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wouldn’t have anyplace to hide the murder weapon.”
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    Matt took a firm grip on his coffee mug. “He came back?”
    â€œNo big deal,” Lizabeth said. “He ran through the yard and waved to me.”
    â€œWhat about the police? What were the police doing?”
    Lizabeth leaned her elbows on the kitchen table and sipped her coffee. “The police were chasing him. They waved to me, too.”
    â€œThis is a great neighborhood you live in,” Matt said. “Very friendly. Everyone waves to everyone else.”
    â€œNo need to get sarcastic.”
    â€œI’m not sarcastic. I’m worried. I don’t like the idea of some nutcase picking you to be his victim.”
    â€œHe didn’t pick me to be his victim last night. He just happened to run through the yard.”
    Matt scowled. She should be morefrightened. People were careful when they were frightened. They didn’t take chances. Lizabeth was talking about this guy in the same tone of voice she used for stories about Ferguson. Next thing she’d be leaving cookies on the picnic table in case Mr. Peek-a-boo got hungry while he was exposing himself.
    â€œSo who was the victim last night? Anyone we know?”
    â€œMmmmm. Angie Kuchta. She lives two houses down.”
    â€œHave you spoken to her?”
    Lizabeth studied the contents of the doughnut bag and extracted a Boston cream. “Yes. His MO was pretty much the same. He got her attention by throwing stones at her bedroom window. Then he turned the flashlight on her, and when he turned the flashlight on himself, she screamed and woke up the entire neighborhood.”
    â€œAnd the police didn’t catch him?”
    â€œNope.” Lizabeth bit into her doughnut, and a glob of pudding squeezed out the back end and dropped onto the table.
    Ferguson loped in from the living room and cleaned the pudding off the table with one swipe of his huge tongue.
    Lizabeth made a face. “Oh, gross!”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Matt said. “I came prepared this time.” He handed Ferguson a second bakery bag and opened the back door for the dog. “I hope he likes sticky buns.”
    Lizabeth poured Lysol on the kitchen table and scrubbed. When she was satisfied the table was clean she sat down and refilled her coffee mug.
    â€œThere’s something odd about all of this.” She looked around to make sure they were alone, and she lowered her voice.
    â€œAngie’s husband was off on a business trip last night. There aren’t many single women in this neighborhood, but the flasher hit a woman alone both times. And another thing: How does he always know the right bedroom?”
    â€œYou think he could be one of your neighbors?”
    Lizabeth thoughtfully chewed her doughnut. “There was something familiar about him. The way he stood, or the way he waved. I don’t know.”
    â€œHave you told this to the police?”
    â€œI mentioned it to Officer Dooley, but he said he could hardly go door-to-door gathering up men. Also, we have a problem, because theonly part Angie and I would definitely recognize is usually covered up in a lineup.”
    Matt raised his eyebrows. “That is a problem.”
    â€œMmmm. And to tell you the truth, I haven’t seen very many men, but so far they’ve all looked pretty much alike down there. I might not even be able to recognize the flasher if he were naked in a crowd.”
    Matt squinted over the doughnut bag. “Lizabeth, exactly how many men have you seen?”
    â€œTwo.”
    â€œDoes that include the flasher?”
    â€œYup.”
    He couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his face. “Would you like to see a third?” He was being flip, but he was secretly pleased. He thought it was nice that she was so selective.
    â€œWould you like a knuckle sandwich?”
    He tipped back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe you