Chapter 13: A Commotion

Chapter 13  starts with a commotion outside Regis Cahan's office.

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 was distracted by a commotion outside of his private office. He was with a client. The client looked askance at him. A silence developed between the two as the external noise overtook their matters. Cahan said, “Excuse me,” left his desk and casually rushed to the reception area. He closed the door behind him, ensuring separation between the inner and outer sanctums.  

As Cahan neared his secretary, he heard, “I don’t have time for your shit, I want to see him right now.” The speaker was a stocky Hispanic teen trying to maintain a threatening glare towards the petite, well endowed curator of Cahan’s office. She was not cowering. He looked bullyish and juvenile.  

“What is your problem?” Cahan demanded. In a voice and attitude that quieted even Ricardo Morales. For a moment, anyway.  

“I have an appointment to see you. Now. I don’t even want to be here but this stupid bitch called me...”   

Regis immediately jumped in, “Stop it! That’s enough!” The volume and intensity of his voice shook all parties, even Regis. His hands were at his sides and he resisted raising them for fear of trembling. In the same voice, he yelled again, “Sit down and shut up. Don’t say another fucking word to or about this lady.” He had somehow calmed the shakes. A split second occurrence. When he pointed at his secretary, the aim was true and still.  

“I am with someone. When I finish, I will see you. We will conclude our business; if I hear another fucking sound from out here, I will throw your ass in jail. Do you understand me?”  

Morales snarled “Yes, I understand you.”  

“Good.” Cahan looked at his secretary as he said good and continued, “I apologize for the demeaning language. I can assure you it will not occur again.” He turned and stared at Ricardo, who shrank perceptively into his chair. Cahan maintained his stance for a few seconds, and when he was satisfied that his secretary was in no danger, returned to his abandoned client.  

Transcript

Chapter 13

Regis Cahan was distracted by a commotion outside of his private office. He was with a client. The client looked askance at him. A silence developed between the two as the external noise overtook their matters. Cahan said, “Excuse me,” left his desk and casually rushed to the reception area. He closed the door behind him, ensuring separation between the inner and outer sanctums.  

As Cahan neared his secretary, he heard, “I don’t have time for your shit, I want to see him right now.” The speaker was a stocky Hispanic teen trying to maintain a threatening glare towards the petite, well endowed curator of Cahan’s office. She was not cowering. He looked bullyish and juvenile.  

“What is your problem?” Cahan demanded. In a voice and attitude that quieted even Ricardo Morales. For a moment, anyway.  

“I have an appointment to see you. Now. I don’t even want to be here but this stupid bitch called me...”     

Regis immediately jumped in, “Stop it! That’s enough!” The volume and intensity of his voice shook all parties, even Regis. His hands were at his sides and he resisted raising them for fear of trembling. In the same voice, he yelled again, “Sit down and shut up. Don’t say another fucking word to or about this lady.” He had somehow calmed the shakes. A split second occurrence. When he pointed at his secretary, the aim was true and still.  

“I am with someone. When I finish, I will see you. We will conclude our business; if I hear another fucking sound from out here, I will throw your ass in jail. Do you understand me?”  

Morales snarled “Yes, I understand you.”  

“Good.” Cahan looked at his secretary as he said good and continued, “I apologize for the demeaning language. I can assure you it will not occur again.” He turned and stared at Ricardo, who shrank perceptively into his chair. Cahan maintained his stance for a few seconds, and when he was satisfied that his secretary was in no danger, returned to his abandoned client.  

It took three minutes for Ricardo to regain his composure. Within four minutes he was seething. The fucking bastard. Talk to me like I was some unimportant pussy. And in front of this bitch. I should throw this puta on her desk, rip her clothes off, and fuck her in the ass until she squeals like a pig. You won’t hear a sound from me, fucker. You’ll hear your big tittied whore whining, but you won’t hear a sound from me.  

He was sitting at attention, had avoided looking at the     secretary. His mental fury was concealed by clenched lips, but his eyes were ablaze. Gina, more embarrassed than frightened, busied herself with desk work, not wanting to look toward the young man. Had she seen the hate in his eyes, she probably would have called for help.  

Ricardo realized he was sitting erect and rigid, like some nervous altar boy during an Easter Sunday sermon; he extended his legs, crossed his arms and slouched. His face reflected vengeance and his lips began to move, slightly. He continued his mental rantings. Go ahead, call the police. Throw my ass in jail. Hah. I tell the cops who I am, who I work for and they hold Miss Big Tits down while I fuck her right in front of you. Then they ask you if you saw anything or if you’d like to go to jail for raping her.  

