Why Did You Do It?

Okay, here is another writing prompt inspired short story.  How would you handle it if you kept getting notes asking, 'Why did you do it?' No one wants to take the credit for it and you have no idea what they're talking about; or do you? 

This IS a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, place, company, or event are purely coincidental.

Jessie walked into her office and sat her double latte down on her desk. She dropped her briefcase on the sidebar, straightened her Harvard diploma on her wall, and sat down to start another day of working on the marketing campaign that had earned her the title of vice-president. It was a big account with one of the largest companies in the country, Medicorp, and they had just been bought out. She had to impress its new CEO Cassandra Thompson. The first meeting had gone well and Jessie saw it as a chance to move up in the company. She spotted something under her Starbucks cup and moved the cup to see the note. She knew she had left the desk clear of all notes when she left on Friday.

"Why did you do it?" she read out loud. "Do what?" She looked around to see if she could figure out who had left the cryptic message on her desk. She buzzed her secretary. "Liz, could you come in here please?"

Liz came in with her steno pad and a freshly sharpened pencil. "Yes, ma'am, what can do for you?"

"First, stop calling me 'ma'am'."

"Yes, ma'am, I mean, yes, Ms. Dyson."

Jessie looked down at her desk annoyed. "Did you leave this message on my desk?" She held up the note.

"No, I hand you any messages I have when you come in."

"Well, did you see anyone else come in here?"

"No, Ms. Dyson." She tapped the pencil on the steno pad. "Is there anything else?"

Jessie got up. "No," she answered. "I'll ask around before I get started."

Liz went back to her desk and began typing while Jessie headed to her boss's office. "Sandy, is Mr. Kramer available?" she asked his secretary. After a short nod, she went into the office.

Mr. Kramer sat behind a mahogany desk the size of Jessie's office. She often dreamed she would have this office someday and sit at that very desk. He had a carafe of coffee ready on one corner if he wanted a refill and he offered her a cup, which she declined. The sun shone in the windowed wall behind him that overlooked the city. Yes, she very much wanted this office.

She placed the note on his blotter. "Is this from you?" she asked him.

He glanced at it a second. "I know nothing about it, but I'll see if I can find out who left it."

"It's no big deal really; I'm just curious who left it and what it means."

"I'm sure that was the desired effect. Don't worry about it. It's probably just a prank."

"I'm sure you're right, sir." She left the note with him and went back to her own office.

By Thursday she had received the same note three more times and she still didn't know what to make of it. It distracted her from her work. Mr. Kramer had questioned the night cleaning crew and the other office staff to no avail. No one had any idea what was going on. She decided to work late and find out for herself. That campaign was nowhere near done anyway and she couldn't concentrate at home.

At midnight she threw her takeout container in the trash. The cleaning crew had long since gone and she was a little spooked by the quiet in the office late at night. She grabbed her briefcase and started to leave when she heard the bell ring on the elevator. Off stepped the new CEO of Medicorp. She was slender and dressed in black slacks and a red sweater. She held her head high as she marched right for Jessie's office. Jessie turned off her desk lamp and sat down in her chair and waited.

Cassandra Thompson only mildly started when she saw Jessie. "I wondered how long it would take you to wait for me," she said.

"Why did I do what?" was all Jessie said.

"You really don't recognize me; do you?" Cassandra asked. "I guess it has been a few years and I have dropped a few pounds. And since the accident, or so they called it, I had a little reconstructive surgery on my face, so it doesn't quite look the same either."

"What are you talking about?" Jessie said.

"I saw your diploma and wondered how on earth you got it. So I did some checking. You see Thompson is my married name. You used to know me as Cassandra Dunlap. I was ahead of you in Harvard Business and you just couldn't handle someone being ahead of you. You sure made no secret of the fact that you had to get better than me at any cost. Then I found my laptop's memory erased with all my work gone. Luckily I had a backup. Then, my car tires were flattened, my books mysteriously disappeared and somehow I got really sick just at exam time. I'd not really been the type to get sick before then."

"I vaguely remember a Cassandra from class. Why should this interest me? If memory serves, you transferred schools, and it doesn't seem to have hurt you any," Jessie said tersely.

Cassandra snorted. "Is that what you recall now? I recall my brakes going out on my car after I had just had my car inspected and it passing with flying colors. I recall waking up in a ravine with glass all in my face and a ruptured spleen. The mechanic told me someone had done a very good job of tampering with my brakes; left no evidence as to who it might have been."

Jessie stared at her with a blank expression. "Go on, this is getting interesting. You see, I still don't know what this has to do with me."

"I wondered how you got that diploma, especially since I kept tabs on you after I changed schools. I had a cousin also attending Harvard so it wasn't hard. She told me you poisoned someone else who got ahead of you and you got caught. You did three years through a plea agreement and got tossed out of school. They weren't likely to let you back in, much less graduate. Did it cost you a lot to forge that diploma? I checked with Mr. Kramer and he assured me you top of your class and he had the transcript to prove it. You even supplied it to them yourself."

Jessie sat back in her chair, her face going from red with anger to pale as a sheet. A tear slid down her face. "I did it because if I wasn't top of the class, my father was going to take away my trust fund."

Cassandra shook her head. "And you lost it anyway," she said with a laugh and a sigh. "You should know a copy of your true transcript and your arrest record has been mailed to Mr. Kramer. You are washed up. Clean out your desk. I don't think there is a statute of limitations on attempted murder. I'll have to check on that." With that, Cassandra turned and walked out, leaving Jessie with her head down on her desk.