Audrey's voice was soft and sensuous, in that sexually charged tone mostly heard on late night ads for 900 numbers:
“Hey, I hope you're having a great day. I'm sorry I missed your call. Please email me at Lady Audrey at mail.com. That's L A D Y underscore A U D R E Y at mail dot com. Or leave me a message. Thank you.”
The stunned look on Adam's face told me I was finally getting through to him. “Isn't that incredible?” I asked. “She's not even trying to hide it anymore.”
“Wow. Wow,” he said again, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his desk. “You may have something, but I still need more hard evidence.”
“I believe I’ll have it soon. Bob Thompson’s lawyer has subpoenaed the actual deposit slips from her bank account. Let’s see what the source is of her extra three grand in deposits every month. They were made in very odd amounts, like $53.57 and $87.94. I’m telling you, they’re either interest from CDs, dividends from a brokerage account, or trust fund disbursements. From our combined experiences, Joe Munson, Bob Thompson and I all believe that there's money in the family.”
“When will they come in?” Adam asked, jotting down some notes as I spoke.
“Audrey and her lawyer have another ten days to respond.”
“Let’s wait until then,” he advised, resting his pen on his notebook and folding his hands on his desk. “In the meantime, try to stay calm, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I won’t do anything rash, trust me.” And I meant it, at least until a few minutes later when I was driving home. Remembering Terri’s advice, I called the Palm Beach Police Department and set up an appointment within the hour to meet with one of their detectives. This would mark my first incursion into the old money area of Palm Beach, and my first step toward making my private investigation public.
Driving onto the island, my eyes took in the veritable amusement park of luxury living and the benefits of exclusivity. Opulent boutiques, perfectly manicured landscaping, palatial estates, and perfectly tanned denizens floating down the pristine sidewalks of a land known only to the very wealthy. Palm Beach attracted both the affluent in all their finery, and those looking to take advantage of it. It was becoming clear why the Palm Beach upscale hotels were Audrey's playground and office.
I drove past the very hotel where the convention targeted by Audrey and her team took place on Friday, and I smiled knowing that her ability to profit from it had been thwarted by her parents' arrival. I guess Audrey was limited to just her overrides for that particular weekend. Too bad.
Pulling into the police station, I was immediately impressed by the building itself. Like everything in Palm Beach, no expense had been spared in constructing it, a paragon of contemporary architecture and upper class refinement. Perhaps it also proved to be another reason why deviants found their way to Palm Beach; if a scheme is unsuccessful, at least the amenities are nice.
I walked through the main entrance and approached the front desk where a young, auburn haired woman was trying hard not to look bored. She clearly was expecting me, and when I asked to speak to Sergeant Kowalski, she perked right up, grateful to have something to do and eager to get out from behind the desk. She quickly led me into a small interview room, where I was told the Sergeant would be right in. Within a minute’s time, a young, casually dressed man entered the room and shut the door.
“I’m Sergeant Kowalski,” he said, extending his hand in a perfunctory act of courtesy. “What can I help you with today?” Sergeant Kowalski pulled the metal chair out from under the cold metal table and sat directly across from me. The sound of the chair made a screech that caused me to wince while the sergeant began a rather annoying habit of clicking his pen repeatedly. If this was his tactic to deter chronic grumblers determined to waste police time, it was unsuccessful. All it did was annoy me.
“I have reason to believe that Audrey Munson, my wife, is a prostitute and madam of a large prostitution ring operating in and around Palm Beach,” I stated confidently, spreading all my documents out before the sergeant who was still clicking away at his pen. I went on to share my suspicions about Audrey and her associates, and to detail my investigation so far. I brought photos of Audrey and handed them to the sergeant.
“I've never seen her,” he said, “but I'll pass them around.”
“I've made copies of all the evidence for you, Sergeant,” I said, handing him two large stacks.
“Well,” he said, standing abruptly, terminating the meeting. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Goldman. I’ll take a closer look at this and let you know what I think.” Before I could thank him for his time, he was out of the room and heading back down the hall with the click of his pen marking his cadence.
“Thanks, Sergeant,” I muttered to myself. I was deflated by his imperial manner and left the room.
Disappointed by my failure to establish any real communication with the police, frustrated by the slow process of surveillance, and irritated by my lawyer’s continuing skepticism, I decided it was time to call Bill Townsend, the man possibly impersonating Charlie Watson, and see where that conversation might lead. After I got home, I dialed his office number and his secretary was kind enough to put me right through.
“Mr. Townsend,” I began, much more certain of my words than I was with Charlie Watson, “my name is Paul Goldman and I'm the husband of Audrey Munson. I'm calling to warn you that Audrey marries men for the sole purpose of stealing their assets and then divorces them.” I paused and calmly awaited his response.
“I have no idea who Audrey Munson is, but go on.”
“Well, let me tell you what she did to me and to her second husband, a man named Bob Thompson.” I proceeded to give him the shorter, fifteen minute version of my story, which he listened to quietly, save the occasional “uh huh” at various points. “Well, Mr. Townsend, now you know everything. If you want to keep having sex with her, go right ahead, but for God’s sake, don’t marry her.” Too much had happened to mince words; I was determined to relay my message whether he wanted to hear it or not.
