Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit

by Paul T. Goldman

  TERRI - Tricks.

  PAUL - Oh, then it wasn't about me, it was about future business.

  TERRI - Business. I am also getting that she's trying to cheat Royce.

  PAUL - What is Tony Sawgrass's role in this?

  TERRI - Front man. He provides the men, and takes a percentage. No, not a percentage, a gratuity. He gets money from both sides. He's tipped by the men he gets, and also gets a referral fee from Audrey.

  PAUL - From the phone logs, there's a guy in New York, a Vinny Rivera, who Audrey calls every month. What's his role in the ring?

  TERRI - Local distribution. He sets up the clients, and Audrey sends her girls to New York. You know, I'm getting that this is big. Bigger than the Washington DC madam thing. Again, Paul, I can't tell you how strong the feeling is for you to get local law enforcement involved. Also, I'm getting that you should contact an investigative journalist. Understand that your purpose here is bigger than you, because you're the only one strong enough to stand up to her and stop what she's doing. She looked at you as if you were weak and wimpy.

  PAUL - She was living a double life.

  TERRI - I wouldn't call it a double life. I would call it living 100% duplicitous. I would call it lying and scamming and scheming. Saying she was living a double life isn't significant enough. She's a con artist. So, saying that she was living a double life, this assumes that the life with you was a normal life, and that's an incorrect assumption.

  PAUL - I see. She's living only one life, stealing and lying to everyone.

  TERRI - Yes, thank you. You can't say that she was living a double life. She was being 100% duplicitous.

  PAUL - Right. Who’s Audrey’s next victim? Is victim #4 a man by the name of Mark Rogers? Or is it someone else who we don’t know about?

  TERRI - Where are you getting that name?

  PAUL - Audrey made eighty-four calls to one particular number in May and June, so I called the number. A man answered, and Audrey was with him and so were Audrey’s three children. I concluded that the man was not a trick, but a boyfriend.

  TERRI - Both.

  PAUL - Both? Is there another person? What’s his name?

  TERRI - Charlie Watson

  PAUL - Where does he live?

  TERRI - North, an hour north of Palm Beach, in a town with the word “bay” in it.

  PAUL - Could it be Palm Bay? Has she been seeing him at the same time as Mark Rogers, and she simply can’t decide whom she will marry? I mean, she can't marry two guys at the same time.

  TERRI - No, but one, then the other. One will be #4 and one will be #5. She is long-term planning. Now, let me tell you. The bigger picture is most important at this time. What you're doing to stop her is critically important, more than you know.

  PAUL - What bigger picture?

  TERRI - If she gets arrested, it could have far reaching ramifications, not only for her but for others.

  PAUL - What do you mean?

  TERRI - Maybe she has lots of politicians and business people in her book. I'm being shown that you and I don't know the whole picture. This is so big.

  PAUL - Good idea. Thanks, Terri.

  At the conclusion of our reading, I felt both informed and motivated. This was big and so was my role in it. Recognizing that my findings would do so much more than simply benefit my divorce proceedings and enhance Bob Thompson’s position in his custody dispute, I was now determined to prevent Audrey from using other men as she had me. I would be a protector of the deceived and my first order of business would be to contact Audrey’s next victim as identified by Terri: Charlie Watson of Palm Bay.

  A quick search using whitepages.com provided me with a name and address.

  Charlie Watson. The guy exists, and in the city Terri Lynn said. Wow, I thought, that's pretty impressive. So, I immediately picked up the phone and began to dial his number. When I heard the first ring, it suddenly occurred to me that I was unprepared for what I should say and how Charlie might react. I had endured months of suspicions and, when I did come to learn the truth about Audrey, I did it on my own. In this case, I would just be dropping a huge bombshell on a man that may have no idea that anything was amiss. I had to consider the possibility that he might not even believe me, or that he might be working with her. Terri was good, but sometimes names and faces appear with uncertain roles. What if Charlie Watson was actually a trick? Second guessing my decision to confront him, I began to pull the receiver away from my ear when a woman’s voice answered the phone.

