Mystery!!!

[Kyote Fields]

I'm throwing a murder mystery party for a girlfriend I have. The time is 1947; the place is Chicago, Ill. She has invited eleven people (friends and family) to come. I have written them all into the story with histories and enemies. One of them commited the crime and it's up to the rest of them to solve who it is.
I have written everything out from the eleven dossiers, to a confessional by Mr. Homstead (the dead guy), to a crime scene.

I was wondering, because it is so extensive, (25-30 pages), if anyone would want to take the time and try and solve the mystery? Or if I should save myself from a wasted endeavor?

[Darth Tater]

Sounds like fun to me!

[Wayfarer]

SUre. ]: )

[Kyote Fields]

Since I have everything at home, I'll put it all in this thread tommorow. I guess anyone who's intrested can write a little somthin' so they can be notified when I do.
Thanks guys

[crickhollow]

ok, count me in!

[galadriel88]

Sounds cool. I'll try it!

[emplynx]

I can only solve mysteries that involve math, but I will try.

[Liviaine]

I'll give it a go.

[Ararax]

coo

[anduin]

I'm in.

[Nariel Starfire]

Count me and Bill in (he can't post since I'm on the computer!)

[Arathorn]

I want to try it too.

[Kyote Fields]

One thing first....
I am putting this info here in good faith that no one will steal my hard work for thier profit.

Remember, guilt is a terrible thing to have.

On with the show.

[Kyote Fields]

The place is Chicago, Ill. On Feb 6th, 1947 Walter Holmstead called me, Miles Denton - his attorney. He told me that if he died within the next two weeks to come to his house and open his safe. Inside I would find the papers that would show whom his inheritance would go to. At 10:00 p.m. on Feb 13th his cook called the police to report a missing person. He said that Walter said he’d be home for dinner at 8 p.m. He had not come home and it was unlike him. Walter’s body was found the next morning behind a nightclub he owned called “The River Queen.” The club is located on the bank of Lake Michigan; it faced away from the lake and the lake was frozen over. Behind the club was a patio with chairs, tables and umbrellas as well as a wooden dock that was used by tourists who sailed out on the lake. In the middle of this 20-foot dock, on the left-hand side, there was a hole in the ice. That’s where Walter was. His legs were tied to one of the 30 pound umbrella holders and he was dropped through the ice. Upon further investigation it appeared he was also hit upon the back of the head with a hard object like a blackjack. His car was parked in the alleyway next to “The River Queen”. Someone had rigged it with a bomb that would detonate upon ignition. It had snowed that nite so any chance of finding footprints was impossible.
Two things were found that were of special interest to me. A hummingbird broach with emeralds and rubies, seemingly unplanted as it lay near the end of the dock, and a bouquet of roses, seemingly planted as it was lying next to the hole. A small note was with the bouquet that read, “For my father.”
Once I had finished gleaning all I could there I went to Mr. Holmstead’s house, opened his safe and found a confessional as well as this note:

Feb 13, 1947

Miles,
If you are reading this then I am dead. As my last request I would like for you to arrange a meeting of the following people. One (or more then one) of them, I’m sure has murdered me.

1. Jeanette Garza
2. Regina Garza
3. Robert Rauscher
4. Michael Rauscher
5. Tara Rauscher
6. Brian McMillin
7. Brenda McMillin
8. Matthew McMillin
9. Amanda Overland
10. Sarah Gove
11. Rebecka Johansen

Please conduct your own investigation with Howard Jenkins and Kilroy Seare from the police force. You’ve worked with them before to help me out of more then one tight spot. You three make a great team. Do background searches on these people. Find out who killed me. A small document is also included in this letter that may shed some light on why I chose these eleven people out of all the enemies you know I’ve made. The first person of the eleven who solves my murder will receive my inheritance, as I’m sure the guilty party will not turn themselves in. Post my guards at the doors and windows so that no one will escape. I have no one left whom I love to leave my money to, so I will make sport of those I’ve hated and make them hate each other. I’m sure you three will know who it is by then. May justice finally be done, as it never has before. I’ve always appreciated your services and I’ve arranged for you three to receive recompensation for all this work you will be doing. Thank you.
Sincerely,

Walter Holmstead

We did investigate, conducted interviews and discovered who it was. There was only one person there that night.

