Bluff

by Jane Stanton Hitchcock

  “Swear,” she says warily.

  He ushers Magma into his apartment. Danya is sitting on the couch, smoking.

  “Danya Sunderland meet Magma Hartz, a good friend of mine…and of Jean’s.”

  “Hey,” Danya says, saluting Magma with a slight wave of her cigarette.

  Brent directs Magma to sit down. He joins Danya on the couch.

  “Danya and I have been discussing a certain situation. Maybe it’s providential you showed up,” Hobbs says.

  Magma stares at Danya, thinking how young and unthreatening she looks.

  “You’re a friend of Jean’s?” Danya says.

  “I am. A very good friend,” Magma replies icily.

  “Okay…so, like, I know you probably won’t believe me, but, like, I’m really, really sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt Jean, okay?”

  “Then why did you marry her husband?” Magma shoots back.

  “He wanted to.”

  “So you say.”

  Danya stands up and looks accusingly at Hobbs. “I told you no one would fuckin’ believe me! And if they don’t believe me about that, they’re sure as hell not gonna believe me about the other thing either!” She stalks off into the bedroom and slams the door.

  “Shit,” Hobbs mutters.

  Magma crosses her arms censoriously. “Are you two having an affair?”

  “Jesus H. Christ. Can’t you see she’s scared?”

  “Of what, pray tell?”

  “Of Sklar. And what he’s gotten her into.”

  “You’re just saying that because I caught you!”

  “Come here…” Brent pats the couch.

  Magma puts on a reluctant little show until Brent grabs her, pulls her down, and wraps his arms around her.

  “Magma, baby, I love it that you’re jealous. I really do. But we’re in the middle of a critical situation here. I need you to behave like a real grown-up, not like a brat—even though you still look like a teenager…” he adds, pecking her on the mouth.

  “You were so sympathetic to her in your blog,” Magma says, petulantly, forgetting she wasn’t going to mention she’d read it.

  “I’m trying to help her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe, like she does, that she may be in considerable danger.”

  “Rubbish!” Magma says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Jean’s the only one in danger here. She believes those two set Sun up, right from the very beginning!”

  Danya, who’s been eavesdropping at the door, storms back into the room.

  “Bullshit!” she cries out. “You can tell your friend Jean I never laid eyes on Burt or Sun before that night in the club. I had no fuckin’ idea about all this money stuff until Sun died. I’m scared shitless, okay? Petrified!”

  “Of what? Becoming a billionaire bimbo, perhaps?” Magma says.

  “Of Burt, bitch! I’m scared he’s gonna kill me!”

  Magma looks at Hobbs in exasperated disbelief. “Seriously…?”

  “Very seriously, Magma,” Hobbs says firmly. “I’m trying to convince her to go to the D.A.”

  Danya guffaws. “Yeah, right! Look what just happened. She doesn’t even believe me! Good luck with the D.A.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t know the whole story,” Hobbs says.

  “Who’s she? The cat? I’m right here!” Magma says, irritated. She turns to Danya. “Believe me, I’m eager to hear the whole story. If you can convince me you can convince anyone.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  “I’m telling you, Greta, the slut is credible!” Magma cries.

  Greta shakes her head. “So you just waltzed over to Hobbs’ apartment in the middle of the afternoon without telling him you were coming, and she was there.”

  “Yes, exactly. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. I tend to make myself too available. But am I glad I went! She’s not at all what we thought!”

  “What is she?”

  “She’s actually quite nice. And scared stiff of Sklar. Believe it or not, she’s very upset about the whole thing with Jean.”

  “The whole thing being bigamy, grand larceny, and fraud?” Greta says, disgusted.

  “Look, I was so furious I didn’t want to believe a word she said at first. But after talking to her for over two hours, I know she’s telling the truth. I’d stake my life on it. Just hear me out.”

  “I’m listening,” Greta says wearily.