  “Hello?” her voice sounded soft and sweet, and I could tell she was older.

  “Hi, uh, is Charlie Watson there?” I asked, wondering if she might hang up thinking it was a telemarketer. No such luck, I would have to do what I’d set out to.

  “No, he isn’t. May I help you?” she asked, so innocently I considered lying.

  “Well, I don’t know how to put this, this is very awkward actually, but do you know a woman named Audrey Munson?” I asked, pausing after almost every word.

  “No, I’m sorry I don’t,” she replied apologetically. “But wait, Charlie just walked in.” I was probably speaking with his wife, which could make this all turn out badly. Very badly. “Charlie, there’s a man on the phone. Do you know a woman named Audrey Munson?” she called out.

  “No, why?” I heard him say, some distance from the phone.

  “Why?” she relayed to me. At this point, I was unsure how to proceed.

  “Well, this is hard to explain,” I began, wishing she would just put Charlie on the phone. I began to run my fingers through my hair and pace as I chose my words carefully. “Audrey Munson, well, she’s my wife. And, you see, I have some information that she’s having an affair with a man. All I know is that the man’s name is, uh, Charlie Watson, a Charlie Watson who lives in Palm Bay.” There, it was out. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the fury, until something far more unexpected happened. The woman started laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, in between chuckles. “It’s not my Charlie. You’ve been misinformed. Charlie and I have been happily married for fifteen years and, well, you don’t know Charlie,” she explained. I blushed a bit in my embarrassment.

  “Oh, right,” I replied, wondering whether I had the wrong man or if he was really that good in his deception. “I’m sorry, it’s just that, well, could I ask you one more thing?”

  “Sure. What is it?” the woman asked, still enjoying the amusement of my call.

  “Is your husband rich? I mean, this woman, she only goes after rich men.” Apparently, this question was even funnier than the first. Charlie Watson’s wife was now laughing outright, unable to respond right away.

  “Rich?” she said, regaining her composure between peals of laughter. “Hardly. My Charlie works in construction and makes about fifty thousand a year.”

  “Oh, well, my information is wrong. I’m sorry to have bothered you,” I said, anxious to end the call. I had intended to save a man from Audrey’s web of deceit, but instead I ended up spinning quite a yarn. The woman was still giggling.

  “Well, hold on a second,” she said, more collected. “Let me give you to Charlie.”

  Confronted with complete regret over making the call, I prepared myself for more laughter at my expense.

  “What’s this I’m hearing?” Charlie began, more serious than his wife. “Your wife is having an affair with a man named Charlie Watson?”

  “Yes, that’s my information,” I confirmed as I slowly slumped into my chair. “I think it’s someone else though because she only goes after really wealthy men.”

  “Well, it sure ain't me. I’m a fifty-five year old biker with long gray hair down to my butt!” he said, with a chuckle.

  “I guess not. Any chance you might know of another Charlie Watson in Palm Bay?” I asked hopefully, slowly spinning in my chair.

  “I don’t think so. Palm Bay is a pretty small town. But I can certainly check around and get back to you,” he offered, and his kindness went a long
way in easing my initial embarrassment. I gave him my name and number and thanked him for his time.

  “Thanks so much and I’m sorry to have bothered you with this.”

  “No bother at all,” he reassured me, and I hung up the phone wondering how Terri had gotten this one so wrong. Fifteen minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hi Paul. This is Charlie Watson. We just spoke.”

  “Yes, Charlie. What’s up?” I asked, curious by his quick call-back.

  “You know, my wife and I were thinking and we may have come up with the name of someone who's been using my name.” Now, this was getting interesting.

  “Someone using your name?”

  “About two years ago, I was a partner in a construction company called Double C Construction. The owner of the company is a man named Bill Townsend. Now Bill, he’s very wealthy. Drives a Porsche, wears all those fancy clothes, and I know he’s down in your area a lot, drinking and going out to bars despite being married with children.” I was beginning to feel excited. Could this explain Terri’s reading?

