Many Cones, Based On True Crime

Many Cones, Based On True Crime

By Steve LustinaTrue Crime
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Many Cones, Based On True Crime episodes

  • Chapter 10: A Reflection

    In chapter 10,  we see Ricardo Morales enjoying his reflection in the mirror.  He then goes into a description of his neighborhood. He lives in a home with his family in a poor neighborhood, but a step up from where he came from three years ago. Ricardo reflects on how he considers his mother a Saint. 

    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.   

    Ricardo Morales was enjoying his reflection in the mirror.  His arms were extended, hands elapsed in front of his belt line, in body builder fashion. His shirt was off. He was flexing his pecs and turning slightly from side to side. People called him stocky. It’s not stocky, he thought, it’s barrel chested. It’s muscular.  

    The noise outside his window was increasing and it broke his concentration. He went to the window and peered out. A group of at least sixty people filled the blacktop area abutting his residence; men, women, boys and girls prancing, dancing, and romancing. Four boomboxes played dueling Spanish stations. Although it was only early evening, the party atmosphere had already begun.  

    Ricardo lived in the middle house of a cul-de-sac. His aunt and uncle owned the home. He and his mother had resided in the dwelling for the last three years. They shared the upstairs converted attic/bedroom.  Their respective beds adorned walls on opposite sides of the unfinished room. The flat was frigid in the winter and sweltering in the summer. The structure was small but a lifetime better than where Ricardo and his mother had escaped from.  

    The neighborhood party developed every weekend night and once or twice during the week. The dead end was a perfect place for the revelers to assemble. Hidden from prying official eyes and yet out in the open. Alcohol and drugs were plentiful.  Sex was a macho peacock strut away. Arguments occurred at each gathering, usually late at night, but bloodletting fights and injuries were rare, invariably engendered by a slur or slight to someone’s pride.  

    Ricardo had revered the revelry. Posturing, drinking, toking, flirting, boasting, fighting; everything that was important. His aunt and uncle had never attended the bashes and that angered him. They were normal people; they should have enjoyed themselves.  

    At first, Ricardo prodded them to take part in the festivities. The excuse always given was that they were too tired from work. When the activities were in full swing, their two young children were not allowed outdoors. Ricardo finally came to the conclusion that they believed themselves too good to attend. Fuck ‘em, he had decided. Who needed ‘em?  

    Ricardo’s mother never attended, never mixed with the crowd, but that didn’t surprise him. She was a saint. Even though they had very little, oftentimes nothing, she devoted every second of her time and energy to her little boy.  

    About a month earlier, Ricardo abruptly stopped attending the gatherings. His friend, Richard Sparne, had shown him the error of his ways. Sparne introduced him to Mr. Albert Moffit.  Mr. Moffit introduced him to the possibility of becoming wealthy.  

    Once he recognized the opportunities that were his for his taking, he realized that the people at the party were never going to amount to anything. They had no jobs, no aspirations, no chance to succeed. The drinking, drugs, and sex made the failures easier to accept, but in the morning, the failures still greeted you. Ricardo no longer courted failure. He had become an important man and very soon would be wealthy. Then he would care for his mother.  


    12 min
  • Chapter 9: An Argument
    Chapter nine opens with Richard Sparne arguing with his parents, again. His growing agitation and anger are apparent.   He tells his parents that he is done with basketball,  and doing more important things with his life now.   He went to get his girlfriend, Bobby, with  the intention of being aggressive sexually. 

     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.

    Richard Sparne was in the middle of his fourth argument of the week with his parents. He didn’t remember the reasons for the first three. This one was about him being out late every night. Not having dinner with them. Not doing homework. Plus, the idiot basketball coach had called. No Richard in the gym for a long time.


    His father wanted to know what in the hell was going on. Richard was tempted to tell them about his good fortune, but he decided against it. They wouldn’t understand. Besides, he was getting a little pissed about their prying. 


    They were all seated around the kitchen table. It was an older house, well built, and the room was quite large. The table was an old, reddish-brown mahogany relic. It had belonged to Richard’s maternal grandparents. As far back as Richard could remember, it has always been there. It sat four comfortable and could accommodate eight if the leaf was inserted.


    As a child, Richard had tried to carve his initials into the tabletop, but the wood was too hard. Then anyway. He thought about getting a knife, carving, “Fuck you” into the wood and just walking out. He had no doubt about his ability to conquer that table now.


