Five Aces, Part 4

By Elias Tobias

Fourth in a four-part series-Conclusion of murder mystery on Halloween

The mental notes Malcolm made of the tour with his wife and other subsequent rounds of the estate were converted into written notes. The notes were grouped and analyzed to prepare a detailed restoration plan complete with a time table for a target completion date. Architects, interior decorators, equipment suppliers were contacted from around Michigan to create the services and atmosphere the McDonald’s required.
Millbrook perked it’s business head as carpenters, plumbers, builders, inspectors, restaurant outfitters, horse traders, people from advertising agencies and printing companies passed through the village on their way to and from the resort.
Malcolm had started businesses from scratch before, and he used his logical, demanding method to stay on the fast-paced schedule and efficient budget. All of this activity cost McDonald Enterprises, Inc. nearly a million dollars. Malcolm had to sell a portion of his stock portfolio to finance the original purchase of the academy. He sold his house in Florida and cottage in Connecticut, but kept his beach house in California. He sold one of his boats to a friend in Florida. His collection of antique cars was shipped by rail to the resort, and wewas to be used to escort guests to and from airport in Lansing.  Malcolm planned to live in the house built by Capt. Kroeson, and liquidated his own personal assets for convenience and necessity.
As initial restoration was completed, a substantial support staff was hired. Malcolm had lured the chef from the restaurant
in town. The residential section of the academy was one of the first areas finished so that employees would be offered a place to live as well as work. The dormitories were brought up to housing code standards, and individual rooms were made more elaborate with carpeting and special antique lighting fixtures. They still reflected the military standards of simplicity and cleanliness.
No detail was forgotten in the preparation. The door hinges of all the buildings were not only oiled, but the wood restored and polished. The brass knobs were cleaned to show the original shine. Some of the buildings were demolished, including the shed behind the boathouse.
Before any work started, a complete inventory of every item was recorded and checked with old school records. The records themselves were checked and cross-referenced before they were computerized. This gave Malcolm the opportunity to examine the records, including his own. He had the chance to permanently clean the slate, without reprisals. Mr. Harvey’s disciplinary actions were reduced to a respectable amount. Any item not needed after the verified inventory was discarded, sold, or repaired for future sale.
While it was still in operation, the academy changed to a different brand of rifle for the rifle range, and the weapons, used by the class of 1949, were put in storage. School records indicated 50 rifles were crated, but once the boxes were opened, only 49 were counted. The discrepancies, such as this, were automatically noted in the current inventory.
Most misplaced items were assumed lost or discarded, however the missing rifle promoted Malcolm to order another count he supervised himself. This time there were 50 rifles. Even though the rifle inventory was verified, he felt uneasy about the count enough to order a third count. There were 50 old rifles, but the gun dealer who bought the antiques reported one was missing. A cross check indicated the rifle with serial number 3fy98567 was gone. A box of cartridges was also missing, the dealer complained. An appropriate refund was made.
Minute details stayed in the back of Malcolm’s mind as he concentrated on the whole restoration process that was quickly coming to a close. Once the last wall was painted and the curtains were hung, Georgia was put in charge of building maintenance with the exception of major repair work. She supervised over 100 people who lived on the grounds or in Millbrook. She was responsible for another 25 people who worked at the converted mess hall. The restaurant was divided into sections for public dining, large and small groups, and private rooms for couples. One of the private rooms was permanently reserved for the McDonald’s.
Blue invitations, embossed with red and gray in the school emblem, announced the grand opening and they were sealed in matching envelopes with red wax imprinted with the Kroeson crest. Assisted by the records compiled in the computer, all living alumni were invited, and a special flight was chartered to bring alumni that would arrive via Detroit by regular airlines to Lansing. Malcolm’s fleet of cars were waxed and cleaned to complete the alumni’s journey to Kroeson. For a special weekend rate, non-alumni guests would be treated to the special transportation services and other privileges offered the alumni.
The grand opening was also heavily promoted within a 100 mile radius of the resort by radio, TV and newspaper advertisements. The media was invited to the ribbon cutting ceremonies, and the Mayor of Millbrook officiated the event.
Special promotional packages, filled with historic information and details of the services available at Kroeson Resort, were provided to the press. The press package was illustrated with old photographs, some found in the inventory, and current pictures of the restored estate. The accent was on  the of quality and the promise of continued excellence in entertainment.
“I can’t wait to see the gang,” Malcolm said in the director’s office. The administration building was converted into the business office of the resort, and the main office of McDonald, Inc. He still had regional offices in Los Angeles; Melbourne, Florida; Amsterdam, New York; and Cedar Rapids, Iowa. “It will be good to talk of the good times,” he said as he pulled the chair up to his desk. Georgia sat in her favorite chair across from her husband with her legs bent over the arm rests. “We’ve worked hard to get this far, planned for everything,” he said as he rested his head in his left hand and leaned forward.
“I can’t think of anything we missed,” she advised. “I was curious, though, the computer said you were whacked by Mr. Harvey
only once that year the Five Aces had their contest,” she wondered.             “What else did you want to forget, dear?”
He smiled. “You checked my records?”
“The first thing after the system was started,” she said. Her eyes pierced his heart. “You taught me to be complete years ago.”
“I took out the information regarding the attempted suspension my freshman year,” he admitted. “My file has a secret entry code. How did you get into it anyway?”
“Anyone who has known you for as long as I have wouldn’t have any problem. The password was simple. Lillian. You said her name in your sleep the first night we arrived here six months ago. She must have been important to you while you were Kroeson.” She didn’t dig any deeper. “We cut the ribbon tomorrow. Let’s celebrate tonight,” she suggested.
The first of Malcolm’s collection of antique cars, a 1928 Cadillac, left the Kroeson Estate at 0430. He liked to use military time in his schedules. From that moment forward, the anticipation of the ribbon-cutting grew inside the McDonald’s. Months of preparation paid off as the guests arrived and were accomodated without any major problems even as the registration went into the hundreds. The first 100 people to register each received a crisp new $100 bill. By noon the stage was set. The press was everywhere, and its members had gathered for the opening ceremonies.
