Chapter 21: A Memorable One

Many Cones, Based On True Crime

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.”