[Kyote Fields]

Feb 13, 1947


I, Walter Holmstead, in light of recent events and enemies I have made, here and now, without duress, make the following statements and confessions.

I was born April 14, 1883 in London England, to my loving mother and my father. The Holmsteads were a wealthy family and had been for over five generations. When I was 6 years old my father was unfaithful and had a daughter, Jeanette, by a certain Mary Hobbs. Fortunately, the woman died in childbirth, but my father insisted we take in the girl rather then giving her to the orphanage. My mother and father fought constantly from that time on; I always blamed it all on Jeanette. As the girl grew up I did not talk to her much. In fact I excluded her as often as I could. In the private school I attended I met Roger McMillin. He also was from a wealthy family, recently moved from Ireland. We were both in the 4th grade and from that time on we were great friends. He was really my only friend growing up. One day, when I was 13 years old, my father contracted small pox and died a few months later. The very next month my mother sent Jeanette to an all girls’ boarding school in Richmond, Virginia. I never wanted to see her again, nor have I had to until recently.
When I was 28, I took on an apprenticeship with a business firm in Cambridge. Therefore, I traveled often by train between Cambridge and London for the three years I worked there. On one of those trips in 1911, I met an enchanting young woman. Her name was Amelia Rauscher. She also lived in London so we spent much time together in the months that followed and I loved her deeply. Roger, however, despised her German background and refused to accept her. At that point I did not yet realize how deep his resentment was. Amelia and I were eventually married on February 14, 1912. It would have been 35 years ago tomorrow. I loved her so.
The First World War began two years later and the state of my country was changing. As I became better acquainted with Amelia’s family, her father George began telling me about his point of view of the war. He soon persuaded me to be a spy for the German army. Roger also was changing, we hardly spent much time together any more, he grew busy with business and we grew apart. He enlisted in the English army. By George’s direction I too enlisted in the English army. Roger and I were both posted in the same troop and we were sent to France. Via secret rendezvous, I sent messages of planned military tactics and maneuvers to George. This went on for a two and a half years when Roger confronted me. He asked where I often went alone. He said it wasn’t safe, but I saw in his eyes that he knew where I went. I accused him of following me and he did not deny it. In the end he said a cruel remark about Germans and about Amelia. I punched him and said that if he could not talk about her kindly then we would not talk at all. He walked away and we never said a kind word to each other again. That night I ran off and caught up to my rendezvous. I invented a story about my troop moving into Paris the next week and strongly advised that the entire place where we were stationed to be bombed with mustard gas. I ran away into Germany and to the Rauscher’s house as everyone in my troop died.
By all accounts and purposes I was very saddened that I lost Roger and I don’t mean because he died. He refused to have an open mind about people and in the end it got us both in trouble. My pity on him, though, was short lived and the McMillins, if they do make it to this gathering, will assuredly have various stories on what happened next. Roger survived, if you can call it that and was sent home to London on June 26th. I, however, was unaware about all this, focusing my attention on various assignments in Eastern Europe. The entire left side of his body was paralyzed; he was confined to a wheelchair, but his sense of revenge and rage had grown the three months he was held in the medical ward in France. He came home and visited Amelia at our house on the 10th of July and poisoned her. This, I know he did, by research of my own which is too exhaustive to write down here and now. I received the news five days later; about the same time that I learned Roger had survived and was in London. I could not get home until fifteen days later at which point the funeral ceremonies were finished and Amelia was already buried. I hold that against Roger most. I never had a last look at my love and I never will.
