by Philip Cox
‘Okay. Yes.’
‘I saw him – this manager – walking down the street with someone I thought was Ruth. I followed them to a bar on Washington. But it wasn’t Ruth he was with; it was this woman.’
‘The dead one?’
‘I’m pretty sure, yes.’
‘Are you going to tell the police that, also?’
‘Yes; absolutely.’
Ryan burst out of the bathroom. ‘Well, I’m ready to eat. You staying, Matt?’
‘No, I have to go. Thanks all the same.’
‘Go on, stay. There’s enough, right, Gail?’
Gail opened her mouth to speak, but Matt answered for her.
‘No, honestly. Thanks all the same. Another time, perhaps.’
‘Sure. Come over any time. Bring Nathan of course. Where is the little guy, by the way?’
‘He’s at his grandparents for a few days.’
‘Cool. He always enjoys it down there, doesn’t he?’
‘He does, yes.’
‘Must be the sea air. Fresher than the city. Tell him I said hi.’
‘I will, yes.’
‘What about his kindergarten?’ asked Gail.
‘I don’t think missing a couple of days would be a problem for him,’ said Matt.
‘He’s back Monday, then?’ she asked.
Matt nodded. ‘Yeah. Should be.’ He put on his coat. ‘I’ll let you two eat in peace.’
‘I’ll see you out.’ Ryan took him to the door.
‘Let us know if there’s any other news,’ Gail called out.
‘Yes,’ added Ryan. ‘You know if there’s anything…’
‘I know,’ said Matt. ‘And I will.’
He shook Ryan’s hand and left.
Sitting in the Hyundai a few minutes later, he looked up at the building. He could see one of Gail’s windows, the kitchen he thought. A light went on two windows down. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. There was something odd up there. It was to do with the bathroom. If Ryan was not yet home from work, why was the toilet seat up? And if she had just had a bath, why wasn’t the bathroom even a little steamed up and damp? Or was his imagination running wild? He was so tired now. He started the car and pulled into the street. As he waited at a stop light he remembered they had an en suite bathroom in their bedroom. Nothing less for Gail. It was time he went home and slept.
As he arrived home forty minutes later he noticed half a dozen cars parked in the darkened streets. He was too tired to use his own garage, so he parked on the street also, albeit two doors away from his own house. As he turned the key in his door, he heard a familiar voice.
‘Mr Gibbons. Do you have a few minutes?’
He turned round and groaned inwardly as he made out the form of Lieutenant Weber approaching. He nodded and Weber followed him inside.
‘Don’t you sleep, Lieutenant?’ he asked.
‘I finished my shift an hour ago. I was just passing.’
‘So this is an unofficial visit?’
‘Kind of. I needed to give you some news.’
‘News of Ruth? You’ve found her?’
Weber shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. But your car’s been found.’
Chapter Thirty
‘Where did you find it?’ Matt asked as he closed the front door.
‘I didn’t find it,’ said Weber as he followed Matt through to the kitchen. The NYPD found it.’
‘New York? What the hell’s it doing up there?’
‘Waiting to be picked up, I guess.’
Matt turned round and faced Weber across the kitchen table. ‘In Manhattan?’
‘No, in Brooklyn.’
‘Brooklyn?’
‘U-huh. It was found in a parking garage on,’ - he took out a small note book and consulted it - ‘Schermerhorn Street, Brooklyn.’
Matt shook his head. ‘I don’t know anyone who… Never been…’
‘Neither had I.’
‘How long had it been there for?’
‘A few days. The garage is one of those open twenty-four hour joints. Whoever had left it there had paid twenty-five bucks or whatever it is and never came back for it. It was parked on the bottom level; it’s an underground garage. The super noticed it after a couple of days and called to get it towed.’
‘Was there any sign of anything in the car?’
‘Sign of what?’
‘I was just wondering if this had anything to do with Ruth’s disappearance.’
‘I don’t think it was. Just crap timing, that’s all. Do you know how many vehicles are stolen in the City of Boston each day?’
