by Philip Cox
Mancini said, ‘So you got this text, when?’
‘At five,’ said Matt, slightly impatiently.
‘Is it still on your cell?’ Weber asked. ‘Could I..?’
‘Surely.’ Matt retrieved the message on his phone and passed it to Weber. The Lieutenant checked it, nodded and showed it to Mancini. She looked and nodded to Weber.
‘You can check the day before,’ said Matt. ‘And the day before. Or Friday last week, rather.’
Weber silently tabbed down to the previous day’s messages, then passed the phone back to Matt.
‘But you agree,’ Weber said, ‘that this is just a text: you don’t know for sure where she was when she sent it.’
Matt took a deep breath. ‘No, that’s true, but -’
‘Or that it was your wife who sent it,’ added Mancini.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Matt.
‘I mean anybody could have sent it. Even you.’
‘Even me? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘What we’re trying to say,’ said Weber, ‘is that nobody can be one hundred percent sure that it was your wife who sent the text, or that she was at work when she sent it.’
‘Mm. I see.’ Matt was beginning to get the picture.
‘Which brings us to the next question,’ said Weber. ‘Where does your wife work?’
‘I told you the other day: Cambridge Pharmaceuticals on Washington,’ Matt replied. He paused a moment, then added, ‘But you’re gonna tell me they’ve never heard of her.’
Weber and Mancini glanced at each other, then Weber said, ‘No. I was going to tell you she hasn’t been to work since last Friday.’
‘What?’ Matt couldn’t believe this.
‘She hasn’t shown up all this week. Nobody has seen her since last Friday.’
‘But – but,’ Matt stammered, shaking his head, ‘that’s not what they told me.’
‘You called them to see where she was?’ Weber asked.
‘Well, eventually.’
‘Eventually?’ Mancini queried.
‘Could I just check on my son?’ Matt asked. ‘Make sure he’s asleep.’
Mancini opened her mouth as if to protest, but Weber cut in.
‘Sure. Be quick, though.’
‘One minute.’
As Matt crept up the stairs, he could hear whispering from the kitchen. He was unable to make out what was being said, but it sounded like sotto voce arguing. He peered in Nathan’s room: his son was still fast asleep, clutching a dinosaur Matt couldn’t identify. He was lying on his front, his left leg hanging down the side of the bed. Matt leaned down and gently lifted the leg back onto the bed, covered it with the Jurassic Park quilt, which he smoothed down. Nathan stirred slightly as Matt tenderly ran his hands through his son’s hair.
He returned to the kitchen. Weber looked up at him and said, ‘You were going to tell us about calling your wife.’
Matt pulled out a chair from the opposite side of the table and sat down.
‘When Ruth was overdue by fifteen, twenty minutes, I started to call her cell phone. Did it several times. Got voicemail each time. I figured maybe she’s in a meeting, maybe she put it on silent earlier, forgot to change it, so I rang her office landline.’
‘And?’
‘The number I had stored in here,’ - he held up his cell phone – ‘seemed to be wrong.’
‘Wrong? As in…’
‘As in this call cannot be completed as dialled. I was surprised; after all it was the number Ruth gave me herself. I figured I must have programmed the phone wrong.’
‘Had you not called her on that number before?’
‘Don’t recall doing it. Always used her cell.’
‘So you called Information?’ asked Weber.
‘That’s right. And the number they gave me was totally different from the one I had.’
‘It’s possible,’ Mancini said. ‘Sometimes phone companies change numbers. Upgrading an exchange. Converting to digital, maybe.’
Matt shrugged.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I called that number and it was the right number, but I got a recording saying the offices were closed and to call back the next morning.’
‘Which you did, presumably,’ said Mancini.
‘I tried Ruth’s cell a couple more times. Then her friend Gail.’
‘Gail?’ Weber asked.
‘Gail Smith. She’s Ruth’s best friend. I wondered if Ruth had gone over to hers, or maybe she knew where Ruth had gone.’
