Chapter 19: A Mother

Chapter 19  starts Delores Sparne rising early to clean her son's laundry.

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’s mother, Delores Sparne, rose early. She was unaware of the previous night’s quasi-confrontation between her husband and son. But that didn’t matter. Her child could do no wrong. 

She tiptoed into Richard’s room and gathered up his pile of dirty clothes. Pausing by his dormant form, she resisted an urge to reach out and brush his tussled hair. Satisfied that his sleep was peaceful, she began her household chores. 

The washer and dryer were in the drab, concrete block basement of their old home. The early morning creak of her aging bones rivaled that of the open railed stairs she descended. Some day soon she wouldn’t be able to hear the steps at all over her own reverberation. 

Once in the basement, she emptied her basket on a dinged and dyed rectangular table. Delores separated and inspected the clothes prior to washing. Richard’s brightly colored plaid shirt and old jeans contained brown flecks that reminded her of blood stains. She knew they weren’t blood stains though, because Richard wasn’t a little boy anymore, running around the neighborhood getting banged up. Probably food and oil and grit and all the other things a young man would deal with. 

Delores sprinkled detergent on the shirt and tried to scrub the larger spots. She held the jeans by the waist and laid them straight across her stand. When she ran her hand across the fabric, she felt something in the back pocket. Another index card with a name and address. Richard may need this, she thought, and placed it in her apron pocket, trying at the same time to recall what she had done with the other index card. When all the clothes had passed muster, she loaded them, started the cycle, and trudged back upstairs. 

Halfway up, she heard a stirring in the kitchen. At the top of the stairs, she said good morning to her husband. He was standing at the counter, pouring coffee. They met in the middle of the room and hugged each other. She joined him at the table for a morning cup. He spared her his concern about their son. 

When Richard straggled out, he didn’t join them. Didn’t hug anyone, either. By then, Delores had forgotten about the white lined card in her apron. Later, she found its mate and put both of them on the counter, standing them against the wall near the coffee pot. She’d see them whenever she got a cup of coffee as a reminder to return them to Richard. 

Carol Lombard heard the alarm at seven. Her and Ray had slept in semi-fetal positions on their sides, backs facing each other. Carol’s backside extended over the midline of the bed, into Ray’s space. He was up at the third ring of the clock and curled his bent form, half on/half off the bed. His big hands went to his face and he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. 

After a few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder, recognized Carol’s attractive, rounded flesh and reached over to pat the moon. Through tired lips, without moving, Carol managed a “Hey, Baby.” She didn’t hear him shower, dress, or leave.