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?”