Page 28 of The House Guest

‘Hopefully not dead,’ I said.

They all looked at me. I was having to bite my tongue to prevent myself from telling Krugman that he needed to do more. I thought about threatening to get the press involved. But I knew that would be a bad move. Even if they were doing nothing at the moment, I didn’t want to antagonise the NYPD. I was worried, too, about the immigration aspect. Because what if Ruthhaddone all this freely and voluntarily? If she was simply holed up somewhere with Eden, pissed off with me for some reason I couldn’t remember. She’d be even more pissed off if I got her kicked out of the country.

‘Why don’t you give it another forty-eight hours?’ Krugman said to me. ‘If she still doesn’t get in touch with you or anyone else, give me a call and I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, if I were you I’d call her friends, anyone who she might get in touch with. What about her agent? I’m sure she’d need to speak to her if she’s just been fired.’

‘I’ll do that,’ I said. Calling Jayne had been next on my list anyway.

I went upstairs to my room. I thumped the mattress with frustration then lay on my back, staring at the cracks in the ceiling.

As I lay there, I became aware of voices outside. I peeked out of the window and saw that Jack, Mona and Krugman had gone into the garden. The men were in the lawn chairs, holding glasses of what looked like lemonade. Mona was on the swing. I could make out the faint sound of their conversation.

I turned off the A/C, which instantly made the room fall quiet, and opened the window as quietly as I could. Their voices drifted up to me through the still summer air.

‘... a reliable character?’ said Krugman.

Jack replied first. ‘Wethoughthe was.’

‘I guess we don’t know him that well. We don’t know either of them well.’ That was Mona.

‘Maybe it was a mistake inviting them to house-sit for us,’ said Jack. ‘You know, there’s part of me – and I feel awful admitting this – that wonders if he’s making the whole thing up. About this Eden woman, I mean.’

I was in a crouching position on the floor and, hearing this, I almost lost my balance.Making it up?

‘You think Eden might not actually exist?’ Mona said.

‘Go on,’ said Krugman in his low rumble.

‘Well, it’s such a bizarre story, isn’t it? And there are no photos of her. No one else to corroborate what Adam says. There are no signs that she was actually here. The sheets on the bed Eden supposedly slept in are clean, just as we left them, aren’t they, Mona?’

Was that right? I was sure Eden’s bed had been unmade when I’d looked in her room.

Jack continued. ‘I find it so hard to believe someone would turn up here pretending to know us, especially as there’s nothing missing.’

‘Except Ruth,’ said Mona.

‘Who was clearly suffering from the hangover to end all hangovers. Maybe she’s still on a bender. Getting wasted in some bar somewhere, drowning her sorrows.’

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I wanted to run down the stairs and into the garden, shout at them, make them believe me. But I needed to stay here. I needed to hear what they said.

‘Tell me about Adam and Ruth. What was the state of their relationship?’ Krugman asked.

‘Difficult to say,’ said Mona. ‘I mean, they seemed happy enough when we met them on the cruise, but I think they were having some issues.’

‘Like what?’ Krugman asked.

‘Well, I don’t know this for sure but I picked up a few hints from things Ruth said. Her career was taking off and his wasn’t going anywhere. That can cause a lot of tension in a relationship, especially when it’s the woman who’s the successful one. You know what the male ego is like. Deny it all you want, but you guys all want to be the breadwinners. I know so many couples who’ve broken up because the guy couldn’t stand his wife earning more than him.’

‘Lucky I’m not like that, isn’t it?’ Jack laughed.

‘Yeah, it is. Anyway, when I spoke to Ruth to make the arrangements for them house-sitting, she told me she was worried about what Adam was going to do all day. She was concerned about him. We had a good chat about it, actually.’

‘Do you think she was still into him?’

‘I don’t know. It was hard to tell. I think she loves him but ...’

But?To my intense frustration, I couldn’t hear what she said next.

‘He’s a writer, isn’t he?’ said Krugman.

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