Chapter 14: A Hangover

 Chapter 14  starts with Richard Grandisha waking in a surly mood after drinking too much the night before. 

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 morning broke overcast. Grandisha woke in a surly mood. He had drank too much and there were blackout patches he had trouble recalling. Maybe he should quit drinking? Then what? He couldn’t come up with an acceptable answer. Well, I can’t quit drinking then, he thought. Have to get some control back though. 

He remained flat on his back, in bed. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a red rectangle. Good. A lazy arm reached over, shook a Pall Mall out and placed it to his lips. The arm went back for the Zippo. He lit the cigarette, inhaled deeply and coughed heavily. Jesus Christ, next I’ll have to quit smoking, too. Once over the spasm, he felt better. He leaned on an elbow, found an ashtray, laid back again, and finished his smoke. 

Grandisha thought about Margie. A seriously, seriously vulnerable friend. Breaking her ass to do a good job at home and at work, she was too good a person to be saddled with an alcoholic. Hopefully her husband would straighten out. Things had to start falling her way. He could solve the Crownder problem and he would, today. Maybe the other thing would work out, too. He’d give her whatever help he could. 

Thinking about her lifted his spirits. Good. A reason to get up and face everything, again. Ray did all the bathroom things and went for breakfast, then to work. 

The first item on the agenda was to meet, en masse, with all the investigators, again. Nothing new. Everything was reviewed for the umpteenth time plus one. Every piece of information discussed, even those highlighted and explained. Theories put forward. From Asian drug lords to Zodiacal bayers on the moon. Nothing. Ray was running out of fresh ideas to pursue. He gave the group another pep talk, more for himself than them. Assured everyone that sooner or later the team would solve the case. He had his doubts, but no one saw them. 

Crownder was not present. Margie was. Clad in a knee length, dark skirt, white blouse, and a man’s black vest. Preppy cute was the thought that flashed in Ray’s mind. He couldn’t believe the next idea forming. Bubbly. She was bubbly. Christ, he’d never thought of anyone as bubbly before. 

Sitting in the crowd of investigators, ten yards or so from Ray, Margie’s cracked lip was unrecognizable to him. She must have been a master cosmetician. Her co-workers were unaware of the prior night’s events. The make-up job kept them from quick double takes and gossipy whispers. No one noticed the damage. 

The meeting broke up and people scurried to pursue their individual tasks. Grandisha thought the morale was still good. He collected his information and returned to his office. Margie followed him. 

Ray sunk his old bones behind his desk. Margie brightened the drab room. Picked up Grandisha’s spirits, again. Being closer to her, he noticed the powder job on the corner of her mouth. The lip was cracked, but covered by the natural shape of her grin. You had to know what you were looking for to recognize the disguised injury.