She's Not Coming Home (9 page)

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.

He sat in silence a few moments, thinking.

Then started the engine, left the lot and drove home.

Chapter Eighteen

‘
Are we going
on a mystery trip, Daddy?’ asked Nathan eagerly as he and Matt climbed into the taxi at seven o’clock the next morning.

‘Kind of. We’re going down to Auntie Gail’s place.’

‘Will she have candy?’

‘I would imagine so. I have to go to work until just after lunch time. You and Auntie Gail are going to have a few hours’ fun together, and then I’ll come back and take you home for dinner. Maybe pizza tonight.’

‘Cool,’ exclaimed Nathan and settled back down in his seat with his plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex at the rear of the taxi and started to study the buildings as they rushed past.

‘Tell me if you see any dinosaurs.’

‘Okay, Daddy.’

That was the last Matt heard from his son for most of the journey; much to his relief the subject of Ruth did not come up.

*****

Gail and her partner Ryan lived in a small but select apartment block in the West Medford area of Boston, halfway between the 93 Highway and the Mystic Lakes, which were around ten minutes’ drive from their street. Whenever they used to visit, Gail would suggest driving out to the lakes: Matt suspected it was not so much giving Nathan an opportunity to see some unspoiled countryside, more a desire to minimise the amount of time he spent in their third floor place, which was clearly not furnished with young children in mind. He and Ruth would wince every time Nathan climbed onto a comfortable but expensive leather sofa and pick up what looked like an antique ornament. When Nathan was younger, Ruth would always carry a small bottle of wood scratch remover, and if and when Nathan happened to cause a scratch or chip on a piece of furniture, she would dab the scratch with the remover, rub it furiously with a Kleenex, and hope that Gail wouldn’t notice.

The journey took only twenty-five minutes, much less than Matt had anticipated. He hoped that they were not too early for Gail, as it was his intention that the driver should wait while he took Nathan up to the apartment, then take him Downtown to work.

‘I’ll just need to take my son up to my friend’s apartment,’ Matt said as they arrived. ‘Will only be five minutes. Can you wait?’

The driver looked up at Gail’s building. The four floor block had a secure entrance and was surrounded by willow trees and bushes. Matt and Nathan would be out of view.

‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘You pay me for the journey so far, and I’ll wait here ten minutes.’

Matt handed over the fare.

‘You will wait, won’t you?’ he asked. I have to go back Downtown straight away.’

‘I’ll stay here ten minutes,’ the driver replied. ‘That should be enough time, shouldn’t it?’

Matt nodded.

‘If it puts your mind at rest, save the tip till we get Downtown.’

Matt agreed this and hurried Nathan into the building, carrying a large plastic T Rex. He pressed Gail’s bell. Momentarily she answered.

‘Hello Gail, it’s us. Sorry we’re a bit early. Can we come up?’

‘Sure.’ There was a click and Matt was able to push the door open. They took the little elevator up to Gail’s floor, where she was waiting in the apartment doorway, already fully dressed.

‘Sorry we’re early,’ Matt said. ‘The journey was quicker than I expected.  The traffic on the 93 was light this morning.’

‘No problem. I’ve been up since six. Ryan had to leave at seven. Hi, Nathan, come on in.’

‘My cab’s waiting downstairs,’ Matt said. I’ll be back just after three.’

‘That’ll be fine,’ Gail said, leading Nathan indoors.

‘Bye, Nathan,’ Matt called out. ‘See you this afternoon. Be good for Auntie Gail.’

‘Bye Daddy,’ Nathan called back.

‘Don’t worry. He’s always good,’ smiled Gail. ‘Has he had breakfast?’

‘About an hour ago.’

‘Well, I’ll see if he wants anything else now. Thought maybe we’d go down to the Lakes.’

What a surprise
, Matt thought.

‘That would be nice,’ Matt said. ‘He always likes it there. See you later. I’ll call if I’m running late.’

‘Okay.’ Gail gave him a slight wave and closed the apartment door.

The elevator had gone, so Matt headed for the stairs and rushed down the two flights. To his relief, the taxi was still waiting. He climbed in, gave the driver his office address, and sat back breathlessly.

‘You only took seven minutes, sir. Plenty of time to spare,’ said the driver cheerfully as he headed back to the 93.

*****

Much to Matt’s relief, there was very little booked in his diary that day, so he should have plenty of opportunity to make the necessary calls he had to make. He had spent the time in the taxi trying to figure out what had happened to the spare car keys. He was positive he had seen them when he checked the other night. Positive. Maybe he hadn’t seen them. Maybe he hadn’t even checked; maybe he had dreamed it. He tried to remember the last time they had need of the spare keys. The only time he could recall was when Ruth had to make a business trip to DC.  Matt had gotten a ride off José into work; later that morning Ruth had driven Downtown, parked the Toyota in a parking garage and caught the T up to Logan. Matt then picked up the car after work using the spare keys, and drove home. But that was months ago, and the keys had been in the drawer since then. One of a growing list of questions.