‘Where does this Gail live?’ asked Weber.
‘Her precise address – that’s -’
‘In Boston?’ said Weber.
‘Yeah, it’s here.’ Matt reached over for the address book they kept by the house phone and looked up Gail’s address. Mancini made a note while Matt read it out.
‘Did she know where your wife was?’ asked Mancini, looking up from her notepad.
‘I got voicemail. Same as Ruth.’
‘Okay,’ said Weber. ‘You were saying you called the offices the next morning.’
‘That’s the whole point. I did – and they told me nobody with Ruth’s name worked there. I even tried her maiden name – Levene – and still they said the same thing. I even went down to the office in my lunch hour and they told me the same thing.’
‘Well,’ said Weber, leaning back in his seat, ‘they told us she does work there; only she hasn’t been in since Friday. They’ve tried calling her, but keep getting voicemail.’
‘See? Same as me,’ said Matt, banging his hand on the table. Who did you speak to?’
‘Sorry.’ Weber shook his head. ‘Can’t say at this time.’
‘Was it that office manager? Danny – Danny something?’
Weber and Mancini said nothing.
After a few moments of silence Weber spoke up.
‘You said something earlier about a stolen car.’
‘Yes, I took it to work this morning. Parked it as I always do in the lot at the rear of the bank. When I left this afternoon to pick up Nathan, it was gone.’
‘Stolen?’ said Mancini.
‘Absolutely stolen. I wouldn’t have mislaid it.’
‘And you’ve reported it?’ Weber asked.
Matt nodded. ‘This afternoon. I did think at first that was why you called round.’
Weber shook his head. ‘No, Mr Gibbons. Not our department.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Matt. ‘So I got a cab back here, got Nathan, and called you guys about it.’
‘Mm,’ said Weber, slowly nodding his head. ‘What make and model is your car?’
‘A Toyota. A Camry. 2008. Why? Has it been found?’
‘No.’ Weber shook his head. ‘Just routine. Who normally drives it? You? Do you have a car each?’
‘No. Just one between us.’
‘And who normally drives it?
‘I do. I work in a bank on State Street. The journey by public transit would take two hours almost.’
Weber whistled softly. ‘So your wife – she would use the bus, the T?’
‘She’d normally walk.’
‘Walk?’ asked a surprised Mancini.
‘U-huh. She’s always walked. Unless the weather was really bad, then she’d go by bus. Says it saved her fifty bucks a week gym membership.’
‘Can she drive?’ asked Weber.
‘She can, but as she walks, I normally take the car in.’
‘I see,’ said Weber. ‘Where are the car keys now?’
‘Over here.’ Matt stood up and stepped over to a row of small hooks on the wall. There was an assortment of keys hanging: house keys, garage keys, and the Toyota keys. He held up the car keys for Weber to see. Weber held out his hand for the keys. Matt passed them over. Weber checked for the Toyota logo engraved on the key, and passed them back.
‘Are there any spare keys?’ Weber asked.
‘Sure. We keep them upstairs.’
‘Could you..?’
‘I checked them already. The other night I couldn’t sleep. I had all sorts of weird ideas about how and why Ruth had disappeared. So I checked where we keep the spare keys. Just to make sure they were there.’
‘And?’
‘They were there, of course. Why? Do you want me to check again?’
Weber nodded. ‘Yes please. If you don’t mind. The keys are there?’
‘I told you: I checked already. The other night.’
Matt stood up. ‘I’ll go get them,’ he said.
‘Mr Gibbons,’ asked Mancini as Matt left the kitchen, ‘why do you keep the spare keys upstairs. Why not over there?’ She indicated to the row of key hooks.
‘Force of habit. Before we moved here we had an apartment. One floor. One day we needed the spare keys, but couldn’t find them Turned out Nathan had put them in the toilet. So from then on we’ve kept them in a drawer upstairs.’
Mancini smiled slightly as Matt left her and Weber.
‘What?’ asked Weber.