“Well, like I said, I don’t know Audrey Munson, but thanks for the warning. Bye.”
And with that, he hung up. Odd, I thought. This very busy man who claimed not to know Audrey still listened attentively to every detail of my story. He knew her, I concluded, but since he was misrepresenting himself as another man, I wasn't sure if he was Audrey's next victim or a satisfied customer.
* * *
Ten days passed without a word from Sergeant Kowalski of the Palm Beach Police department. Restless because of my investigation’s lack of recent progress, I decided to call him instead of waiting for him to call.
“Sergeant Kowalski, this is Paul Goldman. I sat down with you last week and gave you information about Audrey Munson. Since I haven't heard from you, I was wondering if you could tell me how things were going?”
“Mr. Goldman, our office is not going to pursue an investigation,” he declared, obviously annoyed by my impertinent call.
“Why not?”
“We don’t feel that there is enough activity in our jurisdiction to warrant further investigation.” It occurred to me that he probably never intended to call me back.
“Not enough activity? But the Queen Palm Hotel in Palm Beach is one of the main ones she uses.”
“Sorry, Mr. Goldman,” though we both knew he wasn’t. “That’s our decision. But I have sent the file to the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Department for their review. Their jurisdiction is the whole county, all of Palm Beach County.”
“Okay, tha-- ” and again he was gone before I could say another word. The conversation not only left me irritated, but also confused. According to Terri, Audrey worked very ritzy hotels, and the most ritzy were in Palm Beach. Furthermore, Bob Thompson told me that Audrey often went to Palm Beach hotels to pick up men. In fact, he originally met Audrey in a Palm Beach bar. Anyway, I was not giving up just because our public non-servant didn’t believe there was anything to investigat
e. There were other police departments and I would not be deterred. I immediately called the Spencer County Sheriff’s Office; Spencer County being the one in which both Audrey and Royce lived. Doubting that this department could say that there wasn't enough activity in their area, I confidently asked the receptionist to connect me with someone in their vice unit.
“Tobias,” the man answered curtly.
“Are you a vice officer?” I asked, determined not to waste any more time.
“Yes I am. How can I help you?”
“I have information about a large prostitution ring whose pimp and madam live in your jurisdiction.”
“What’s the pimp’s name?” he asked, his tone devoid of emotion or inflection.
“Royce Rocco.”
“Oh, yes, we know him.”
“You know him?” I asked, surprised and elated by the admission.
“Yes.”
“Well, I think we need to meet so I can give you the information I have obtained.”
“Fine, when would you like to meet? ” he asked. Agent Tobias seemed to be interested, and I was happy that he was willing to meet with me.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Fine, come to the station at noon.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Fine.” I hung up the phone, pleased to have found someone who might actually take real action. That made me feel more than fine. So excited was I that I needed to share the news with someone who shared my interest and investment in the case: Bob Thompson. I immediately called him up and told him about my conversations with both Sergeant Kowalski and Agent Tobias.
“Wow, that sounds good. What’s next?” Bob asked.
“Well, they really didn’t tell me anything other than the fact that they know Royce, but I made an appointment to go there tomorrow and meet with one of their agents.”
“Uh, Paul, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why not?” I asked, unsure why Bob would discourage it.
“Well, because Royce knows the Spencer County Captain. They’re friends, Paul. Or maybe more than friends.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Let me tell you what happened,” Bob continued. “About a year ago, Audrey wasn't returning Tommy on Friday mornings as our custody settlement dictated. So, I called the Spencer County PD and had them do a ‘welfare check’ at Audrey’s trailer to see if Tommy was alright.”
“And was he?”
“Yes, but then the following Friday she pulled the same thing again. She didn’t return Tommy and so I called in for another welfare check. Once again, Tommy was at the trailer with her and fine, but the next day I got a call from the Captain of the Spencer County PD instructing me to ‘stop harassing Audrey Munson’.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Unless he's benefiting from her services, there is no way Audrey knows the Captain of the Spencer County PD, so she must have called Royce and had him contact one of his buddies on the inside.”
“I’m glad you told me this. There’s no way I’m walking into that police station tomorrow.”
“Exactly. You’re going to have to find another way,” Bob advised. I agreed and hung up. I tried to think of possible alternatives, but I came up with nothing. Uncertain about how to proceed, I once again turned to Terri for guidance. I sent her the following email:
Here is what’s going on: I’m having a difficult time. The Palm Beach police, said they did NOT know her from her photos, and even "passed the buck" to the other police departments, saying there wasn’t enough activity in their jurisdiction.
And the Spencer County police, unbelievably, they know Royce, but it seems he’s a personal friend of their CAPTAIN. So, I don’t think I'll get anywhere with them, and it might even be dangerous for me. My trial is three weeks from today. Can I get another reading with you?
Within minutes, my computer beeped to signal a new email, a quick response from Terri. She wrote:
Paul, you still need to pursue the police departments - go right to vice. Also, the phone records in court will help a lot. There is no other reason for her to be making all those phone calls to men and the bullshit she gave you about needing time free with no questions asked.