It took me all of August to be absolutely positive on what Roger had done. I admit my hatred for that little man was beyond anything I had ever felt before. On Sep 10th, I visited him at his house where his wife and son cared for him. They all knew me, of course, so I was not a suspicious visitor. Roger was asleep in his wheelchair when I arrived; it was too perfect. When his wife went to fetch me a glass of water, I gave him a shot of truth serum. I had forged a note in his handwriting that read, “We went for a walk. Will be back in two hours. Love, Roger.” Then I wheeled him out of the house as quickly as I could, completely undetected. On our walk and as he awoke, I asked him about Amelia and what he had done. He confessed to it all. Do you hear that McMillins? He killed my angel! I took him to the edge of the Thames River and threw him in. He was a pathetic sight, flailing around in the water. I left his wheelchair by the waterside and left England that nite. I wrote to his wife later feigning sorrow at Roger’s death. I told her that on our walk, Roger and I soon got into a heated discussion and that he turned to go. I offered to see him home but he refused, saying he was going to go sit by the river’s shore. I think she believed me.
England was no longer welcome to me; the memories of Amelia were everywhere, therefore, I stayed in Germany for a couple of months. I explained to Mr. Rauscher what had happened and what I had done. He was in a constant state of depression from that point until 1922 when he died. I left to America in Jan of 1918. The servants that I had in London shipped my belongings ahead of me. I did not tell them where I was nor where I was going so they were innocent of knowledge to all the questions of curious people.
On the boat trip over, I got to meet the captain; an elderly Danish chap named Jorgen Johansen. He helped me settle in Chicago, because he knew people who could get me land and I knew nobody in America at all. He assured me it was a nice town, “on it’s way up”, he said and it sure has turned out to be. I pledged my debt to him for helping me out at such a low point in my life and always stayed in contact with him and his only son in Louisiana. I again had my things moved from the port where they were being kept to Chicago. There I built the house you are now in and where I have lived ever since.
A couple of months later I met Frank Caruso in a local pub. We spoke of business, my second language but often feeling like a first. He had heard that the government was going to ban the sale of alcohol and he needed to set up a way to get liquor before the new law took into effect. I filled the position and always kept him well stocked through the Prohibition that followed and to this day. One of my sources was a man in Iowa, Paul Gove, who contacted me in Aug of 1919 wanting to sell his corn whisky in a different state because he was getting too much attention in his own. I received shipments from him weekly and gave that to the Carusos who would then distribute it to the speakeasies and private drinkers that they knew. I was able to make a very good living off of that.
In 1924, the Carusos needed legal assistance. I had met a man, Steve Thompson, who was also a Brit turned German spy during the war. Since he was coming to the States and had asked me for help in getting his practice started here I suggested that they hire him. Frank respected my taste and agreed. Steve came over on Jorgen’s boat. I went to the coast to pick up Steve and to say hello to Jorgen since it had been many years since I’d seen him. It was the last time I saw him, as he died the next year. I went to Louisiana for the funeral and to give my condolences; they buried him at sea as he wished. While there I got to meet more of the Johansen family. I spoke to Jorgen’s son, Dana, Dana’s wife, Kathleen and Dana’s son, Benjamin. Dana had his own shipping business from the Virgin Islands and paddleboats he used to travel up the Mississippi River. I noticed that he had lot of potential, but I left it at that.
The mayor of Chicago in 1927, Greg Overland, grew to be a thorn in my side. He became a crusader to rid Chicago of crime, which meant hindering the Carusos, which meant hindering me. His wife as well was a “do gooder”. She headed up the Women’s Temperance Movement and influenced many people against alcohol, which was bad for business. So the Carusos and I orchestrated to have the Overlands, both the mayor, his wife and their newborn daughter, eliminated. Two thugs were sent to do the job and succeeded in killing the adults but before they had killed the child, the police interrupted and arrested one of them. The other got away. Being that there was no next of kin the child was put up for adoption and, in a move to distance myself from the murders and to elevate my public status, I took her in to live at Holmstead Manor. I raised Amanda so that she believed her parents were killed in a car accident. She always called me “Uncle” because she knew I hated it. She was, I am not ashamed to admit, brought up by my servants more then myself. I was frequently busy and spent little time with her. As long as she stayed out of my business I was fine, but she often found ways to get in trouble. She never wore the dresses I bought her, but instead opted to wear pants and other boyish clothes. Often, she embarrassed me.

