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
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland