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guest house, barring the servants’, but he suspected Ernie would think it was just perfect.
    There were cramped, but functional, quarters for the servants past the kitchen and dining area. One large room that had a bed against one wall and a bunkbed against the other would be shared by Mrs. Plushing and the girls. Hans and Eric would share the room next door, one in the bed, the other in a sleeping bag. There was a separate bedroom back there, too.
    After giving out the room assignments—during which Gloria “oohed” and ”ahhed“ and kept asking to be excused to the bathroom, would someone tell her where it was?—John escorted Lynn to the third floor, up the large, carpeted staircase, motioning Gloria and her handsome young companion to follow. Cynthia, Andrea, Anton, and Betty took up the rear. The others stayed behind on the first floor—the employees venturing forth into the kitchen and the environs beyond, and Ernie going in the opposite direction towards the storage room next to the lounge.
    No one said it out loud. None could have said just why. But they were all thinking the same thing.
    This place gives me the creeps.

 
    Chapter 2
    “What do you think of the room, Jerry?” Gloria asked as she ran over to the window and took some more of her deep breaths. ”Ahhh, the air is so clean and fresh. Not at all like the city.”
    Jerry plopped down on the bed and bounced upon the mattress. It was soft and lumpy, the way he liked it. He knew Gloria would complain (she was always complaining) because she preferred hard mattresses, and would psych herself into a “simply wretched” backache even before she had slept in the bed. He watched his lover fly about the room, fussing here and there, touching the lace curtains on the window, picking up dusty bric-a-brac on the ancient wooden bureau, and poking furtively into the closet. “Hello, anybody in there?” She smiled and turned to Jerry, to see if he were smiling. He was.
    “I think it’s nice,” he said. “Real nice.”
    “How’s the bed? Hard like I like it?” She came racing over towards him, and he grimaced involuntarily. He hoped she wouldn’t make waves because the bed wasn’t hard, ask for another room, make a nuisance of herself, and embarrass the both of them. She surprised him. She reached out, bent over the bed, pressed down with one hand, said nothing. Then she sat on the bed, the weight of her body causing the springs to creak and leaving an indentation of no small size in the mattress when she arose. “Soft, isn’t it?” she said. “Well, that’s too bad. Can’t have everything, can we, dearie?” She grabbed his chin with her fingers, and shook his head affectionately. “Everything else is so nice, we can’t complain.”
    He exhaled with relief when her back was turned. One crisis averted.
    “Of course, I’ll get a simply wretched backache from it, but I’ll make an appointment with that lovely masseur in the health club on Tuesday, and I’ll be right as rain in no time. Come now, boy, we must unpack. What time did Mr. Everson say they’ll be serving dinner?” She rummaged through her suitcases, choosing one item, then another, throwing both back and settling on a third.
    “He didn’t. He just said that that lady, the cook, would have something ready in an hour or so. Jesus, we just had lunch on the mainland before we took the boat over.”
    “You know me,” she giggled. “Can’t go too long without sustenance. I’ll take the top two drawers in the dresser, all you’ll need is the bottom one. Come now, let’s get unpacked. Perhaps we can see some of the island before it’s nighttime.” She gave up trying to be orderly, simply took great handfuls of lingerie and accessories into her arms and threw them into the top drawer. She was a big woman, overweight, but still had a figure; large breasts, big hips, a round, protruding stomach that she squeezed into girdles. She was always moving, never stopping: hyperactive,