Bluff

by Jane Stanton Hitchcock

  Sklar slams down the phone. “The super says she’s not in the apartment. She must be on her way. Sorry about the delay, folks. Not that you mind…right? Not at the fuckin’ fortune you people charge me an hour, right?” he says testily.

  Lickel looks at her watch. “I have a dinner engagement at eight. I’d hate to miss it.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  In his wildest journalistic dreams, Brent Hobbs never imagined he’d be sitting in his rat-hole living room trying to comfort a sobbing Danya Sunderland. From what Hobbs can glean from Danya’s garbled, tearful telling, Sklar dropped her cat off with a neighbor and the cat is now dead. The vet suspected rat poison. A box of ashes is all that remains of her beloved pet.

  “My Mooncat’s dead! My Mooncat’s dead! God is punishing me!” has been Danya’s anguished refrain for over an hour. She can’t stop blubbering.

  When Hobbs finally calms her down with the aid of vodka and sympathy, he senses a sea change in her, like a new resolve has taken hold. No longer the seductive child woman or the bereft pet owner, Danya now strikes him as a pragmatic woman who’s assessing her fate. She perches on his couch, her arms hugging her knees to her chest, and stares out at him like a turtle peering out from its shell. She pins him with a long, contemplative gaze.

  “Okay…I lied,” she declares after a time, her voice dropped to a lower register.

  He was already pretty sure of that. But the unanticipated steeliness in her demeanor—so much the opposite of anything he ever imagined her to be—makes him think the truth will be one hell of a story. He doesn’t say a word. He lets her proceed at her own pace.

  “All that stuff I told you in the interview…? All that stuff you wrote about me being so innocent and Sun and me being so happy together…? All bullshit. I wasn’t innocent. And I sure as hell wasn’t happy.”

  Hobbs nods. “Go on…”

  “I had no idea who the hell Sun was when we met. That part was true. But I found out pretty quickly. I lied when I told you I didn’t know he was married. I knew because Burt told me that night. I knew Burt was interested in me. I think he thought that if I knew Sun was married it’d make a difference to me. It didn’t. Sun and me, we fell in love. That part was also true. Thing is, it wasn’t exactly the candy and flowers-type love I said it was. It was more like, y’know, cuffs and fetish-type love.”

  “Okaaaay...” Hobbs says evenly, trying not to give any hint of the excitement he feels knowing this scandal was about to go nuclear.

  “I’ve always had this thing for older guys. Daddy complex. But pretty soon I found out Sun was like my real dad in more ways than one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My dad was a sadistic bastard. Particularly to my mom…” She shudders. “He’d used to beat the living crap out of her, make her drink toilet water, shit like that…”

  Hobbs winces. “Why didn’t she leave him?”

  “A poor black woman in the south with a kid to support…? Where the hell was she gonna go? She tried a couple of times. Especially when he started beating up on me. But he’d always sweet-talk her back. Me, too. My dad was a real sweet-talker. Just like Sun.”

  “Are you saying Sunderland abused you?”

  She nods. “Oh, yeah. It didn’t start out that way. I’m cool with bondage. But then it got pretty rough. I brought along some pictures with some other stuff.”

  “Can I see?”

  Danya takes some photos out of a manila envelope and hands them to Hobbs.

  “He liked to take pictures of me tied up. But I took a few selfies of me he didn’t know about.”

  Hobbs leafs through several photographs of Danya in various states of bruising. She points out a particularly brutal shot of her face swollen almost beyond recognition.

  Hobbs is horrified. “Christ…I’m so sorry, Danya. You should have left him.”

  She murmurs, “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? You’re gorgeous, you’re smart…”

  Danya smirks. “I would have been dead gorgeous. He told me he’d fuckin’ kill me if I tried to leave.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t really mean it.”

  “How can you look at those pictures and tell me he didn’t really mean it? He meant it, all right. But not ’cause he loved me. ’Cause I know too goddamn much.”

  “The bigamy?”

  She laughs. “That’s nothing compared to the other stuff.”

  Hobbs is on tenterhooks but trying not to show it. “What other stuff?”

  “How ’bout murder?”

  Hobbs eyes widen. “Murder?”

  “He told me he committed a murder.”

  Hobbs stares at her. “He told you that?”

  “Yup. Told me the whole thing.”

  Hobbs is dumbfounded. “Why? I mean why would he tell you that?”

  “’Cause he was so fuckin’ guilty about it. Sun was a Catholic, you know,”

  “It’s well known. That’s why they called him the Pope of Finance.”

  “Part of him was real religious, even though he’d been divorced and everything and you’re not supposed to do that. But this thing was, like, chewing up his insides. He was petrified he was gonna have a heart attack, he was so stressed about it.”

  “So he told you?”

  “Yeah. He was gonna go do a confession with a priest. But he was, like, worried the guy might turn him in. He said he had to tell someone. So he told me. I’m the only one who knows about it—aside from the person who did it with him.”

  “Jesus. He had an accomplice?”

  “Yup.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Burt. Him and Burt did it together.”

