairs on his left and a reception desk on his right. Apart from the young black woman sitting at the desk, the lobby was empty.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ asked the young woman as Matt approached her.

‘Are you Roxanne?’ he asked, immediately noticing her name badge showing she was called Ayesha.

‘Excuse me?’ she asked.

‘Sorry, I didn’t notice your badge. I was talking to somebody called Roxanne earlier. On the telephone.’

‘Oh, she must be upstairs. Do you want me to get her?’ Ayesha asked, reaching for the phone.

‘No, it’s all right. I’ve come to see someone else. Ruth Gibbons,’ said Matt, his palms sweating.

‘Ruth Gibbons,’ Ayesha repeated, tabbing down a list of names on the screen. ‘Sorry, no Ruth Gibbons here.’

‘Try Ruth Levene.’

Ayesha glanced up at him and checked again.

‘Sorry. No Ruth Levene either.’

‘But you must have. In Product Control. Look again. Please.’

Ayesha took a deep breath and looked again.

‘Nobody here, sir.’

‘This is ridiculous. I know she works there. I’m going up to see them myself.’

‘Sir, you can’t -’ Ayesha started to say, but Matt was already in the elevator. There was a display on the wall showing which department occupied which floor: Product Control was on the eighth floor. Matt stabbed at the button and the doors shut.

When they opened at the eighth floor he was met by a man in his thirties, in shirtsleeves, open shirt, no tie.

‘Sir, you must go back down,’ he said.

‘I’m looking for Ruth Gibbons,’ Matt said. ‘She may call herself Ruth Levene.’

‘No-one of that name here, sir.’

Matt looked around. ‘This is Product Control, is it?’

‘Yes sir, it is, but -’

‘Then Ruth works here.’

The man shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir. You have the wrong place.’

‘Look,’ said Matt. He put his hand in his pocket and got out his phone. The man flinched as he did this.

‘Look, here’s her picture,’ said Matt as he retrieved a picture he kept of Ruth.

The man looked at the picture, then shook his head again. ‘Sorry, sir. I’ve not seen her.’

‘What about the others who work here? They might know her.’

‘Sir, I’m the office manager. I know everyone who works here. And I’ve never seen her before. Now please, sir; you must leave. Before I call security.’

‘Don’t bother,’ said Matt, stepping back into the elevator.

He went back down to the lobby, back out to Washington Street and started to slowly walk back to the T station. He paused while he crossed over the expressway and looked down at the traffic below.

Things are getting weird, he thought. Apart from Ruth not coming home. The number he had stored in his cell last night was wrong. Very wrong, nothing like the number he had gotten from directory assistance. And that was the number Ruth gave him. And now he is told that she doesn’t work at Cambridge Pharmaceuticals. So where did she go yesterday? For that matter where has she been going every day?

Matt turned round and looked back down Washington. He could see the Cambridge Pharmaceuticals building on the next block. One question kept running through his mind.

What the hell was going on?

Chapter Eight             

After getting off
the T, Matt made his way along State Street back to his work. Even though he had to quicken his pace because of the rain, he was walking as if in a trance.  His mind was searching for possible explanations: an explanation of where Ruth was and why she had failed to return home or even contact him; an explanation of why there was no record of her, even in her maiden name, at her place of work.

As he walked through the door to his branch, he caught Larry’s eye. Larry was standing talking to one of his clients. It looked as if he had just finished a meeting, and he was seeing the client out. Without breaking off his conversation, Larry glanced over at Matt and cocked his head slightly in the direction of Matt’s desk. Matt followed Larry’s eyes and to his dismay Debra Grant Barber was hovering around his desk.

‘Great,’ Matt muttered as he walked down to his desk.  Debra noticed him arrive and looked up.

‘Extended lunch break?’ she asked, her voice thick with sarcasm.

‘Not exactly,’ Matt said, taking off his wet raincoat.

‘Not exactly? How so?’

‘I – er, had some personal business to take care of. Urgent personal business.’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, really? I wasn’t aware of that.’
Meaning you should have asked me first.

‘I said it was urgent,’ Matt snapped back. ‘You were in your room, with your door shut. Talking on the telephone. I am owed many hours. I arranged for Larry and José to cover my next two appointments.’

The sharpness of Matt’s reply took Debra by surprise. Momentarily.

‘Maybe we need to talk about it,’ she said.

Matt nodded. She was right. It was possible that Ruth’s disappearance might impact on his work, so he had an obligation to advise her.

‘Let’s go to my room,’ she said, leading him over to her office.

‘Shut the door, Matt. Sit down,’ she said from the other side of her desk. Matt did so.

Debra sat down. She took off her glasses and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands steepled ‘So,’ she said. ‘From the top. What’s going on?’

Matt rubbed his temple.

‘It’s Ruth,’ he said. ‘My wife.’

Debra raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

‘She didn’t come home last night,’ Matt continued.

‘You mean you guys have split? She’s left home?’

Matt shrugged.

‘So what’s the situation now?’ Debra asked.

‘The situation now,’ answered Matt, ‘is that I’ve no idea where she is. I, or should I say our son and I, haven’t heard from her since yesterday morning.’

‘Is that where you have been today? Looking for her?’

‘In a way. She works down Washington, near the Medical Center. I caught the T down there to see if she was there.’

‘And was she?’

‘No.’ Matt decided not to give her the whole picture.

She sat back in her chair; rubbed the bridge of her nose.

‘Well, I’m sorry to hear all this,’ she said. Matt couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic. ‘How much vacation time do you have left?’

‘I’ve no idea. Not without checking it out.’

‘Mm.’ She paused, thoughtfully. ‘And I guess with your wife not in the picture right now, you have to take your – son?’ - Matt nodded to confirm - ‘to and from school?’