The Mayor of Millbrook, proud of the McDonald’s achievements and the effect on the local community, eagerly gave a positive 24
speech. “. . . The rich tradition of quality and excellence will remain at Kroeson as the 150 year old military academy will continue its existence as a resort, complete with every imaginable convenience and luxury. Malcolm McDonald and his wife, Georgia, have created a dream come true. There are not many people who can claim that they, with a gleam in their eyes, bought the school from which they graduated. It is truly an honor and a pleasure that I officially open Kroeson Resorts, Inc.,” the man in his 60’s said with a smile.
He took a pair of large gold-plated scissors from Georgia and cut a large bright ribbon that stretched across the main road from the original school house to the door of the administration building. A net that covered a pile of red, blue and gray balloons was pulled away and the large crowd cheered at the sight of the dotted sky. A band composed of musicians from the class of 1983 played the school song, and all graduates present added words to the notes. Malcolm, not known for his singing, proudly made his voice clear over the P.A. system. The band continued with other numbers, most of which had a military beat. Children waved American and Kroeson flags that were given away by several people dressed in uniforms similar to those once worn by Malcolm.
The crowd disappeared and went their way to the several attractions and facilities on the 150-acres estate. Malcolm walked to a group of men immediately after the ribbon-cutting. “The Five Aces are back,” he declared as he shook the hands of Michael Bolinger, David Lacey, and Sam Workman. They all knew, but did not speak, of Terry Reed. After exchanges of warm smiles, he offered them a drink in his office, and Georgia was waiting for them.
“Men, I’d like you to meet my wife, Georgia,” Malcolm said as he stood beside her.
“I’m David Lacey. We met when I checked into this place,” he reminded her.
“Of course, David. You were the all-state line-backer for three consecutive years, weren’t you?” she asked the broad shouldered man.
“Yes Ma’am,” he answered. “Now I’m in the oil business. I always wanted to go pro after four years at Michigan State, but decided to make some money instead.”
“Stop lying to her. The scouts didn’t even put you in the draft,” Michael Bolinger explained. “Don’t believe a word he says, Georgia. By the way, I’m Mike Bolinger,” he said.
“I remember your picture with your family on the Christmas card,” Georgia said as she took his hand.
“That was two years ago,” Michael explained.
“And you haven’t aged a bit,” she charmed. He was thin, and gray-tinted glasses covered his eyes. A few wrinkles moved on his receding forehead.
“But my family has,” the man said in a lower volume. “I was divorced a year ago after 20 years.” He released her hand.
“It takes a lot of work these days to keep a strong marriage going,” she said to Michael. Malcolm turned to her when he heard her last statement. He had been talking with David.
“But I knew what I wanted out of life when I saw her behind that desk in the recruiter’s office, years ago. We haven’t lost that feeling yet,” Malcolm said as he placed his arms around his wife.
“Yet?” she looked at her husband.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have started anything,” suggested Michael.     “I’m sorry if. . .”
“No need to be sorry for anything,” Malcolm finished. “You just have a good time this weekend, okay. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Michael smiled. It was like old times again. “You don’t have to worry,” he explained.
“I know. I love you, too,” she confessed.
An arm came from behind Michael. “Hello Ma’am.” The arm was connected to a tall heavy man.
“Excuse me,” joked Michael as he moved out of the way. “Sam always was kind of pushy,” he explained to Georgia. He turned around and looked up to Sam Workman. “I’m moving already,” as Sam’s large left hand pushed Michael away.
He moved his eyes toward Malcolm, and said, “If I hadn’t met your husband 29 years ago, I’d be less of a man today. He really knows how to keep people straight,” the man acknowledged.
“That’s why he’s such a success,” Georgia said as she winked at her husband. “I love every penny of him,” she joked.
“You better watch out. She’ll get you in a place you can’t leave,” Sam warned.
“Too late, Sam. She’s already took me there and lost the key.”
“You always told us to keep a spare key,” Sam jested. “That reminds me. Do you remember when you got the keys to the director’s car and took a drive into town. We sure had a lot of fun, until we drove back,” he said to Malcolm. “Then his wife found the beer cans under the front seat when she cleaned the car out a few days later. He called us in and wondered if we knew anything about it,” Sam told Georgia.
“You didn’t,” she guessed.
“Of course not,” David said, with a smirk of a smile.
“They couldn’t prove a thing,” Michael said.
“We said they might belong to one of his girls,” suggested Malcolm.
“And that was the end of that,” David said. “But we sure did have one hell of a ride.”
“What will you have,” asked Malcolm as he walked over to the bar. He mixed the drinks for the men as they continued to talk.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I have a resort to run,” she said. “I’ll arrange to have a table ready for all of us for dinner tonight,” she offered on her way out.
“At 1700,” Malcolm ordered. “A room for seven.” Only five arrived to the dinner table. “Is Mrs. Workman alright now?” asked Malcolm. He looked at the two empty chairs.
“There’s someone with her now and I’ve left instructions to have her attended around the clock,” Georgia answered.
“Good. It had to happen on the first day. Now there’s three of us left,” Malcolm said into empty space. “At least his wife is all right,” he finished.
“It was easy for a big guy like David to fall, especially out of a rocking boat. I bet he hit the water hard,” Michael guessed. He put his fork down.
Sam stirred his coffee. The spoon hit the sides of the cup and the sound hung in the silence. “I bet this places is cursed. I’ve heard people say that here, and rumors are being recirculated,” Sam said.
“I don’t believe in ghosts. It was an accident. It had to be,” Michael asserted. He started to pick up his fork but his right hand started to shake. He dropped the utensil on the floor. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the tall chair.
Sam’s wife, Samantha, covered her mouth in disbelief. She tried to scream but her mouth gaped open. Malcolm quickly got out of his chair and went over to MIchael. Malcolm pulled his friend out of his chair and placed the weak figure with his back against Malcolm’s chest. Malcolm’s arms pressed against Michael’s chest in an attempt to remove any clogged food from his throat. Michael’s face lost its expression and his body was limp, supported by only Malcolm’s arms.
“Call an ambulance,” he ordered. They were all in shock and lost their appetite. Only Georgia responded to his command. Michael was placed on the floor, and Malcolm checked his friend’s vital signs. Michael’s breathing was shallow and pulse weak. “Get a table cloth from an empty table,” Malcolm barked to Sam. Malcolm loosened Michael’s belt and shirt and propped his feet on top of one of the unused chair seats. He moved in position to give CPR when Sam returned with a large red cloth. Malcolm paused long enough for Sam to drape it over Michael’s body.
