On Lookout by Barbara Owens

Viewers of television programs featuring profiles of wanted criminals must all feel a little tantalized by the possibility that the outlaw is someone they know, but for the main character in Barbara Owens’s story, every new face bears a suspicious aspect...

By late evening St. Louis’s Lambert Airport was becalmed. An occasional arrival or departure still caused a brief flurry, but the hordes were gone — into the air somewhere, or waiting by phones in far-flung rooms to see if their lost luggage had been found. The few souls still wandering the terminal looked as though they lived there — familiar nods to concessionaires, a friendly “How’d it go today?” to a uniformed flight crew stepping smartly by.

Crawley’s Coffee Shop was waiting out the final hour to closing, its new manager, Arthur Woolsey, having already arrived to begin the day’s bookwork. Two of the three waitresses, Ruth Blackburn and Vonda Martin, retired to a booth to nurse black coffee and watch Cookie Gudermeyer sprint back and forth behind the counter as if she had a hundred hungry customers instead of three lone ones slumped there.

Vonda sighed. “Look at that girl. Never slows down. And nothing to her but skin wrapped around bones. She makes me tired.”

“I’m trying to remember if I had that much energy when I was nineteen,” Ruth said. “But I can’t remember when I was nineteen.”

“Cookie, come on over here and sit down,” Vonda called softly. “Leave those nice people alone. They’ll let you know if they want anything.”

With an embarrassed little grin, the thin blonde redirected her lope towards them. She fell into the booth with a bounce, pushing drifting strands of lank hair under her headband.

“I guess I still got a lot to learn.” Her voice was small and breathless. “I only want to do a good job, you know?” She had an ugly smear of gravy across the bib of her coral apron.

Vonda patted her hand. “Honey, you’re doing fine. You just got to be careful not to overdo. You’re real intense, aren’t you?”

Cookie’s brow wrinkled. “I guess. But with Buddy gone and all, just me to take care of Little Bud, I need to do everything right.”

Ruth and Vonda exchanged glances. If they didn’t change the subject she’d be off again, about how Buddy had coaxed her up from the Ozarks, promised to marry her and didn’t, then took off and left her with their baby boy, Little Bud. Cookie wasn’t mad. She was confident that Buddy would come back, she just didn’t know how soon. In the two months she’d been working at Crawley’s, they’d heard it many times.

“So, Vonda,” Ruth said quickly, “how’s Carlisle doing?”

Vonda’s dark eyes flashed gratitude. “Doing okay. If he ever gets graduated. I’ll be too old to have kids, but I’ll smile with the best teeth around.”

Her rich laugh made Ruth smile. Vonda was one of her favorite people. Here was an example of two black kids who’d fought their way out of an East St. Louis ghetto, gotten married, and worked together to put Carlisle through dental school. Nearing thirty, they were almost there, and Ruth had never heard a complaint about the hardships they’d endured. She had a lot of respect for Vonda and Carlisle.

“Well, kids aren’t everything,” she consoled. “I love mine, but some days I could live without them.”

Cookie leaned forward eagerly, her mouth opening, but Vonda was too fast for her.

“So how are yours getting along with that new boyfriend?” she teased. “That Raymond. You thinking to take the plunge again?”

Ruth felt herself blush. “They like him. But I don’t know. I got burned once. Now here I am with two teenage kids, and Walt’s hiding out so he won’t have to pay child support. Makes me a little gun-shy.”

Vonda grinned. “Raymond sounds awful nice, though.”

Ruth had to smile. “He is. Kind of scary. He’s almost too good to be true.”

Cookie released a sigh so gusty that neither woman could ignore it.

“Something wrong, Cookie?” Vonda asked reluctantly.

“Oh, it’s just that I didn’t spot one again today,” Cookie said.

Vonda rolled her eyes at Ruth. Cookie’s other obsession — the television series Lookout. It profiled wanted criminals, urging viewers to be on the lookout for them, and Cookie was addicted to it. She’d spent more than she could afford for a VCR to tape every episode, and she could spout offenses, aliases, and identifying marks until someone stopped her. She was certain that someday she’d spot a fugitive, maybe collect a big reward for turning him in. Cookie was on the lookout constantly.

“Cookie,” Vonda said patiently, “what makes you think you’ll ever see one of those guys? You know the chances of that happening? You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Cookie hunched over the table, her freckles quivering. “It just makes sense!” she whispered. “Think about it. When they’re on the run they have to keep moving, don’t they? So they travel a lot. And this is an airport, right? See my point? They’ve got to travel and they’ve got to eat. I work in an airport coffee shop.” She fell back against the booth, beaming. “It’s just a matter of time before I see one.”

