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

Little Bud was sleepy when his mother carried him home, but the sight of visitors snapped his eyes open. Vonda held out her arms and he leaned forward instantly to fall into them.

“Oh, he likes you,” Cookie smiled. “Could you hold him until I get his juice? Then he’ll go right off to sleep.”

“Sure,” Vonda said. “I’m a sucker for babies.” Fat Little Bud reached up to pat her face.

Ruth was trying not to look at the new TV set with its stacked tapes sitting alongside. She didn’t want to look at the sorry, saggy furnishings either. She wanted to go home.

“Nice place, Cookie,” she said, pumping sincerity into her voice.

Cookie’s head was deep into a grumbling old refrigerator. “It looks good when it’s gussied up. Buddy was real lucky to find it.”

Ruth met Vonda’s raised eyebrows. “Is this Buddy with you and the baby?” Ruth asked.

Cookie retrieved Little Bud, balancing him on one bony hip while she smiled fondly at the picture on the wall. “That’s him. I’ll sure be glad when he gets himself back here.”

Sucking greedily at his bottle, Little Bud was carried into the bedroom to be deposited into a rickety old crib. The crib and Cookie’s lopsided bed were the only furnishings Ruth could see in the room.

“Look at this place,” Vonda said in a low voice. “But Cookie seems really happy, doesn’t she?”

Ruth nodded. Side by side, they settled uneasily onto a faded floral couch.

“About the guy downstairs,” Vonda called to Cookie finally, after an awkward silence. “You still after him?”

Cookie stopped cooing to the baby. “You know what he did? Moved out yesterday, just like that. Makes me mad. I wonder if he knew I was on to him.”

“I’ll bet that’s it,” Vonda said.

Ruth gave her a poke. “Quit that. Stop encouraging her,” she muttered.

Vonda smiled uncertainly. “I know I shouldn’t. But, Ruth, you think crazy’s catching? I swear, she’s got me looking at people now and I don’t even watch that show!”

Little Bud settled in, quiet. No more avoiding it. Cookie squatted beside her TV and picked the top tape from the stack. She glanced across at Ruth. “You ready?”

“Of course I’m ready!” Ruth snapped before she could stop herself. “I’m here, aren’t I? Let’s get it over with.”

Vonda squeezed her hand. “Okay,” Cookie said. “It’ll take a minute. He’s the second one on here.”

As the tape fast-forwarded, Ruth found herself beginning to sweat. That made her mad. She was starting to act as nutty as Cookie.

“Here it is,” Cookie said.

The tape flashed onto a mug shot of a man, his face filling the screen. Small, fine-boned, peering out from behind thick-lensed glasses. He wore a wispy little beard and moustache, both of which contained more hair than did his shining scalp. Ruth had just enough time to read the charge — embezzlement — before she started to laugh. “Well, you convinced me, Cookie. That’s Raymond, all right. I’d know him anywhere.”

Aghast, Cookie stared at the screen. She banged her forehead with an open palm. “Boy, am I dumb! That’s the wrong tape. I thought I put Raymond right on top.”

She jerked the tape out, picked up the second one, and read its label. “Here it is.” Helpless laughter was still fizzing in Ruth. Vonda gave her a conspiratorial grin.

Cookie was fast-forwarding again. “This is the one.”

Another face appeared on the screen. Silence thudded. Ruth stopped breathing. A young face, full mouth set, broad brow overlooking steady dark eyes. Clean-shaven cheeks and chin, hair lighter than Raymond’s — a nice face, one that would draw women. Obviously, considering his charges. Several aliases were listed, none of them Raymond Lewis. Ruth searched every feature of the face. A resemblance, maybe, but not Raymond. Definitely not.

Cookie was bouncing on her heels. “Well?” her little voice asked. “It’s him, isn’t it? He’s younger here, I know, but — come on, Ruth, what do you think?”

Ruth felt relief. “I think it’s someone else. Looks a little like him, but it’s some other guy. Okay, Cookie? Now will you let it rest?”

Cookie shot to her feet. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but just look at him. The eyes, the forehead. Look at those ears. Vonda, how about you?”

Vonda was silent. Ruth turned to her. “Well, Vonda?”

Her friend looked slightly shaken. “I don’t know, Ruth. I’m trying to picture him in a beard and glasses. Add a few pounds. It’s spooky. I think Cookie just may be right.”

Ruth’s jaw dropped. She was on her feet without knowing it. “I don’t believe this. Okay, I’ve had enough. You two! Never mind, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going home.”

Above her old car’s rattles and groans, she talked to herself as she charged through the streets of St. Louis. Maybe a resemblance. A slight one. But not Raymond. Absolutely not.

And there he was when she got home, sprawled on the sofa watching TV. His horn-rimmed glasses were pushed to the top of his head and he smiled a warm welcome. “You’re late. Want some coffee?”

“I got caught in traffic,” Ruth said. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Just wanted to come by and see you,” Raymond said.