[Kyote Fields]

However, things were again running smoothly. We bought the next mayor of Chicago and he stayed away from us. Then came the year of 1929. On Feb 14, Frank went to Detroit with 10 other men as he often did to get a shipment of alcohol and they were slaughtered in what is now called the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Frank had confided in Steve beforehand and left him in charge of the Carusos. Therefore in Nov of that year he married Jan Caruso, a marriage, I must say, that she was not against. Then, of course was the Stock Market Crash in Oct. 24, which affected me not a bit. I soon after received a call from Dana Johansen who informed me that his wife has died back in March and that he was on the verge of losing his estate. He asked for any help I’d be able to offer in getting him back on his feet. Of course I’d help him, for I was still indebted to his family but I thought it was time for the potential I saw in him to come out. I told Dana I would help him but he had to do me a favor as well. I needed him to transport guns from Cuba to Paul Gove’s farm in Iowa. Dana was not as eager as I thought but he agreed.
The following year prohibition finally ended. My business became more lucrative soon after. World War II started in Sept of 1939. I stayed far away from any war ties despite George Rauscher Jr., Amelia’s younger brother, constantly calling me to lend my services to Germany again. I always refused. He had gotten into the FBI as a counter spy under the alias Henry Ford, something I always ridiculed him about. He warned me that the FBI was checking out leads from old German connections who might be living in America. I soon discovered that they had found me. They came to my house and threatened that unless I was able to give them information about what was going on in Germany I would be tried as an American traitor. I told them that I knew nothing of what was going on, but they wouldn’t believe me. So, in desperation, as they were taking me to jail, I gave them George’s name. They thanked me and let me go. I didn’t think that the results were going to be as severe as they were; I certainly didn’t want it. A month later George was executed as an enemy of the state. I was devastated at the news. Then again I pulled a feat of public service to keep face.
I called the Rauschers to offer condolences and suggested that they come to America to escape the war and I would care for them. Actually, I did it so I could keep a closer eye on them and find out if they knew anything of what I did. Only Michael took up my offer to my dismay. He came and enrolled in a nearby school. He met Tara, Frank Caruso’s daughter, at a party. They are now wed. It did my heart good to see them together, to see young love. It reminded me of Amelia every time. Oh has it been that long? I found out later that year, by reading the transcripts of George’s last phone calls and conversations, he told Linda, his wife, that he suspected I had turned him in. I don’t know what that led to or what Linda has done with the information, but I have not yet noticed anything disconcerting about the Rauschers.
Life had slowed down at this point despite the war and I needed a change. I decided to go on safari in Africa for four months in 1943. I left Michael to care for Holmstead Manor. I had a great trip, yet upon my return I contracted a severe case of malaria. I was quite sick with extremely high fevers. I hired a live in nurse to care for me until I got better. Her name was Brenda Nebref and she did an excellent job. Amanda moved out during this time and stayed with a friend. In July of 1944 I was recovered. Brenda left and was sent over seas to help with the war relief. A few months later, Cook told me that he had heard me speaking in my delirium during my fever outbreaks. He saw Brenda taking notes of what I was saying. I spoke of my time being a German spy and I mentioned Roger and how sad I was about killing him. He didn’t know what to make of it so he told me now that she had left. I didn’t think much would come of it.
In the meantime, Amanda was more then I could handle. She was never home, her friends were of the worst kind and she said mean things to me and about me more and more all the time. Finally she left home on her 18th birthday and, thankfully, she was no longer my responsibility.
