The Club at Ravenswood

[bigcat023]

Please get back to the Dick and the Doc.

[TreeWood]

As they approached the entrance to the lounge, Quenneville knew he had to make a decision. Like any Eric Nesbit course design, there were any number of ways to play this thing.

In the academy, he had learned a couple approaches that had later proven highly reliable. There was the jackhammer - a rapid-fire sequence of short questions, often repeated and rephrased. This was particularly effective when dealing with "hotheads" and those exhibiting defensive body language. The jackhammer approach was conceived to provoke suspects into giving reflex responses, yielding unfiltered answers. Essentially, the idea was to badger repeatedly until underlying anger broke through the suspect's facade -- along with the truth.

Another option, instead of the jackhammer, was the stiletto - which relied more on finesse and timing than it did on brute force. The stiletto was slipped into conversation out of the blue in an effort to catch the suspect completely off guard. It wasn't necessarily the best way to get at the truth, but it was a damned good technique to find out if someone was lying.

The Raven's Nest lounge struck an intimate balance between monied privilege and upper middle class sensibility. In essence, its decor appealed to those whose money did all the work, while the trappings were sufficiently muted so as not to alienate those members who were close enough to attaining real wealth that they could taste it.

The walls were clad in the deep tones of mahogany paneling, the sheen of which exuded warmth, tradition, and exclusivity. Setting off the dark brown shades were touches of brass, from the handrails that lined the steps leading to the slightly elevated lounge, to the bar rails that ran the full length of the lounge's licensed serving area. To the right, there was a large section of the lounge populated with diamond-quilted dark green leather armchairs arranged around low rectangular cherry wood tables. clearly, that was the area devoted to unfettered social interaction. The Muskoka granite fireplace, which must have spanned six feet in width along the exterior wall, only confirmed this.

Doyley had chosen well. He'd opted instead to seat his guest and former member in one of the more secluded booths that took up the majority of the left side of the lounge. The frosted glass panes - each adorned with the Raven-on-twig logo done in clear glass - that framed each booth only served to ensure that private conversations remained as such.

Approaching the booth, Doyley led it off "Sorry to take so long, Jacob... Oh -- Jacob Kessler, this is Detective Andre Quenneville, he's been handling the Edwards thing. I ran into him in the foyer and thought I'd ask him to join us for a drink -- or are you still on the clock, detective?"

Doyley was good at this. Better than Quenneville had expected. He shook hands with his quarry, pretending to know of him vaguely. They all ordered pints, and so it started.

For a few minutes, the three shared some idle chat of current events, the weather, and quite naturally, the fact that the Ravenswood restoration project would soon be coming to a close. It was the longest six-and-a-half minutes Quenneville had ever endured.

"From what I understand, this is a Nesbit project," he began finally. "I've got to say that I'm surprised that you've been so involved." "Surprised? What do you mean?" Kessler replied. "Well, I'm sure you must have been pretty angry when you found out that Nesbit had snatched the land out from under you..," Quenneville led him. "Well, no, I wasn't too happy about it," Kessler admitted, "but I've been happy to help with it -- it's been... cathartic."

"Well, between Nesbit and Remy Edwards, I'm sure there's plenty that you'd like to forget about this place," Quenneville said, slipping in the blade rather gingerly.

"We were all shocked by what happened. He'll be greatly missed," Kessler lied. He hated Remy Edwards with a burning fury that nearly two decades had failed to extinguish. Edwards was a brash wanna-be, a guy with a big mouth and an even bigger ego. But by far Kessler's greatest hate for Edwards stemmed from the victory that Remy stole from Kessler back on the 16th hole. Both he and Bam had seen Remy's ball pulled left and into the branches of the old Hickory tree, and there was no way in hell the ball came out to the right, closer to the hole, and perched so well atop the heavy rough.

There was no way to prove it of course, but it was clear that Remy or his caddie had dropped a second ball unseen, and claimed to have "found" it. "That cheating bastard," Kessler swore silently..and his jaw tightened as his anger began to simmer.

Now came a much deeper plunge of the the detective's stiletto. "But you didn't miss him, did you?" The question was met with silence. Kessler took a deep breath and crossed his arms across his chest.

[TreeWood]

"Look, Quenneville, am I broken up that the cheating SOB's gone? Hardly!" Kessler finally responded with a snort. He took an unusually long gulp of his Weissbier before returning it to the thick oak table with a resolute thump. He didn't like Quenneville's tone, and wasn't quite sure where the conversation was headed. So he bluffed. "Surely you don't think that I had anything to do with Remy's murder? Bam Harlan must have put you up to this!" Kessler countered out of nowhere, catching Quenneville by complete surprise.

