Chapter 21: A Memorable One

Explicit content warning

04/11/21 • 13 min

Chapter 21 starts with Carole Lombard and a total lack of words.
Many Cones is a podcast novel based on true crime. The murders inspiring this crime fiction took place 30 miles from Chicago in Northwest Indiana, and captivated the area from the initial brutal crime scene all the way through and beyond discovery of a shockingly bizarre motive.
Carol Lombard had no words. They were all gone. Drained out of her body with everything else. She managed to utter some mid range, feral moans, but they couldn’t be classified as words. Her arched, glistening body became limp, and she fell forward against Ray. Luckily, her breasts cushioned the contact. No one was injured.

Her skin was wet and musky. She tried to say something, but her mouth was dry as hot desert air. Carol feared her tongue would stick against her palate. She closed her mouth to conserve moisture, and breathed heavily through her nostrils.

She rested. After five or six seconds, a misguided dread of hyperventilation caused her to throw open her lips and gulp air. She finally settled into a rhythmic breathing pattern. Ray was stroking her back during the entire descent.

Carol’s gums dampened and she made another stab at conversation. Her tongue made clicking sounds, while she performed exaggerated chewing motions to try to rid herself of the cotton that had somehow grown in her mouth. She closed up again and became quiet. At least the respiration remained normal. She tried to speak one more time and finally succeeded. “Baby, that was worth waiting for... That was memorable.”

Ray, still stroking her, and trying to conquer his own pins and needles, said, “That may be the only thing I’ve done right in the last two weeks.”

Carol remained on top of Ray, neither one wanting to waste additional precious energy. Both fell into a deep stupor. At some point during the night, Ray turned; Carol slid off and their bodies laid dormant, regenerating, leaning against each other.

Ray awoke, eye to big round nipple. He panicked for a second, actually thought he had died and gone to heaven. After a moment, he recalled the prior night’s adventure, and rolled to his back.

The stir roused Carol. She scooched closer to Ray and half mounted him again, then immediately fell back into unconsciousness. Ray let her sleep for another twenty minutes, then gently shook her. “Carol honey, I have to go to a funeral.”

Carol Lombard came to her senses the fourth time Ray shook her. It took some additional focusing before she fully understood what he was saying. Finally, she asked, “Should I go with you?”

Grandisha had escaped to the edge of the bed and was sitting erect. He started bending to make sure everything worked. Carol repeated the question from a prone position. Ray, still sitting, turned and answered, “No. This is a personal and department thing.” He twisted his upper torso, grimaced at the bone popping sounds, and continued, “I told you about her, her name’s Margie Grenk, you met her. She was with me and the guy I fired.”

“Her husband was the one killed at the bar?”

“Yes, he was. I think it would be better if I went alone.”

Ray, still stroking her, and trying to conquer his own pins and needles, said, “That may be the only thing I’ve done right in the last two weeks.”

Ray awoke, eye to big round nipple. He panicked for a second, actually thought he had died and gone to heaven. After a moment, he recalled the prior night’s adventure, and rolled to his back.

Carol Lombard came to her senses the fourth time Ray shook her. It took some additional focusing before she fully understood what he was saying. Finally, she asked, “Should I go with you?”

“Her husband was the one killed at the bar?”

“Yes, he was. I think it would be better if I went alone.”

Previous Episode

Chapter 20: A Recall

Chapter 20 starts with Regis Cahan in full swing. The day flies by before Gina has the chance to discuss the newspaper with him.
Many Cones is a podcast novel based on true crime. The murders inspiring this crime fiction took place 30 miles from Chicago in Northwest Indiana, and captivated the area from the initial brutal crime scene all the way through and beyond discovery of a shockingly bizarre motive.
Regis Cahan was in full swing. He had an early hearing, and then planned to spend the balance of the morning and afternoon seeing clients and catching up on neglected work. Regis had woken late and rushed out of his apartment, without benefit of juice, coffee, or morning papers.

Prior to his hearing, other lawyers jockeying for position on the court’s calendar were discussing the recent slayings and newspaper accounts. His attention was on the good things he was going to say about his client, so he only half listened and absorbed nothing. Regis was able to maintain his status as the first case was called, even though two or three other lawyers concocted outrageous stories to try and leapfrog him. His presentation took a half hour. The results were as expected, and he headed back to the office.

Talk of Manson type hippies roaming the dark streets dominated the radio. Cahan tired of the wild sightings being reported and found an oldies station. He caught the end of “White Rabbit” followed by “For what it’s worth.” The music and words transported him back to a more honest time. He caught a reflection of himself smiling in the rear view mirror. Jesus Christ, he thought, I’ve driven into a time warp. Manson and Grace Slick on the radio. I hope my computer still exists. By the time he parked and headed for the office, he had forgotten about his musings. The computer was still present.