  Hobbs draws back. “Whoa…! You’re telling me that Sunderland told you that he and Sklar committed a murder together?”

  “Yeah.”

  Hobbs raises a skeptical eyebrow. He’s known Sklar for years. Though he thinks the guy is killer shady, he’s never imagined him to be an actual killer.

  “I see. Just who are they supposed to have murdered?”

  “I’m not gonna tell you that.”

  “Sunderland didn’t tell you?”

  “He told me. I’m just not gonna tell you right now.”

  “Why not? You’ve gone this far.”

  Danya shakes her head. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  Hobbs considers. “I believe he told you. I’m just not that sure it’s actually true.”

  “Why’d he tell me then?”

  “To frighten you. Which he obviously did.”

  “You’re a reporter. Don’t you, like, sense if people are telling the truth or not? Sometimes your job kinda depends on that, right?”

  “Right. We need to trust our instincts.”

  “Yeah, well, some of the jobs I’ve been on…? If I hadn’t trusted my fuckin’ instincts, I’d be dead right now. I know Sun was telling me the truth.”

  “Did he give you any details?”

  “He said it happened a long time ago, and that even if it ever got out, the cops would never be able to prove it. He used to have nightmares and wake up in a sweat, screaming about it.”

  “Are you the only one who knows about this?”

  “Burt knows ’cause he was there.”

  “Let me ask you something… Does Burt know you know?”

  “Hell, no! I’m scared shitless of that guy. If he knew I knew, I don’t know what he’d do! Well, actually I do know what he’d do! Kill me.”

  “You think Jean knows?”

  “Are you kidding? Jean doesn’t know shit. She loved being Mrs. Sunderland, all right. But she had no fuckin’ idea who the guy really was. She married a position and a bank account. I married the creep himself. You know about how, like, some men have this—whaddya call it—Madonna whore thing? She was his Madonna
. I was his whore. Now who do you think knew him better? And who do you think he’d confide in?”

  Hobbs is stunned. He pauses for a long moment.

  “Why now? Why are you telling me all this now?” he asks.

  “’Cause right now I’m supposed to be at his lawyer’s office signing more stuff. Burt says he’s making us rich. But I got news for him. I ain’t signing any more shit!”

  Danya takes out her cell phone.

  “Look…see? He’s called me about a hundred fuckin’ times since I got here.” She flashes the Missed Call screen at Hobbs.

  “Why me? Why tell me?” he asks.

  “I liked you when I met you. And you remembered to put that thing in your blog about my mom’s blue satin dress, like I asked you to. That was important. It meant I could trust you to keep your word.”

  “Then why won’t you tell me who their victim was, Danya? There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

  “I have a headache. I need to go lie down.”

  Hobbs accepts that she’s through talking. For now. He shows her into his bedroom.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he says, straightening up the bed.

  Danya lies down and pulls the blanket above her head. As Hobbs picks up clothes strewn on the floor, he hears Danya’s muffled voice say, “For Chrissakes, don’t let Burt find out I’m here—unless you have a gun!”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  I remember the day my mother finally realized Burt Sklar was a crook—a date that lives in infamy for me. Mummy asked me to have lunch with her in the apartment. We’d hardly spoken since the whole drug debacle with Alan, so I saw this invitation as a possible chance for a reconciliation. We had lunch on trays in her bedroom, as usual, chatting about nothing in particular, until she said, “Maud, I think it’s time you saw my will.”

  I was astonished. This was the very first time Mummy had offered to show me anything related to her estate.

  She went on. “I’m showing it to you because I want you to know that if I die (if, never when), you and your brother are going to be very rich. I’m worth well over a hundred million dollars, thanks to Burt. You have to admit you’ve been wrong about him.”

  She handed me a thick folder, filled with legal-size documents, both bound and unbound. I looked over the will first.

  “I see you made Burt the sole executor with an upfront fee of two million dollars.”

  “Of course. He was your stepfather’s sole executor, too. He’ll be very helpful to you and your brother when I’m gone. You don’t have to read the whole thing now. It’s yours to keep.”

  As I was putting the will back in the folder, a single sheet of paper fluttered to the floor, almost as if an angel had plucked it out of the pack for me to see. I picked it up, gave it a glance, then looked at my mother in disbelief.

  “So you gave Burt your Durable Power of Attorney too…?”

  She was taken aback. “Don’t be ridiculous! You know very well I wouldn’t give God my Durable Power of Attorney! Not after what happened to my father!”

  “Then what’s this?” I handed her the sheet of paper.

  Mummy put on her glasses and read it over. “I never signed this!”

  “Is that your signature?”

  “Yes! But I never, ever signed a Durable Power of Attorney! You know my history!” She started to panic.

  “Calm down, Mummy. Where were you when you signed this will?”

  “Burt took me to Ms. Lickel’s office. She’s his lawyer. I signed it there.”

  “Did you read over everything you were signing?”

  “Yes! I mean… No! Not everything. There were so many pages. Initials and everything. Ms. Lickel kept putting them in front of me to sign.”

  “Well, you signed this page too.”

