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.”