  It seems to Magma that she has lived her entire life for this moment. Often referred to as the “truffle pig of gossip,” Magma is famous for sniffing out the tastiest rumors buried deep in the dirt of any social scandal du jour. By offering up delicious, unsubstantiated facts at luncheons and dinner parties, the aging Magma has managed to remain relevant without the benefit of a big name or big bucks in avaricious New York. She considered it macabre good luck to have been at The Four Seasons when Sunderland was shot. She dined out on that for awhile. But she was just an observer then. Now she’s an active participant, poised to play a pivotal role in what has now become the juiciest scandal in the country.

  She pauses for effect, sipping her tea with a raised pinkie as she assumes an authoritative air. “First of all, I should tell you that Danya Sunderland is not the innocent that Brent portrayed her to be in his blog.”

  “How very surprising,” Greta says.

  Magma ignores her friend’s sarcasm. “She admitted that to me right off the bat—which actually made me want to hear her out. She told me that Sun was into some seriously kinky stuff like S&M and bondage. Makes you wonder about our old friend, Jean, doesn’t it? You think she’s into that sort of thing?”

  “Go on,” Greta sighs.

  Magma pauses to set her cup and saucer down on the table with deliberation.

  “You know how in the blog Danya is quoted as saying the reason Sun risked committing bigamy is because he desperately wanted her to have a child that would bear his name? And how she went along with it because she was so in love with him?”

  “I read all that rot, yes.”

  “None of that was true.”

  “No kidding!” Greta exclaims, barely able to contain her impatience.

  “Do you want to know the real reason they got married?”

  “No. I just want to sit here and look at you drink tea. Will you please get to the point?”

  “Honestly, Greta, you don’t have to be so snippy! Okay, so the real reason they got married is because Burt invented this scheme to get all Sun’s money without Sun suspecting it!” Magma announces with pride.

  Greta furrows her brow, totally perplexed. “What? How was he going to swing that?”

  “I’m a little fuzzy on the details. But this is what Brent thinks happened: When Sun fell in love with Danya, he wanted her to be taken care of if anything ever happened to him. So he got Burt to set up that tartine thing Jean told us about.”

  “Tontine,” Greta corrects her.

  “Whatever. That thing where the people who live longer get the most money.”

  “I know what a tontine is, Magma. My father was a lawyer,” Greta says imperiously.

  “Okay, so Sun gives Burt his Limited Power of Attorney so he can set it up. The fact that Sun risked everything by actually marrying Danya shows that he was really serious about her. Burt was the only one who knew about the bigamy and he covered for Sun.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how Burt got the money out of the estate,” Greta says.

  “Danya says that Sun was so beholden to Burt he stopped paying any attention to what Burt was doing. And Brent thinks that Burt got Sun to sign a Durable Power of Attorney instead of a Limited Power of Attorney. Or maybe Burt just forged Sun’s signature. Whatever the case, Burt started transferring Sun’s money into the assets of the tontine, which are mostly in thes
e offshore accounts and private LLCs.”

  Greta leans in with interest. “Does this Danya person think Sun knew about this?”

  “She says she doesn’t know if he knew or not. But I doubt Sun knew the extent of it, don’t you? This is exactly what Burt did with Maud’s mother. Danya finds all this out after Sun dies. And she also finds out that Burt’s been secretly in love with her for years!”

  Greta is now listening intently. “So were Danya and Burt having an affair behind Sun’s back?”

  “No! That’s what I’m telling you! Danya had no idea about any of this!”

  “So she says,” Greta sneers. “It sounds to me more like she and Burt planned the whole thing together. But, even so, how could either of them have known Sun was going to get shot? The plan only works if he dies.”

  “Well, it’s Brent’s theory that Burt was playing ‘the long con’—to use his words. I mean, after all, Sun was almost forty years older than Danya. Plus he had a bad heart. The odds are he’d die first in any case. But, even if he didn’t, Burt was holding the bigamy over his head.”