He was sinking deeper into a maniacal frenzy, now openly staring in the direction of the secretary. Look at her. Miss Prim and Proper. I’ll bet they have a good laugh every time I come here. After I leave, she probably locks the door and goes in his office, gets naked, sits on his lap and fucking runs me down. Well no more. Not now. Not ever again. It’s time for paybacks. You fuckers won’t snicker at me or my mother ever again.  

He had begun to tremble, ever so slightly. His glare, still directed at Gina, became a classic tunnel vision pose. She somehow felt the anger, felt his eyes, like a naked lady coming out of the shower, discovering a previously closed bathroom door, now open. Her embarrassment, minutes ago almost totally allayed by her busy work, was suddenly replaced by fright. Then rising dread. She continued to resist looking his way. The rustle of couch fabric straining against him, as he started to rise from his seat, was pulling her head in his direction, like a magnet. She maintained her resistance to the pull, though, refusing to acknowledge her personal horror.  

Fuck you, he thought, as he struggled to stand. I won’t be treated like this. If the bitch says a word to me, I slap her mouth.... The bitch won’t look at me. Thinks she’s better than me. Look at me bitch... Look at me bitch or I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.  

Ricardo took a step toward Gina. The atmosphere was broken by the creek and swoosh of Cahan’s door opening. The silent enemies reacted to the intrusion, turning to face the sound. One relieved almost to tears, the other expressionless.  

Regis looked directly at Morales. “I thought I told you to sit down!” The previously abandoned client quickly exited the office, vowing to himself not to return. He sensed the animus permeating the space. Didn’t need additional problems.  

Cahan remained by his door. Watched the client leave. Knew he wouldn’t be back. Didn’t really care at this point. He redirected his attention to Morales. Stepped aside from the entryway and gestured for him to come in. Ricardo hesitated, then decided to set the fucker straight and noisily clamped into the lair. The door closed, almost a slam.  

Gina hung her head, inhaled and exhaled loudly a number of times, and then rested her forehead against the V of her thumb and index finger. She sat back and looked numbly at her surroundings. I need a break, she thought. She activated the recording on the office phone, grabbed her purse, and went down the hall to the washroom. She intentionally did not lock the office door.  

The outer office was empty for five minutes. Two calls were recorded. Gina spent the entire time staring at her reflection in the musty bathroom mirror, thinking of her family.  

Neither Ricardo nor Regis sat. From the side of his large, oak desk, Cahan said, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t withdraw from your case.”  

Morales responded, “I don’t need you. This shit will be handled by my people. You’re wasting my time. Consider yourself lucky that I’ve decided not to send my people to visit you, later tonight, for the disrespect you showed me in front of your bitch.”  

Cahan reached across the corner of his desk and shoved Morales. Ricardo was stunned and didn’t know how to react. Cahan glared at him. “You and I are fucking done. I’m withdrawing from your case. If I ever see you in this building again, I will call the police.”  

After a moment, Ricardo returned to his position prior to the shove. “People that cross us get paid back. I won’t forget you.”  

Cahan had no remaining patience for the teen. “Look, you little fucking delinquent, you’ve seen too many movies. Get the fuck out of here. Now.”  

Ricardo held an extended sneer at Regis, then turned and walked towards the inner office door. Banged it open. As he walked through the outer office he intentionally knocked over an antique, freestanding, coat rack. As he hit the piece of furniture he yelled, “Maricon” and then stormed out. Gina luckily missed him by about thirty seconds. 

She entered the office as Regis was righting the rack. “What happened?” she asked. Cahan looked up from his kneeling position and said, “His way of thanking me.” Gina bent to help him and together they finished the task. Once completed, she said, “Regis, he really scared me, should we do something?” 

He subconsciously straightened his clothes, then answered. “There’s nothing to do. We had an argument, I told him I was quitting his case and he stormed out. He’s a punk kid who’s impressed with himself, nothing more.” 

Gina returned to her desk and faced her boss. “I’m still shaking. I’m sorry, I should have been here when he left.” 

“No. I’m glad you weren’t. He’s got this macho thing about women. It might have been uglier. By the way, what is ‘Maricon?” 

“Many Cones?” She offered. 

“No, something like ‘Maricon.” 

Gina shook her head. “I have no clue what that means.”