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Bob is visited by an unusual (& friendly) ghost.

Brenda was trapped, no doubt, Mike was, too. The only thing hopeful was Mike was rich.

You know, it's been a while since the monster was loose. Why don't you take him out for me? Yeah, nice and gentle. Love your soft hands. Oh, it's so nice you know what to do. Not like Betty Halstrom. How many lovers have I had? I lost count. Like I said, I never fooled around with the residents here unless they were desperate old widows who could keep a secret. Flora Evans was one of them: God, that bitch was ahead of her time! Did absolutely everything, even took it up the butt. Stayed away from free spirits for the most part as well, I learned in the MM how to keep clean. Usually looked for girls who were virgins and tired of it, traded them some forbidden fruit for their charms. Yeah, my little maid was one of them: I took her cherry. Hey, I never got VD, I got morals.

Keep stroking me, and I'll tell you about the humiliation of Betty Halstrom. One of my proudest moments. Oh, she needed some more sleeping pills about a little after the Fourth and I went up there just before 11:30, so I could catch her nekkid. She'd been putting herself out like clockwork, every day, with a milk-curdling look on her face like she wasn't enjoyin' it a bit. I knew better; that vibrator needed more than electricity to work. She despised her husband, so relief from him was out.

I caught her in her dressing gown, and she let me in hurriedly. "How dare you come at this time!" shse said in a harsh whisper. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Her tone pissed me off. "I'm a busy man. You want your pills or not?"

She sat down hard in defeat, nodding. Ordinarily I would have left them and taken off, but I wanted more, so I took my time going for the door. "I want to know," she started.

"Know what?"

"About what's going on. About what people are doing."

"Well, the Hirsches are expecting another grandchild, and the Fredericks ordered their groundskeepers to stop throwing their cigarette butts in the fishpond. The Simmons..."

"Not that crap. How do people like me here?"

"They like you fine, Betty. You seem to be a lot like them. So far, they'll probably vote to let you buy in, unless something awful happens."

"What about this place, the Barclay Inn? Who's fucking who here?"

"There are a grand total of eighteen in this house, as you know. Most are retired people with some connection to Scarecrow Island, and want to spend the rest of their days here. Not much for sleeping around. The Barclays live out back, where your husband used to when he worked here many years ago. Don't think they sleep together much, either."

Her hand was tappin' her wrist again; God, she was nervous. "I want to know if my husband's been screwing the Barclay woman. I want to know how much of a slut my daughter is. I want to know if that old troll who runs this place is going to rape me sometime when I'm not looking."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "That will cost a lot. I'll give you an free appetizer: Edward Barclay probably couldn't get it up if he wanted to. He's always hungover in the morning and drunk by lunchtime. His talk is all bluster: he likes pushin' your buttons. Like I said before. you're worryin' about nothing."

She relaxed a bit and looked in the mirror at my reflection. "That's a relief. It was bad enough submitting to Mike when we were trying to have kids. What about the rest?"

"What will you do for me, how will you make me happy?"

"What will I give you? My body. I will let you fuck me silly, as many times as you want. Any way you want."

I know, I was just as excited to hear that then as I am remembering it now. See, he likes you, Lucy. No, I didn't fuck her, that day or ever. I have standards, like I said, believe it or not. Ya could even say I'm a moral person in my own way. So I asked her why she was looking to move to Scarecrow Island so badly. She told me:

"I want to live in a place that's decent, without any corrupting influences.

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