“Hey, Marlene!” Stanley called from across the room. “You wanna split?”

She ignored him.

“Your boyfriend is calling you,” Allen said.

“Oh,” she said smiling, “he’s not my boyfriend.”

She was getting him nervous. Here he had just gotten out of Zanesville after serving time on a phony rape charge, and this girl was making moves on him.

“Excuse me, Marlene,” he said. “I’ve gotta leave.”

She seemed surprised. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Allen took off fast.

The following Sunday, Allen decided, was a perfect fall day for a round of golf. He tossed his clubs into the car, drove to the

Lancaster Country Club and rented an electric cart. He played several holes but did poorly; when he put his third shot into a sand bunker, he got so disgusted with himself that he left the spot.

“Martin” opened his eyes, surprised to find himself with a sand wedge in his hand, addressing the ball from a bunker. He hit it out and finished the hole. Not knowing how many strokes it had taken him to do the par four hole, he scored it as a birdie three.

Martin was annoyed when he saw how crowded the next tee was, and he complained loudly that slow play was ruining the game for better players like himself. “I’m from New York,” he said to a middle-aged man with a group of four ahead of him, “and I’m used to private clubs that are much more exclusive than this and particular about the class of people they allow to play.”

When the man looked flustered, Martin stepped forward. “You don’t mind if I play through, do you?” And without waiting for an answer, he stepped up, teed off, put his ball in the right rough and zoomed ahead in his golf cart.

He played through the next threesome as well, but then hit his ball into a water hazard. He parked the golf cart near the pond to see if he could retrieve it. Unable to find it, he hit a second ball across the pond and returned to the cart, but he cracked his knee against the side as he jumped in.

David came to take the pain, wondering where he was and why he was in this little car. When the pain subsided, David sat there playing with the steering wheel, making engine noises with his mouth and kicking the foot pedals. The brake released and the cart rolled down, sinking the front wheels into the pond. Frightened, David left and Martin returned, wondering what had happened. It took him nearly half an hour, rocking the cart back and forth, to free the front wheels from the mud, and he was furious as group after group played through.

When the cart was back on dry land, Arthur took the spot and told Ragen he was banishing Martin as undesirable.

“Is severe punishment for mistake of golf cart in pond.”

“That is not the reason,” Arthur said. “Martin is a worthless braggart. Ever since Zanesville, all he has thought about is wearing flashy clothes and driving big cars. He puts on airs.