"Look, that nut job's a great caddie, but he's had it in for me ever since I found out it was him banging old Timmons' wife, not Remy! I found her re-gripping his shaft in the bathroom on 5th one day. I'm not proud to admit it, but I blackmailed him into caddying for free." Quenneville began to have doubts, "Has Norm, Bam, or whoever the hell he is suckered me into setting Kessler up as the patsy?" The detective liked the simpler version, and pressed onward.

Doyley had a front row seat to the inquisition, which was unavoidable -- as he'd set up the meeting, ostensibly by inviting Kessler for drinks while he was there reviewing the final options for planting materials as delivered by Wilson's nursery. He could feel the tension rising at the table, and so indulged himself furiously with the pretzels in the middle of the table.

"Look, Kessler, let's drop the bullshit, OK?" Quenneville barked. "I've got a witness that saw you that night," he said laying some of his cards on the table. Kessler looked much more uncomfortable now, arms still folded in front of him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was nowhere near here!" "And," Quenneville said as he leaned forward, "I've got the dagger you used to kill him. You stabbed him over, and over, and over again, didn't you?" Dolyey looked pale, and worse, was almost out of pretzels. "You'd be amazed how effective DNA testing is these days!" Quenneville added -- deliberately giving Kessler the wrong impression.

The veins on the former club pro's temples had swollen to twice their size, bulging just under the thin skin that covered them. Quenneville could see them pulsing, and saw that Kessler's face was rapidly developing more colour. The signs were all there. He was seething.

"You couldn't take it, could you? Could you! Remy Edwards knocked you off your tiny little pedestal." The jackhammer was working full tilt now, chipping away at Kessler's defenses.

Inside, Kessler was engaged in a battle of his own. His mind flashed back to that late summer night 20 years hence, there in the Raven's Nest. He sat alone in the near darkness well after even the evening crew had gone home. As one of the club pros, he had keys to everything, so nobody had wanted to disturb his brooding. By midnight, he must have consumed several pints to combat his sorrows, and a dark urge slowly began to overtake him.

The anguish of succumbing to such a bitter rival was too much for him to bear, and in his morose state, fueled heavily by alcohol, he began to contemplate ending it all. He sighed, looked up, and his eyes fell on the ceremonial dagger hung on the wall of the lounge. Seizing it, he prepared to make the fatal plunge and end his agony. But before he could do so, he caught a peripheral glimpse of someone slinking back up the 18th fairway, edging along the treeline and heading toward the 18th tee.

As the figure passed into the glare of a streetlight on the adjacent highway, Kessler could see that it was Remy Edwards! Still clutching the dagger, Kessler set off at a jog to find out what his nemesis was up to. For a good seven or eight minutes he tracked Edwards back to the 16th green, where he was incensed to see Edwards prodding around on the rough near the old Hickory tree. This was all the confirmation that he needed. Remy had indeed stolen his crown, and was now attempting to cover his tracks by retrieving the ball he'd actually lost earlier that day.

Rage overtook Kessler, and raw, undiluted emotion poured forth. A massive rush of adrenaline kicked in, and pure base animal instinct enveloped him as he attacked Edwards - slashing and stabbing in a frenzy under the cloak of near darkness beneath the Hickory tree.

"Kessler!" The voice seemed distant and contorted. "Kessler!" he heard his name again, and began to focus more sharply. Something shook him, and he turned to see that detective Quenneville was still there, still barking at him like a crazed doberman, snarling and baring his teeth. "Why'd you do it? You killed him...why? What made you do it? We know you did it!"

He knew he was hanging by a thread... keeping it together somehow, but just barely. "I didn't do it!" Kessler managed -- more a plea than an assertion. Quenneville reached into his pocket and hung the golden Ravenswood medallion in Kessler's face. "Remember this, Jacob? You should -- it's the club medallion Remy ripped from your neck during the attack. We found it. It's got your initials on it, and we're going to bury you with it!

Something within Kessler's mind simply snapped. The flashing of the dagger blade stopped. The screams of his victim faded, and the searing heat of uncontrollable rage dissipated. "Yeah I killed him," Kessler heard himself say with the matter-of-factness that one used when explaining elementary geometry. There was no emotion -- no guilt, no anger, no fear. It was simple fact: "I killed Remy Edwards. I didn't plan to. It just happened."