Vonda winked at Ruth. “So how about the guy in your apartment building? You got anything on him yet?”

Cookie sobered. “I’m just not sure about him. And you should be pretty sure before you call. I’ve been through all my tapes, but they try to look different. Disguise themselves, you know, beards and glasses and stuff. But I’m not giving up. I know he’s one.”

Before any more could be said, Arthur Woolsey approached. “Come on, girls. Time to wrap it up for the night.”

Small and tentative, Arthur was like a puppy asking to be petted. He was new at the job and had gone out of his way to be nice to them. Vonda suspected he had a thing for Cookie.

And Cookie was up, bounding away to do his bidding. Ruth and Vonda scooted slowly from the booth. Vonda rose, her lean elegant length towering over the little man. Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on the top of his straw-colored rug.

“Whatever you say, boss,” she murmured, giving his belly a little pinch.

Arthur squeaked, flapping his hands at her. “Honestly, Vonda, you’re incorrigible,” he said before hurrying away.

Vonda’s eyes danced at Ruth. “Artie says I’m incorrigible. Was that a slur, you think?”

It was the end of a long day. Ruth shifted, testing the soles of her aching feet. “Could be. But we’ve both been called worse. Come on, let’s go home.”

Two days later Ruth was surprised to look up from the counter and see Raymond smiling across at her. The bump her heart took surprised her even more.

“Hi,” Raymond said.

Ruth said, “Hi.”

She felt silly, like some high-school girl instead of a forty-two-year-old woman with two big kids. And she’d been feeling that way for a month, since the night they’d met at her church social. Feelings were bubbling up in her that she’d almost forgotten, and she wasn’t sure they were welcome. She’d been on her own for a long time, raising two boys by herself. She didn’t know that a Raymond in her life was what she wanted. But he was such a nice big bear of a man, with eyes earnest behind horn-rimmed glasses, a dark furry beard and gentle smile. Feeling self-conscious, she glanced to see if Vonda and Cookie were watching. They were. Vonda’s eyes signaled the question — Is that him?

“What’re you doing here?” Ruth asked, trying not to let him see how flustered she was.

“I hate to bother you, hon,” Raymond said. She liked his voice, too, deep and warm. “But I need to borrow your car. I’ve got this job interview over the river in Alton. Sounds like a good one. I’ll be back in time to pick you up from work.”

Raymond’s old car was sitting up on blocks behind his apartment. He’d been working on it, but it wasn’t running. Ruth thought quickly. She had customers waiting.

“Well, how did you get here?”

“A guy I know dropped me off on his way to work. I wouldn’t ask you, Ruth, if I had any other way to get there.”

He’d told her several times what a proud man he was, how he hated to ask for things. She remembered him saying it just last week when he’d borrowed twenty dollars to hold him until his unemployment check came through. Pride was important to Ruth, too.

“Sure.” She reached under the counter for her purse. “Just be sure to get back in time to pick me up.”

Raymond accepted the keys. He studied his hands on the counter, and his voice was so low that she had to lean forward to hear it. “I got to ask you for another ten, Ruth, just in case I need it. I know I already owe you. I’ll pay you back, I swear, just as soon as I’m on my feet again.”

When Ruth handed him the bill he squeezed her hand. “I’m gonna get that job. Then I’m gonna take care of you in style, I promise.”

“Watch out for the speedometer,” Ruth said. “It’s broken.”

Vonda was at her shoulder before Raymond was out of sight. “So how come I didn’t get to meet him?” she asked slyly.

Ruth hurried to shove a wedge of pie before a customer who’d been tapping his fingers on the counter. “He was in a hurry. On his way to a job interview.”

Vonda’s eyes were following him. “He looks nice. Good build. I think you stumbled onto something there.”

Then everyone got busy. Ruth didn’t have a minute to think until she took her coffee break, sliding onto the far stool at the counter with her back wedged against the wall. Instantly Cookie slid to a stop across from her, wiping a spot on the counter at Ruth’s elbow.

“Was that Raymond?” she asked without looking up.

“Yeah,” Ruth said. She was feeling a little uneasy and didn’t know why.

“He from around here?” Cookie asked.

“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.

“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.”

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.

In the kitchen, she stared at the wall until she heard him ambling in, then reached blindly for the first thing she could find in her cabinet. When he stopped behind her, she turned and lifted the glasses from his head.

“Let me borrow these a minute. Can’t read this label and I’m too tired to dig mine out.”

“Hey!” he protested, making a playful grab for them, but Ruth leaned away. His gentle hands began to massage the back of her neck.

“Hon, if you’ve got it I need to borrow a few dollars,” he breathed just behind her ear. “Got another interview tomorrow. I think this one is it.”