    While his parents were talking, he realized he was staring through them, looking at his drab surroundings. As a youngster, he relished the aromas wafting from his mother’s creations on the big white thing that spit blue fire and made everything taste great. It was a fucking old stove. In fact, all of these things were old; refrigerator, dishwasher, cabinets. His parents.


    Richard was jarred by his father’s open palm slapping the table. “Are you listening to us?”


    “What?” Of course, I’m listening,” he rudely answered.


    The father tempered his voice. “Why aren’t you shooting in the gym, anymore?”


    The Kid replied, in a provocative tone, “For what?”


    “I thought you were going to walk on, in college?”


    Richard was shaking his head and said, “No. That’s over with. I have more important things to do. I was stupid to waste all my time.”


    All emotion and animation drained from his father’s face. He seemed to get smaller. In an almost beaten, cracking voice he asked, “What more important things do you have to do?”


    Richard pushed himself away from the table. As he was standing, he said, “You wouldn’t understand.”


    He slid his chair back to the table.  Richard rested his hands on the dark, curved decorations at the top of the chair back. “I have to go. Don’t wait up for me.” He turned and walked out, confident that in a short time, he wouldn’t be coming back at all.


    His parents sat at the table for another hour. Neither of them spoke.


    8 min
  • Chapter 8: A Week

    Chapter eight starts a week after the murders.  Grandisha still has no leads  other than the estimated timeline of the murder and that it was likely 3 to 5 perpetrators.  John Lupico confirmed that Mrs. Donas' murder included a beating and that she was carrying an early pregnancy.

    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.

    A week had elapsed and the Police were no closer to knowing what had happened than they were the night of the murders. Grandisha had read, re-read, and re-re-read all of the accumulated information. Nothing jumped out. Nothing waved a flag. Nothing out of place or odd. 


    Ray had met with his team of investigators daily. No progress. Witnesses’ stories had changed a bit, but that was normal. After four follow up interviews, Crownder and Grenk were finally able to wheedle a time frame for the knock from the people across the hall. Mr. Throne King remembered the show he was watching when the rap occurred and the phone rang. The timing fit with the telephone records from the restaurant call made by the Pranets. 


    Mrs. Throne King was positive that only one person knocked on the Donas’ door. She claimed it was impossible for more than one person to come down the stairs without her hearing a clamor. 


    Forensics had fingerprint and shoe print evidence confirming that three to five people were involved. They also believed that Jim Donas was killed, the apartment was in the process of being ransacked, and then Sue Donas was brutally murdered. The evidence and clues in the bathroom verified her presence within a short time prior to her death. Big deal, Grandisha thought. I knew that a week ago. Tell me something I don’t know. 


    John Lupico had completed the autopsies. Mr. Donas had died almost immediately from the deep stomach wound. The other slashes and gashes were an afterthought. Mrs. Donas had taken longer to die. She had been pummeled in addition to being stabbed. Someone enjoyed hurting her. There was no evidence of rape or molestation though. Lupico believed the injuries to the breasts were simple slash wounds rather than erotic deviancy. She was also three weeks pregnant. 


    Grandisha was meeting with the Pranets later in the day; he would have to tell them about the pregnancy. 


    Margie Grenk tapped on Ray’s door, interrupting his deliberation. “You wanted to see me?” 


    The Lieutenant snapped to attention and said, “Margie, yes. Please come in.” 


    She was dressed in her police uniform. The dark blue cloth and black leather/silver steel combination gave her a mistress/pixie look. Ray didn’t know whether to submit or to flirt. As she sat, he asked her, “Why the outfit? I thought all the years of hard work were primarily so you didn’t have to don the garb?” 


    Margie took a breath and decided to be truthful with him. “It’s a home thing.” 


    Grandisha knew what she was talking about. He sensed a strong need for conversation and decided to act on it. “What are you gonna do, arrest him?” 


    She laughed. “I probably should. No, I read in a women’s magazine that authoritative clothes reinforce critical problem solving. When we have our heart-to-hearts, I’ve been wearing this. Trying to convince him that he has to stop what he’s doing and get some help.” 


    Ray maintained an invested look throughout her explanation. “Has it worked?” 

    10 min
  • Chapter 7: A Lawyer
    Chapter seven opens from Regis Cahan's perspective.  He is talking to his secretary about work and then mentions Ricardo Morales.  Cahan was surprised to learn that the normally respectful Morales was rude to his secretary  and referred to the pregnant woman using profanity.