Quennville tucked his prisoner's head down below the roof line, easing his cuffed prisoner into the back of the Charger and shut the door. Turning to face an ashen-faced Scott Doyley standing in the near empty Ravenswood parking lot he said "Thanks Scott. Here, catch!" and tossed Doyley's medallion back to him. "I couldn't have done it without you. Kessler's medallion is still back at the lab undergoing testing, but they say they think they've got enough of a sample to confirm both his and Edwards' DNA on it. We got him!"

Quenneville brought the Charger to life and eased the beast along Hickory Lane much slower than the car's hemi had wanted. From his house on the hill, Norm Harlan pulled away from the eyepiece of the telescope he had trained on Hickory Lane and wiped away a solitary tear from his cheek. 

   

      

[Deleted]

The last 24 hours at the Club at Ravenswood had been surreal. Less than one day before the big grand opening party, Detective Quenneville had made an arrest in the cold case that had haunted this part of Ravenswood, PA for 17 years. The story made the front page of the town newspaper on Saturday morning, and the community was divided between people in shock, and people that had suspected it had something to do with the club's membership all along. Either way, every resident was ecstatic to have this part of the history of their town come to an end.

The dawn of Saturday morning brought with it a completely different outlook at the country club, because not only was it time to open the iron gate and allow the public to take that drive down Hickory Lane once again, but the weather hanging over the property was crisp, clear of the haunting fog, and ripe with the bright autumn colors that a November in northwestern Pennsylvania should deliver. As Andrews met Doyley near the fountain out front of the now-completed clubhouse to begin welcoming guests, both commented on the renewed sense of beauty that had been lost for so long.

"If you had asked me even a week ago how I thought this grand opening ceremony would go, I would've answered with a high degree of skepticism" remarked Doyley, "but I'm really glad that the people will get to enjoy all of the hard work you've put in" he finished, as he looked at Andrews.

Director of Golf, David Andrews, felt a unique sense of satisfaction with an endorsement like that coming from a past member, president, and Ravenswood historian like Scott Doyley. "It certainly hasn't been easy getting to this point, especially with the delays caused by an entire murder investigation that we never knew we'd be a part of when Nesbit Golf Management purchased this property, but it looks like it all turned out okay," said Andrews. Just then, the unmistakable rumble of the hemi engine could be heard barreling down Hickory Lane, and sure enough, flying in with almost adolescent irresponsibility was the blue Charger driven by Detective Quenneville. The detective was usually alone when he came whipping into a parking spot the last few weeks at Ravenswood, but on this bright Saturday November morning, there was somebody riding along in the passenger seat, causing Andrews and Doyley to turn and look at each other inquisitively.

"Morning fellas!" Quenneville blurted out as he jumped from the car with an unusual spring in his step. Just then the other door opened and out came Dr. Eldred, who would apparently be Quenneville's plus one for this grand opening event. It's highly likely that Doyley and Andrews weren't very successful at hiding the smirks on their faces when they saw the doctor emerge from the Charger, so Doyley couldn't help throwing out a sarcastic remark.

"You came cruising in here a little hot, didn't you detective? You know, we're open to the public this morning, and the last thing we need around here is another death," Doyley said sarcastically, trying to embarrass Quenneville a bit in front of his date, knowing full well what probably occurred the night before.

"Eh, I like to go fast, and the Doc likes a man who knows how to handle a stick, and..." "Yeah, we got it," Andrews interrupted. Quenneville put his arm around Dr. Eldred and began to walk inside, but as they passed closer to the guys he muttered, "...and she also respects a detective who can seal the deal."

Andrews continued to greet people as they arrived, while Doyley went inside the lounge to begin mingling with the crowd. He wasn't Club President for no reason, after all. He had a way with organizing big projects and turning ideas into success, so his skills on the inside with the people were where he'd make the biggest impact. The club could only expect so many returning members, especially after such a long period of time, so he knew that prospective members would be among the visitors to the Club at Ravenswood during this grand opening ceremony.