Gina Drozler worked for an hour and a half, prior to getting ready for her day job. She made a hearty breakfast, as she had every morning for her husband and children. A rushed shower afterwards, then dress for success. The schedule gave her a half hour to relax at the kitchen table, alone. She sucked down coffee and read the morning papers.

The stories on “Zola’s” and the Donas slayings grabbed her attention. She read every word; it took her twenty minutes. Gina used the final ten minutes to put finishing touches on her appearance. She liked to look good for her boss. Nothing sexual. It was a pride thing. She tucked the morning daily under her arm, and took it to work.

Gina arrived early, as always. Household chores at work too. Make coffee, clean desks and tabletops, arrange magazines in the waiting area, and turn everything on. The copy machine took five minutes to warm up. She didn’t know why, but accepted it as a fact of life. House in order, she sat at her desk and began the grind. The newspaper was behind her on the floor.

Next Episode

Chapter 22: A Note

Chapter 22 starts with Regis Cahan heading to the Fine Time with a very important purpose.
Many Cones is a podcast novel based on true crime. The murders inspiring this crime fiction took place 30 miles from Chicago in Northwest Indiana, and captivated the area from the initial brutal crime scene all the way through and beyond discovery of a shockingly bizarre motive.
Cahan was early. He again sat in the middle of the horseshoe curve. His location allowed him full access to anyone entering or leaving the “Fine Time.” Someone approached him from behind the bar and asked, “What would you like, sir?”

The question caught him by surprise. He stammered, “What? Where’s Ramon?”

The pretender smiled and said, “He doesn’t start till seven.” Regis settled down and ordered a Black Jack. Ramon arrived before the drink was half finished. More than a few patrons looked relieved.

Grandisha walked in. Cahan did a double take. Ray was wearing a black pin striped suit. The combination of the fancy duds and his stooped appearance didn’t really mix. Unless you knew him.

Before Ray settled in the bar stool, his Glenlevit was waiting. Ramon was busy, so there wasn’t a lot of banal chatter with the customers. Two or three people stopped at the bar to gab with Grandisha. The conversations usually only lasted a couple minutes.

Cahan was nursing his drink. After an hour, he had only downed two. A colleague sat next to him, but quickly left after receiving terse answers to questions and comments. Regis wanted no distractions. Finally, Grandisha rose from the stool and walked to the foyer. He may have been going to the washroom.

Regis laid a bill on the bar, asked Ramon if ten was enough, and started around the curve of the horseshoe. His right hand was pocketed. He stopped and dawdled where the bar straightened. Within a minute, he spied Grandisha back in the foyer. Regis continued on, towards the entrance. The two men were face to face before Ray reached his seat.

Cahan extended his right hand, then said, “Ray, how have you been?”

Grandisha saw the hand come out of the pocket, recognized the gesture and shook the hand before it was fully extended. He returned the greeting. “I’m fine Regis, nice to see you.” Cahan continued on, and left the establishment.

The move was smoother than any maitre d’ could ever hope to achieve. Ray felt the paper enclosure, and was surprised for a half second. No trace of the brief, fleeting startle crossed his face. He climbed the bar stool and pocketed the note in one motion. Ramon’s back was turned at the time. Grandisha wondered if he would have noticed.

After five minutes, Ray excused himself again and proceeded to the washroom. The bartender watched him leave. He entered a stall, sat, and unfolded the note. “I need to talk to you in private. I’ll be outside, in the back.”

Grandisha rubbed his questioning face, mumbled, “Okay,” stood, ripped the note to shreds, flushed it and returned to his station at the bar. He finished the scotch, paid Ramon, and left.

The “Fine Time” had ample parking in front and on the sides of the building. The back abutted a wooded, overgrown vacant lot. A narrow sidewalk surrounded the entire structure. Previous owners had planned to pave the vacant lot, and decided they needed the rear sidewalk in place. The current owners didn’t know the back concrete strip existed.

Many Cones, Based On True Crime - Chapter 21: A Memorable One

Transcript

Chapter 21
Carol Lombard had no words. They were all gone. Drained out of her body with everything else. She managed to utter some mid range, feral moans, but they couldn’t be classified as words. Her arched, glistening body became limp, and she fell forward against Ray. Luckily, her breasts cushioned the contact. No one was injured.

Her skin was wet and musky. She tried to say something, but her mouth was dry as hot desert air. Carol feared her tongue would stick against her palat