Ruth didn’t answer. She was reading the label through Raymond’s glasses — through lenses as clear as window glass.

They huddled together in the back booth during the late quiet hours of evening. Ruth had told them about Raymond’s phoney glasses. She was feeling rotten. They’d been right and she was wrong.

“So what do we do now?” Vonda asked.

Cookie’s knees jiggled under the table. She’d been helping Artie in his little office and her fingers were smeared with stamp-pad ink.

“Get something on him,” she suggested eagerly. “But it has to be surefire before we call.” Helpfully, she added, “I know the number. I’ve got it memorized.”

“I can’t get him to talk about himself,” Ruth said. “He just clams up.”

Vonda made a little sound. Two heads turned to her. She was smiling broadly.

“Something foolproof,” she said. Triumphantly, she snatched up one of Cookie’s ink-stained hands. “Fingerprints.” Her eyes met Ruth’s. “Something he handles in your house. The kitchen — a glass or cup or something.”

Ruth turned cold. “I can’t. We all handle things. I... I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

“I know how,” Cookie volunteered. “I read up on it. I could tell you what to do.”

“No.” Ruth shook her head firmly. “I don’t want to do it.”

Vonda’s eyes narrowed decisively. “Then we’ll do it here. Get Raymond in here.” She straightened. “Oh, listen to this. Carlisle’s got a cousin on the police force. I’ll bet he could get the lab work done for us. As a quiet favor, if you know what I mean. What do you say, Ruth?”

Torn, Ruth looked from one to the other. It seemed so sneaky. Then she thought of Raymond making a fool of her. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

They sent Cookie for Artie’s permission to throw a small surprise party for Raymond’s birthday after hours the following day. Artie couldn’t say no to Cookie. He seemed a little sad that they didn’t invite him, too, but he gave his okay.

“Just clean up after, girls. I’m trusting you.”

To get Raymond into the coffee shop, Ruth asked him to take her car to have its tires rotated, then pick her up from work.

They rehearsed the plan forwards and backwards, until Ruth was sick of the sound of it. Occasionally she wavered, and Vonda would have to reinforce her sense of civic duty. Then they’d go over the plan again.

The final hour before closing seemed endless. Cookie was a frenzy of motion, knocking over or dropping everything she touched. Even Vonda, usually unflappable, looked tense and bright-eyed. Ruth felt like a sleepwalker. It didn’t seem real, none of it. How had this happened? Artie didn’t help things either, lingering, hovering, stacking glasses on the counter work area long after he should have been gone. Probably hoping they’d still invite him.

“I’m afraid I’m going to slip and let Artie know it’s not really Raymond’s birthday,” Cookie whispered once as she zoomed past them at the speed of light.

“You’d better not!” Vonda hissed. “Stay away from him. Just don’t talk.” And she began to stare at Artie, tapping her foot, until the little man crumbled and bade them good night.

Within minutes, Raymond rapped at the door. “Here we go, kids,” Vonda muttered as Ruth hurried to let him in.

If Raymond was surprised by the enthusiastic reception he received, he didn’t show it. He let Ruth lead him to the counter where Cookie and Vonda waited, glad smiles in place.

“Artie’s already gone,” Ruth recited carefully. “We were just going to finish the coffee. Want some?”

“Sure.” Raymond shared his warm smile among them. “Don’t mind if I do.”

As Vonda turned to reach for mugs, Cookie made a strangled sound. Vonda froze. Cookie looked stricken. “I forgot. I cleaned the coffee machine,” she said.

Vonda’s look was so comically ferocious that Ruth would have laughed if she hadn’t felt the floor opening under her. Count on Cookie. After all the planning, she hadn’t remembered a thing.

But Vonda was quick. “Then how about a beer? Want a beer instead, Raymond?”

Raymond was still smiling. “Hey, that sounds good.”

“Me, too,” Ruth said. “I’ll have a beer.”

“I don’t like beer,” Cookie said softly. Vonda turned on her so savagely that she started a breeze. Cookie blinked. “But I’ll have one anyway.”

Ruth looked at Vonda’s steady hands pouring beer and her own began to shake. Cookie watched Raymond. Seating herself next to him, Ruth made formal introductions across the counter, listening to his easy talk begin, smooth, unsuspecting. She almost felt sorry for him.

Time passed in a blur. She didn’t know how many minutes went by while she watched Raymond’s strong fingers clasp and unclasp around his glass, until suddenly he was standing, saying, “Well, thanks for the beer. And nice to meet you ladies. We’d better go, Ruth. You got a rest room I can hit first?”

Dumbly, Ruth pointed, and they watched him wend his way through tables until he disappeared. Vonda slumped across the counter, clasping Ruth’s hands.