    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 watched Ray walk out of the “Fine Time.” Good man, he thought. Regis’ secretary, Gina Drozler, noticed his far away stare. She waited a few brief moments and decided it was time to reclaim his attention. Regis was seated directly across from her. A small table, containing ashtrays and a cantaloupe shaped candle holder, between them. Theirs was beige, although each table sported a different color. 


    The secretary tilted sideways, like a deadpan clown, waived her hand and said, “Remember me?” 


    Cahan’s reverie was interrupted by his secretary’s out of focus face and hands. He snapped back to his bearings. “Sorry, I spaced out for a second there.” 


    He was an imposing man. Tall and well defined. He played handball three times a week to keep the body fat off. For a man too close to fifty, Cahan still caused hearts of all ages to flutter. He had a classic, square jawed face, what appeared to be deep, black eyes and a ready smile. Regis had learned during the sixties and early seventies that long hair, if maintained, made the big girls cry. It looked good on him, as it usually does on men of height. 


    The secretary returned to her normal posture. She asked, “What were you staring at?” 


    Regis recentered his attention to her. “I Saw Ray Grandisha leaving. Remember the guy I waved to, when we walked in?” 


    Gina shook her head. “No. I didn’t see you wave at anyone. I was in front of you. The name sounds familiar, though. Who is he?” 


    “A cop. I’ve had three or four cases with him.” 


    “How’d you do?” Gina asked. 


    Regis puckered and stretched his shoulders slightly. “Won some, lost some.” 


    A barmaid approached the table and politely asked, “Another Black Jack, Regis?” He said, “Yes, please.” The waitress looked at his companion, without uttering a sound. Gina, mildly put off, said, “One more vodka and Seven-Up, please.” 


    The waitress dryly said, “Okay honey.” 


    As the server was leaving, Gina followed her approach to the bar. Then returned her stare to Cahan. “Geez, it’s nice to be remembered. She’s waited on me twenty times and doesn’t know what I drink. She can repeat your Black Jack in her sleep... Are you fucking her?” 


    Regis chuckled. “No. I’m not. But most of the girls here are very protective of their male patrons. She probably thinks I’m fucking you.” 


    The secretary giggled softly. “My husband would frown on that. He likes the fact that he’s the only man I’ve ever been with.”


    Regis tilted his glass in her direction. “He’s a lucky man to have you. I envy your relationship and your family. And you can type.” 



    9 min
  • Chapter 6: An Investigation
    In chapter six, Ray Grandisha dissects his approach to the crime scene. Despite the thoroughness of his approach, Grandisha noted that he would likely find nothing unless they caught a break.  His interview with the Pranets, similarly, led nowhere.  

    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.  

    Lieutenant Grandisha was in charge of the murder investigation. The morning following the grisly discovery, he assembled eight men and two women. They formed the team that would sift through the commonplace bits of life from a violated apartment. Statements would be taken from people who may have seen something or may know something. Sophisticated tests would be run to see if inanimate objects had stories to tell. Freaks on the street would be questioned; the street usually knew when weird things were going down. 


    Fingerprints lifted from the complex would be compared to millions of others for matching ridges and swirls. All of the information would be squeezed, sifted, shaken, and inverted; hopefully an answer would pop out. In the end, it was usually a lucky break, somewhere, that would make sense out of everything. 


    Ray sent a male/female team back to the apartment complex to follow up with witnesses and statements. Neighbors were questioned the night of the bloodshed, but since no one admitted seeing strangers or known persons, entering or leaving the Donas flat, in-depth interrogation was continued. 


    A team was sent back to the apartment to re-sweep the personal belongings. Sometimes answers came from checkbooks, personal phonebooks, diaries, letters, or phone bills. 


    Two detectives set about checking the work associates and employment histories of Jim and Sue Donas. Two more were responsible for the financial affairs of the family and all related avenues. 


    The remaining staff was office bound. Their charge was to accumulate, correlate, file, run computer printouts, and do whatever else was necessary. 


    Ray began his first day of the investigation by interviewing the Pranets and meeting with John Lupico. 


    Jules and Liz Pranet, unfortunately, had no information that could justify the massacre. The Donas’ were everyday people. Average amount of vices. They drank, periodically smoked a joint, went to work every day, spent more than they should have, but nothing out of line, liked to have a good time, argued now and then, and loved each other. Lately, Sue had been talking about having children. 


