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.

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