She's Not Coming Home (21 page)

Chapter Forty-Three

Matt felt dizzy
, faint. His eyes began to water. The characters on the screen of his phone – his wife’s number and message – began to come off the screen and mingle in front of his eyes, like a DNA strand. He sat up in his seat, and looked around the gas station forecourt. As if Ruth was at another pump sending the message. He read it again. Why was she sorry? What did that mean? And the clincher: stay away for Nathan’s sake. Did that mean he was in some kind of danger?

He looked around the forecourt again. A white RV had pulled into one of the adjacent pumps. A middle-aged man stepped out, selected self-serve and began to fill. He nonchalantly glanced over at Matt, then around the rest of the station. Matt returned his stare, and then looked back at the message.

He stabbed at the green call button. After a moment, it began to ring. His heart began to beat faster as he waited for it to be answered, but after four rings, it went to voicemail. As it had done every time he rang that number since that night.

‘Focus, focus,’ he muttered, and put the phone down on the passenger seat. It was time to continue his journey.  He could figure out what Ruth meant in her message on his way to New York. If it was Ruth who sent it.

He fired up the engine and returned to the westbound I-90. As he continued on his journey to New York, he thought through exactly what he would do when he got there. It had to be more than mere coincidence that both Ruth and Gail had made cash withdrawals from the same ATM, although he was puzzled at what seemed to be an indiscretion. Surely they were aware that he and Ryan would be able to establish where the withdrawal took place? That must have been on Ruth’s mind when she took the $500 before she left. So many questions: Matt was clear on only one thing, and that was that he had no idea what Ruth and Gail were up to. But now they had involved Nathan, the gloves were off.

As he saw the sign stating that New York City was 50 miles away, he considered what to do first when he arrived. He was not going to wrap everything up and be back in Boston in time for dinner, so he would need somewhere to stay. He thought about returning to the same hotel he had used in Brooklyn, but decided a base Midtown would be better. He still had the Holiday Inn number stored in his cell phone memory, so with the phone still resting on the passenger seat, he dialled. When he was answered, he put the phone on speaker. He was in luck: there was a Holiday Inn on West 57
th
. The 400 block. No parking facilities, but there was a 24 hour parking garage across the street, preferential terms for hotel guests. Perfect. Just a short walk from the ATM location. Not that they would be standing waiting there for him, but it was a start. He would figure out the next stage when he arrived. He asked the lady to make the booking for him – two nights – and hung up.

Saturday traffic was even heavier than the other day’s; somehow he took a wrong turning and found himself heading on the 295 into Queens. Fortunately the slow traffic allowed him to take note of the direction signs better and make sure he was in the correct lane. A mile or two into the borough he was able to turn right onto the Long Island Expressway and made his way into Manhattan that way, passing through the Queens-Midtown Tunnel. After exiting the tunnel just past Second Avenue he headed west along 37
th
as far as 10
th
Avenue, whereupon he took a right into 10
th
for the next twenty blocks. As he reached 57
th
, he saw the parking garage entrance, and pulled in. He parked the car in a second floor section dedicated to hotel guests, then took the walkway across to reception. He checked in and went up to his third floor room. He took a shower, and checked the time. It was almost four, and beginning to get dark.

He sat on the bed and rang his parents. Unusually, his mother answered. Matt suspected that his father was avoiding the telephone, avoiding any potential bad news. His mother’s voice was quiet and shaky.

‘Matt, where are you calling from?’

‘I’m back in New York. I arrived about an hour ago. Is there any news? Anything from the sheriff?’

‘He called by about three to say no sightings yet, but he and the State guys were still looking. Matt, it is true what your father said about Ruth’s friend Gail?’

‘I don’t know, Mom; I honestly don’t know. All I know is that car your neighbour described is the same make and model, same colour as Gail’s.’

There was a pause of a second or two, then his mother said, ‘Why are you in New York then? Are you in the same place you stayed at before?’

‘No, I’m in Manhattan. It’s the Holiday Inn Midtown. It’s on 57
th
. It would take too long to explain now, but I’ve got a lead that points to here.’

‘So Nathan is there? With Ruth?’

‘Possibly. The thing is, both Ruth and Gail had cash withdrawals from a bank ATM on East 53
rd
. On different days. So that’s why I’ve come up here.’