    No girlfriends, boyfriends, bent friends, juice loan collectors, pushers, bookies, closet skeletons, extreme political, sexual, religious, or racial affiliations. No stalkers, stalkees, disagreements, bitter neighbors, ex-spouses, or unpaid parking tickets. No reasons for someone to butcher them. 


    Their dinner date had been set up three or four days in advance. No special occasion, they often went out together. Sue picked the restaurant. It was her favorite location. 


    She was notoriously late; waiting for her, for a half hour or forty-five minutes, was not uncommon. There was a rude waiter that could verify their hour-long stall. Even though the Pranets weren’t suspects, Ray would send someone out to double check. 

    19 min
  • Chapter 5: A Clamor

    Chapter five begins with the scene of Richard Sparne and his friends returning to the home of Albert Moffett.   After executing the Donases,  we hear Richard Sparne and his friends like Ricardo Morales describe the Donases as a pimp and hooker, and we see how they saw them as part of the problem that Albert Moffitt was trying to get rid of.

     Richard Sparne quits his basketball team and essentially dedicates his life to carrying out the desires of Albert Moffit.  Thanks for listening so far. And I hope you enjoy the rest of many cones. 

     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.   

    A desperate clamor against his side entrance door interrupted Albert’s conversion. He returned to the office and admitted the visitors. Sparne and his friends straggled in. 


    The Kid had blood all over himself. He had tried to wipe his face on his clothes. The cleansing attempt resulted in what resembled tribal war paint across his face. The other ones had red streaks on various body parts and clothing areas, but nothing close to Richard. Moffit coldly eyed the group. “Don’t sit or touch anything. Where are the knives?” 


    Ricardo Morales said, “In the car.” 


    “Go get them,” Moffit ordered. 


    The well-built boy left and quickly returned with the knives. Moffit took them. “I’m going to clean these in the kitchen. Use my office bathroom and clean yourselves up. Don’t make a mess. Check each other and make sure you’re wiped down. I don’t want blood on anything in here.”


     Albert went into his residence. Since his wife had retired for the night, he didn’t need to worry about hiding things. At the sink he washed the knives by hand, and then put them in the dishwasher. He pressed the necessary buttons to start the cycle. 


    When Moffit returned to his office, his group of young men was still in the process of wiping and removing blood. It took an additional ten minutes for each of them to complete the task. Everyone finally sat. The Kid was closest to Moffit’s desk. 


    Albert remained quiet. Each of the young men appeared excited, like twelve or thirteen-year-old boys spying on naked breasts for the first time. Richard reached in his pocket, withdrew one hundred seventy-two dollars and laid it on Moffit’s desk. 


    Sparne said, “Now the bastards will know things are going to change.” 


    “Any problems?” Moffit asked. 


    “None. That guy learned his lesson real quick... Guess what? One of his bitches was there. She walked out of the bathroom, naked. Good looking bitch. Nice tits. I’ll bet she made a ton a money for him.” 


    “What happened to her?” 


    “She strutted out of the bathroom, like a peacock. When she saw us and saw her pimp lying on the floor, she just stood there and stared. Didn’t even try to cover her tits or anything.” 


    8 min
  • Chapter 4: A Moffit

     Chapter four introduces us to Albert Moffit. At first glance, Mr. Moffit is very vanilla. He is nondescript and lives a boring life.  However, we learn that Albert Moffit is delusional and convinced that he has been chosen to become a crime boss.  He crosses paths with Richard Sparne in a chance meeting at the high school.   Albert Moffit convinces the young man of his delusion. Richard Sparne and a group of his friends decide to become the mercenaries of Mr. Moffit. 

     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.  


    About a half hour before Jules Pranet was stiffing the rude waiter, Richard Sparne and his friends were leaving Albert Moffit’s home based sales agency. Moffit sold everything from credit card swipe machines to bulk sausage. 


    He lived, with his wife, in a quiet residential area on the east side of the city. Two-bedroom, red brick home on the corner of the street. Front door entrance in the center of the house, facing the street. Side walk leading to a porch with four concrete steps. Big oak tree in the center of the lawn and midsized tulips under the picture window. Lilac bushes on the sides of the house and a green hedge-rowed back yard. A side entrance led directly to Albert’s office. 


    He and his wife had no children and few friends. The recent influx of youthful visitors should have caused the neighborhood to gossip, but no tongues wagged. 


