Ransom Note

Jodi increased the incline of the treadmill at her home gym and with extreme ease accelerated her heart rate. It’s been the same routine for the last three years since the birth of her son Jordan; five mile run in the morning followed by a bowl of granola and English tea.  She’d rise at dawn, look in on Jordan as he slept, checked emails, let out the dogs and grab the morning paper. Jodi enjoyed her habitual nature. As long as she was in control of her life she was as pleasant as pie but woe to any situation or anyone she couldn't apply her compulsive disorder. Even on this Sunday morning, as she gracefully ran in her matching track suit, her blond ponytail tightly brushed against her scalp, her top of the line gym equipment surrounded by a panoramic view of Central Park there was nothing out of place with the exception of a ransom note clenched in her hand.

One more mile to go and she’d be finished. She thought of tomorrow’s obligations and picked up her speed without breaking a sweat.

1.      Fire the maid

2.      Bake cupcakes for Jordan’s bake sale

3.      Remind other maid to pick up gown from cleaners

4.      Give speech to high school students

5.      Women’s luncheon for breast cancer

6.      Hire referred makeup artist for Saturday night’s  Hungry Kids benefit

7.      Figure out if she could live a new life without her husband

Jodi exhaled sharply.

After her scalding hot shower she went into her plush three room closet to pick an outfit that proposed a state of calm and confidence. The police would be here any minute. She decided on a cool blue pencil skirt and a cream ruffled blouse, flats instead of heels. Jodi preferred sharp angles and stark colors that she could apply to her rigid spine, “soft” was never really her thing unless she was at the summer house in East Hampton. But it was Sunday for crying out loud and she wanted to appeal to the police as a “good” wife, a wife in need. She needed to disarm them and damsel in distress wasn’t her strong point so this outfit seemed useful.  She dressed quickly and efficiently, nothing out of place. Pearl earrings, wedding ring and a light sprits of her clean fragrance finished the look.

Leaving her closet to enter the master bathroom she noticed her husband’s tie hanging on the door knob. She winced, totally disgusted by his lack of upkeep and called for the maid.

“Lorena! Can you come in here for a minute?” Jodi says into the intercom connected to the maids’ quarters on the second floor.

“Yes madam.” Lorena said.

As Jodi waited she sat on her chaise in the corner of the bathroom going over her and her husband’s last conversation about his third mistress. She frowned as her eyes shifted in the direction of the master bedroom where she’d caught him with some Colombian whore who was as voluptuous and brown as Jodi was pale and thin. That’s why she had to fire the maid who’s first day was tomorrow, she was the spitting image of the previous maid her husband slept with…yes, the maid. She should call the agency and have the maid not come in at all but then what satisfaction would that be?  Jodi vividly remembered his awful excuse, “Everyone in New York knows you my darling. I just figured it’d be easier on you if I kept this ‘one’ in-house.” Jodi thought she’d surely vomit but her clothes were just too expensive to ruin and she’d never ever let him see her sweat. Her husband was partner at a well known law firm and traveled often so she was never fully exposed to his philandering but the idiot scoundrel had the nerve to bring his hobbies to her bedroom! She had the whole bedroom redesigned…naturally. Since that day Jodi had taken upon herself the task of making her new bed, doing it just so that if anyone so much as brushed it with a limb she would know.

“Lorena please place this where it properly belongs and be sure to have the head of security inform you about the guests that will be arriving shortly. Coffee and pastries in the receiving room, all dogs in their rooms and please tell Lilly to keep Jordan occupied on the third floor as he’s sure to be bothered by this morning’s guests.” Jodi left the bathroom without a backward glance.

“Yes madam.” Lorena humbly said.

Jodi walked into Jordan’s room to make sure all was in order. It was clean and quiet. She walked over to the window thanking God that the rain clouds would sullen her mood, she would need it today. Rain, tears, both had the same effect of gloomy sadness, so if she didn't shed a tear hopefully the wet weather could cover up her dry face. She shifted her stance and felt the ransom note wrinkle in her pocket. She should really give it over to security by now as evidence but it brought her solace and an unimaginable amount of comfort. Jodi hadn't read it but knew exactly what it said…she wrote it.  By now her husband’s body would be chilling under the Brooklyn Bridge, and even though she was a woman of eloquent words a popular phrase rang in her head like church bells, “Three strikes, you’re out.”

Jodi heard the doorbell ring just as she was coming down the staircase into the marble floored foyer when entered the Chief of Police.

“Madam Senator.  Please rest assure that we will find him and bring him back home.” He said.

“Show time.” She whispered.