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.