The ambulance arrived, and the EMT’s took over where Malcolm finished. He rode with Michael in the back of the emergency vehicle, the same one that entered the gates earlier that afternoon. Voices on the radio described what happened. “Possible heart attack victim, male, early 40’s, breathing shallow, pupils dilated, pulse weak, ETA 15 minutes,” the driver said.
The oscilliscope, the device that monitored Michael’s heartbeat, showed a constant line as the single sound came from the box. “Code Blue, Code Blue,” the EMT shouted. It was relayed over the radio as Malcolm was asked to sit in the front. The defibulator machine was opened from its case and metal tabs placed near Michael’s bare chest. The woman EMT pressed a few buttons on the box, and waited a second before she placed the tabs on the skin. The body jerked with the slight electrical shock, but the constant sound from the oscilliscope pierced the silence. The defibulator process was repeated. More CPR. In desperation, the woman placed a large needle directly into Michael’s heart and deposited the contents of the syringe into the failing muscle. Malcolm saw everything she did, and knew without words she had done all she could and his friend was gone.
News of the incident traveled quickly and added fuel to the rumors of a curse. Malcolm was silent as Georgia drove her husband home from the hospital. He stared out into the night. He heard voices. He looked into the outside rear-view mirror on the passenger side of the Buick. He saw five boys in Kroeson uniforms. One was holding another by the arms.
“Let me go,” Mark shouted. “Let me go.” He shuffled his feet in an attempt to kick the muscular captain.
“Let him go, David,” a young Malcolm said. “Not as long as we have these,” he said as he pointed one rifle at Mark and instructed the other boys to take a weapon off his other shoulder.
“There’s one left?” asked Michael.
“It’s for Mark,” Malcolm said. They took him restroom of the rifle range, and Malcolm said, “There’s only one bullet in it. Make it good, or you’ll have five other holes in you.”
Mark told the school authorities of his sister’s rape, and earlier that morning the Five Aces were once again questioned by the director of the school.
A ray of light from a large window near the top of the wall softly bounced around and illuminated a crouched figure in the corner of the room. The door was closed, and the boy looked up to the solid door with a tortured look of despair. He raised the rifle and slowly swallowed the barrel. The front site cut his upper lip. The stock of the weapon rested between his legs on the floor. He closed his eyes and slowly pulled the trigger with great effort.
At the sound of the shot, a door opened. With a cry of disbelief, Terry yelled, “He did it. Mark’s dead!” The walls were covered with blood and indistinguishable parts of the brain were spread in the lap of the headless boy.
Malcolm looked into the room long enough to see what had been done and ordered them to return their weapons. They scattered as he returned five of the weapons, wiped clean of finger prints, to the gun rack. He returned to the restroom and placed the keys, also wiped clean, in the lifeless hands.
Upon their return to the resort, over two-thirds of the people who registered had received a refund and left the ill fated estate. This fact depressed the McDonalds, and they went to bed early that night. In the Main House, as the residence of the director was called, the couple walked up to the steps to their bed room. It had been a rough day, but as weary as they were, they were not tired enough to sleep. Half-way up the stairs, Malcolm decided he wanted to watch TV and drink a cup of coffee. Georgia followed her husband to the kitchen and heated the water for the beverage.
They walked past the foyer to the other side of the building to the living room. He turned on the news and stared at the tube in an effort to forget the day’s events.
“Lillian,” he suddenly said. He startled his wife who had her head in his lap. She looked up.
“Who’s Lillian? What did you erase from your records?” she asked.
He looked down to her.
“I tried to find your original records in the alumni office, but they got lost,” she admitted.
“I burned them up,” Malcolm answered.
He related the events that transpired 25 years ago to his wife.
Malcolm stared at the news, part of which included the tragic events at his resort. He watched closely. “And in another related story, one of the alumni, Sam Workman, and his wife, were killed instantly in a head-on collision on Highway 66 late tonight. The couple were the personal guests of Malcolm McDonald, owner of the resort. The couple left the restored military school after close friends Lacey drowned in the lake at the resort and Mike Bolinger suffered a heart attack,” the newscaster reported.
“Sam died,” Georgia repeated.
“Talk of a curse over the old school continues to grow in Millford, however WGTB-TV will have more information on the events at Kroeson Resorts tomorrow morning. In other news. . .” the voice continued.
The phone rang. Malcolm turned the remote switch of off as Georgia answered the telephone. “Mr. McDonald is in the process of reviewing the events and will comment on them in a press conference tomorrow in the Director’s Office at 9:30 a.m.”
She returned. “I heard, 0930.” he sighed. “Make sure the front gate is locked. No one is going to say anything to the press until I make my statement,” he decided.
“Yes, sir,” she accepted the orders and relayed his demands to the appropriate people. “Let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” she complained.
This time, they made it to the top of the stairs, and they saw a rifle on the bed. Two cartridges were beside it. They stood away from the bed .
“Did you take it after it was counted?” Georgia asked .
He shook his head to say “No.”  “I don’t know if this place is haunted by Mark ‘ s ghost of what exactly is going on, ” he said to her face. His hand was on her shoulders.
“Someone had to bring it in here while we were downstairs watching TV, ” she suggested. “We need the number on it. It may not be the missing one, ” Malcolm said as he bent over the bed .
“The gun dealer’s behind the deaths ? ” she asked .
He saw the numbers, 3fy98567. “It’s the same one that’s missing,” he said as he put the ammunition in the weapon. He pointed it at his wife. She turned to him and she screamed. Effortlessly, he pulled the trigger and his wife fell to the floor. He went to the bathroom and swallowed the barrel. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed and squeezed the trigger .
A black leather glove picked up the phone and dialed a number. It rang once. “Miss Busch. The job is done. I want my $50,000 tomorrow morning,” demanded a woman’s voice.
“All killed by accident?” Miss Lillian Busch asked.
“Except for Mr. McDonald. He killed himself, just like you said he would. He took his wife with him, ” the soft voice said.
“That’s an extra $10,000 for you. You do good work,” the voice rejoiced.
“I always guarantee my work, Miss Busch, just like I wrote in the contract,” she said in a calm voice. “Wish I could have stayed here longer. I liked working with the horses,” the caller complained.
“With your money, you could buy one of your own,” Lillian said.

