Cheater's Gallery Ep. 01: Wendi

"Thank you, Detective," I said. "All I know is that my wife was in New York for her annual conference and she called earlier to tell me she would be meeting with clients this weekend and would be home Monday."

"I see," Smith said. "Again, I'm sorry for your loss," he added. "Good night, sir," he said before leaving.

Wendi's death got a brief mention on the news, but there was no mention of an affair with Hempstead. Perhaps, I thought, that was due to the firm's influence. Her body was returned to LA and her parents took care of her funeral arrangements. I had very little contact with them during that period, although her friends and co-workers stopped by to offer their condolences.

Because of the damage done to her face and body, the casket was kept closed during the service and a large portrait of her sat next to the coffin. Her mother asked if I would like to offer any last words, but I refused and simply shook my head. Don approached me, but backed away when he saw the look on my face.

After the funeral service, we all headed to the gravesite where her body was to be interred. After her coffin was lowered into the ground, a man in a suit approached Don.

"Are you Don Patterson?" the man asked. Don said he was, not hiding his irritation at being disturbed. The man handed him a large manila envelope.

"You've been served," the man said, walking away. Don opened the envelope and looked inside. His face turned white as he saw the divorce papers and a collection of color photographs of him with a much younger woman. Both of them were naked and it seemed like Don was having a grand old time. He looked at his wife, who glared back at him.

"Don't bother coming home, asshole," she whispered.

"But, but," he began. Standing next to him, I couldn't help but see the photos and the paperwork. I snickered and leaned into him.

"That looks like what you had planned for me," I said quietly. He looked at me, shocked. "Guess Karma's a real bitch, isn't she?" I laughed as I walked away.

I decided to go see Adrestia to tell her what happened, but when I got there, the old Gothic house was gone, replaced with a nicely-appointed ranch-style home. I verified the address and knocked on the door. An elderly woman answered.

"Um, I'm looking for Rhamnousia Gallery," I said. "And I'm fairly certain this was the address I was given." She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, son," she said. "There's nothing by that name here. We've been here for 35 years." I apologized and left, confused.

As it turned out, Don's troubles were only beginning, and something told me Adrestia was behind it. According to a news report I saw a few days after the funeral, Don's house was raided after police received an anonymous tip. Authorities seized a large cache of photos from his office - photos of underage girls in various compromising positions.

As a result, he was brought up on charges of producing child porn, and in addition to being cleaned out by his wife in a divorce, was sentenced to 35 years in prison. His law license was revoked and he was disbarred for life.

"Thanks, Adrestia," I said to no one in particular. In my mind, I heard her voice quietly say, "You're welcome."

I also found myself the recipient of a major windfall. Wendi's insurance came through, and I received a one million dollar payout, minus final expenses. I had also inherited a very large sum of money after everything was settled on her estate.

About the same time, I received a call from a friend of mine who lived in Spokane, Washington. He said the company he worked for was looking for a service manager and he thought I would be a good fit. I was looking for an excuse to leave, since I felt there was nothing left for me in southern California, so I headed up north and got hired on the spot.

They gave me a couple weeks to get my affairs in order in California, so I took them up on the offer and put the place up for sale, taking only the few items I wanted to keep. I let Wendi's mother take what she wanted, but the rest was sold off or given to Goodwill.

A few months later, I met Linda at a bar in downtown Spokane. We dated for several months, fell in love and got married. We bought a two-story log house by Twin Lakes and raised two wonderful children who are now out raising their own families. Things were going well for us until August 2019, when she was diagnosed with stomach cancer.

I sat there on the balcony remembering my dear Linda as I looked at that old invitation. Where were you, Adrestia, I wondered.

"I'm always with you, Joe," I heard her say in my mind. "Always. And so is Linda." I smiled and nodded my head. Somehow, I knew things would be alright.