‘Nothing,’ said Mancini. ‘My youngest did that once.’ She shook her head. ‘O’Riordan’s gonna be pissed you didn’t take him Downtown for questioning.’
‘Screw O’Riordan. If we did, what are we gonna do about the kid? Call Social Services? At this time of night? Get real. Anyhow: let’s see what he has to say here, then take a view in the morning. He’s not going anywhere. And I can handle O’Riordan. If he thinks...’
Weber stopped when he saw Matt standing in the kitchen doorway.
‘The other night, like I told you, I checked the drawer where we keep all the spare keys. They were all there,’ Matt said.
‘And?’
‘The spare car keys have gone.’
Chapter Seventeen
Since the early 1950s, Connie’s Bar on Hawkins and Bowker Streets has been the first port of call for the officers of District A-1 of the Boston Police Department. Connie, the original proprietor, died in the late seventies at the ripe old age of ninety-three, and now her grandson George, himself in his late sixties, ran the establishment. Whenever his shift finished late, Lieutenant Weber always made a point of dropping in for a drink or two on his way home. Whenever his shift finished on time, he made a point of dropping in on his way home. Whenever his shift finished early, he made a point of dropping in on his way home. But he was always fit to drive afterwards, and had never been worse for wear the next morning.
He had finished his customary two drinks: normally now he would make his way home, but as it was Friday night, one more would be in order. He nodded his thanks across the bar to George, and took a mouthful.
‘What part of bring him in for questioning didn’t you understand?’ said a familiar voice behind him, making him splash his beer. He looked up and saw Captain O’Riordan standing over him.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, shuffling his stool slightly to the left so O’Riordan could fit in next to him. George ambled over and the Captain ordered a Guinness.
‘I was asking what part of bring him in for questioning?’ O’Riordan said.
‘Didn’t think it was necessary,’ said Weber. ‘How did you know anyway?’
‘How do you think?’
‘Ah, yes: the good Detective Mancini.’
‘Yes, and the fact that you weren’t occupying the interview rooms.’
‘Ambitious girl, Mrs Mancini.’
O’Riordan laughed. ‘You should worry. I think she’s after my job.’
‘Not the Commissioners?’
‘Probably. Now, to get back to my original question: why didn’t you bring him in?’
Weber half drained his glass.
‘Didn’t think it was necessary.’
‘Oh?’
‘Look Ciarán: do you think he’s going to go on the run?’
‘You tell me.’
‘For a start, he had a five year old boy asleep upstairs. You can’t seriously be suspecting him of anything?’
O’Riordan shrugged his shoulders.
‘How long have we known each other?’ Weber asked.
‘Best part of twenty years, I guess. Three as rookies, fifteen as partners -’
‘And friends.’
‘And friends. And two as captain.’
‘So you trust my judgement?’
‘Of course I do, Sam. I just suggested -’
‘Suggested?’
‘Kind of suggested. That Gibbons be questioned Downtown, that is. It’s just that the enquiries at the MPU don’t seem to be going anywhere, and I figured that if he was trying to hide something, being questioned here might kind of -’
‘Intimidate him?’
‘No; just move things on a bit.’
‘The MPU had no luck yet?’ Weber asked.
‘Not really. They told me they called her workplace -’
‘And she’s not been seen since last Friday.’
‘Oh,’ said O’Riordan. ‘You know that, then.’
‘Yes, and that’s an interesting point,’ said Weber.
‘How so?’ enquired the Captain.
‘They told me they spoke to a guy called Clark. Er – Danny Clark. The office manager apparently.’
‘And?’
‘Well, Gibbons has spoken to him also. Went down there the other day. Says he spoke to Clark himself, but Clark told him he had never heard of her; that nobody of his wife’s name – and maiden name – worked there.’
O’Riordan drank his Guinness down to half full. ‘Interesting,’ he said, licking the cream off his lips. ‘Didn’t know about that. What do you propose to do?’