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Five Aces, Part 3

By Elias Tobias

Third in a four-part series
“Good afternoon, Mr. McDonald,” greeted a large, stocky man with glasses and a deep baritone voice. He stretched out his hand to meet Malcolm’s.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Cook,” Malcolm said as he felt a firm grip. The exchange was brief, but was still an indication of how much of Kroeson was in both of them. “Mr. Cook, this is my wife, Georgia. Georgia, meet Mr. Kowalski, the school director, and Mr. Cousins, the chairman of the board at Kroeson,” Malcolm said as the men gently shook her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kowalski and Mr. Cousins. Mr. Cook, I parked in your parking space.”
“You parked the car?” he asked.
“Yes, Malcolm was tired of driving and I drove for the last 45 minutes,” she explained.
“Malcolm, your wife will fit right in at Kroeson, even if it will become a resort instead of a school of boys,” Mr. Cousins said.
“Let’s sit down at the table and talk business,” suggested Mr. Cook. Mr. Cook owned 57 percent of the corporation that operated Kroeson Military Academy.
Without ceremony, the transfer of all liabilities and assets of Kroeson Military Academy was signed to Malcolm McDonald, including the right to use the registered crest and emblem of the school to represent the new resort Malcolm planned. The three men left the property and locked the gate behind them with all the keys to the buildings, the gate, and the key to the success of the institution in Malcolm’s hands.
Such a historic change was not documented by words or photographs for the benefit of the public and the town of Millbrook that depended so much on the school in the past. Perhaps there was no need for such action because in a place the size of Millbrook, newspapers and television news reported about life outside the village. The local grapevine was sufficient to meet the village’s communications needs.
Georgia sat comfortably in one of the old leather chairs in the large office. Her legs were bent over the arm rests. Her skirt fell naturally and exposed a portion of her thighs. She looked at Malcolm who was viewing his property from the Director’s Office window. “So you have it all, Mr. Success. Let’s celebrate,” she suggested.
He turned his head and saw her in the chair. “My very thought. Let’s take a tour of the school,” he decided. He walked toward her and held out his hand. She sat properly in the high-backed chair under protest and accepted his hand. He pulled her up and they walked out of the building. “We have a lot of work to do before we open up,” Malcolm said as he pushed the outside door. It slowly closed with a long moan. “We need to oil the door hinge,” he reminded himself as he opened the car door and removed a brief case. He retrieved a note pad and clip board, and made some notes. Then he placed the case back into the automobile. “Let’s go,” he said to his wife, who had her right arm around his waist.
They walked together past several other dormitories and the library. He pointed out historical aspects of the buildings not mentioned in the brochure . They went to the mess hall, and Georgia noticed the tables were still neat and clean. “They always were,” Malcolm replied .
He pointed out the history and science halls, and told his wife of the classes he had. He detailed the varied experiences he had concluding with the sentence, “I was only disciplined four times by Mr. Harvey. He drilled holes in the board to make it sting. ”
“Once should have been enough, ” Georgia said.
“The Five Aces had a contest that year to see who could get whacked the most. It was a test of pain and resistance, ” Malcolm explained .
“Who won?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Of course, you were the leader,” she reasoned .
“I always win, ” he said as he pinched her ass with a smile.
“Let ‘ s go to the lake . It ‘ s pretty there . We ‘ 11 go for a boat ride, ” Malcolm suggested.
“I ‘d love a boat ride. You row, ” she accepted. They walked slowly, taking in the atmosphere offered by the scent of tree sap. “You aren’t taking any notes,” she said.
“Yes I am. I’ll write them down later, ” he said as the 15 -acre lake came into view .
“You were right . It’s magnificent . Look at the sun reflect over there, ” she said as she moved her hand. “It looks so peaceful. You were right to make this into a resort. We could have parties by the building over there,” she suggested.
“That’s the boat house. It would be a great place to serve steaks over a grill,” he added as they approached the side of the lake. He saw a young girl on a boat rowed by a young boy in a Kroeson uniform. He stopped. He heard voices from bushes nearby. They were whispers, but he could distinctly hear every word.
“We better get back. They’re going to miss us for morning inspection,” Terry Reed suggested.
“Wait. I just want to look at her. I know she likes me. I could tell by the way she looked at me when she first got here. Some shit head told her about me I guess. She’s either playing hard to get,” he s