‘What about Gail’s boyfriend? Brian, is it? Is he involved too? Oh my God.’

‘Ryan, you mean? No, no; he’s not. I went straight there from yours yesterday. Slept on his couch. She told him she was up in Cape Elizabeth for the weekend. He phoned one of her girlfriends to check; of course she wasn’t. Then he checked their bank account and found the withdrawal here.’

‘I see. Matt, have you called the police about this?’

‘No, I haven’t. Yet.’

‘Matt, you must. You can’t handle this yourself.’

Matt said nothing.

‘Matt,’ she repeated. ‘Are you listening? You must call the police.’

‘I know, Mom. I’ll call that Lieutenant Weber from Boston PD. He’ll know what to do. He can liaise with the police here.’

‘All right.’

‘How’s Dad?’

‘He’s saying nothing. He’s sick with worry, about you and Nathan. And Ruth, of course. That’s why he’s saying nothing. He won’t even come to the phone. He’s just sitting on the chair out back.’ Her voice started to quake.

‘Look, Mom, I’m going to get something to eat. I’ve only had a pastry at Gail and Ryan’s and a sandwich on the way down here. Then I’ll call Weber.’

‘Weber?’

‘The Boston Lieutenant. He gave me his cell number.’

‘All right. Well, call us in the morning.’

‘I will. Promise. You too if you hear anything.’

‘Bye, Matt. Look after yourself.’

‘I will. Night, Mom.’

After hanging up, he sat on the bed staring at the phone. One bar was showing on the battery indicator. Thank God he brought the charger. He plugged in the charger and picked up the room service menu. Then called and ordered a chicken burger and French fries, cheesecake and a cold beer. Really healthy stuff, he thought.

He was told the meal would be about twenty minutes, so he sat on the bed and turned on the television while he waited.  He thought about Gail’s boyfriend Ryan.   Maybe it was his job: he was certainly earning more in one month than Matt was in six, probably. Matt couldn’t help being a little envious. If he hadn’t had the use of family money, he and Ruth would never have been able to afford the house in Beacon Hill.  But today, that changed: Matt actually felt sorry for Ryan. He could see how devastated Ryan was when the realisation hit him that Gail had lied to him, and was doing something behind his back.

Then Matt realised something. Ryan said Gail had told him she was on a girls’ weekend in Cape Elizabeth. A weekend! So she was planning on returning home Sunday, or maybe Monday.  So – did that mean that whatever was going on with Ruth and Nathan would be over this weekend? Matt had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. This weekend….

His train of thought was broken by a knock on his door. The burger, fries and cheesecake. He checked the time: that was quick. Fortunately, as he had gotten hungry.

There was another double tap on the door. Matt took out a $5 bill from his pocket and walked over. Not bothering to check the spy hole, he swung the door open.

It was not room service, but the last face he expected to see here.

‘You!’ Matt exclaimed.

Chapter Forty-Four

Matt stood in
the open doorway, his mouth open in surprise.

‘Well, are you going to let me in?’ asked Lieutenant Weber.

‘Sure… Sure, come in.’ Matt stepped aside to let the Lieutenant in.

‘This is a surprise,’ Matt said as he began to close the door. ‘How -’

‘Room service,’ announced a voice behind Matt. He turned round and saw a little Italian-looking man wearing a white jacket and pushing a small metal trolley.

‘Come in, come in,’ said Matt holding the door open. He and Weber stepped out of the way as the waiter brought in a large tray holding two plates, one holding a thin slice of cheesecake, the other covered by a large aluminium cover, and an opened bottle of beer with an empty glass. He set the tray down on the dressing table and stood to go.

Matt signed the bill and returned it to the waiter with the $5 tip. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much.’

The waiter nodded and, giving Weber a strange look, walked over to the door. ‘Have a good evening, sir,’ he said as he left.

Weber lifted up the plate warmer and looked at the burger and fries. He sniffed. ‘You going to eat this shit?’ he asked.

Matt looked down at the food. He had to agree with Weber: it could look more appetising. ‘I was going to. Why?’

Weber shrugged. ‘Was going to take you out for coffee, that’s all. We could eat something as well, if you want. Unless you want to eat this.’

‘All right,’ said Matt. ‘Let’s go out. I need to talk with you, anyway.’

‘I know,’ said the Lieutenant enigmatically, as he led Matt out of the room.