  Greta stares at Magma in disbelief. “I can’t believe you and Brent are taking the bimbo’s word for all this. I think she’s conned the both of you.”

  “No! I saw her! She’s absolutely terrified of Burt. She thinks he’s capable of killing her. This is why I’m here.”

  Greta is losing all her patience. “I still don’t understand.”

  Magma takes a nervous breath. “Danya wants to meet Jean. I told her you could arrange it.”

  Greta lets out an incredulous whoop. “Don’t be ridiculous! First of all, I have no intention of arranging a meeting between Hitler and Churchill. Second of all, you’re all out of your minds if you think that Jean would even consider it! She’ll think it’s a trick.”

  “No, just wait. Listen. Danya wants to meet Jean so they can go to the District Attorney together!”

  Greta’s jaw drops. Magma grins.

  “The bimbo wants to go to the District Attorney?” Greta says, blinking in astonishment.

  Magma nods sanctimoniously. Greta is flummoxed. Magma clearly has the moral authority here. This is the first time in their long friendship that Magma has the upper hand. Greta tries to save face.

  “I know Jean better than anyone. She’ll never agree.”

  “You’re her best friend, Greta. Ask her.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Greta was surprised and a little disappointed when Jean agreed to meet with Danya after all—mainly because it gave Magma such smug satisfaction. However, when it was clear the meeting would take place, Greta graciously volunteered her apartment. That way she could be as supportive of Jean as possible, as well as in on all the action. Greta is with Jean in her bedroom now, helping her friend get ready for this second momentous meeting of the two Mrs. Sunderlands.

  “Nervous?” Greta says.

  “Of course. Wouldn’t you be?” Jean replies.

  “I think it’s good you agreed to see her. You definitely want to hear what she has to say.”

  Jean absently fingers the gold and enamel unicorn pin on the lapel of her suit jacket.

  “Sun gave this to me for our second anniversary.“

  “I remember.” Greta says.

  “I wonder if he ever really loved me,” Jean says wistfully. “This may sound strange to you, Greta. But I think I’d feel better if Sun had always been a pussy hound.”

  “Why in God’s name would that make you feel better, Jeanie?”

  “Because Sun never looked at another woman until she came along. I am curious to talk to her, just to try and understand what the hell is so special about her.”

  “Jeanie…” Greta hesitates. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told you before?”

  “Really? I thought we’d told each other everything at least a hundred times.”

  “Well, I never told you this. Mainly because when it happened, I could hardly believe it myself.”

  Jean furrows her brow. “What?”

  Greta clears her throat. “Sun once made a pass at me.”

  Jean draws back in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish.”

  “When?”

  “Coincidentally, the night he gave you that pin. I sat next to him at your anniversary dinner at La Grenouille. He put his hand up my skirt during the salmon en croute.”

  Jean glares at Greta. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Neither did I. But there was no mistaking his fingers crawling toward my crotch.”

  “Jesus…” Jean says, disgusted.

  “I slapped him under the table. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, reminding him I was your best friend. He looked at me like a wounded dog and said, ‘I know. But who else do you meet?’”

  Jean sinks down on the divan. “So that’s why you never wanted to fly alone with him in our plane? I always wondered why you turned down all those rides to Southampton.”

  “Honey, I wasn’t going anywhere near that man without you around,” Greta says. “And, quite frankly, over the years, I heard rumors…”

  “What rumors?”

  “That his business trips weren’t all business.”

  “You never told me.”

  “They were just rumors. You were happy. Why would I stir the pot? I’m not Magma.”

  “You think he ever propositioned her?”

  “Magma? The Internet? He wouldn’t have dared. Are you upset I told you?”

  Jean shakes her head in grim amusement. “No. Relieved, actually. I’m just wondering how it’s possible I had absolutely no inkling I was married to such a scumbag.”

