She's Not Coming Home

by Philip Cox

  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.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘I’ll be perfectly honest with you,’ the man said, as he rubbed his chin. ‘We are shopping around, you see.’

  Matt nodded. Not as if this was the first time an interview he had conducted began with that line.

  ‘I understand,’ he said.

  Matt’s customer leaned back in his chair and brushed some imaginary dust off his sleeve. ‘We’ve been to Bank of America, Mellon Bank, and – where was it yesterday, dear?’ He turned and looked at his wife, a smartly dressed lady also in her early sixties.

  ‘Sovereign Bank, John,’ Mrs Thomas replied.

  ‘That’s right, Sovereign,’ Mr Thomas continued. ‘So basically, today I want you to tell me what you and New England Bank can offer me. Offer us, I mean. Then I and my wife will decide.’

  ‘Bank of New England,’ Matt corrected, instantly wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

  ‘Whatever,’ Mr Thomas said, icily.

  Shut your mouth Gibbons, you can’t afford to screw up was the thought passing through Matt’s head as he turned slightly to his right and fired up his computer.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Can I start first by taking down some information about yourselves, your personal circumstances, so I can begin to match your requirements to our products and services?’

  Mrs Thomas started to say, ‘I don’t see -’

  ‘That will be satisfactory,’ Mr Thomas interrupted her. ‘Proceed.’ He leaned back further in his chair, folding his arms. Mrs Thomas remained poised upright on her chair, clutching her blue sequined bag.

  So for the next ten minutes Matt proceeded to ask Mr and Mrs Thomas questions about their personal financial circumstances, their income and outgoings, what type of insurance they had, what their aspirations were. He learned that Mr Thomas had been retired for seven years, having previously been an executive with the Exxon Mobil Corporation. Mrs Thomas left work in the early sixties, since when she has raised their four children and made cakes and sat on committees. Before he retired, they lived in Irving, Texas, close by Exxon’s headquarters. Mr Thomas was raised in New Jersey, and on his retirement wanted to move back to the North East. Their main home was just outside the town of Concord, a select community around twenty miles west of Boston; they also had another residence, ‘our winter home’, as Mrs Thomas called it, in Fort Lauderdale. They had spent Christmas and New Year there, and had come back to Massachusetts to take care of some business, as Mr Th
omas called it. After they had decided what to do after visiting all the banks in Boston, they would return to Florida.

  So, thought Matt, you’re just wasting my time really. No intention of doing any business with me.

  Trying to keep positive, and going for that one in ten chance that Mr and Mrs Thomas might pass him their accounts, Matt began to talk about the best type of accounts for the couple.

  ‘If we can look first of all at checking accounts…’

  ‘Go ahead. What can you offer us?’

  ‘Well, how much do you intend to be keeping in the account?’

  Mr Thomas sniffed and checked his fingernails. ‘Only a few thousand, just for expenses. Most of our money is in property or in our savings accounts.’

  ‘I ask the question because our Premium account has a tiered interest rate structure.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Mr Thomas seemed interested.

  ‘If the balance is less than ten thousand dollars, the interest rate is 0.05%; between ten thousand and -’

  ‘Forget it. That rate’s too low. What about the rates on your savings accounts?’

  Matt’s attention was momentarily diverted away from the couple to his top right hand desk drawer. The drawer was open six inches or so, and Matt’s cell phone was lying, with a calculator, on top of a note pad in the drawer. The phone screen remained blank: no messages or missed calls.

  ‘Are you still with us?’ snapped Mr Thomas.

  ‘Mm?’ asked Matt, his attention returning to his customer.

  ‘I asked what are the interest rates on your savings accounts.’

  ‘If I could just go through the checking accounts first, then -’

  Mr Thomas gave Matt a smug, self-satisfied smile. ‘The savings accounts.’

  Matt took a deep breath.

  ‘Well, that would depend on the type of account you want, how much you have in the accounts -’

  Mr Thomas held his hand up.

  ‘Mr Gibbons,’ he said, still with that smug look on his face. ‘I just want the savings rates.’

  Matt had had enough. Giving his phone another glance, he took a decision. If these people were just wasting his time, then he had nothing to lose. Maybe he was in with a chance to get their business, but it was a slim one. In any case, there was no way this guy was going to speak to him like he was Nathan’s age.

  He leaned forward, resting both arms on the desk.

  ‘Mr Thomas. Mr and Mrs Thomas,’ he said quietly. Politely but firmly. ‘If you just want to know what our interest rates are, then fine; take a brochure. But it was my understanding that you came to see me for advice. If that is the case, then you must allow me to go through my procedures, gather all the information I need so I can match your needs to what we can offer. Then you can make your decision. With all the facts.’

  Mr Thomas straightened in his chair. His face lost the smug expression.

  *****

  ‘How did you get on?’

  Matt looked up from his desk.

  ‘Get on with what?’ he asked Larry Mason.

  ‘The old couple. They looked like they weren’t short of a few bucks. How did you get on with them?’

  ‘Oh, them. They’re taking away all the information I gave them. To think it all over.

  ‘Right. Well, fingers crossed.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Matt took his cell phone from his drawer and checked it. Nothing.

  ‘You okay, Matt?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Yeah, fine.’

  Larry opened his mouth the say something else, but stopped when the phone on Matt’s desk rang.

  ‘Matt Gibbons,’ Matt said into the phone. ‘Right. I’ll be right along.’

  He put the phone and shook his head.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Larry.

  ‘Debra wants to see me,’ Matt said as he stood up.

  ‘Uh-uh. Better take your crucifix and garlic. Chin up, buddy,’ chuckled Larry as he slapped Matt on the shoulder.

  ‘Come in,’ Debra called out as Matt knocked on her door.

  As he pushed the door open and went in she was engrossed in something on her laptop.

  ‘Sit down, Matt. Won’t keep you a moment.’

  Mind games, he thought as he silently sat down.

  After a couple of minutes she shut the laptop.

  ‘Matt,’ she said, giving him a brief smile, pushing the laptop to one side. She took her glasses off and laid them on the desk. Matt caught a whiff of an expensive perfume.

  ‘How did you get on with your customers?’ she asked. ‘Mr and Mrs’- she glanced down at some notes on her desk - ‘Thomas?’

  ‘They were interested in what we had to offer. They were shopping around.’

  ‘Shopping around?’

  ‘They said they had been to four or five other banks. Taking details of what we can offer. Then make their decision.’

  ‘But our products are the best on the market. I just don’t understand why you couldn’t close the deal.’

  Matt shrugged. ‘As I said, they are shopping around.’

  ‘How optimistic are you about them returning?’

  ‘Reasonably.’

  She put her glasses back on and opened the laptop. Stared at Matt for a second.

  ‘I hope so, Matt. I hope so. Keep me up to speed on them.’

  She returned to her laptop, so Matt stood up and began to leave.

  ‘How are you, in any case?’ she asked, looking up.

  ‘Fine. Thanks for asking.’

  ‘Any news?’

  Matt knew what she meant. ‘No. No news.’

  ‘And how is your son? Ethan, isn’t it?’

  ‘Nathan, you mean?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Nathan. How is he bearing up?’

  ‘As well as can be expected, thanks.’

  ‘If you need any more time off…’

  ‘No thanks. Need to keep occupied.’

  ‘And keep a pay check coming in.’

  Matt started to answer when she cut him off with, ‘Thanks for dropping by Matt. Fingers crossed for your next customer. Let’s hope for some success with them.’

  As Matt shut the door on his way out, he thought a moment. Success with them: was she implying failure with Mr and Mrs Thomas? And keep a pay check coming in? Was that a veiled threat?

  Standing outside Debra’s door he checked his phone again. Then walked back to his desk. He had one word for his conversation with Debra.

  Bitch.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Larry Mason leaned back in the armchair he was occupying in the staff room. He looked up as Matt came in and headed straight for the coffee machine.

  ‘You still with us then, buddy?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’ asked Matt, as he added his normal two spoons of sugar.

  ‘After your interview with the devil woman,’ Larry replied.

  ‘Oh nothing really,’ said Matt as he sat in the chair opposite Larry. ‘Just the usual stuff: you know, how she couldn’t understand why I couldn’t sign them up there and then. Then how she understood how much I needed my pay check.’

  ‘Subtle as ever,’ said Larry.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said José. José and Matt had both worked at this branch for around the same length of time. ‘I had the same conversation with her the other day. We all have. And there’s no way she’s gonna get rid of us all.’

  ‘Well,’ replied Matt, swirling his coffee and studying the movement of the liquid. ‘That was the conversation we had.’

  ‘The thing is though,’ said Larry, ‘she says the sort of things she says; like with you, Matt, but it’s always the same thing. How she can’t understand why we couldn’t do something.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Matt. ‘Your point being?’

  ‘My point is this. When I worked up at Bangor a few years back -’

  ‘I never knew you worked there,’ José cut in. ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Five or six years. Anyway – what I was going to say: when I was there, the Branch Manager, a gu
y called – what was his name? Terrance, no Torrance – he really had a grip on the sales part of the job. He used to have a meeting before we opened the doors with all the Personal Bankers.’

  ‘Cruella doesn’t,’ said José.

  ‘No. Quite. Well, in this meeting, we all discussed all the people who were coming in that day. You know, their personal and money stuff, then we all talked about what potential each client had. And the thing is – and this is where he differs from her so much – he always had lots of ideas and suggestions.’

  ‘What sort of ideas?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Things like the best way to get a client interested in an account, or he’d suggest a way to overcome an objection a client might make.’

  ‘I see,’ said Matt. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘The thing is,’ continued Larry, ‘he had done the job himself for years so he knew everything inside out. Unlike -’

  ‘Unlike that bitch out there,’ José said, also sitting down with Matt and Larry. ‘She’s just got to that job on her back.’

  ‘I would suggest then,’ said Larry, ‘that the next time she says that she is surprised a client didn’t sign up we all ask her what she would have done in the circumstances. Put her on the spot for a change.’ As he spoke he looked up at the corner of the room and closed his eyes as if in meditation.

  ‘Sounds cool,’ said José. ‘About time she showed an interest. Other than in her frigging laptop.’ He walked over to the sink, threw the dregs of his coffee away and walked over to the door. ‘Time for my next one. See you later guys.’

  ‘Later,’ Larry said, then turned to Matt.

  ‘You sure that’s it, Matt? You seem awful quiet.’

  Matt swirled his coffee. ‘No, I’m fine, thanks. Just a lot going on, I guess.’