‘There’s a place I know along here,’ said Weber as he took Matt along West 57
th
. Matt looked around as they walked: Saturday night in Manhattan was already in full swing. The streets and sidewalks were full of people: the traffic along 57
th
was moving slowly; Matt turned and looked back to the hotel and could see the long row of red tail lights leading as far as he could make out; as far as the Hudson for all he knew. Horns blared in their vicinity and in the distance.

‘It’s not far,’ Weber said, hooking his arm into Matt’s. He had to almost shout on account of the street noise. ‘Just past Carnegie Hall.’

They threaded their way through the crowds filing into Carnegie Hall. Matt glanced over at the billboard to see what everybody was lining up for. It was the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.

Weber pointed to a doorway just past the hall. ‘In here,’ he said. ‘Up the stairs.’ Matt looked up at the name above the door:
Noodle Town
. He could tell from the menu card in the doorway that it was a Chinese restaurant.

The narrowness of the stairway belied the size of the restaurant on the second floor. There must have been at least thirty tables on the premises, all occupied, with servers bustling to and fro. Weber was greeted by an Asian man in a dark suit. They spoke quietly and Weber led Matt to two stools at the bar. As they sat down, an Asian woman behind the bar passed over two cups of coffee. Matt took a sip, and then nodded at Weber. The coffee was surprisingly good.

‘See?’ Weber said, taking a large mouthful. ‘You wouldn’t think it from downstairs, but this is the best cup of coffee you can get Midtown. You want to eat here? My treat.’

‘Sure,’ said Matt. ‘How do you know about this place?’

‘Used to work the streets here,’ replied Weber through a second mouth of coffee. ‘Many years ago.’

‘And how did you know I’d be staying down the road?’

Just as Weber opened his mouth to reply the dark suited man came over and asked Weber if he wanted to eat.

‘My usual,’ he said. ‘Twice.’

The man bowed slightly and left.

‘I recommend it,’ Weber said. ‘They also do the best Szechuan Chicken this side of Houston.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Matt said. ‘Now, as I was asking...’

‘How I knew you were in that hotel. Yes?’

‘U-huh.’

‘What’s my job?’

‘A cop. Why?’

‘That’s how I knew.’

‘What – you’re in the Sixth Sense Unit?’

Weber laughed. ‘Very good. No. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Following you, as much as I could, that is.’

‘Following me. But I – I hadn’t…’

‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? That’s what surveillance is all about.’

‘I see,’ said Matt, not quite seeing.

‘You’ve had a silver Audi on your tail for the last few days. Around Boston, that is. I spent the night outside that apartment block in West Medford last night.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be stopping over.’

‘Well, neither was I. You see -’

‘Your son?’

‘Nathan? You know all about it? Do you know where he might be?’

Weber shook his head. ‘No, sorry. I heard about it. I guessed that was why you were headed back here. But why here? Why New York City?’

Matt proceeded to tell Weber about Ruth and Gail’s use of the ATM on 53
rd
Street. Weber scratched his chin thoughtfully.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘Can I ask why you thought fit not to share this theory of yours – which isn’t without merit – with us? With me?’

Matt paused as the Szechuan Chicken arrived. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I had intended to. But I guess I got kind of caught up in this ATM transaction thing.’

‘And you thought you’d play detective?’

Matt felt his face redden. He nodded.

‘What about your son?’ Weber asked. ‘Were you going to tell us about him?’

‘It had already been reported to the local police. The sheriff began a search, then escalated it to the State police.’

‘Which is how I came to hear about it.’

‘Can I ask you one thing?’  said Matt.

‘Go ahead,’ mumbled Weber through a mouthful of chicken.

‘You seem to be showing a lot of interest in me. You personally, I mean. I don’t get how a detective investigating a disappearance in Boston can be working here in New York City.’

‘That’s a long story.’

‘We’ve both come a long way.’

‘I guess I’m trying to prove a point,’ said Weber.

‘Prove a point? How so?’

‘Look, both my partner -’

‘Detective….Mancini?’

‘U-huh. Both she and my boss think you’re implicated somehow in your wife’s disappearance.’

‘What? But I’ve no idea -’

‘Neither have I. I’m ninety-nine percent certain you didn’t. There’s obviously no evidence, otherwise – well, you know…’

‘I’d have been arrested?’