  Greta shrugs. “Well, if it’s any consolation, Gary Ridgway’s wife had no idea he was the Green River serial killer.”

  “That’s very comforting, Greta. Thanks a lot.”

  “I mean the point is, Jeanie, Sun was always a dog. You just never wanted to see it because you guys had such a big, important life together. Money masks a lot. Most often from the people who have it.”

  Jean takes a long breath. “What time is it?”

  “Noon. They’ll be here soon. I better go play hostess. You coming?”

  “Give me a minute,” Jean says.

  Greta pauses in the doorway. “Just one more thought…I don’t think Sun ever got over his first wife leaving him for another woman. Trust me, Jeanie, this stripper was an accident waiting to happen…Now get down there and fight for your rights, sweetie!”

  When Greta leaves, Jean takes a long hard look at herself in the mirror. She removes the David Webb unicorn pin and tosses it into her purse, wondering how much it will bring at auction. It occurs to her that her marriage to Sun was just like that unicorn: A lovely myth based on wishful thinking.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Downstairs in the living room, Greta is helping Martyn serve coffee and homemade scones to Brent Hobbs and Squire Huff. Huff is in a snit. He’s been against this meeting from the start. When Jean first told him about it, he was outraged.

  “As your lawyer, I’m counseling you not to meet with this woman under any circumstances. We’re in the middle of a lawsuit. You can’t trust a damn thing she has to say so there’s no point in talking to her. You’re making a very grave mistake,” Huff warned.

  Jean quickly responded: “Magma assures me this creature has information that will help us against Sklar. Brent Hobbs has confirmed this. So I’m going to hear her out, no matter what you say, Squire. If you don’t like it, resign.”

  Jean’s imperiousness has put Huff in a foul mood. This isn’t the first time his professional opinion has been ignored. He mourns the passing of the good old days when clients automatically took their lawyers’ advice without question. He attributes this rebellion to the rise of gritty television shows that let the daylight in
on the internal machinations and cut-throat billing practices of law firms. He sits silently stewing, wondering if it’s time to retire to East Hampton and play golf.

  Meanwhile, Hobbs is thrilled to be there for a number of reasons, but mainly on account of the book he’s going to write. Vicky Banks, his high-powered agent, is excited. She’s informed him she can get him a high six-figure deal. Banks was disappointed when Hobbs’ first book, Complicity, failed to become a bestseller despite the stellar reviews. She dismissed him as a “one book wonder.” The only reason she kept Hobbs on her roster is because they go way back, specifically to a one-night stand Banks would rather forget, but which Hobbs hangs over her head like a Sword of Damocles when she doesn’t return his calls. After his Danya blog, she perked up, especially when he told her he had the inside track. If only Vicky could only see him now, Hobbs thinks, as they all sit there waiting for these two archenemies to meet.

  As Jean enters the living room, Hobbs bounds up to shake her hand.

  “You’re very brave, Jean. I know this can’t be easy for you,” he says.

  “They should be here any moment, sweetie,” Greta says.

  “I just hope you and the Magpie haven’t steered me wrong.”

  Jean pours herself a glass of scotch from the silver and glass trolley bar and sits down in a far corner of the room. Huff plants himself beside her.

  “I’m not sure alcohol is the best palliative at this moment.”

  “It’s marginally better than hemlock,” Jean says.

  “For the record, I’m still very much against this meeting,” he warns.

  Jean ignores him. “What time is it?”

  Huff shoots the button cuff of his left hand to look at his watch—the warhorse Rolex given to him by his father when he graduated from Harvard umpteen years ago.

  “Twelve-forty.”

  At that moment, Danya and Magma appear at the entrance—Danya in black, Magma in red. Hobbs thinks they look like soldier and prisoner on their way to the firing squad. Silence reigns as the two women slowly descend the shallow steps leading down to the living room. The tension in the room is electric. When they reach the bottom, Danya freezes in apparent fear. Greta walks over to greet her guests.