‘That’s right. For the moment, anyway.’

She leaned forward again, paused a beat, then spoke.

‘Look. Today’s Wednesday. Wednesday afternoon. Clear up your things and go now. Come back Friday. That gives you a day to do what you have to do. Yes?’

Matt nodded, a little taken back. ‘Yes, that would be great.’

‘Were you due to work Saturday?’

‘I –er, no I don’t think I was -’

‘Let’s be as flexible as we can, then. Take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow. Work Friday and Saturday. Then you’ll be up to date, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I guess I will. I just -’

‘Well, that’s that sorted. Let’s catch up Friday, then,’ she said, swinging her chair and loading up her laptop.

Meeting over
, Matt thought. ‘Thanks,’ he said, getting up and leaving Debra to her laptop.

As he walked back to his desk, still clutching his raincoat, he bumped into Larry.

‘Hey, guy,’ Larry said. ‘Everything okay? José said you had to take care of some business. What’s going on?’

Matt looked around.

‘It’s Ruth,’ he said quietly. ‘She didn’t come home last night.’

‘Didn’t…?’

‘Just didn’t come home. Saw her in the morning, before she left for work. She sent me a text around five saying she was about to leave, but didn’t show.’

‘Jeez. But I don’t get it. She not answering her cell?’

‘No. Kept going to voicemail.’

‘Any friends or anything? Someone she could have gone to?’

‘She has one best friend.  Gail. Gail Smith. You might have even met her.  I’ve tried her a few times, but she’s gone to voicemail also.’

‘What about her work? What do they say?’

‘That’s the weirdest thing. Another weirdest thing. I called her office, but nobody knows her there. That’s where I went. I got the T down there; spoke to the office manager who said he had never heard of her. Even using her old name.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I wish I was.’

‘What about Nathan?’

‘I’ve told him she was working late and had to set off early this morning, but I can’t keep that up for ever.’

‘No.’

‘I’ve ended up calling the police.’

‘Jeez. What did they say?’

‘Some Lieutenant came round last night. Took some details. Said he’d pass it to the - er, Missing Persons Unit. I got a call from them here this morning.’

‘Saying what?’

‘Just saying they had her details and were beginning their investigations.’

‘Nothing, in other words.’

Matt shrugged. ‘Early days, I guess.’

‘What are you going to do now?’

Matt nodded over in the direction of Debra’s closed door.

‘I had to tell her what had happened. Not every detail, but the gist.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Told me to go home now. Take the rest of today and tomorrow off. “To do what I need to do,” she said. I need to get home and start calling around.’

‘Friends. Her parents? Yours?’

‘I’ll keep trying Gail. They’re pretty close. Ruth’s parents both died before we met, and she and mine aren’t exactly close.’ Matt paused. ‘I need to start calling round the hospitals too, I guess.’

‘Jesus, Matt.’

‘I know. But it’s gotta be done.’

Larry nodded. ‘Bet you have to work Saturday,’ he said.

‘Got it in one.  Look, buddy, I’d better get off now. See you Friday. When you see José, can you thank him for covering and get him up to speed.’

Larry put his hand on Matt’s arm.

‘Sure thing, pal. Good luck. See you Friday.’

*****

Matt checked his watch as he hurried out to the parking lot. With his extended lunch hour and his conversations with Debra and Larry, it was almost the time he would normally leave when it was his turn to pick up Nathan. Hoping the gridlock from that morning had cleared, he started the Toyota and eased it into the traffic in India Street. As he turned left along State, he felt a pain in his stomach. With all the activity, he had forgotten to eat.  Now he was starving. No time to stop: early dinner for him and Nathan.

As it turned out, he made it back to Beacon Hill earlier than expected, so had time to drive home, park the car, get a candy bar and walk round to Bambinos. The rain had stopped, but it was getting bitterly cold. As he and Nathan walked home, the question Matt had been dreading came up.

‘Daddy, is Mommy coming home tonight?’

Matt paused. For too long maybe.

‘I think she has to work late again.’

‘Aw, I wanted to see her. So did Mr Bronto.’ Nathan skipped along, bouncing a brontosaurus along the sides of the houses they passed.

‘Tomorrow, for sure,’ said Matt, ruffling his son’s hair. ‘Tomorrow for sure,’ he repeated, quietly.

Matt rustled up an omelette for them both for dinner, and Nathan had chocolate ice cream for dessert. After a bath, he lay in bed while Matt read him a story.

‘If I’m still awake when Mommy gets home,’ said Nathan, ‘can you get her to tuck me in and say good night.’

With a lump in his throat, Matt leaned down to kiss Nathan.

‘Sure will, sport.’

‘Night night, Daddy.’

‘Night night. Don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ whispered Matt as he dimmed Nathan’s light and pulled the door to.

Matt slowly went downstairs, thinking over what he should tell Nathan and when. Maybe he should call his own parents for advice.

First things first, though. He went into the kitchen, tidied up a bit, then picked up the Yellow Pages and the telephone, and sat down at the kitchen table. He opened the Yellow Pages and found the entries for Hospitals. He found the first entry and started to dial. As the number was ringing, the doorbell rang.

He hung up, leapt off his chair and ran over to the door. His heart was pounding: maybe it was Ruth; maybe she had forgotten or lost her door key?

He flung open the door, hoping to see Ruth. Instead it was Gail.

‘Hey, Matt,’ she said.

‘Gail,’ he replied, not knowing exactly what to say.

‘You left some messages on my cell,’ Gail said. ‘I was passing, so I…’

‘Come in, come in,’ Matt said, opening the door wider.

‘Thanks,’ she said, stepping inside and going straight into the kitchen. She turned round as Matt closed the front door and followed her. ‘I couldn’t understand what the messages were about. What’s happened?’

It was then that Matt finally broke down.