Another thing about which Matt was relieved: Debra was not working today. Not that he was surprised at that. For somebody who regularly lectured the staff at the branch about how they were working in a six day business, she seldom put in an appearance on a Saturday.

Once he had logged on his workstation and gotten his first cup of coffee, he decided to arrange a temporary car rental. He was about to dial when Larry turned the corner.

‘Hey buddy,’ Larry said. ‘Wasn’t sure if you were in today. Didn’t notice your car out back.’

‘Had to,’ replied Matt, cradling the phone in his hand. ‘To make up time I took off because my wife disappeared.’

‘Orders?’ Larry asked, inclining his head towards the closed door of Debra Grant Barber’s empty office.

‘U-huh.’

Larry shook his head sadly. ‘Any news?’ he asked.

‘Nothing yet. And the car was stolen.’

‘Je-sus. Where from?’

‘From out back. On Thursday morning.’

‘Damn, Matt.  You’re not having much  – well,  you know what I mean.’

Matt nodded. Larry noticed he was about to make a phone call. ‘Catch you later, buddy.’

Holding the telephone handset between his chin and shoulder, Matt rummaged in one of his desk drawers and pulled out a copy of the Yellow Pages. He found that Avis had offices only ten minutes away in Center Plaza. He called.

‘Good morning, Avis Rental Government Center. Judy speaking, how can I help you?’

‘Oh, good morning, I need to rent a car for a couple of days.’

‘Until Monday morning then, sir?’

‘No, better make it until Tuesday.’

‘Three days rental, sir. What type of vehicle are you looking for: Standard Size, Full Size, Premium, Specialty -?’

‘I’m looking for the cheapest.’

‘The cheapest? Hold the line please sir; I’ll just check our system for availability. I’m pleased to say we can offer you a vehicle from our Subcompact range.’

‘That sounds ideal.’

‘The vehicle is a Hyundai Accent. Four doors, automatic transmission.’

‘How much for three days rental? From today?’

‘For rental today through Tuesday morning 9AM is $221.97.’

‘Yes, I’ll take it.’

‘Sir, if you have internet access you can log onto our site and pay only $210.87.’

‘No, I’m at work, so I can’t log on.’

‘In that case $221.97 is your charge, sir.’

Matt carried on the conversation and arranged to pick up the car from the lot behind the Center Plaza office after he had finished work that afternoon. He now had to return the car lunchtime Tuesday. Hopefully by then the Toyota had turned up, or he could arrange rental of a temporary replacement through his insurance company. Then at least he could collect Nathan himself later, and they could still make the trip to the Cape tomorrow.

His first appointment was booked for ten thirty. By now it was ten forty and there was no sign of them. He stood up, stretched and wandered over to the teller area. There were only three customers waiting in line; a very quiet morning. He grabbed another cup of coffee and headed for the restroom. As he stood at the urinal, he heard a flushing sound and Larry emerged from the stall.

‘Hey buddy,’ Larry said as he began washing his hands. ‘How’s it going, then?’

‘First one is booked for ten thirty. Still waiting on them.’

‘Lucky Queen Bitch isn’t in today,’ Larry said, pumping more liquid soap on his hands. ‘It was quiet yesterday too; you wanna know what she had us do? She had us call all our existing clients to get them in next week to discuss the bank’s latest products.’

‘I guess I have that pleasure to come next week,’ said Matt, zipping up.

‘Probably. But that wasn’t what I was asking. I meant how’s things going with you. Any news on Ruth?’

Matt joined Larry at the wash basin. ‘Nothing yet. The police have been asking a lot of questions: her friends, her routine, were we happy, our money situation…’

‘Surely they can’t think you’ve -’

‘I guess it’s just routine.’

‘Those withdrawals you asked me about the other day: do they have anything to do with it?’

‘Possibly. Possibly not.’

‘And Nathan?’

‘He keeps asking where his mommy is. I’ve been saying she’s away on business.’

‘But you can’t keep telling him that.’

‘No. I’ve decided to tell him the truth – or what truth a five year old can understand – tonight.’

‘And your car – that’s a real clusterfuck as well.’

‘Yeah; just what I needed. Reported that to the police, but they more or less just said call your insurance company. Did that just now. I made a claim, but luckily my policy gives me four days courtesy car rental while my claim’s being sorted. I already arranged something with Avis through Tuesday, so can get the courtesy car after then. So I’ll have seven days’ wheels at least.’

Larry patted Matt on the shoulder. ‘Shit, man; you’re really going through it. Don’t forget, if there’s anything you need…’

‘I know, Larry. Thanks.’

Larry stopped in the doorway. He looked over at the stall he had occupied, grinned and said, ‘And sorry about that…’

Matt scrunched up his nose. ‘I’m coming as well,’ he said, and hurried out behind Larry.