  Mummy vehemently shook her head. “No, no, no! Burt knows I would never, ever sign this! There’s been a mistake!”

  I nodded. “Yeah. A big mistake. Some zealous paralegal made copies of everything you signed that day—not just the will. You were never meant to see this document.”

  “But…but I’ve told Burt so many times what happened to my father. I mean…oh, Maud, what does this mean?”

  “It means that Burt’s had total control over everything you own for over a year. And that doesn’t even count the stuff you’ve been signing for years without knowing what the hell it was.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen the statements. They come every month.”

  “Show me these statements.”

  “Burt told me never to show you anything relating to my finances.”

  “Screw Burt. Where are they?”

  With a shaking hand, Mummy pointed to a chest.

  “Bottom drawer,” she said.

  Next to a rainbow pile of neatly folded cashmere sweaters was a stack of statements from Sklar’s office. They were all single pages showing a list of Mummy’s holdings on one side with their corresponding values on the other side. The bottom line on almost every one was the same: One hundred and ten million dollars. They were the financial equivalent of a comic book.

  “These are all he ever gave you? One page a month?” I said in disbelief.

  “You see right there I’m worth a hundred and ten million dollars!”

  “I see he put you into SSBS Investments. Forty-five million dollars. Isn’t that Burt’s company with Sun Sunderland?”

  “Yes! Burt says it’s a great opportunity! Sunderland is such an impressive man.”

  “I want you to authorize me to talk to Burt about these investments.”

  She hesitated. “He’ll leave me if you get involved. He’ll think I don’t trust him.”

  “Do you trust him? He got you to sign a Durable Power of Attorney without knowing it.”

  The question hung in the air. I felt Mummy was softening toward me for the first time in many years.

  “Oh, my God, Maudie. Am…I broke?”

  “You very well could be.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” she cried. “I need to call Burt.”

  “He’s just going to deny everything. Please let me handle this, for once.”

  “No! I’m calling Burt. He’ll explain this to me. I know he will.”

  “Mummy please! I’m begging you.”

  Mummy held up her hand. “No! I’m going to talk to Burt. If I’m not satisfied with what he tells me, I’ll let you get involved. Just leave me alone for the moment!”

  Two days later, my mother was dead. The doctor said she died in her sleep of “natural causes.” It made sense. She was old. But somehow, I always had my doubts because she died on a Thursday.

  Sklar thinks he’s winning the game he and I are in now. But being sure you’re winning is precisely the time you lose. As I’ve learned from poker, nothing counts until The River.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Magma is surprised and hurt she hasn’t heard from Hobbs after their pharaonic night of sex. She read his blog about Danya Sunderland with twinges of jealousy. It sounded to Magma like he rather fancied the slut. Since rejection always makes Magma’s lusty heart grow fonder, she decides to take action. She has the William Poll gourmet shop put together a smart little food basket of caviar, smoked salmon, and other goodies to soothe the savage writer. She stops off at a liquor store and buys a very good bottle of champagne.

  As she walks to his apartment, lugging the little feast with her, she thinks how best to handle her surprise visit. She’ll be honest and tell him it was a spur of the moment impulse just because she happened to be in the neighborhood. It’s not as if she’s a stalker. He has to be flattered about that, she thinks. She won’t say she’s read his blog. She’ll pretend she doesn’t know it even exists! That way it can’t possibly look like she’s jealous or anything.

  Magma enters the cramped little vestibule of Hob
bs’ converted brownstone, praying he’s home. She locates his name on the tenant roster and gives the black button beside it a long press.

  “Who is it?” demands a voice over the intercom.

  “Delivery!” Magma growls.

  She’s buzzed in. She trudges up four flights of stairs thinking what a sexy surprise it will be for Hobbs when he opens the door and sees her standing there with a picnic. She reaches the fourth-floor landing out of breath. She takes a moment to compose herself and check herself out in her compact mirror before ringing the doorbell of apartment 4B. Hobbs opens the door.

  “Surprise!” Magma exclaims, beaming at him.

  Hobbs’ reaction is not all she hoped.

  “Magma…! What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and I thought you might need some sustenance,” she says, flirtatiously.

  “Uh, well. You’re very sweet but I’m working, baby. Now’s not the best time. Can I call you later?”

  She peers around him and spots a young woman lurking in the bedroom doorway.

  “Is that…? Oh, my God it is! It’s her! I was right!” she cries.

  “Magma, baby, it’s not what you think!”

  “No, no! That’s fine! Sorry I interrupted. Here!” She drops the picnic basket at Hobbs’ feet. “You and that… that… stripper can choke on this when you’re finished working!”

  He chases her down the hall and grabs her by the arm.

  “Calm down! Listen to me!” he commands.

  Magma stands still in the limp posture of a wounded child.

  “I should never have come,” she says tearfully.

  “No, listen, it was really sweet of you, baby. It was…I was gonna call you. But something happened.”

  “I can see that,” she sniffs.

  “Okay, look…If I tell you what’s going on, do you swear to me you won’t say a word to anyone? This is gonna be hard for you, baby, but you’ve gotta keep your mouth shut. Swear?”