I was feeling brand new again. On April 30 of 1945, Rebecka Johansen and Sarah Gove, both tired, frantic and nervous, came to my door. Apparently the two had become best of friends resulting from the business ties their fathers had. They had stolen half a million dollars from their families and wanted to open a business. They came to me for guidance and advice. It occurred to me that there was precious little gambling in Chicago and that I might be able to make money off this endeavor. Plus, it was a convenient way to launder money for the Carusos. So I prompted them to stay in Chicago and helped them open a nightclub with a bar and a casino. The mayor at the time was paid handsomely to turn a blind eye to it. Rebecka christened it “The River Queen” and they opened business four months later on Aug 13, 1945. I placed only their names on the deed to the land so I would not be affiliated to all the laundering that goes on there if ever we were caught. It was a clause the girls agreed to.
The next month the war ended with the Treaty of Versailles. I received a call from Dennis McMillin in Jan of 1946. He was coming to Chicago for a while and wanted to know if I could give him a tour. I was quite puzzled as to why this sudden move of friendliness after so long. It had been about 28 years since I had seen any McMillins. Even more troubling was the fact that I was about to see more of them in the coming year. However I was curious enough to let him come. So he arrived Jan 2, 1946. He seemed affable as I showed him all the sights. On his third day here, he asked me if there were any racecourses around. I told him the closest one was a good thirty miles away. Then he had a great idea. I would build a racecourse and he would send a pack of greyhounds that he bred over from Ireland with his son Matthew. Matthew would manage the racecourse and care for the dogs as he had done in Ireland. We would split the profits evenly. I considered it a great idea because The River Queen was doing so well and I wanted to expand the gambling opportunities in town. I agreed and in a year the course was built. Matthew arrived with the dogs and “The Grand Derby” was opened on Jan 12, 1947.
Feb 6 I received a most unnerving telegram. Brenda Nebref had met and married Brian McMillin in one of the most bizarre and cruel twists of fate. They met with me this morning at my house and threatened to expose me as a Communist sympathizer by some evidence that they had against me. They wanted a large sum of money to keep quiet about my German past. I told them I needed a day to think about it and I’d meet them again tomorrow evening in a private room at The River Queen. I know that they are bluffing because I have never done anything Communistic. Therefore I plan on telling them that I will not bend to their demands. I do not know what their response will be. However I am quite secure as to my safety considering the Carusos are always watching out for me.
On Feb 10, as if I had not suffered enough already this week, on my doorstep that morning, my long lost stepsister and her daughter arrived to ask me for money. I had so much on my mind and really it was such a ludicrous request that I turned them away immediately, although I did offer to put them in a hotel for their stay in Chicago. They denied my offer but they’ve been in town ever since. I’ve seen Jeanette walking about town at night, asking questions and snooping around the River Queen. All this is making me quite nervous. I’ll be glad when they leave on the 15th.
On top of all this I received a call on the 12th from a policeman I often paid to keep me informed. He told me that Amanda had been picked up with a group of her friends as suspect to a bank robbery. He was curious as to why she acted so odd when questioned about her parents. He also told me that she learned that the clod that killed her parents was still in the state penitentiary. I can only assume that she went to visit him. Who knows what she might have learned?
I don’t expect to live much longer, which is why I have written all these things. Within this confession I have compiled a list of eleven people who all have reason to do me in. I received a note that Steve Thompson called and wants to meet me tomorrow nite at The River Queen about a special delivery that he wants me to oversee personally. I expect to speak with him and perhaps get some counsel on all these matters. Although, I don’t even know if I’ll make it that long. I shall meet with him after seeing Brian and Brenda. Hopefully they will not bother me any longer.
I do not regret most of my decisions in life. The only thing I do regret is trusting anyone at all. I believe that if I were allowed to have this life over with Amelia by my side I would have done things differently. However, I will never know. I was not so fortunate. And every day her ghost still haunts my soul; her memory like a void that will never be filled. I do not regret whatever pain I may have inflicted on others. This world has inflicted nothing but pain on me.

