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.”
Chapter 5
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.”
From behind Richard, one of the other young men butted in. “I would have paid her right then, for her to go down on me. Damn was she good looking.” At that point all of the crew began hooting, shaking their heads at each other and mumbling “Damn right” and “Hell yeah!”
Moffit broke in. “Boys..., boys... Once everybody gets back in line, you can run girls like that, if you want. We’ve got more girls than we know what to do with. They’re all beautiful. Somebody’s got to tell the stupid bitches what to do. They listen, too. I’ve made sure of that.”
Another collective howl from the captive audience.
Albert broke in again. “You see why our work is so important. We’ll have to see if everybody takes notice. If my people start calling me tomorrow and paying up, for everything, you can have your girls real quick. I may even take some away from the established guys and move you boys right in. But, you know what happens if you don’t do the right thing.”
In unison, they all laughed, then muttered, “Oh yeah. We know what happens.”
Moffit let them finish, then said, “Now, somebody please tell me what happened to the girl.”
The Kid continued his story. “She was standing there, not moving, not talking and then she just walked into the bedroom. I was right behind her. I knocked her down and did her.”
The stocky Latino chimed in. “We were about ready to leave. We all went in the bedroom. Richard did her good.”
Sparne spoke again. “I didn’t know what to do. You didn’t say anything about anybody else being there. It was obvious she was one of his girls. Once I knocked her down, it just happened.”
Albert crinkled his nose and lips. “Well, I hate to lose one of the working girls, but as I said, we have more than enough It won’t make a difference.... We’ve got the police in our pockets, but still, it’s probably not a good idea to leave witnesses. Especially some dumb bitch. You did the right thing.”
“Thanks.” Richard gushed.
“Now, did you search the place? The bastard owed me a ton of money.”
Sparne answered. “We searched the place.” He pointed to the wad of money on the desk. “That’s all there was. Most of it was in the guy’s pocket. Some was in the girl’s purse.”
The Kid had found four joints in a dresser drawer. Those weren’t mentioned. They would be shared later, with his people.
Moffit reached across the desk and grabbed the money.
He counted it and put it back down. “The bastard probably has it in a bank somewhere. No problem. I know most of the bank presidents. I can check all the banks for accounts in his name. I’ll get the money sooner or later.”
Albert stood, came around to his boys and gave each of them ten dollars. They treated it like it was gold. Moffit told them to stay in touch and ushered them out.
He spent the next three hours in a recliner, watching television, without giving what had just occurred a second thought. Moffit had also forgotten about his near conversion earlier in the night. As he channel-surfed, he noticed that every fifth or sixth station wanted to save his soul. If he was willing to send them money.
Each young man walked out feeling very important. They went to their individual homes eager for the next few days and weeks, when their influence and significance would be rewarded.
The blood on the jeans and shirts had dried, and not having dealt with multiple murderers before, no parent took note of what their child had brought home.
The next school day, classmates perceived increased arrogance and obstinacy in Richard Sparne and some of the kids he hung around with. It wasn’t mentioned, however, as the hot topic of the day was getting killed in your own home and what the poor victims could possibly have done to attract their fate.
Sparne’s basketball coach stopped him and inquired why he hadn’t been shooting in the gym. Sparne told him he was done practicing. Said he was a professional now. The coach thought the answer odd and hoped Richard wouldn’t lose interest in athletics. He was a born-again Christian and believed one could find Christ through competition.