“I’ve got sweat running down my back like a waterfall,” she said, breaking into a breathless giggle.

Ruth shook her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

The clink of glasses caught their attention. Cookie had gathered the empties and placed them carefully on the back counter. Vonda drew an audible breath through her nose.

“Cookie, what’re you doing?” she asked gently.

Cookie looked smug. “Setting them over here so nothing happens to them.”

Vonda nodded. “And I suppose you know which one was Raymond’s?”

There was a short silence while they all looked at the four glasses. Then, “Omigod,” Cookie said.

Ruth knew Vonda might kill if she didn’t do something fast. “Wait. It’s okay,” she said. “Just put each one in a separate plastic bag. They’ll all have to be tested.”

Apparently, Vonda was unable to speak, and Raymond was coming towards them again. Ruth let him see her friendly smile settle on Cookie. “And, Cookie, if I were you I’d get out of here before Vonda comes to.”

The wait was agonizing. Five days passed and still no word from the lab.

“Not much we can do,” Vonda kept repeating. “They’re doing us a favor, after all.”

They were all on edge. The time Ruth spent with Raymond was almost unbearable. He still had no job. The last time he’d asked Ruth for money, she told him she couldn’t spare it. Something had to happen soon.

She didn’t notice Vonda take a phone call early that evening, wasn’t aware of the electricity in the air until she saw her tall friend striding towards her, holding Cookie’s arm firmly in tow.

“To the back booth,” Vonda whispered as she passed. “The customers can wait. This is it.”

They crunched together as close as they could get. Vonda was breathing hard. “The lab called. They’ve got a make.”

Ruth’s heart lurched. “If I could turn pale, I’d look like a ghost,” Vonda went on. “Thanks to Cookie, we got us a crook. But you won’t believe it. None of the prints matched a wanted except one.” She reached for Ruth’s hand. “And it’s not Raymond. The match came from prints that showed up on all four glasses. And they weren’t ours, either.”

Ruth flashed on a clear image of clean, shining glasses being stacked on a rear counter. A blinding light went off in her head, revealing another instant picture. The wrong tape on Cookie’s VCR, the face of an insignificant little man with a struggling beard and shiny dome.

Three shocked voices sounded as one. “Artie!”

They heard that Arthur Woolsey, real name William Arthur, surrendered without argument when the police knocked at his door. Artie wasn’t violent, he was just a thief.

After a day’s closing, Ruth and Vonda returned to work to find the shop under temporary administrative management. Cookie was nowhere in sight.

“Poor Artie,” Vonda said. “It’ll break his heart if he finds out Cookie turned him in.”

They had also learned that one of the blue-chip companies from whom Artie had lifted a bundle had posted a reward. Cookie’s dream come true. They called to tell her it was all hers.

“But you both helped,” Cookie had protested.

Vonda was insistent. “This was all your idea. Take it. Put Little Bud through college.”

Cookie sounded on the verge of tears. “I’m so lucky to have you for friends,” she’d said.

Now Ruth glanced back at the closed door to Artie’s office. “I’ll bet they’re going through our books, too.”

“I’m sure.” Vonda grinned. “Can you believe us? We all saw Artie on TV and didn’t even recognize him. Pretty sharp. I feel bad about trying to stick it to Raymond, though.”

Ruth drew a deep breath. “Well, it worked out for the best. Made me get off my behind and back Raymond against the wall. Made him talk. That man hasn’t had a regular job in years. Just doesn’t like to work, he says. Moves in with women like me and mooches. You want to hear something? That’s why he wears those dumb glasses. He admitted it — thinks they appeal to older women.”

Vonda winced. “He said that?”

“Yup. Wasn’t even mad when I showed him the door. Just said he was sorry it didn’t work out. Like he’d been doing me a favor. I tell you, Raymond may not have been on Cookie’s TV show, but he is one slick deadbeat.”

“Aw, Ruth,” Vonda said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Maybe I’ll meet a good guy someday, but right now I’m doing okay on my own. And I always knew Raymond was just too good to be true.”

Vonda glanced through the shop’s glass front. “Here comes the roadrunner.”

Cookie was forging through the terminal, hair flying, waving vigorously when she saw them. Both women waved back.

She was out of breath when she arrived. “You won’t believe what I just saw,” she gasped out. “There’s a new guy at the newsstand back there. I took one look at him and I—”

In concert, Ruth and Vonda swiveled on their heels.

“You got a customer, Ruth,” Vonda said. “Better get to him, don’t you think?”

“I do think.” Ruth peeled left. “Will you go out to the storeroom and bring up some straws for the fountain?”

“Girl, I’d be glad to.” Peeling right, Vonda shot away.

“Ruth? Vonda? Hey!” Cookie said.