“Or she don’t like you,” David Lacey said.
“She likes me, and I’m going to get her.”
“Malcolm, sir, inspection’s at 0830, in 20 minutes,” Terry informed the leader. Malcolm earned the rank of Sgt. First class, and liked to be called “sir.”
“That’s enough time,” he said desperately, “Mark has to get back, too. Let’s go to the boathouse and wait for them,” he ordered.
Without hesitation they moved away from the bushes. He turned his head to the voices and a wild rabbit darted in front of them from the growth of trees. “It’s just a rabbit, dear,” Georgia said. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
The Five Aces were in their senior year, and Mark Busch was in his second year at the school. The week was visitor’s week, a bi-yearly event meant to bring old friends together and promote the school. Malcolm was walking out the gymnasium when he first saw Lillian in the back seat of her father’s car. Visitors were off limits to cadets unless they were invited to join the families at formal functions. The boat ride was a private moment for Mark and Lillian.
“Let’s go to the boathouse,” he said to Georgia. He smiled, “and plan a party.” They walked around the lake to a small wooden and stone structure with an open porch 30 feet away from the dock that was filled with rowboats. A door to the building suddenly closed with a loud crack. It echoed for a second and disappeared into the air.
“Just the wind,” Georgia comforted as she held his body closer to her.
Malcolm heard children’s voices as he looked around eagerly searching for their location. “Terry, you grab the girl. David, see if Terry needs help,” a young Malcolm ordered.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“We’ll go to the storage shed behind the boathouse. Mike, you clear off a table, find a rope and tie Mark up. Make sure he won’t get loose. The rest of you, hold Lillian down. If she screams, hit her hard. Put a handkerchief in her mouth, and in Mark’s too. I’ll get her, even if she cries,” the young Malcolm continued. The old Malcolm could not see anybody around.
“Follow me,” he said to Georgia as he started to walk to the rear of the boathouse. He walked fast, and left Georgia several paces behind him.
“Wait for me,” she ran with her high heeled shoes. They stuck in the soft grass.
He opened the flimsy door of the shack, and peered inside. A table covered with equipment that was covered by dust filled most of the room. He looked as Georgia approached him. He looked back at the table and the dust-covered gear was gone.
Mark was tied to a post and was gagged. The Kroeson crest appeared at the corner of the handkerchief. The sophomore jerked his body in an effort to save his sister held down by three other cadets. Her blouse was torn and several pairs of hands were touching her exposed breasts. Her legs were spread apart and her yellow and white dress was rolled back to expose her panties. An 18-year old cadet, Malcolm McDonald, stood between the 15-year old girl’s legs. Her screams were muted by a gag similar to her brother’s.
Malcolm quickly unfastened his black belt and unzipped his gray trousers inches away from her body. His flesh was soon exposed and he touched her panties. She screamed louder as his fingers rolled in her vagina. Her eyes were closed in pain and her face was red. Mark tossed more violently. Terry punched him in the stomach, and Mark groaned as he doubled over.
Malcolm entered Lillian with the force of an athlete as if he were lifting weights. He used clean hard strokes and breathed heavily after each one. His eyes were tight with intensity. His
hands were like steel on her thighs, locking their hips together. After a long “AHHHHHHH”, Malcolm stopped. Terror filled Lillian’s eyes as they looked at each other.
“Don’t tell anyone, I mean anyone, or your brother won’t graduate. Understand?” he asked the child. She nodded quickly as she heard the orders. “That goes for you, too, Mark,” Malcolm said as he turned around and saw the boy’s hatred for the leader flare in his face. “Breathe a word, and she’s dead!” Malcolm threatened. He turned around, pulled up his trousers and said, “We’re late for inspection.” The boys left the room and she covered her face with her free hands, squelching any screams of agony. She slowly sat up and removed her gag. She bent over and sobbed.
“Is everything okay?” a voice from behind startled the older Malcolm. Georgia caught up to him.
“Now it is,” as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I just wanted to check to see what was in here.”
“Let’s go back in town and get something to eat. I’m hungry,” she said as she looked at her gold digital watch. “It’s time to eat anyway.”
“You should have finished your lunch,” Malcolm said.
“I know, but . . .”
“There’s a fantastic restaurant in town. I need to talk to the chef anyway about working for us. He can cook anything perfectly. I love his French cuisine,” the older Malcolm said as he turned from the shack. They walked back to the administration building. “I’m going to tear the shack down after I oil the door,” he said as he locked the heavy oak gate to the building.

