Good Karma

Good Karma

When you are weaker than your adversary, you need a weapon. Tessa Keating hid hers under grandmother’s photo albums in the attic. Even if Vince had found the old, worn black book he would not have considered it important, certainly not lethal.

The flowery penmanship of Grandmother Anna Alsop occupied the front pages. Those handwritten notes and instructions were Tessa’s escape to freedom if only she would win. The back pages filled with names in Tessa’s precise printing would be the ruin of Vince.

“Tessa, where is my cell phone? Did you move it?” Tessa shook her head. The man was not even out of bed yet and he was already yelling.

The man she had married left before the honeymoon was over. She had to admit part of his allure had been his ability to make money with his high-end construction business, his spacious house, and how people looked up to him. She had been getting by working as a secretary and sharing a house with two other women.

Those incentives to accept his proposal now seemed shallow and ironic. Yes, he had plenty of money, but a paltry allowance was doled out to her each week.

“What did you waste your money on this time?” he would ask.

. His huge house was to be kept in spotless shape by his new maid, Tessa, his suits pressed, his laundry finished, or else. Else did not just include tirades. Often, he would slap her face if she tried to explain why she had not completed his long list. If she tried to walk away, he would yank her back, bruising her arm.

“Don’t be reading books or playing silly computer games until you get the tasks you’ve neglected done.” His sneer told her he thought everything she liked to do to relax was not important.

Reduced to slavery, she cast about for a way to get free. If she divorced him, she knew he would find a way to malign her character and he would somehow come out the good guy. He had isolated her from her friends, her parents had died in a car crash when she was thirteen, and anyway where would she get the money for a divorce? Vince had told her she did not have to work after they got married. At the time, she was glad. Now, she wished she could earn her own money. But on finding the black book on the same day as seeing the ad in the newspaper, the coincidence struck her as karma. Twenty-thousand dollars was not much to start out on again, but she had not made much more per year as a secretary.

Now, she knew the truth about the well-dressed men who had shook Vince’s hand when they were dating and eating in fine restaurants. The bogus sub-contractors, the sleazy lawyers who kept him out of jail, the Mafia contacts that brought Vince’s business large state contracts.

Though the door to his office was closed when he had meetings, she walked noiselessly on the plush carpets and listened on the other side of the door. On the upstairs phone line, she eavesdropped on his phone calls and recorded them. She learned of kickbacks, bribes, shoddy materials being installed in buildings, and costly upcharges. When Vince left, she would hurry up to the attic to write down the details before she forgot the specifics and names of his visitors.

When she felt she had accumulated enough evidence, she called Mia, her former roommate.

“Tessa, so good to hear from you.” Mia chattered on about a new romance and some gossip from her work. Tessa did not have anything to contribute.

“Mia, do you know of a good lawyer?”

“Tessa, what’s wrong? You sound down. Are you and Vince having problems?”

“That’s an understatement,” Tessa admitted.

“So sorry. Are you thinking of getting a divorce?”

“No, Mia, it’s a long story. Do you know of someone who doesn’t charge a lot?”

“Yes, when my mom left my cheating dad, her lawyer, Grant Bronson, said he wouldn’t ask for money until the trial was over. You can find him online.”

When Tessa called, Grant Bronson did not take criminal cases, but another lawyer in the firm did. After listening to her, Paul Copeland told her to come downtown with the evidence.

On Fridays, Vince would go out to check on the progress of his projects. Tessa packed her large shopping tote with the black book and recorder. She covered them with a light jacket and scarf.

“Where are you going? What do you have there?” Vince asked as she tried to by-pass his office door.

“Just some grocery shopping,” she said, cheerily, as her heart pounded. She turned the bag so he could see the items on top. “Brought along extra clothes in case it gets chilly.”

This was the one area where Vince had a hard time finding fault. She had been taught by her grandmother to cook and her meals were as good as any restaurant.

Her appointment with Mr. Copland was encouraging in some ways.