[Kyote Fields]

Name: Amanda Lee Overland
Birthday: April 22, 1927
Place of Residence: Chicago, Ill.
Family: Father and mother: Greg and Shelley Overland
Legal Guardian: Walter Holmstead
Distinguishing features: Does not wear feminine clothing
History:
Her mother and father were murdered when she was three months old. Her father was the mayor of Chicago; her mother was the head of the Women’s Temperance movement also in Chicago. They were shot in the middle of the night in their house. However, Amanda was spared and Walter Holmstead took her into his house. She called him “Uncle”.
She never did take to liking Walter. From the age of ten, she was either with her friends or in her room. She would speak to the servants instead of Walter, and had as little to do with him as possible. In March of 1944, Walter had an episode of malaria and a nurse moved into the house to care for him. Amanda, however, spent the next four months at her friend’s house to “stay out of the way”. Finally, she moved out of Holmstead manor when she was 18.
Two years later, on Jan 6, 1947, as she was meeting some of her friends in the park, they had just finished stashing money from a bank robbery when Amanda met them. Someone recognized them and called the police and they were all taken down to the police station together. Amanda was suspected of theft and detained for questioning.
The policeman inquired of her name and her parent’s names. She answered both questions and added that her parents were dead. The policeman recognized the Overland name and said he remembered that happening. He was sorry because Greg had been an excellent mayor and good to the police. Amanda was confused because Walter had told her the Overlands died in a car accident. So she played dumb and coaxed as much information out of him as she could. The policeman went on to tell her that Greg and Shelly Overland had a hit put on them by the mob. One of the hitman was caught on the scene and was serving 95 to life. He gave her the hitman’s name and after she convinced him that she didn’t know anything about the heist, he let her go.
She visited the state penitentiary the following week and spoke to Lou Capricio, the hitman. She introduced herself as Julie Dover, an attorney. As they spoke he said that he’d paid for his crimes and wanted out. Amanda, seeing that he was not a very bright bulb, lied and said she could get him out if he answered a few questions for her. So, he very willingly answered all her questions. He said that a guy that the Carusos knew, “a guy named Wally Homeseed or something”, put the hit out on the Overlands because “she was not letting the broads buy booze and he threatened to expose Wally for the drunk he was.” Amanda thanked him and told him she would be in touch.
Later, Amanda explained her story to some of her friends and over the next month, conspired with them on how to get Walter. They thought of an excellent plan. On Feb 20, 1947 Amanda received a letter at her house summoning her to Walter’s will reading. She crumpled the letter and went to bed.

[Kyote Fields]

Name: Rebecka Kathleen Johansen
Birthday: April 3, 1927
Place of Residence: Chicago, Illinois
Family: Grandparents: Jorgen and Florence Johansen
Parents: Dana and Kathleen Johansen
Brother: Benjamin Johansen
Distinguishing Features: Southern Accent

History:
She was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana on her father's estate. Her grandfather owned and captained a few ships that traveled between Europe and the States, carrying cargo but mostly immigrants. Her father owned his own fleet of ships and paddleboats and imported raw material from the Virgin Islands to the United States and up the Mississippi. Her mother was a seamstress and spent most of her time working with the Salvation Army.
In 1918, as Walter Holmstead was sailing from England to the States, he met Jorgen. Walter explained to him that he knew no one in the U.S. and asked for any help Jorgen might be able to offer him. Jorgen told him of booming city of Chicago; with the connections he had there he helped Walter acquire some land. Walter was indebted and kept in contact with the all the Johansens consistently. In 1925, Jorgen passed away.
Kathleen then died tragically in 1929 in a train wreck. The same year, due to the stock market crash, Dana lost most of his money and almost lost his estate. He phoned Walter and explained his situation. Walter said he agreed to help Dana stay on his feet with one condition. He needed Dana to ship guns from Cuba to a rendezvous Walter had established in Iowa. Dana was very desperate so he reluctantly agreed. He met Paul Gove, Walter’s rendezvous in Iowa, for the first time in Nov of 1929
A pleasant benefit of the runs for Rebecka was that she was able to accompany her father to the Goves. Rebecka and Sarah Gove became friends; they met and wrote often.
In June of 1933, on one of the runs to Iowa, Benjamin captained the paddleboat. A group of pirates along the Mississippi River intercepted, boarded and proceeded to take over the boat. Some of the boat’s crew grew nervous and opened fire; the pirates returned the volleys. Benjamin was killed. In the event, their paddleboat, "The River Queen" was burned down and destroyed. Rebecka had been very close to Ben and always blamed her dad for this.
In 1945, at the age of 18 and dissatisfied with the life her father was leading, she left a note on her bed one night for her father to find explaining that she was leaving home and would not be found. She conspired with Sarah to jointly steal $500,000 from their families. They had great ambitions of opening an establishment, though they did not know how or where. It was Sarah's idea to go to Walter and ask for help. Rebecka hesitantly went, remembering her father and brother, but she could see no other way.
Walter did indeed help and together all three of them opened a nightclub, with a bar and a casino, along the Lake Michigan shore. They called it "The River Queen"; Rebecka named it after her brother's boat. Walter was a silent partner, pitching in half of the money to open the club, but he put the whole place under the girls’ names wanting no affiliation with it. Still, he took half of the profits. He also used it to launder money for the Carusos, the Mafia family that he worked with in Chicago, but he left the managing of the locale to the girls.
After a couple of years, The River Queen boomed with business. It was making $450,000 a week. Walter rarely came in anymore and only expected a check in the mail every month. By now, Rebecka and Sarah both know how to run the entire club alone, including taking in “deposits” and making “withdrawals”. They got to know and became friends with all the Caruso figureheads that came in to make “deposits”. On Feb 13 they received a call from Walter stating that he would be stopping by the following day around 6 p.m. Rebecka claims to have not seen him at all on the 14th. On Feb 17, she received a letter calling her to Walter’s will reading. She knew that now with Walter’s death, the entire club and all the profits were hers and Sarah’s.