Weber nodded. ‘Mancini: she’s young, inexperienced, ambitious. O’Riordan, my Captain: he’s just full of shit. More interested in politicking and clear up statistics than real policing. He was my partner back in the day, and he was an asshole even then.’

Matt took a mouthful of rice. ‘I see.’

‘I don’t think you do. They are saying you’re involved somehow; I say you’re not. So I need to prove a point.’

‘But how can you go to and from here and home? Don’t you have your own cases to work on?’

‘I’m not at work. I’m on leave.’

‘You’re doing this on your vacation time?’

‘No. Sick leave.’

‘Sick leave?’

‘That’s right. I had a queer turn the other day after chasing some guy through the mall at CambridgeSide. Caught the bastard, but collapsed afterward. They all thought I was having a heart attack and rushed me to hospital.’

‘Jesus. I guess it wasn’t a heart attack?’

‘No. The doctor told me it was a kind of warning. You know, cut down on fatty foods – like this – and cut out the red wine. And lose some of this.’ He patted his ample belly. ‘And told me to rest for two weeks.’

‘I see.’

‘So, here I am. Resting.’

‘With me?’

‘Correct. And hoping that in my absence O’Riordan doesn’t send someone out to arrest you.  Assuming they find you.’

Matt nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘Now,’ said Weber. ‘Fill me in on everything. And I mean everything. Some bits I know anyway, but…’

Matt took another mouthful of egg fried rice. ‘Okay. From the top, then.’

Matt then proceeded to tell Weber the whole story, right from the night Ruth failed to come home. Weber continued eating, sometimes nodding, sometimes asking Matt to repeat himself. Now and then, he would ask Matt to clarify something. He stopped eating when Aki Watanabe came up.

‘You asked about her before,’ he said.

‘What’s the police view?’ Matt asked.

‘The ME said it was an accident. She was filling her bath with water and an attachment of the shower fell off the wall. Hit her on the back of the head, rendered her unconscious. Her head and shoulders fell into the bath water and she drowned. But…’

‘But?’

‘But I noticed some bruising on the back of her neck. Here.’ He reached round and touched the back of his own neck. But the ME said they weren’t consistent with any force being exerted by a third party.’

‘But you think differently?’

‘I think there’s a possibility she’s wrong. A very small possibility. Not a probability.’

‘And her boyfriend?’

‘Danny Clark?’

‘Yeah. I guess you’ve spoken to him?’

‘We have, but he denies they were together. And we went through her condo with a fine toothed comb. No trace at all of him.’

‘He could have killed her, and gone through the place.’

‘Could have, but there’s no evidence. And no motive.’

‘Hm.’ Matt finished his food and pushed the plate aside.

‘Pissing you off isn’t a cause for suspicion, I’m afraid. So carry on.’

Matt continued, only to be stopped when he got to the car accident.

‘Hm,’ Weber said slowly, ‘I seem to remember reading about that. The DNA had been compromised.’

‘Destroyed, according to the reports.’

‘Yes, that’s right. It happens sometimes if the fire causes heat over a certain temperature. Makes identification problematic.’

‘Well, in this case they found part of her driver’s licence which hadn’t been burnt.’

‘Lucky licence,’ said Weber. ‘To survive when everything else gets vaporised. Anyway, carry on.’ He motioned over to a waiter for more coffee.

Matt carried on, up to his arrival in the City that day. ‘But what is weird,’ he said, getting out his phone, ‘is this text I got this morning.’ He retrieved the message, and showed Weber the screen.

Weber peered at the screen. Ruth’s name was right at the top of the screen. ‘Jesus!’ he gasped. ‘When did you get that?’ He tabbed the message down to get the date and time of receipt.

‘See for yourself,’ said Matt.

‘This makes quite a bit of difference,’ Weber said, passing the phone back. ‘One hell of a difference.’

‘Yeah, but who’s to say it was Ruth who sent it?’

‘True, but with this we can establish where it was sent.’

‘Where it was sent? To me.’

Weber sighed. ‘This is why you should have come to the police in the first place, rather than playing Sherlock Holmes yourself.’

‘Matt frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s possible to establish the geographical location of where the message was sent.’

Matt looked at him blankly; Weber spoke slowly.

‘Basically, the guys in the crime lab can tell us the address the message was sent from. Which could be the address where your wife and son are.’