“You’ve certainly got a case,” he said.

Tessa pulled in a breath. “He’s got some crooked lawyers on his payroll.”

“Yes, but I will bet the state and city lawyers will sue him. You realize though, if we take this to court, he likely will go to prison, his business will be shut down, and his assets confiscated. You will get nothing, and I am afraid to say, you may be in danger considering the company he kept. Do you still want to go ahead with this?”

She had tried not to think of that possibility, but she knew he was right.

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ll be presenting what you have to the DA as soon as possible.”

“Could you possibly wait until after the fourteenth of April to serve the arrest warrant? I’ll be in Minneapolis for a week and I’d rather not be there when it happens.”

“I understand, Mrs. Keating.”

Afterwards, Tessa went to the market and filled her shopping bag with ingredients for Vince’s favorite meal. She would need him to be in a good mood when she spilled her news.

***

“Vince, I have something wonderful to tell you,” she said, after he had polished off his steak tartare and roasted asparagus. “You know those amazing apple strudel rolls I learned to make from my grandma? Well, I am one of the finalists in the Pillsbury Bake-Off. They sent me an airline ticket to Minneapolis where the contest is held, and a nearby hotel room, all paid for.”

“How much money is the award? How long will you be gone?”

“Twenty-thousand dollars, and the runners-up get cash prizes too. I will just be gone for a week the middle of April.”

“Who’s going to make the meals and keep this place up while you are gone?”

“I’ll try to get the house in shape before I leave and I’m sure you can go to a restaurant.”

“I hope you realize if you win something, which I doubt, the money belongs to me?”

“What?”

“Who gives you a house to live in, a car to drive, the clothes on your back, and food to eat?” He stabbed his finger at his chest. “You owe me, 20K would cover a few bills I’m behind on.”

“I see,” she muttered.

***

Vince didn’t even have time to take her to the airport. She hailed a cab and paid with part of her grocery money.

As the plane took off over the city, she smiled. According to her lawyer, somewhere down below, Vince was being arrested and hauled off to jail to wait for his arraignment.

***

Seeing the other contestants, all older than her, probably baking for years, she began perspiring. But once she started mixing the ingredients, it was as if her grandmother stood by her reminding her of what to do next.

The judge’s taste-tested her rolls and the other lady’s creations, and wrote down notes. The results would be announced that evening.

When she and two other women were called to the stage by the master of ceremonies, Tessa could hardly breathe.

“Third prize goes to Mildred Beaumont for her Pineapple Puff Pastry.” Mildred put her hands over her mouth as the audience clapped,

“And second prize is awarded to Carol Lambert for her Lemon Berry Tarts. Carol gasped.

“And the first place goes to Tessa Keating. Dear, your Apple Strudel Rolls received a ten in all categories.”

Tessa’s hands shook as she accepted the check from the master of ceremonies. Journalists took pictures and there she was the next day on the internet and in the newspaper.

***

The next hurdle she dreaded, testifying in court. She dressed modestly and put her long, blond hair into a bun.

When Vince was brought in by a guard, he stared straight at her, a vein pulsing in his forehead. Tessa shrunk into her seat. When she testified, she did not look at him, but still her voice wavered.

She was not the only witness called. People whom Vince had shafted in one way or another came forward.

After the court was recessed for the day, Paul asked if she would like to go outside to get some fresh air.

The wind whipped up her long skirt as they walked down the steps of the courthouse. She leaned forward to brush it back in place.

Ka-Pow! Something whizzed over her head.

“Get down,” Paul shouted. A black car sped away on the street below.

He hurried her back into the building.

Tessa leaned against a wall and put her hand on her heart.

“We’ve got to get the feds to put you in a witness protection program,” he said.

***

If your travels ever take you to a small mountain town and you see a café called Susan’s Sweets, go meet Susan. You can’t miss which one she is, with that bright red pixie haircut. Try the Apple Strudel Rolls. I hear they are to die for.