“Oh,” said Lucy, realization dawning. “Man for Hire. How nice of you to call. And so punctually, too,” she added, noting that the Regulator read precisely nine-thirty. “That’s important, I think. Punctuality is desirable in this matter.”

I sound like a fool, thought Lucy. This is harder than I thought. I’ve got to get to the point.

“I’ll get right to the point,” she said, unconsciously repeating herself. “The reason I need your services is that I’m not happy with my husband.”

“That’s not an unusual problem, ma’am,” rumbled the voice. “If you employ me, you will find that I make every effort to satisfy. I never let my ladies down.”

“You work only for women? Isn’t that odd?” asked Lucy.

“I only swing one way, ma’am. If you want more variety, you’ll have to get somebody else.”

“Variety? What do you mean? I give you the picture, you do the job.”

“Ma’am, you must be looking for a hit man. I provide other services.”

“Oh,” said Lucy, color rising to her cheeks. “I’m not interested in that, but thanks for calling.”

She put the receiver back on the hook and stood looking at it as if it would suddenly leap off the wall and attack her. Then, holding her sides with both hands, she slid onto the floor, sputtering with laughter.

Pulling herself together, she checked the clock. Her conversation with Man for Hire had taken only a few minutes; it would be at least twenty-five minutes before the next call. What was his name? She couldn’t remember. In fact, it seemed eons ago, almost another lifetime, that she and Barney had sat together at the kitchen table answering the ads in Modern Mercenary.

At exactly ten o’clock, the phone rang. Lucy took a deep breath, and while she waited for the second ring she rehearsed what she planned to say. She picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.”

“Lucy, this is Dave Davidson. I didn’t wake you up, did I?” As minister, Dave knew that a lot of the women in the parish who worked the night phones at Country Cousins took naps at odd times during the day.

“No, Dave, I’m up and about. But I am expecting an important call. Could I call you back later?”

“ ‘This will only take a minute.” Dave spoke in quiet, measured tones. “Can you host the coffee hour on March twentieth?”

Lucy sighed. “I guess so.”

“Good. I’ll put you down. You’ll get a reminder the week before.” His voice was very sincere as he added, “Thank you. Go in peace.”

“Thank you,” said Lucy, wondering how it was that whenever Dave Davidson asked her to do a favor, she ended up thanking him. She had no sooner replaced the receiver than it rang again. She snatched it up, reminded herself to calm down, and said cautiously, “Hello.”

“Pest Control here.”