‘A lot, I guess.’
‘You guess correct. But to answer your question: no, there was no indication as to who took it, or why.’
‘What’s special about Schmerhorn…?’
‘Schermerhorn Street. Nothing special, as far as I know. I don’t know that part of the city that well. Okay on Manhattan, but not any of the other boroughs.’
‘So where’s the car now?’
‘It got taken to a pound in Brooklyn, where they take cars that are towed for illegal parking, that sort of thing. When it arrived, they did the standard check on the plate, and it got flagged up as stolen.’
‘Can I go and pick it up?’
‘I’d leave it until the morning, if I were you.’
‘I was thinking about Saturday morning. Will it still be there?’
‘It’ll be there for a few weeks. Then it and any unclaimed vehicles get auctioned. Just take your ID and registration documents. You got any wheels?’
‘Rental car.’
‘I guess you could call the rental office and arrange to return it to the New York depot. Then take the subway to the pound. It’s on Sands and Navy. Ironically, just a couple of blocks from where it was found.’
‘Okay, thanks. I’ll go Saturday.’
‘Fine. Well, I’ll let you get on.’ Weber made to leave.
‘I was going to call you, actually.’
‘Oh, about what?’
‘About a couple of things. First of all I found in Ruth’s stuff a birth certificate for a Ruth Dubois, who was born in Rochester the same day as my Ruth was born.’
‘I take it Dubois wasn’t your wife’s maiden name?’
‘No, it was Levene.’
‘Hold on, that was the name she used before you two got married, yes? It doesn’t mean it wasn’t her maiden name.’
‘You mean like she was married before?’
Weber shrugged. ‘Or just used a different name. For any reason.’
‘Good point. I hadn’t considered that.’ He paused. ‘Well, I did an online search and found an Elisabeth Dubois – the mother’s name on the certificate – still living in Rochester. Her age would have been about right.’
‘Is that where you’ve been today?’
‘That’s right. I spoke to her, but she told me her daughter was killed in a car crash almost three years ago.’
‘So she wasn’t your Ruth?’
‘No. But look at this photograph.’ He reached over to the brown envelope he had found in the attic. ‘I found this old photo with the birth certificate, and this girl here looks like a younger version of Ruth.’
Weber studied the photographs. ‘I’m not saying you’re right, but are you happy for me to pass these to the Missing Persons Unit? They may or may not find them useful. I’ll have them take copies and return them.’
‘That would be great. Thanks.’ Matt passed the envelope over.
‘You were going to call me about a couple of things, you said.’
‘Yes, I did. While I was in Rochester, I saw a news item from here about a suspicious death.’
Weber’s ears pricked up. ‘Oh yes?’
‘A woman by the name of Akira Watanabe. Is that right?’
Weber nodded. ‘Did you know her?’
‘No, but the day I went down to Cambridge Pharmaceuticals and spoke to the office manager, Danny Clark. The guy who told me he’d
never heard of Ruth.’
‘Go on,’ said Weber.
‘Later on, I saw Clark go into an Irish pub on Washington.’
‘You were following him?’
‘Kind of. The person he was with looked like Ruth from behind. I thought – well, you know…’
‘Go on,’ said Weber again.
‘I followed them into the pub and he was sitting there with this woman.’
‘With Ms Watanabe?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He introduced her to me as his girlfriend Aki. Made a big deal about her not being Ruth.’
‘His girlfriend. I see. Mr Gibbons, I know you don’t have a high opinion of this Mr Clark: neither do I, as it happens, off the record; but are you sure about all this? I wouldn’t like to think you’re trying to make things difficult for him. There was no trace of any boyfriend, Mr Clark or anybody else, in her apartment. She was unattached. But I’ll make a note of what you’ve told me.’
‘You’re dealing with her case?’ Matt asked.