  “Audrey goes to Palm Beach bars to seek out victims,” I confirmed, eager to learn more about this Bill Townsend.

  “Well, the thing is, when we were working together, I asked Bill to get me some business cards, which he did. He got two boxes, but kept one for himself, which always seemed odd to me.”

  “Are you saying Bill Townsend has a bunch of business cards with your name on them?” I repeated, hoping I’d heard him correctly.

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “This is too much! So, he goes to bars, picks up women using your name to protect his married identity, and even gives them your cards.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “That is incredible, Charlie. Any chance you have his number?”

  “No, but you can look up Double C Construction and get their number. It’s a huge company.”

  “I will. Charlie, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “No problem. Good luck.”

  I hung up the phone amazed by the constant twists and turns I was uncovering. I did a Google search for Double C Construction and wrote down the office number with every intent of giving Bill Townsend a call in the near future. I experienced a new determination to get to the bottom of Audrey's illegal, double life. With that satisfying feeling, I resolved to call Joyce with this new information.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A Public Investigation

  Mid-September, 2009

  As morning slipped seamlessly into early afternoon, Johnny and I ended our rather intense game of good guys / bad guys on the front lawn with a consensus that good had appropriately won. Though we’d spent close to an hour carrying out the modern version of cops and robbers, after six hold-ups and five prison breaks, our need for nourishment trumped all devotion to the triumph of good over evil. Besides, I’d promised him a lunch of mac and cheese and tater tots, a menu no diminutive police officer could ever pass up. So we headed into the house, and, like the good guy I was, I started the water boiling for the mac and cheese. “Johnny, why don't you set the table?” I asked, handing him some plates and napkins. Then the phone rang.

  “Hey, Paul, I just got your message. What’s up?”

  “Hi, thanks for getting back to me, Joyce. I know I filled you in on the information I got from Charlie Watson, but I also have some information from an inside source that our person of interest will be joining some of her female co-workers at a hotel for a convention on Friday with the purpose of making themselves available, at a price.” I was doing my best to veil my word choice in the presence of Johnny, but one glance in his direction proved that he was still lost in thought.

  “Really? Interesting? And have you revealed this source to me before?” Joyce asked, always the investigator.

  “No, I think I’ll keep that identity anonymous for the time being, but I was hoping you could have one guy follow her at eight in the morning, as we’ve been doing, and then add another one at four and a third at six,” I suggested, staring at the pot of water, waiting for any sign of a boil. “I just don’t want to lose her.”

  “You got it, Paul.”

  Our conversation ended with a promise that Joyce would contact me with feedback as soon as possible, and I in turn would seek out the Bill Townsend whom Charlie Watson had mentioned for any leads. Then, I poured some milk, stirred in the macaroni, and turned to check on my table setter.

  The following Friday night found me on pins and needles. I left the phone alone, mindful of Joyce's instruction not to call and interrupt any surveillance. While I was waiting for her to call, I couldn't keep the thought of overweight conventioneers grasping crumpled hundred dollar bills and leading Audrey up to their rooms. I was imagining video surveillance capturing money exchanging hands. Before my mind could jump to the next scene, I was saved by the ring of the phone. It was eleven o'clock.

  “Well, did she go to the hotel?” I asked, not at all attempting to mask my anticipation.

  “She did go to a hotel, but not the hotel where they were having the convention.”

  “I don’t understand,” I replied, hoping Joyce had found something, anything.

  “Here’s what happened. She dropped off Tommy at Bob’s house around six, went to the grocery store, bought some groceries, and put them in the trunk of her car. I took this as a good sign, perhaps she was preparing for her night of work with the girls.”

  “Definitely a good sign,” I agreed.

  “She then drove back to her Jupiter apartment and, instead of parking her car in her assigned spot right behind her building, she parked it in another parking lot about a quarter mile away. Then, she walked back to her apartment, but instead of going upstairs right away, she walked around her building twice while talking on the phone. Finally, she went up to her apartment.”

  “Really?” I asked, confused by both her choice in parking and exercise. “Do you think she thought she was being followed?”

