Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 101, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 610 & 611, March 1993

“Now he is. Came here from Omaha about a month ago.”

Cookie wiped some more. Ruth had never known her to stay in one spot for so long.

“Got something on your mind, Cookie?”

Pale blue eyes lifted slowly. Cookie had a dried spot of meringue on one cheek. She looked troubled.

“You’ve only known him for a month?”

“About that,” Ruth said. “Why?”

“What’s his last name?”

“Lewis,” Ruth answered with irritation. “What’s with all the questions?”

Cookie took a deep breath. “Now don’t get mad, but they show things all the time on Lookout, about guys making up to single women for their money, then cheating them out of it, sometimes even killing them.” She was building up steam, eyes wide, freckles jumping. “You got to be careful, Ruth. How much do you know about him?”

Ruth couldn’t help herself; she had to laugh. “Oh, Cookie. You think Raymond — hey, do I look like someone who’s got wads of money stashed away? I’ve got all I can manage to keep myself in support hose. Honestly, where do you come up with these things?”

Cookie paled, but she didn’t go away. She leaned closer. “Have you ever seen anything proving he’s Raymond Lewis? A birth certificate or driver’s license?”

“You mean I should have asked for some ID?”

Cookie flinched. Ruth hadn’t intended to sound so harsh. “Look,” she said in a kinder tone, “thanks for caring, but I can watch out for myself. Raymond’s touchy about talking about himself, okay? To tell the truth, I think he’s younger than I am and he doesn’t want me to know.”

Neither had noticed Vonda edging closer to their conversation until she was standing beside Ruth’s stool.

“Girl, I swear you’ve got to stop watching that TV show,” she told Cookie. “I thought I was born suspicious, but you’ve got me beat. Stop bugging Ruth. You think Raymond’s a mass murderer or something?”

Cookie faded before their indignance, but she wasn’t finished. Her jaw set. “He looked familiar,” she said stubbornly. “As soon as I laid eyes on him I thought I’d seen him before.”

“Dammit, Cookie!” Ruth began, but just then Arthur Woolsey scuttled into the shop on one of his routine checks.

“Hello, girls,” he greeted them as he passed. “Cookie, I wonder if you could help me out in the back for a second.”

Cookie hesitated, tom between breaking into her usual obedient trot or staying to respond to Ruth.

“Oh-oh,” Vonda said with a wicked grin. “He wants you out back, Cookie. I think he just plain wants you, Artie does.”

It jarred Cookie’s concentration. “Artie?” she giggled, startled. “Vonda, he’s old enough to be my dad!” Then she spun away. “But just remember what I said, Ruth. Honest, I know I’ve seen Raymond somewhere.”

Her break over, Ruth hauled herself down from the stool. “What’re we going to do with that girl?”

“Get her a life,” Vonda responded darkly. “Wish we could locate that Buddy and drag his behind back where it belongs. That boy’s got some nerve, doing this to us.”

Raymond didn’t get the job across the river in Illinois. Something about the plant manager’s wife promising it to her nephew. Raymond was philosophical, though. Something would come along.

On Sunday, Ruth invited him to dinner. While the spaghetti sauce cooked, she tossed salad, watching him through the kitchen window tossing a football with Mike and Andy in the backyard. It was a pleasant, homey scene — made her feel good to watch it. The boys were certainly having fun. Ruth wanted to enjoy her growing feelings for this big man, but niggle niggle went the doubts in the back of her mind. And that was Cookie’s fault.

The kids went off after dinner to do homework. Raymond offered to dry dishes.

“You’ve done a good job with those boys, Ruth,” he said. His nice voice warmed her, raised goosebumps on her arms. But she could imagine Cookie giving her a warning nudge in the ribs.

“It wasn’t all easy,” she said. “But I learned a woman can do it if she hangs in there.”

Raymond’s eyes were soft behind his horn-rimmed glasses. “They could sure use a man in their lives right about now, though.”

Ruth whipped the suds in the sink to a fine froth while she tried to think what to say. Niggle niggle went the dark places in her brain.

“I think a lot of you, Ruth,” Raymond went on, drying slowly and methodically. “You’re just about the best thing that ever happened to me. And I get the feeling you like me, too. That right?”

He was standing very close, his big shoulder pressing hers. Ruth’s hands began to shake. She was melting.

“Yeah, I like you.” But she didn’t look at him, choosing to scour hell out of a crusted spot on a pan instead.

His head bent to hers. “You know, if I moved in here, we could have us a real family. I’d give up my apartment, we’d throw our money in together. Be easier for both of us, wouldn’t you say?”

She’d say yes — except for that damned niggle. What money? Raymond didn’t have a job. There didn’t seem to be a hot prospect for one either, and he was already in to her for thirty dollars in just one week. Carefully, she eased her shoulder away.