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.
Chapter 9
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.
Richard had a date and then he intended to stop by Mr. Moffit’s house. His current girlfriend, Bobbie, was waiting for him when he arrived in his father’s car. They had been an item for the past couple of months. As he was waiting for her to reach the car, he thought again that he hadn’t been in her pants yet. Well, tonight would be put up or shut up. Petting was for kids. He was about to run a string of whores. How would it look to the other men if he couldn’t get in his girlfriend’s pants?
Bobbie opened the door and slid in. She had on an above the knee, loose fitting beige skirt and a hunter green, button down, man’s shirt. She leaned over and kissed Richard on the side of the face. “What are we doing tonight?” she asked.
Richard felt like saying, “We’re getting a room and you’re putting out until my joint hurts,” but he only had about ten bucks in his pocket. Next best thing, he thought. “How about the drive-in?”
Bobbi said, “Sure.” She expected to see a movie, make out a little, get a bite to eat afterwards, and go home. She was starting to have second thoughts about her dream boy and hoped the bad vibes would go away. He’d been different the last couple of weeks; her friends had said arrogant, she thought moody, and she hoped he would be his old self tonight.
About mid-way through the first show, Richard reached down and flipped her skirt up to her lap. He smiled when he caught a glimpse of the soft white underwear.
Bobbie was taken by complete surprise. It took her a few seconds to react and smooth down her clothes. “What are you doing?” she half screamed.
Richard adopted what he thought was a tough guy stare. He was a little surprised that he could change from nice guy to bad guy so quickly, but happy because it would help him later when he would have to deal with other people in his line of work. He maintained the stare for a second or two, then said, “I want those panties off, now.”
“What?” Bobbie said, in utter disbelief.
“I want those panties off, now. And you might as well unbutton your shirt too.”
Bobbie began to realize that she was possibly in some danger and moved up against her passenger door. “Are you crazy’? Have you become some kind of rapist?”
The Kid, still maintaining his tough guy pose, slowly addressed the young girl. “If you wanna stay with me, do it, otherwise you’re history. I don’t usually ask twice.”
Bobbie opened her car door and ran into the drive-in lobby. She called her mother, told her she wasn’t feeling well and would be right home. She went back to Richard’s car, embellished the phone call, and told him to take her home. She warned him that her parents would be contacting the police if she wasn’t back in a half hour.
He knew he didn’t have to worry about the police. Anything could be fixed. But he took her straight home anyway. As he pulled up in front of her house, she was out of the vehicle before it came to a complete stop. The Kid yelled through the slamming door, “Your loss, Bobbie, bitch.” She only heard part of the epithet.
Richard left to go to Mr. Moffit’s house. Bobbie went in her home; she was too embarrassed to tell anyone what had occurred.