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Five Aces, Part 2

By Elias Tobias

Second in a four-part series

After she politely wiped some vegetables from her red lips, she said, “You had this stop all planned, didn’t you? I bet you planned to meet me in the recruiter’s office, too.  I know you. You never do anything by accident.”
“I just like to take advantage of the good things in life,” Malcolm said with another bite. “And I ‘m a success because I see opportunities and make the best of them. I have money, cars, houses, boats, everything I need.  I wouldn’t want anything else… ”
“Except to buy Kroeson Military Academy, and relive your childhood,” Georgia finished.
“And I ‘m going to do just that, with a little help,” he grinned at her.” After we get it completely restored, I’m going to get the gang back, all except for Terry Reed. ”
“He was the one. . .,” Georgia started.
“. . . the one who shot himself. Scattered his brains all over his bathroom, “  Malcolm finished. She gulped down her bite of food and clanked her fork on the plate.
“Please change the subject. I ‘m eating you know,” she suggested. He continued chewing his steak and reached for his glass of wine.
“Well, it’s the truth. Sam said he used a rifle just like the ones we used at the school. They might still be using them.  I’11 have to check that out,” Malcolm reminded himself. He saw his wife get angry across the table. “Okay, no more about Terry. But I’ll invite the rest of them, and the alumni association should have their addresses.”
During his last three years at Kroeson, he was the leader of a group of five boys who distinguished themselves in academics, athletics, and extra-curricular activities that were not always school-sponsored. They called themselves the Five Aces. If it weren’t for their parents’ money and their otherwise perfect behavior, they would have been suspended their first year at Kroeson. They included Malcolm, Terry Reed, Michael Bolinger, David Lacey, and Sam Workman.
“I’m finished. Let’s hit the read. I’ve lost my appetite.” Georgia declared in disgust.
“I’m sorry the food wasn’t good. I’ll have a word with the manager, honey,” Malcolm suggested.
“It’s not necessary. The food was great. The service was good, too. I’m just not hungry anymore,” she said.
“Very well, your wish is my command,” he said in a humble tone.
“Be sure to leave a big tip, too,” she suggested.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he responded immediately.
The tab was paid and they were soon on the road. The sun reflected brightly off the chrome-plated rear-view mirror outside Georgia’s door. The road curved and she stopped squinting. She saw another road sign, and a smile spread across her face. “We’re almost there. We take the next exit, 66 North,” she instructed.
“I could never get lost with you around. You’re a skilled navigator,” he complemented.
“Experience. Moving around with you, I’ve learned how to do many things, including how to read a map. We should be there in 45 minutes, more or less,” she said. “After all that you have said and what I’ve read, I’m anxious to at least see the school.”
“Progress, Malcolm, progress,” he thought to himself. He looked into his inside rear-view mirror and saw the scene change. As if it changed to a television screen, he saw a boy in a room with a tortured look of despair. A rifle was in his hands. A ray of light from a large window near the top of the wall softly bounced around and illuminated the crouched figure in the corner of the room. The bright red, gray, and blue emblem of Kroeson Military Academy was displayed on the boy’s cap, and the brass buttons glowed like Christmas lights.
“Malcolm,” Georgia screamed. “Watch where you’re going,” she yelled as she reached over and turned the steering wheel in time to regain control of the car. Out of his daze, he pulled over to the side of the highway and stopped. “Let me drive. We almost had a wreck. Either you drank too much wine or you’re tired of driving. Or both,” she sternly suggested.
“I’m fine now. I saw something in the mirror. It wasn’t right,” he explained. She moved over to look at the mirror.
“It looks fine to me. What on earth did you see that made you stare at the mirror, anyway?” Georgia demanded.
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders.”
“That’s it. I’m driving the rest of the way. Move over,” she said as she opened the door. The car left the shoulder of the road with a lieutenant on board while the captain relaxed and enjoyed the blurred trees that turned the flat fields and farm houses.
“Too bad the school closed,” Georgia said.
“Women’s liberation,” he said. “Several girls wanted to get in, and the school went to court to counter a suit filed by the girl’s parents. The Naval Academy and West Point have gone co-ed, so they figured Kroeson should, too. The school lost over 200,000 in legal fees. It was losing money the anyway. Private schools are more of a luxury than they were when I went to school here. The old buildings weren’t up to state education standards, too.”
“They still need plumbing, septic system, and electrical work to get them up to public building standards. I checked on the laws here and hotels and restaurants have a strict building code. Old buildings included,” Malcolm finished.
“Who decided to close the school?” his wife asked.
“Bound by tradition, the board of directors didn’t have any choice in the matter. They didn’t want a school for girls,” he recited as if he were talking to a reporter. “Is that enough information for your story, Lois?” he joked.
“Yes. Can I quote you about your comment about making Kroeson a school for girls, Mr. McDonald?” she asked.
“Put it in the headline in bold letters,” he answered, as he moved his hands as if he displayed a banner headline of a newspaper.
The Buick turned off the highway and was soon stopped at the school’s closed black wrought iron gates. A chain was wrapped around the center posts. Georgia looked at the chains, glanced at Malcolm, and returned her eyes to the gate. He opened the passenger door, and removed the chains. “It wasn’t locked,” he said as he entered the car. They drove under a growing canopy of Maple and Oak trees that had lined the road, paved for only 65 years, to a building. “Not here. This is the gym. See the track next to it.” She nodded. “We need to go to the administration building, ahead three buildings to the right,” he directed.
Several other cars were in the lot next to the building and Georgia parked in a place marked “Reserved for Mr. Cook.” “Mr. Cook just lost his parking space,” she announced.
“He’s parked next to us,” Malcolm said as he pointed to a Mercedez-Benz.
“Then he parked in the wrong place,” she said as she pulled the keys from the ignition. “Who is Mr. Cook?”
“The man who is going to sell us the school,” he answered.
“Then he parked in the right place,” she said. He got out and opened her door, and placed his arm behind her as they walked up the steps to the door. He opened the door for his wife, and their footsteps echoed in the great open hallway. Voices were audible but not yet found.
“This way,” Malcolm directed to a room with three men sitting in old leather chairs. They stood up as the couple entered.