‘The offices’ll be closed through Monday,’ said Weber. ‘Thought I might have a word with the MPU, then talk to Clark myself Monday?’
‘What about the Washington case? And the others?’ O’Riordan asked.
‘Ciarán, it’s only gonna take an hour or so to speak with Clark. Bear with me, hey?’
‘Do you think it’s about the money?’ O’Riordan asked. ‘I mean: he only works in a bank, and she’s a PA or something. That house of theirs must be worth a packet. The mortgage payments must be astronomical.’
Weber shook his head. ‘Nah. I did some research on that the other day. It’s quite a large house, for sure; I checked with a couple of Real Estate offices and we’re looking at four fifty, four seventy-five.’
O’Riordan whistled.
‘But – Gibbons and his wife bought it a couple of years back for three eighty. But the mortgage was only for seventy-five.’
‘Where’d the other $305,000 come from then?’
‘Gibbons’s family are moneyed. His old man’s retired on Cape Cod now, but he had a good job, but the grandfather owned a small chain of hardware stores. Sold them off years ago for a tidy sum, and so a lot of that went into the Gibbons family home. So your theory – and Mancini’s, no doubt – of him doing her in for the insurance is all bull.’ He paused. ‘I think.’
The Captain finished his drink, and motioned over to George for another.
‘What’s your theory then?’ he asked.
‘I think she’s left him. Not sure if he’s being a hundred percent straight with us when he says everything was fine between them, and he has no idea what’s happening, but I think she’s moved out.’
‘With a third party?’
‘Not sure. That’s why I want to talk to this Clark guy face to face. You know, to check out what Gibbons said about being told his old lady never worked there.’
‘You mean he could be the third party?’
‘Possible. Then there’s some other factors. I was able to check activity on their checking account. There were some unusual cash withdrawals on the account before she disappeared.’
‘How much?’
‘Over five hundred, all taken out at an ATM near where she works. Then there’s the car.’
‘The car?’
‘He reported it stolen.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Quite. Said it was taken from his office parking lot while he was at
work. But when Mancini and I called round tonight, he said he wondered at first if she had left, so checked for keys and the like, and everything was there. But while we were there, he checked again, and the spare keys,’ – he tapped on the bar – ‘were gone.’
O’Riordan said nothing; just scratched his stubbly chin.
‘So I think,’ continued Weber, ‘that she has left him. On her own or with another person, Clark maybe. I figure she’s taken the car keys. So she has some transportation. Even if Gibbons did check that her stuff was there earlier, she could easily have gone to the house while he was at work and taken them.’
‘But what about the kid? She wouldn’t have walked out on him.’
‘Mothers have done worse things. In any case, how do we know the kid’s hers? She could be a wicked stepmother.’
O’Riordan yawned and rubbed his chin again. ‘How’s the Washington case progressing?’
‘We spoke to her once she came round. But she can’t identify the assailants for sure. Just guys wearing hoods. Local CCTV shows the same.’
‘Damn. ‘I was hoping we might get a break. This is the third.’
‘I know,’ agreed Weber. ‘One of these days a victim’s gonna die.’
‘Sam, we need to get the sons of bitches before then.’
‘Think I don’t know that?’
O’Riordan patted Weber’s arm.
‘I know, I know,’ he said, standing up. ‘Just keep on with the enquiries. Maybe revisit the other two cases. Talk to the witnesses again – maybe something’s come back to them.’
‘And the Gibbons case?’
‘Okay. But minimal involvement. Talk to this Clark guy Monday; see what you think. But don’t spend time on it to the detriment of your other cases. Especially Washington. And for Christ’s sake keep liaising with the MPU.’
‘Sure, I will. Thanks, Ciarán.’
Weber finished his drink and the two of them wished George good night, and walked to the door. O’Riordan patted the back of an officer who was sitting at a table as they went past.
‘See you Monday, Sam,’ O’Riordan said, and turned to the right.
Weber nodded and walked the other way, back to the station lot.
Got to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat.
