"Thanks," she said. "I'll give you a check."

"When we get back to Philly," he said.

"It'll take months for the city to write a check, you know that?"

"You have an honest face. I can wait."

An hour later, having bought enough clothing and other necessities of life to last them four days, and suitcases to carry it in, they got back into the Mustang and went looking for McGuire's Irish Pub.

"I can't believe you ate the whole thing," Olivia said to Matt, making reference to the assorted sausage plate he had ordered for lunch. It looked to her more than adequate for the both of them, but by the time she had seen it, the waitress had delivered her Irish stew, which looked like it, too, had been intended for at least two people.

"I have to keep up my strength," he said, and looked around for the waitress to get the bill.

Then he looked at her.

"You know," he said, seriously, "there's only one person in the department who thinks this peeper may be our doer."

Olivia shook her head, "no."

"Two," she said.

"Why?"

"I've got a gut feeling, Matt," Olivia said. "You know?"

"Yeah," he said. "Washington says you should listen to your gut."

"What's next?" she asked.

"I've been thinking about that," he said. "Before we go to the police station, or wherever they have this guy, I'd like to know more than we read in the paper."

"How are you going to get that?"

"I think I'm going to start with the civilian-from the Citizens' Watch, or whatever the hell it's called-who saw him by the window."

"How are you going to find him?"

"When we get to the hotel, the first thing I'm going to do is plug in my brandnew cellular battery charger, then I'll ask, look in the phone book, whatever."

She nodded.

The waitress delivered the bill. Matt handed his credit card to the waitress and said, "Please add fifteen percent for yourself. Great meal."

Olivia shook her head as the waitress walked away.

"What?"

"You didn't even look at that check," she said. "And God knows how much we spent in the shopping center. And you got a lot of money from the ATM. Don't you worry about maxing out your card?"

"No, I don't," Matt said. "And I took the money from my bank. If you get money on a credit card, they charge you some outrageous interest."

"So you are rich? I heard something-"

"I'mcomfortable, Olivia. So what?"

"It must be nice."

"It is."

It took them a little over an hour to drive from McGuire's Irish Pub to the Marriott in Point Clear, Alabama. Their route took them first through Daphne. There Olivia touched his arm and pointed out a sign identifying the entrance to the Lake Forest Yacht Club amp; Condominiums.

A mile or so away they saw the Joseph Hall Criminal Justice Center, which was obviously the police station, an attractive brick building that looked as if it had been built last year. As they went through Fairhope, they saw the Fairhope Police Station, another clean, attractive building that looked even newer.

The hotel was several miles the other side of Fairhope, down a tree-lined road along the shore of Mobile Bay. There were half a dozen fair-sized sailboats bobbing along in the bay.

"I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this," Matt said.

Neither was the hotel what Matt had expected to find after Mrs. Craig had told him she'd reserved two rooms in his name at the Marriott.

It turned out to be more of a luxury resort than a hotel. Ancient oaks lined the drive to the entrance. There were signs indicating the direction of a golf course, and he could see both an enormous swimming pool and the masts of a fleet of sailboats.

A gray-jacketed bellman pulled their luggage from the backseat of the roofdown Mustang and said, "Welcome to the Grand Hotel."

There were two pleasant young men behind the reception desk.

"My name is Payne," Matt said, as he handed one of them his American Express card. "I'm supposed to have a reservation. "

The young man consulted his computer.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Two 'nice' singles is what was requested. We think our bayside rooms are 'nice,' and we've put you into two of those. I'm afraid they're not adjacent…"

"That's fine," Detective Lassiter said.

"… at $305 per day. Will that be satisfactory, Mr. Payne?"

"That's fine," Matt said.

They were handed brochures outlining all the hotel had to offer and electronic keys to the rooms. Two bellmen appeared.

"Call me when you're settled," Matt said. "I'm going to get on the phone."

"You want me to come there?" Olivia asked.

"Probably a good idea," Matt said.

Following the bellmen, they marched off through the lobby toward the elevators.

The young man who had handled their reservation turned to the other.

"What would you like to bet me that only one set of sheets will be mussed tonight?" he asked.

[SIX] "Police department," a female voice with a thick southern accent announced.

"Good afternoon," Detective Olivia Lassiter said. "I'm hoping you can help me."

"Be happy to try, ma'am."

"Do you happen to have a phone number where I could call the Jackson's Oak Citizens' Community Watch?"

"You mind if I ask why you want to call them?"

"Well, we just moved into the area, and my husband wanted to ask about volunteering."

"Would you believe you're the sixth call we've had today, saying the same thing?"

"Is that so?"

"You got a pencil handy?"

"Yes, I do."

"The best person to call is Colonel Lacey Richards Jr.," the Daphne police operator said. "He's the one who really runs Jabberwocky. He lives on Captain O'Neal Drive…"

Pause.

"Damn, I had his number here somewhere."

There was another pause.

"Here it is," the Daphne police operator said, and recited it.

Another female with a thick southern accent answered Sergeant Payne's call, and said that she was sorry, "but the colonel's out playing golf. He should be back about five."

"Thank you very much," Sergeant Payne replied. "I'll call again then."

He put the telephone down, leaned against the headboard of the king-sized bed, and looked across the room at Detective Olivia Lassiter, who was sitting in an armchair.

"He's playing golf, but will be back at five. I still think we should see what he has to say before we talk to the cops."

"So do I," Olivia said.

"On the other hand, if all they've got him on is a Peeping Tom charge, which is a misdemeanor, he may post bail and be long gone."

"They won't let him post bail without knowing who he is. We can find him."

"Great minds run in similar paths," Matt said. He looked at his watch. "We have a little over an hour. What do you want to do?"

Detective Lassiter looked at him for a long moment, then stood up, and then looked at him a long moment again.

Then she reached down for the hem of the light blue cotton dress she'd bought in the shopping mall in Pensacola and pulled it off over her head.

"Jesus Christ!" Matt said.

"Well, you said to see what they had in translucent black," Olivia said.

"Hello?"

"Colonel Richards?"

"Right."

"Colonel, my name is Matthew Payne…"

"Has this got something to do with the Jackson's Oak Citizens' Community Watch?"

"Yes, sir. It does."

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you my office number. You call there in the morning, and ask my secretary to mail you an application."

"Colonel, I'm a sergeant with the Homicide Unit of the Philadelphia police department…"

"You're calling from Philadelphia?"

"No, sir. I'm in the Grand Hotel in Point Clear."

"You came all the way down here about that pervert I bagged last night… Hey, you said Homicide, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, I did."