by Philip Cox
As he sat watching the skaters, Matt began to think through the events of the last couple of days. He felt that basically there were two reasons for Ruth’s disappearance. One, she had gone involuntarily; something had happened to her. He had reported her disappearance to the police; that was obviously the right thing to do. He had called the local hospitals. None of them had had an emergency admission answering Ruth’s description. Then he had a thought: supposing hospitals had some kind of confidentiality rule; supposing they always said no when somebody called to ask that question. To protect the person, who might be admitted with injuries caused by a violent partner. In any case, surely they would have to give the police correct information, and he was sure the Missing Persons Unit would think of contacting hospitals. Or the morgue. He started to hyperventilate as this thought crossed his mind: this was one thing he had not previously considered.
He managed to slow his breathing down to normal as he dismissed the possibility that Ruth was dead. Or even injured; surely to God if she had been admitted to hospital somebody would have been in contact by now. No, he decided, her disappearance must be intentional. But why? They were both happy together; well, so he thought. She had certainly never given any indication otherwise. Gail said the same thing last night. In any case, she would never leave Nathan. So what was going on?
And then there was the situation with Cambridge Pharmaceuticals. He knew that was where she worked: sure, he had never been to any Christmas parties there, but he was certain he had been to the offices in the past, and had met some of her colleagues. Though not for some time. She always kept work and home life separate. So what was that jerk talking about yesterday? Maybe she was having an affair; and it was with him. That was why he was denying all knowledge of her. But then it all came back to Nathan again: she would never desert him.
He got up, and continued his walk through the Common. He decided he would walk down to Ruth’s office again. No point trying to gain entry, but by the time he got there it would be lunchtime. If he waited outside, maybe he would catch Ruth taking her lunch break. Or perhaps he would recognise a workmate.
He took the path away from Frog Pond, and walked across the common, past the Soldiers and Sailors Monument, veering slightly to the right as he passed the sports field. Even on this cold morning, four hardy souls were playing tennis on the courts adjacent to the Central Burying Ground. He paused momentarily as he passed a plaque stating that portrait painter Gilbert Stuart was buried nearby.
He reached Tremont Street and crossed over outside the Boylston Green Line stop. Two more blocks and he was on Washington. Turned right and headed down to Cambridge Pharmaceuticals. He paused as he passed an HSBC branch and headed for the ATM. Inserted his card, keyed his PIN and requested fifty dollars. With all the events of the last two days, he had forgotten to get any cash. Something he and Ruth always joked about: he worked in a bank, but always forgot to make use of his branch’s ATM.
Suddenly a thought hit him. If Ruth had left voluntarily, she would have needed money. They had a joint account, so he could see if and where she had made any withdrawals from their account. That might at least give him an idea of where she was. That was why that policewoman had asked about their accounts. He could leave it for the police to handle, but he felt he had to do something. Slight hitch here though: their account was with the Bank of New England and this was an HSBC machine. He wouldn’t be able to get a list of transactions here. He took his cash, then pressed a couple of other buttons to get the balance. He frowned as he read the account balance on the screen: it was inconclusive, as he wasn’t sure how much should be in the account. He needed a Bank of New England branch, and he knew there wasn’t one in this part of the city. Or he would have to wait until he got home, and then go online. He looked around as he pondered: he needed to know about the account urgently, yet didn’t have time to go home.
He stepped into a doorway where he found shelter from passers-by and from the wind, and speed dialled Larry Mason. It went to voicemail. He left Larry a message asking him to call him back ASAP, and continued his walk down to Ruth’s offices.
He had just covered one block when Larry returned his call.
‘Hey, Matt; how you doing?’ Larry asked.
‘I’m good. Well, as good as yesterday,’ Matt replied, stepping into another doorway. ‘I just need a favour.’
‘Sure thing. Shoot.’
‘If I give you my checking account number, could you check the recent transactions on it?’
‘Sure, pal. Whatever you need.’
Matt read out the account number and held on while Larry retrieved the list of transactions.
‘There’s been a fifty dollar ATM withdrawal on the... Today. It was today.’
‘Yes. That was me. Go back the last couple of weeks.’
‘A hundred out on the tenth. At one of our machines here.’
‘Yes, that was me again.
‘I have two hundred on the eleventh. That was at the Safeway on Tremont.’
‘Okay. That would have been Ruth. She goes there after work sometimes.’
‘And a three hundred on the thirteenth. Again, Safeway on Tremont. Man, that’s a lot of shopping.’
‘Yeah. Okay, Larry. Thanks. See you tomorrow.’
‘Sure thing, buddy. You take care, now.’
Matt put the phone back in his pocket and looked up at the sky. It was clear and blue, but there were some heavy clouds building up to the west. He looked up and down the street, as he tried to figure out these withdrawals. Five hundred dollars in the space of two or three days. Ever since they had moved in together, he and Ruth had divided up the household expenditure into two areas of responsibility. Matt dealt with household bills: the mortgage, insurances, electricity, that sort of thing. Ruth took care of the groceries. Sometimes on a Saturday or Sunday they would all make a trip to an out-of-town mall, but normally she would call in somewhere on the way home. She would quite frequently use that particular Safeway store during her lunch break. Or so Matt thought. Because that was what Ruth told him. He knew she would normally pay in cash: she owned a credit card, but she preferred to withdraw cash at an ATM before she went shopping. Said she found it easier to keep track of the account that way. Hence the transactions at that ATM. But the amounts: two hundred did seem a large amount for groceries, considering she would have had to walk home with them. Perhaps that was to take care of several days’ visits. Her knew she liked to shop little and often, preferring fresh produce. But why three hundred two days later? Sure, it was a holiday weekend then, but even so…
He stepped out from the doorway and over to a bench by a bus stop. An elderly lady with two large plastic bags was sitting in the centre of the bench, and moved to the other end when Matt sat down.
He slumped onto the bench and rubbed his face. What the hell was happening? Where the hell was Ruth?
And why the hell would she need five hundred dollars just days before she disappeared?
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; t
he 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.