  “Maybe. But then, her parents showed up around eight-thirty. They brought in food and luggage, as if they were planning to stay for the night. I told my guys to hang out until ten and, if she didn’t come out, to end the surveillance. At around nine-thirty, she exited the apartment dressed in high heels, tight jeans, and a form-fitting top.” Picturing Audrey in my mind, I felt disgusted. Joyce continued, “I was thinking, great, now she’ll go to the convention. But she didn’t. She drove two miles down the road to the Royal Comfort hotel, drove up to the valet, and talked for at least five minutes with him as if she knew him well. Then, she drove to the parking lot and sat in her car for twenty minutes. We saw her answer a call on her cell phone, get out of the car, and walk into the hotel, directly to the bar. My guys were right behind.

  “She walked into the bar and all the staff members greeted her by name. Then, she walked right through the bar, through a door into the kitchen, and came out a few minutes later with a cup of hot tea and sat down at the bar. Within twenty seconds, two men approached her, obviously clued in to the situation. She started to talk with them and her body language made it very clear that she was propositioning them, trying to get them excited. While she was talking, she would lean in very close and stroke and squeeze their arms.”

  “The concierge must have called around and found two guys who wanted a hooker, then told them she’d be in the bar drinking tea,” I theorized. Now, I was getting excited by the fact that we finally had some real evidence of Audrey at work.

  “Could be,” Joyce speculated. “Unfortunately she stood up a few minutes later, extended her hand to the men, said ‘nice to have met you,’ left the bar and returned home. On the way home, she took a detour, driving around the parking lot of the hotel across the street. We have no idea what that was about.”

  “Me neither, Joyce. As for the two men, they probably couldn’t agree on a price,” I said. “Too bad. I guess her parents’ arrival at her apartment squashed her own convention plans, so she went to the Royal Comfort
Inn to try and make some money for her Friday night.”

  “Could be. Or maybe those guys made plans for another time or with some of Audrey’s girls,” Joyce speculated. “Either way, your suspicions really seem to be right on. It won’t be long before we really have some hard evidence, I can promise you that.”

  With this latest success, I had to believe Joyce was right about that, and decided it was time to let my lawyer, Adam Nettles, in on my investigation. However, always a pragmatist, I knew he would need some convincing before he bought into the idea. That following Monday, I drove to his office.

  “Adam, look at these phone calls. Three hundred a month to her pimp Royce, one hundred and fifty a month to an outside voice mailbox, tons of calls to men, calls to hotels, calls to six different men before going to Chicago, and dozens of calls to out-of-state numbers. And, last but not least, look at these calls to Palm Beach Bail Bonds. Why would a stay-at-home mom call a bail bondsman? Adam, does this fit the pattern of a stay at home mom?” I was standing in front of his desk as he stared back at me skeptically. Feeling like an attorney myself, I knew he would be hard to convince.

  “It looks like something is going on,” he grudgingly admitted, extending his palms up in doubt. “But, I’m a lawyer. I need proof.”

  “Proof? Haven't you been listening? She’s supposed to be a stay-at-home mom with no outside income. What else could all this be?” I replied, my voice getting louder and louder as I encountered Adam's resistance to the obvious.

  “So, she makes calls to men, and calls her boyfriend Royce a lot. That doesn’t exactly make her a hooker. I think you’re delusional, Paul.” I could see it in his eyes. Adam saw me as a desperate man clinging at ideas to explain the demise of my marriage. I slowly sat down, and leaned in, making certain he looked me in the face.

  “I’m not delusional, Adam,” I said firmly, resting my hands on my knees. “Audrey is a madam and a working prostitute. I have proof. If I seem passionate or emotional, it’s only because this is all so unbelievable, that’s all.” Adam held my gaze, realizing that I was serious and focused. “Listen to this,” I continued, and I set a cassette recorder onto his desk. “Audrey has a new voice mail message on her cell phone. You tell me if this is the message of a stay-at-home mom.” I pressed the “play” button.