Who is Elias Tobias? Go to his biography that is also in Spanish.

Five Aces, Part 1

By Elias Tobias

First in a four-part series

“Michigan is pretty in the spring, ” Georgia said as she looked out of the window. The trees were a blurred green and the leaves were indistinguishable against the bright blue sky. A large green information sign approached the luxury Buick automobile as it traveled west on Interstate 96 . Within seconds, it was in focus . “We’re 10 miles away from Lansing We’re getting closer. ”
“But we still have a hour and a half drive to Millbrook,” Malcolm said without even a glance at the map beside him. Georgia picked the map up and laid it on her lap. The air from the air conditioner ruffled the pages. Quickly, she grabbed the corner of the book atlas. She bent down and moved the map closer at the same time. “Where is Millbrook?” she asked.
“It’s circled in red, near Mount Pleasant.”
“Oh I see it now,” she said. She studied the map and moved her lips as she counted the miles indicated. “Yeah, you ‘ re right. ” She glanced out of the side window. “How big of a place is Millbrook, any  way? Does it have a country store and a gas station?” she asked.
“Honey, the only thing in Millbrook is the school .  It’s been that way for 150 years now. It has those other things, like a store and a gas station, and even two or three farm houses.  If it weren’t for the school, the town wouldn’t have it’s stoplight on the highway. ”
Malcolm was referring to Highway 66, the main link to civilization from Millbrook. The school is Kroeson Military Academy. Millbrook connects to the highway by a country road called appropriately School Road. Like all midwestern places, there were several country routes to Millbrook, but their northern path along Highway 66 was the easiest and most used.
“It will be nice to see the school again. I’ll show you the rooms I lived in for four years. Those were the best years of my life. . . ,” Malcolm continued as he stared past the horizon. “. . . until I married you, of course,” he finished. He turned his head and smiled at Georgia.
“Of course,” she responded with a smirk across her face.
“What I learned there made me the man I am today. Not many people in this world can say things like that, but I can,” he said proudly.
“That’s your secret to success? Kroeson Military Academy?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then if you believe in the school, why do you want to make it into a resort? Wouldn’t people benefit more if it were left as a school?” she asked.
“The answer to the last question is yes. It would be better if it remained a school. But it’s not 1832, it’s 2012.”
“I thought you said the school was 170 years old. If it started in 1832, then it’s 180 years old,” she interrupted.
“Okay, it started in 1834, then. It’s still 2012. The school was forced to close. That law suit about co-ed status broke the bank account after years of declined enrollment.
That’s a sign that things must change. That’s why I want to make it into a resort, resting heavily on the tradition of the school. You would be surprised how many people who went there want to visit the place. The least I can do is offer them a chance to do it in style,” Malcolm explained. He turned his eyes to the road, an attempt to avoid any more justification of his decision.
Georgia looked down at the map again and then Malcolm turned up the radio to break the silence. Malcolm McDonald, trim for his 43 years of age, shuffled his body in the seat. His blond hair was starting to recede, but showed no other signs of advancement. He learned to take care of himself, physically and mentally at Kroeson Military Academy. Ranked 12th in the 320 students of the class of 1959, he had participated on the varsity team in every sport offered at the time. He excelled in marksmanship, winning the rifleman award six times.
The award was offered every semester. He enlisted in the Marines after graduation because he said he wanted to be the best. He took his success at the school and made it into millions of dollars just 10 years after graduation by the purchase of farm land from farmers forced to sell land for outstanding bank debts. The land was resold at a substantial profit. The money was reinvested into land, and then stocks.
After a few large losses on the Dow Jones, he recovered his liabilities, and invested into several insurance companies. The money never seemed to stop. The farm land turned to cash as more people moved to the cities. People needed houses, and he started a construction company. The activities were insured by his insurance agency.
Georgia Friedman worked as a clerk in the recruiter’s office. A green information sign grew in size as she stared at it. “Lansing, next three exits.”  She closed her eyes and rested. Her head rested against the seat.
“I want to be a Marine.” Malcolm told her as she looked up at him from the desk that was cluttered with folders. She had concentrated on the words she typed on a printed form.
“You came to the right place,” she smiled. “What‘s your name sir?” she asked. Her hands automatically moved from the typewriter to a series of folders. She found a pencil that was hidden under one of them. Soon she held a handful of forms, and gave them to him.
“Malcolm McDonald,” he said as he watched her motions with delight. He looked at the nameplate on the desk.
