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

“Boy, I don’t know. That’s a big step, Raymond. We haven’t known each other very long.”

She looked up then, into his warm brown eyes. They were smiling.

“Ruth, you got any questions, just ask. What do you want to know about me?”

She was on the verge of asking to see his driver’s license when she bit her tongue. She could almost feel Cookie breathing down her neck.

“I don’t mean I want to poke into your life,” she said finally. Take that, Cookie. “I just — maybe we’re not ready for that! Maybe we need to get to know one another better first.”

Raymond didn’t answer for a moment. Then he put his arm around her and gave her a quick hug.

“I get what you’re saying. You’re a smart lady, Ruth. I already know how I feel, but if that’s the way you want it, that’s what we’ll do. I can wait.”

Relieved, Ruth bathed him in a big smile. Cookie was all wet. This was a good guy, a kind and understanding man.

On Monday, Cookie accosted Ruth at full gallop as she walked through the coffee shop’s door.

“Can we take our first break together? I’ve got something to tell you. It’s really important, okay?”

Cookie hadn’t even started work yet and already there was a glob of something on her sleeve. Suddenly Ruth felt tired.

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed.

“She came in wild-eyed,” Vonda murmured in passing. “It doesn’t look good, Ruth. Yell if you need me.”

When they finally found time to sit down with a cup of coffee, Cookie wasted no time.

“Now listen,” she began, leaning across their back table to hold Ruth’s attention. “I spent all yesterday going through my Lookout tapes.” She retreated slightly as Ruth lowered a look on her. “Now hear me out before you start yelling. I feel bad about this, but you’re my friend and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her freckles looked alive, shivering in place. “I think I found him. Honest to God, I think I found Raymond.”

Ruth had to work at swallowing her anger. “You think?” she asked softly.

Cookie nodded. “He’s not an easy one. No tattoos or identifying marks. He doesn’t have glasses on the tape. No beard either. Little thinner, and his hair’s different, but I swear it’s Raymond. I want you to come over after work tonight and see.” Leaning closer, she lowered her voice. “He’s wanted in three states, for just what I told you. Cheating women out of their money. Hasn’t killed anyone yet, but—” she shuddered “—you never know.”

The thought of Raymond killing someone restored Ruth’s sense of humor. She didn’t bother to hide her grin. “So he’s skinnier, no beard, not wearing glasses,” she said. “And his hair’s different. Boy, that sounds just like Raymond, Cookie. You got him.”

Blotched pink colored Cookie’s face. “You don’t understand what these guys do to keep from getting caught,” she insisted with an air of authority. Now she was in a huff. “If you don’t want to know the truth, that’s fine. I’m just trying to help.”

Ruth relented. “Okay. If I come over, look at your tapes, and tell you it’s not Raymond, will you let go of it, Cookie? Will you leave it alone?”

Cookie brightened. “I will. I promise. But I’m afraid you’re in for a mean surprise. And I’m sorry about that.”

Their break was over. Ruth got wearily to her feet. “Vonda’s had a good look at him. Can she come?”

“Sure,” Cookie said. “I was going to ask her anyway.”

Vonda was more than willing. “This is kind of exciting. Better than listening to Carlisle talk about root canals. Come on, Ruth, relax. You know it’s not Raymond. This will shut her up.”

Artie seemed disappointed that they didn’t hang around a few minutes after closing. Sometimes they did, and he liked their company.

“Not tonight, Artie,” Vonda told him with a squeeze. “We’re on a secret mission.”

Cookie rode with Ruth. Vonda tailed them, wickedly blinking her headlights periodically and flashing hand code signals for Ruth to see in her rearview mirror. It made Ruth laugh. She was glad Vonda was coming along.

Cookie rode with her long neck craned into the windshield, staring intently at everyone she saw.

“My place is a mess,” she ventured once. “Little Bud’s been teething, keeps me up half the night. I just can’t find the time to clean things up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ruth said. God, she hoped Raymond never found out about this. It was too strange.

Cookie’s building was a dark little fourplex on a narrow, winding street. Broken streetlights only added to the gloom of the late-night surroundings. She let Vonda and Ruth into her second-floor apartment, where they waited while she went next door to pick up Little Bud from the neighbor who watched him.

Vonda took a long slow look around. “Poor kid. I’d like to get my hands on Buddy, wouldn’t you?”

Ruth was examining a cluster of snapshots taped to the faded wall. “This must be him with Cookie and the baby.”

They peered at it together in the dim overhead light. “No chin,” Vonda said, disgusted. “I knew it — a real loser.”