    Albert earned a median income and had his entire adult working life. His wife was never employed and for the last five or six years devoted her entire day and early evening to watching televangelists. She was a sucker for every pitch. Albert had suspended her check writing authority, but she still made telephone pledges. Their thirty-third wedding anniversary passed with neither of them remembering. 


    Albert was non-descript. His wife was frumpy. She had once been attractive, but Albert never thought about that anymore. Hadn’t for years. Mrs. Moffit should have noticed the increase in traffic to her husband’s office, and she probably did. Too many years of not caring prohibited her from commenting about all the kids coming to their home. 


    No police computers contained Albert Moffit’s name. He had never been in trouble, paid his bills on time, drove his car like an aged rectory housekeeper, and seldom drank more than one or two alcoholic beverages. 


    One day, about two months shy of his thirty-third wedding anniversary, God, or someone, or something, contacted Albert and told him he was the heir apparent to all of organized crime’s activities in his geographic locale. No five families, no commission, just him. Albert had always suspected that a traitorous ancestor, somewhere, had removed the vowels from the end of his name and this communiqué sated his suspicions. 


    He was primed to assume his rightful position. First, those under him, the people who enjoyed the illegal profits from his protection, had to be taught a lesson. No one was honoring his position. No one was paying tribute to him. That had to change. Once the awesome and vengeful power of his rule was recognized, everyone would cower at the mention of the name, Albert Moffit. 


    Richard Sparne and a number of Sparne’s acquaintances became Moffit’s terrible scepter. 

    13 min
  • Chapter 3: A Fine Time

    In chapter three, we are introduced to the fine time, a bar frequented by law enforcement lawyers and politicians.  We meet Carole Lombard, Ray Grandisha's girlfriend, as he turns to the comforts of smoke and drink after leaving the crime scene.  Carol is a waitress at the fine time.   At the end of the chapter, Ray Grandisha again reflects on the sense of evil that he felt at the crime scene. 

     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.  

    The drive to the “Fine Time” took thirty minutes. The bar was a drinker’s joint. Waitresses and bartenders knew your name, but left you alone to imbibe, if that was your pressing desire. Detectives, lawyers, politicians, and judges populated the place. Professional drinkers. Twenty-seven stools fronting a three-quarter horseshoe bar. Twenty tables providing seating if you weren’t drinking alone. Nice atmosphere. Conducive to curing what ailed you. For a night, anyway.  


    Ray Grandisha sat at the bar. It was after midnight and only about thirty patrons remained. Grandisha knew half of them and acknowledgements were exchanged. 


    Ramon, the bartender, served Ray his scotch. No words, just facial expressions. Ramon knew when to serve and when to chatter. The look on Ray’s face told him no chatter. Plus, news of the double murder had reached the bar an hour earlier. 


    Ray took a sip of his rocks chilled liquid and let it slowly trickle down his throat. Magic elixir. He set his glass down and subconsciously stirred the ice with his finger. Still robotic, he shook a Pall Mall up from the pack and took it with his lips. A battered zippo completed the task. Lungs inflated, Ray Grandisha was ready to re-enter reality. 


    Attached to the bar area, but in a separate room, was the dining area. The kitchen closed at 11:30 but some parties remained. To most, after dinner drinks were considered part of the meal. 


    Ray’s current girlfriend, Carol Lombard, was a waitress at the “Fine Time” and happened to be serving the diners. They were working on a two-week relationship. He saw her pass by and tried to catch her attention. She joined him at the bar, in the middle of his second scotch. 


    “Hi baby,” she said as she sat. 


    “Hey, Carol Lombard without the E.” 


    Carol took her turn.  “You’re the only person I ever met who uses my full name. Tell me again....” 


    Ray played on.  “I can’t believe Carole Lombarde is sitting next to me.” 


    “And how come I don’t know who Carole Lombarde is?” 


    Ray responded, “Because you’re thirty something.”


    Carol accepted his explanation, again, and relaxed in her chair. “I heard about the killings; is that where you were?” 


    Ray was finishing his drink. As he was setting the glass on the bar, he said, “Yeah, I was there.” 


    Carol turned sideways and stared at him for a few seconds. “What happened?” 


    “Two people were butchered. Husband and wife.” 


    Carol asked, “Drug deal gone bad?” 


    11 min

About Many Cones, Based On True Crime

From the publisher's feed

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…

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