‘That’s right. As I say, I’ll note your comments. If we need any clarifications, we’ll be in contact.’ Weber adjusted his overcoat and stepped over to the door. Matt followed him, and held the door open while the Lieutenant left. After saying goodbye, he double locked the door, and went into the living room, where he collapsed into a chair.
*****
He was woken up by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He looked at the display and saw it was his mother’s number.
‘Shit,’ he said aloud. He had forgotten to call them as he had promised. ‘Hello Mom,’ he said, answering the call. ‘Sorry, I forgot to ring, didn’t I?’
‘You did. We were all worried about you.’
‘Where’s Nathan?’
‘He went to sleep an hour ago. He was waiting for you to call. Did you get held up in traffic?’
‘No, the opposite in fact. I decided to make an impromptu call on Ruth’s friend Gail. You know, to see if she knew anything about the Dubois connection.’
‘And did she?’
‘No. Then just as I got home, the police arrived.’
‘The police? Did they have any news?’
‘Not about Ruth. The Lieutenant came to tell me my car had been found.’
‘Well at least that’s something. Where was it found?’
‘Some all night parking garage in Brooklyn. It’s at the police pound now. I’m going to go over to collect it Saturday morning. Then I’ll go straight over to you.’
‘Some good news at least. I’ll tell Nathan you’ll call him in the morning?’ The last sentence was more of an instruction than a question.
‘I will, yes. Good night then, Mom.’
‘Good night Matt.’
He disconnected, stood up and stretched. Time for bed. No – one more thing first. He booted up his laptop and logged on. Went onto Google Maps and found the parking garage in Schermerhorn Street. There it was, just as the Lieutenant had said. He moved the cursor up slightly and found the Hoyt-Schermerhorn subway station. Yes, only a couple of blocks apart. Then clicked on a link to the New York MTA. Then on to Subway Maps. Weber was right: the A, C, and G lines ran through here. The G ran from Smith and 9th to Court Square, Queens. The A and the C ran way Uptown.
He sat back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. It had been a very long day, and he was fatigued by the amount of driving he had done over the past forty-eight hours. He was not sure if his mind was not being over-active, as it was earlier when he was analysing why Gail’s toilet seat was up. There must have been a reason why whoever had parked his car chose that location to leave it. Close to the subway station. The A and C lines were busy commuter routes into Lower Manhattan. Was this their final destination?
Chapter Thirty-One
Thursday morning and Matt arrived at work at eight fifteen, a good twenty minutes or so before his normal arrival time. Not having to make Nathan’s breakfast and journey to kindergarten helped the time-keeping, and the call to his parents to talk to his son only took ten minutes. As he paused to double lock the Hyundai, he heard a horn sound the other side of the office parking lot. He waved at Larry Mason as his colleague parked his car.
‘Morning Matt,’ Larry asked as he joined him at the foot of the steps leading up to the rear door. ‘How’s it goin’?’
‘Morning. Going okay. As okay as expected.’
‘Any news? Did you get much done on your days off?’
‘No news from Ruth,’ Matt said as Larry unlocked the door and they walked in. ‘The days weren’t entirely unproductive, though.’
‘Oh, how so?’
After they had taken off their overcoats, they made their way to the staff room for the first cup of coffee of the day. On the way, Larry called out a greeting across the banking hall to the Chief Cashier, who was setting up the tills.
As they poured themselves a coffee, Matt related to Larry the saga of the Ruth Dubois birth certificate, the photographs and his visit to Rochester. Larry stood listening, open mouthed, occasionally taking a sip of his coffee.
‘Jeez,’ he said. ‘You’ve had a busy time away from here.’
‘That’s not all,’ said Matt, as he added the detail about Akira Watanabe.
‘Jeez,’ repeated Larry. ‘Are you sure it’s the same person?’
‘Ninety-five percent sure.’
‘Have you told the police?’
‘I told them last night. That Lieutenant Weber called round last night.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Well,’ Matt said, pouring more coffee, ‘I get the impression they feel she was single; you know, no significant other. I think he said there was no trace of any boyfriend or partner in her apartment. He said he’s going to take it under advisement. I think he feels I’ve got it in for this Clark guy because he’s such as asshole.’