The day continued on as planned, featuring a cocktail social catered by the club's very own dining service, some welcoming announcements by David Andrews, a speech by former champion John Raepple, a marketing update from Chris Saunders, and even a special appearance by famed Spanish pro Pablo Alonso. Everyone in attendance seemed thrilled with the quality of the opening presentations, and the autograph session that Alonso offered was an extra treat, but once the opening festivities had concluded, the crowd was chomping at the bit to get out to the course. Complimentary tee times had been offered to all guests interested in playing the course as they had arrived that morning, and the now fully-staffed caddie team was ready for action. What the team hadn't prepared for is the appearance of a one Brian Jeffords, a golf course architect famously known as Reebdoog in the golfing community, who had shown up to have a look at the course for himself. He had heard the buzz about the reopening of the club, and wanted to lay a critical eye on the project for himself.

The action moved to the first tee, as each group was announced and given a champion's welcome before striking their first shot, hoping they wouldn't block it right and send it into the lake. But for most, this round wasn't about the score, it was about much more. Whether it was new golfers or prospective members checking out the course for the first time, or old members reliving the past, each had their own idea of what they might see out there. No matter what their purpose, every foursome was reminded to pay respects at the Edwards Memorial that had been set up near the 16th green. The last thing that Andrews wanted was for the thick, haunting fog to fall upon the course once again. He believed in his heart that now that the murderer was behind bars the sun would always shine at the Club at Ravenswood, but he wasn't willing to test that theory right from day one at the course.



Upon completion of their rounds, each golfer who wanted to stay and enjoy an evening of drinks and dancing in the lounge and on the patio were welcomed to stay and socialize. Even Quenneville and Eldred, who didn't golf during the afternoon, were still at the club enjoying the optimistic atmosphere and gorgeous fall scenery out the club's large back windows, although they hardly needed any more drinks, that's for sure. But they were celebrating the close of a 17-year-old cold-case, which was likely to put Detective Quenneville on the map, and he had already begun dreaming about which big city he and the Doc would be galavanting off to.

Once all of the golfers had returned to the clubhouse, it was time for Eric Nesbit, David Andrews, and Scott Doyley to close the evening off with the ribbon cutting out front under the awning, as this would put an official close the lore and history of the past, and signify that The Club at Ravenswood was ready for a new beginning! (although rumor has it you can still spot Harlan's house off in the distance when the ball is in the air on hole 16... maybe he's still watching)

[xEB50x]

The reviews are pouring in from around the World .

THE MYSTERY AT RAVENSWOOD
Golf - Suspense - Intrigue - Thrilling - Humor - Seduction - a Psychopath - a Dedicated Cop - and the Hot Psychiatrist!

An instant classic (Rolling Stone)
A True “who dunnit” (New York Times)
Gripping from start to finish (Boston Globe)
It gave me a huge “boner” (Playboy)

Creator: Eric Nesbit
Co-Authors : Rob Scott and Robert Stogner

We hope you all enjoyed this as much as we did. It started out with a few simple “add on” posts by Rob and myself, and each time Eric embraced the new characters created. We fed off each other and eventually it took on a life of its own. It was a blast!!! Thanks for following along!!!

[jivesinator]

Nov 11, 2017 19:19:21 GMT -5 xEB50x said:

The reviews are pouring in from around the Globe.

THE MYSTERY AT RAVENSWOOD
Suspense - intrigue - Golf - Thriller - Humor - Seduction - a Psychopath - a Dedicated Cop - and the Hot Psychiatrist!

An instant classic (Rolling Stone)
A True “who dunnit” (New York Times)
Gripping from start to finish (Boston Globe)
It gave me a huge “boner” (Playboy)

Creator: Eric Nesbit
Co-Authors : Rob Scott and Robert Stogner

We hope you all enjoyed this as much as we did. It started out with a few simple “add on” posts by Rob and myself, and each time Eric embraced the new characters created. We fed off each other and eventually it took on a life of its own. It was a blast!!! Thanks for following along!!!

I'd been wondering how that had come together, thanks to you three for giving such an entertaining backstory to the course.

[Deleted]

I want to give a HUGE thanks to Rob Scott and Robert Stogner, who I had a blast working with on this project as far as the story goes, and then once I was finished I asked them to help me ranger the pin sets before final publishing, but it was only fair that they got to see the course first. These guys put in an incredible amount of time on this, all in the name of creating something interesting and fun for the TGCT community, and I really respect that. All I can hope is that the course is even half as good as the story they helped me to create!

The Club at Ravenswood will be going live very shortly, and I'll post an official thread over in the Designers>Completed Courses section as soon as it's ready for play. Thanks to everyone who followed along, I hope you enjoy the golf course!

[SAM]

This course has been selected for The Seniors Tour (all 3 platform Societies) & is scheduled for 30th Dec 2017 - 1st Jan 2018.