[Kyote Fields]

Name: Brian Andrew McMillin
Birthday: May 1, 1903
Place of Residence: Brighton, England
Family: Grandfather and grandmother: Patrick and Kathryn McMillin
Father and Mother: William and Katie McMillin
Uncle and Aunt-in-law: Roger and Allison McMillin
Cousins (Roger’s son and daughter in law): Dennis and Robyn McMillin
Second cousin (Roger’s grandson): Matthew McMillin
Wife: Brenda Nebref
Distinguishing features: English accent
History:

He was born in Glasgow, Scotland. His family moved often between Ireland, Scotland and England. He finally settled in London, England and became a doctor. Through the Second World War, he volunteered his services to the English army.
On June 6, 1945, Brian was introduced to Brenda Nebref through a mutual friend named LeAnn Turner. LeAnn thought that Brian ought to hear Brenda’s story. Brenda told him that in 1944, she was stationed in Chicago but was unneeded as a nurse in the war effort at the moment. So she began working again and was hired to be a live-in nurse by an elderly man named Walter Holmstead who was having an episode of malaria. During his delirium, which came on as a result of high fevers, Walter often talked and mumbled about things past. Brenda was shocked and scared when Walter began speaking about being a German spy during the World War I and about killing a man named Roger McMillin. She did not understand these things but wrote them down in case she would have to use the information later. She claimed Walter had no recollections of his ramblings when the fever left him. Brenda stayed at Holmstead Manor for 4 months, until Walter's high fevers finally left and Brenda was dismissed from Walter's care. She was promptly sent to England on July 27th to again help with the war. In confusion and turmoil, Brenda confided what Walter spoke of to her friend, LeAnn Turner. The information of Walter being a German spy would be something the authorities ought to know about, but she didn't want to turn Walter in. Brian calmed her fears, telling her that she needn't turn Walter in, that he would handle it.
On Nov 7, 1945, Brian went with his father, William, to visit Dennis McMillin, his cousin and Rodger’s son, in
County Cork, Ireland for a week. The three of them had not spoken in over ten years because they had simply lost touch. In Ireland, Dennis ran a few racecourses and raised champion Palominos and greyhounds. His son Matthew had taken over caring for the animals and was being taught how to manage the courses.
Brian confided to Dennis what Brenda had told him. It confirmed a few suspicions they had had concerning Roger’s death. Dennis was furious. They discussed these things for an entire week, all had some ideas, but they never came up with a definite plan. Brian was not as angry as he perceived Dennis to be, however he thought justice needed to be served.
Ever since Brenda had met Brian they saw each other often and soon fell in love. On June 27, 1944, Brian married Brenda and they lived in Brighton, England on a house he owned by the shore.
In Jan of 1947, Brian got an idea to blackmail Walter because of what he did. Brenda and him sent Walter a telegram and they went to meet with him on Feb 13th. They said they knew what he had done. He did not seem surprised and denied it all. They also said they had incriminating evidence that he was part of the Communist party and that in order for them to stay quiet he would have to pay them a large sum of money. Walter told them he needed to think about it and would meet with them at his nightclub “The River Queen” the following evening. At that meeting he refused their offer, calling their bluff. They left the next morning back to England.
When he received a letter on Feb 24, 1947 summoning him to Walter’s will reading, he spoke to his wife and asked her to make arrangements.

