Lizabeth gave Elsie her full attention. "Yes?"

"I didn't mention nothing about flashing to him. I was just talking to him about things, and turns out he knows Paul."

Lizabeth felt herself go numb. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing else. We didn't talk too long. He was telling me how he lives in them new town houses on Center Street."

"You remember his name?"

"Richard. I don't remember the last part."

Lizabeth took a plate and piled fried chicken on it. She added a glob of potato salad, a glob of three-bean salad, and four brownies. She stuck a fork into it and handed it to Matt. "Here. You can eat your supper in the car."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to talk to this Richard person. You're going with me to make sure I don't kill him."

Lizabeth went to the garage and unlocked the doors. A hundred years ago the garage had been a carriage house. No one had bothered to modernize it. It still had a dirt floor and hayloft and was more charming than functional. Lizabeth opened one of the big double doors while Matt stood to the side with his plate of food.

"Son of a gun, there's a car in here! I've never seen you drive a car. I didn't think you owned one."

"I don't drive it any more than I have to. Poor thing's seen better days."

Matt walked into the cool, dusty interior of the carriage house and tried not to look too horrified at the little foreign import. It was orange, and to say it had seen better days was an understatement. It was missing both bumpers and a back fender. Rust was rampant, the antenna had been snapped off, and it had a yellow diagonal sign in the back window that said, "Fairy on Board." Matt added "renovate carriage house" and "buy Lizabeth new car" to the checklist he'd been carrying in his head. "Lizabeth, why don't you just drive my truck?"

"It's too big." She yanked the rusted door open and slid behind the wheel. "Besides, my car needs some exercise." She patted the seat next to her. "Don't worry. It's safe. It's passed inspection and everything."

Matt looked at the inspection sticker on the windshield. "Lizzy, this inspection sticker is from Virginia, and it expired three years ago."

"Well, for goodness' sake, I hardly ever drive the car. What could happen to it in three years?" She backed out of the driveway, undaunted by the clatter of knocking valves. She slowed at the corner and the car gave a death-throes shudder, but continued to run.

Matt smiled and ate his chicken. Lizabeth was a Hawkins through and through. He imagined if the car had the audacity to die Lizabeth would go out and give it a kick and get it to start one more time.

Lizabeth pulled into a pipe stem at the end of Center Street and parked in the small lot. It was a new subdivision of expensive brick town houses. Yards were professionally maintained, windows were clothed in custom drapes, doors were heavy oak with leaded windows and classy brass handles.

"How are we going to find him?" Matt asked. "We don't know his house number or his last name. There must be twenty houses here."

"Most of these houses have names written on the door knockers. If I can't find him that way I'll ask someone. If no one knows him I’ll go door-to-door until I find him."

"You're really serious about this."

Lizabeth's mouth was compressed into a thin line. "Darn right I'm serious. Paul had something to do with this. I can feel it in my bones."

Matt left his plate in the car and followed after Lizabeth.

She stopped at the fifth house. "Here's a possibility-R. Hastings." She rapped the brass door knocker and chewed on her lower lip while she waited.

Richard Hastings opened the door and gave a surprised gasp when he saw Lizabeth. His eyes grew wide and frightened when he saw Matt. He tried to slam the door shut, but Matt had his foot rammed against it.

Matt wrapped his hand around Hastings' arm and pulled him outdoors. "Maybe you should step out here before the wind blows the door shut again," Matt said.

Hastings flinched. "You aren't going to hit me, are you?"

"Hell no," Matt said. "I'm here to protect you." He jerked a thumb at Lizabeth. "She's here to hit you."

Richard Hastings looked indignant. "Why would she want to hit me? I was the one who had to stand in her backyard, feeling like a damn fool with no clothes on."

Lizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Hastings gave Matt a sympathetic shake of the head. "Just between you and me, I think you've got a hard road ahead of you with all this exhibitionist stuff. I have to tell you, I wasn't all that unhappy when I heard she was married. Man, I was chased by cops and dogs, and then there was that crazy old lady in the Cadillac. And the mosquito bites are the worst."

"Maybe you should fill us in on this 'exhibitionist' stuff. Where'd you get the idea for the Yuppie Flasher?" Matt asked.

"From Paul, of course. I met him at a law conference in Richmond. He told me all about Lizabeth, and how she was looking for a husband, but she had this kinky thing about exhibitionists. I tried to meet her through normal channels. I called and introduced myself, but she wasn't interested. I purposely ran into her in the supermarket a couple times, but she froze me out. So I decided to give it one last shot and try the Yuppie Flasher."

"I'm going to kill him," Lizabeth said. "I'm going to hunt Paul down and break every bone in his body."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Matt said. "That's so violent."

"No hard feelings," Richard Hastings said to Matt. "I know she's due to inherit a ton of money, but hell, you're gonna need it to make bail."

"Wait a minute," Matt said. "What about Angle Kuchta? Why did you flash her?"

Hastings grimaced. "That's what happens when you try to do a good deed. I was walking through the yards to get to Lizabeth's house, and I looked up, and there was this woman getting undressed in front of her window. She wasn't doing it on purpose. She just hadn't thought to close her curtains. So I threw a stone up at her to tell her to close her curtains. That's a nice neighborhood, but you never know when some weirdo is skulking around."

Matt and Lizabeth exchanged glances.

"Anyway, this woman takes one look at me and starts screaming!"

"Come on, cowboy," Matt said to Lizabeth. "I think it's time to head the wagon train for home."

Lizabeth got into the orange car. "I suppose this is as close as Paul gets to a sense of humor."

It was a quiet ride home. Lizabeth pulled into the dusky interior of the carriage house, cut the engine, and sat studying the steering wheel, feeling swallowed up by the sudden silence. She was physically and mentally exhausted, but she felt at peace. It was as If she'd tossed a box of puzzle pieces into the air and when the pieces had fallen to the ground they'd all fit together.

Matt had his knees pressed against the dashboard. "Lizabeth, I don't fit in this car."

Lizabeth smiled. "I suppose that means you're going to buy me a new one."

Matt laughed. "I suppose it does. I hope I get more use out of it than the bed."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about the bed."

Matt didn't want to hear it. She was going to tell him to take it back, or she was going to tell him she'd pay for it by taking in laundry or something equally ridiculous. Things weren't going well for him. First Elsie came home early and now they'd settled the problem of the flasher. Staying at Lizabeth's house to protect her from the flasher had been a pretty flimsy excuse, but now he was left with nothing. He was going to have to move out. His sweat socks would get gray again. He'd be lonely at night, and lonely in the morning, and feverish with frustration all day at work. Man, life was the pits. He'd trade with Ferguson any day of the week. So Ferguson had a broken leg. Big deal. Ferguson got to live with Lizabeth. "Okay, what about the bed?"