‘Why did he call round last night?’
‘Morning guys.’ They were interrupted by José Vasquez, who had just arrived. ‘Hey there, Matt. Any news?’
Still looking at Matt, Larry raised his eyebrows and inclined his head over to José, as if to say can I tell him? Matt nodded.
‘Matt’s had a busy few days,’ Larry said.
Matt proceeded to repeat the story to José.
‘Man,’ said José. ‘That’s really weird.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘And there’s still no word about your wife?’
‘No.’
‘You were saying why the police called round last night,’ said Larry.
‘Oh yes, that’s another thing: my car’s been found.’
‘Really? Where?’ asked Larry.
‘It’s turned up in a parking garage in Brooklyn.’
‘Brooklyn?’ the two others exclaimed in unison.
‘That’s right. It had been left there a few days. Then they called the police and got it towed.’
‘So where’s it now?’
‘At a pound in Brooklyn. A few blocks away from there it was found, according to the police. I’m going to pick it up on Saturday.’
‘Why Saturday?’ Larry asked. ‘Why not go today?’
‘I can’t. I have to work, don’t I? I can’t keep taking time off. Queen Bitch has been searching for a chance to get rid of me.’
‘You’ve got no appointments the next couple of days,’ said José. ‘And in any case, don’t worry about her.’
‘Don’t worry about her? You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘For a start,’ said José, ‘she tries to make us all feel like that. Never in public; only on a one to one basis. Secondly: I hope you don’t mind, but she and I had a conversation about you yesterday.’
‘Oh yes?’ Matt looked over at Larry, who shrugged, put his cup in the sink, and left.
‘She’s still off with the flu, but yesterday she called and demanded a conference call with us all. Said she expected to be back next Monday, and what were all of our sales figures so far this week. When it came to yours, Larry said you had to take
two or three days out. She went loco. As much as you can when you have the flu. Said as soon as she got back she would be speaking to the Bank President about having you fired, as your personal problems were not ours.’
‘Bitch.’
‘Well, we know that, don’t we? Anyway, I reminded her that you were taking personal time, unpaid time. Your car had been stolen, you were virtually a single parent, your wife had gone without a trace, and if the press got to hear how the Bank had fired an employee for taking unpaid time with all that going on, it would mean a lot of bad publicity, which the Bank President wouldn’t appreciate.’
‘Wow, José; way to go.’
‘I finished by saying that if the bank fired everyone who took unavoidable time off, they’d have no workers left. She kind of calmed down then; said she hoped you would be back in on Monday.’
‘Wow,’ Matt repeated.
‘I mean, at the end of the day, I think she’s taken more time off with this flu thing than you’ve taken.’
‘Well, thanks,’ said Matt, squeezing José’s shoulder. ‘I owe you one.’
‘No worries. So, get the hell out of here and go get your car. See you Monday, I hope.’
‘Thanks again,’ said Matt as he put his cup in the sink with Larry’s and picked up his overcoat to go. ‘One thing, though,’ he said, resting his hand on the door handle. ‘How would the press get to hear of it if she had fired me?’
‘Simple,’ grinned José. ‘I would have called them. Anonymously, of course.’
Matt returned the grin and left the staff room. On his way out he stopped at Larry’s desk.
‘José’s talked me into taking the rest of the week off. Try to get everything sorted out this week. Off to New York now to get the car.’
Larry was in the process of sending a text message. He stopped and looked up at Matt. ‘Okay. When will you be back?’
‘Hope to be back here Monday. Unless…’
‘You stopping over there? What about Nathan?’
‘No, it’ll take four or five hours, I guess; so I’ll try to make a round trip. Nathan’s staying with my folks, anyway.’
‘Down at the Cape?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I was just wondering,’ Larry said. ‘Did I hear you right? That cop called round personally at night to tell you your car had been found? That’s unusual personal service.’