[Kyote Fields]

Name: Matthew Dennis McMillin
Birthday: May 3, 1927
Place of Residence: County Cork, Ireland
Family: Great grandfather and great grandmother: Patrick and Kathryn McMillin
Great uncle and aunt: William and Katie McMillin
Grandfather and Grandmother: Roger and Allison McMillin
Cousins (William’s son and daughter in law): Brian and Brenda McMillin
Father and Mother: Dennis and Robyn McMillin
Distinguishing features: Irish accent, cocky nature
History:
Born in London, England, his family moved to County Cork when he was 2. His family was rich, partly because of old money, but mostly because they owned a few racecourses. The family raised their own champion palominos and greyhounds and from the age of 5, Matt shared and soon took over in the responsibilities of caring for the animals.
On Nov 2, 1945, Matt’s cousin and grand uncle, Brian and William, came to visit for a week. They spoke to Dennis in secret. Matt noticed that his dad was upset after their discussions. Brian and William left after two weeks. In Jan of 1946, Dennis went to the states for three months. During that time, he left Matt in control of the courses, the longest time he’d ever managed them alone, but he did a fine job.
When Dennis returned in April, he pulled Matt aside and explained all that happened. Matt’s grandfather, Roger McMillin, was in the First World War. His troop was bombed with mustard gas and he was one of only three to survive although he was, from then on, confined to a wheelchair and his entire left side was paralyzed. The doctors didn’t give him long to live so they sent him home. Three months later, his body was found floating on the Thames River; his wheelchair was on the riverbank, tipped over, a few kilometers upstream. The investigation that ensued concluded that it was an accident and it was soon dismissed. Dennis, however, never did believe that was what had happened.
In June of 1945 as his cousin Brian was working as a volunteer doctor for the English army in London, he was introduced to Brenda Nebref by a mutual acquaintance. She told him a story, which Brian in turn told Dennis. She was, in March of 1944, not needed in the States for the war relief so she was hired to be a live in nurse for an elderly man named Walter Holmstead who was having an episode of malaria. During his delirium, which came on as a result of high fevers, Walter talked and mumbled about things past. Brenda was shocked and scared when Walter began speaking about being a German spy during World War I and about killing a man named Roger McMillin. She did not understand these things but wrote them down in case she would have to use the information later. She said Walter had no recollections of his ramblings when the fever left him. Brenda stayed at Holmstead Manor for 4 months until Walter's high fevers finally left and Brenda was dismissed from Walter's care. She was promptly shipped to England on June 27th to again help with the war.
Once Dennis found out about this, it confirmed many assumptions and suspicions that he had. Soon after the visit from Brian and William, he wrote to Walter, feigning friendly gestures, and explained that he would be going to visit Chicago, where Walter lived. Dennis asked Walter if he would be so kind as to show him the sights. Walter agreed and Dennis went. While he was there, Dennis observed Walter, searching for a way to exploit his weaknesses and incur revenge. He noticed Walter was involved the biggest casino in town, “The River Queen”, but the town had no big racecourses like Dennis had established back in Ireland. So Dennis struck up a bargain with Walter. He would send a pack of his best greyhounds, if Walter would build the course. Matt would come and live in Chicago to care for the dogs and manage the races. Walter agreed and they decided to split the money. Matt’s father told him that Walter should die in the same way that Matt’s grandfather had died. Matthew, in his usual cocky manner agreed
Matt arrived in Chicago on Jan 15, 1947 and opened “The Grand Derby”. Dennis instructed Walter to put his half of the money and ownership under Matt’s name, which Walter did. The races grew exponentially in the first month. Matt took Walter’s half of the winnings and deposited it with either Rebecka Johansen or Sarah Gove at “The River Queen”.
On Feb 20, 1947, Matt received the letter that he was summoned to the reading of Walter’s will. Matthew was upset that someone beat him to it but was glad that it was done.