“Georgia.” She smiled. “Georgia, wake up,” Malcolm shook her arm. “What were you smiling about? You looked like you were having a good time. ”
“I was. I was remembering when we first met,” she said.
“There’s a gas station and a restaurant at the next exit. We need to stop for gas, and I ‘m hungry. Want to stop?” he asked.
“You’re driving the car, not me,” she teased.
“You look tired when you were resting. I thought you might want something to eat, honey, “he suggested.
“Let’s stop. ” she decided. After a credit-card fill-up, they parked next to the front entrance of a steak house. Malcolm released the door locks and opened his door. Georgia waited as he opened her door. He opened the door of the restaurant and she smiled at Malcolm as she received the royal treatment. Her long and thick brown hair tossed in the air as the door opened. An air-condition vent blew air out of the foyer. Her light blue skirt moved gracefully as she walked with her left arm in Malcolm’s right to a smiling hostess next to a cash register.
“Table for two,” he gestured with two fingers from his free hand. It really wasn’t necessary. Once a table was chosen, he escorted Georgia to her seat, and sat across from her.
“I’m glad we stopped. I was getting tired of the road,” Georgia said. A waitress brought over glasses of water and menus.
“I can’t wait to get there. I know you’ll fall in love with the school once you see it,” Malcolm said as he read the menu.
Georgia glanced at the script writing under the line illustrations. “I’ll let you order for me this time,” she said as she put it down on the table.
“Okay,” he answered as he peeked over the large food list.
“Sometimes I think you never grew up and act just like you did at Kroeson,” she said with a smile. The food order was taken, and the couple stared at each other.
He reached into his suit pocked and found a pamphlet. “Here’s an old brochure about the school. The top picture on the cover is the original dormitory. Washington Hall. I stayed there two years in two different rooms.” He handed it to Georgia. She looked at the color picture of the ivy-covered red brick building. “Below that is the library, and next to that is a statue of Capt. Kroeson. Under that is Pine Lake and the boat house, and next to that is the dance hall. Every semester there was a formal dance,” Malcolm explained.
She glanced at the rest of the brochure.
“I feel like G. B. Debasco,” Malcolm said. His wife looked at him with a puzzled expression. “He saved the school and he was an alumnus of the school, too. It’s all printed in the brochure. Read it while we wait for the food.”
“Yes, sir,” she quickly responded. She put her left hand over her mouth and giggled politely.
With a straight face, she started reading, “Nestled in the heart of Michigan, Kroeson Military Academy is located conveniently in Millbrook, 50 miles northeast of Grand Rapids. The entrance is a short drive from Highway 66. The school was established by Capt. Daniel Francis Kroeson, on his 50 acre farm after several years of poor corn and wheat crops.
“He bought the property when he went into semi-retirement from an outstanding career as a professional soldier. Family tradition dictated the domestic lifestyle and he didn’t want to lose the investment of the property, which was made in part by family finances. He erected three buildings dormitory named after George Washington. .
The bell-like sound of a spoon that struck a glass caught her attention for a moment. She continued reading.
“. . .Debasco incorporated the Academy in 1897 when the school had over 500 students. Mr. Bales died in a stable accident three years later, and Cynthia Marie Bales died in 1905 after dedicating over 41 years of her life to the institution. ”
“The tradition of excellence and honor continues everyday at Kroeson Military Academy as young boys receive quality education designed to form their physical, mental, and emotional attitudes that will benefit them the rest of their lives. Successful alumni often send their sons to the academy, and constant contact with graduates is maintained by the alumni association. A firm foundation for life is readily available at Kroeson Military Academy. Tour our facilities and stay overnight at our historic visitor’s center,” the brochure ended.
“Excuse me,” said the waitress.
“Georgia, honey,” Malcolm said. “Soup’s on,” as she looked up.
“Thank you,” Georgia said as the food was placed on the table.     ”Malcolm, for a school entrenched with a male-dominated attitude, the women sure played a great role in the survival of the academy. ”
“Right, but they continued to support the men even after their husbands died,” Malcolm said.
“But the women didn’t do it just for their husbands.  Mrs. Kroeson did it for herself, too. She made a good thing better than what her husband had. Isn’t that an incentive for success, ” Georgia argued.
He smiled at her like a gambler showing his ace. “That’s why I want you to be a part of the resort, too, honey. ” He took a bite of his steak with satisfaction.  “That’s why I want you to see the school for yourself, instead of reading a history lesson. It’s a living place where the past and present blend in harmony. It’s a good investment, too. “  He took another bite.

Who is Elias Tobias? Go to his biography that is also in Spanish.