Though her message was direct, I was looking for more. I set up another reading with her for the following week. With my divorce trial less than a month away, I couldn't afford to waste any time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hard Evidence
September – October 2009
In keeping with my promise to stop Audrey's heartless victimization of innocent men, and her illegal prostitution ring, I effectively organized a team of professionals whose varied backgrounds and occupations all contributed greatly to my search for the true Audrey. Adam, my lawyer, was the realist, the empiricist, and the one person who knew my legal rights and boundaries; Joyce, my private investigator, was my blood hound, tracking Audrey’s scent at every turn to provide the evidence that Adam so adamantly required; and finally, there was Terri, who consistently provided me with the most substantial guidance even though many people believe her calling is lacking all substance. I know that there is a clear line between those who do believe, and those who do not, but Terri’s readings had removed all doubt for me, especially after the sensational fourth reading.
September 28, 2009: The Fourth Reading
TERRI - Make sure your lawyer uses the term "con artist." I don't think anyone has ever confronted her before.
PAUL - Probably not.
TERRI - I am going to tune into Audrey now. OOOOH, she's a sociopath. She feels she's omnipotent. Oh my GOD, she is so split from her true self. It's like wallowing around in sludge. It's like she has no emotions.
PAUL - Well, if you are a hooker for ten years, that might do it to you, don't you think?
TERRI - No, the other way around. She had no emotions, so she became a hooker. Paul, I'm getting a caution for you, to be really careful. I feel there are mob connections.
PAUL - Yes, I know. Tony Sawgrass has mob connections. Bob Thompson's private eye told me that.
TERRI - You have to make it look as if you're only looking for a divorce. It needs to appear to be a coincidence that all the other shit is happening to them.
PAUL - What was the year she met Royce, and how did they meet?
TERRI - She has known him for years. They met in a bar.
PAUL - Same question about Tony Sawgrass.
TERRI - A friend introduced them, so he could expand their business.
PAUL - Audrey had an outside voice mailbox that she called five times a day. Why did men call that number? A magazine ad?
TERRI - Referrals. Person to person referrals from Royce or Tony. They would tell their people, "Call this number and she'll get back to you."
PAUL - Interesting.
TERRI - Oh, I see her death again, being killed by a trick.
PAUL - When?
TERRI - I don't know. I'm not very good with dates. GOD I see a violent, violent death.
PAUL - In a hotel room?
TERRI - Yes.
PAUL - Is he strangling her?
TERRI - No, a knife. He's cutting her up.
PAUL - Oh GOD.
TERRI - I’m going to show this to her. Hang on… Oh GOD, she's delusional! She thinks she's protected somehow. Why? Hang on. Because the police are getting paid off, and are turning their heads, since they're looking for more violent crimes and drugs. If they would focus on the prostitution, they could get the drug dealers too because prostitution and drugs go hand in hand. Cocaine and pot. Some of the cops are on the take, so she feels protected. Now I'm going to show her how she can change this. Hang on… I'm sorry, Paul. She doesn't want to heal. Your job now is to stop her from continuing to prey on others. Audrey really doesn't care about anyone, including her kids. She's incapable of feeling, which is really sad.
PAUL - I'm sad for her.
TERRI - Yes, but being sad isn't going to serve you. The best emotion that
you can have is non-judgment, pity, and compassion.
PAUL - One more question. You said in a prior reading that there was a connection between Audrey and a website called FANTASYGIRLS.COM Now, this website has no links to escorts. It has porn movies and photos only. What's the connection?
TERRI - Oh my GOD. You're not going to believe this. She's done porn! Bring her photograph to one of those video stores and ask the clerks if they know her.
PAUL - What's the name she did the movies under?
TERRI - It's an "A" name, like, um, Audrey Austin, but that's not it. She does use her first name and the last name, like, ANCHOR, or ALBERT.. she has made several... hang on... ALMOND, ALMOND.
PAUL - Thanks Terri. Bye
As the reading ended, I slowly hung up the phone and sat in silence for a long time. On any given day, my feelings toward Audrey ranged from bitterness and resentment, to sadness, anger, and even bursts of rage. There was no part of me that wanted any part of her, but hearing that her life would meet a frightening, violent end was something entirely different. I had loved her once, and though that love could never be recaptured, the knowledge of her fate found me terribly burdened. Though Terri had shared so many useful things with me, I regretted knowing this. For that day, however, I put my emotions aside, grabbed my car keys and quickly strode out of the room, and got into my car. There was work to be done.
I drove to a local adult video store and the empty lot heralded me as its only customer. I turned off the car and glanced down at my notes where I had scribbled Audrey’s possible movie names, with the moniker “Audrey Almond” underlined several times. Although I wondered where she had found the time, and made the connections to get into that business, I wasn't shocked by Terri's vision of Audrey as a porn star. Sex for money. As long as she was paid, filmed or not filmed probably made little difference to Audrey. I knew if I could find a sex tape with Audrey in it, showing it at my trial would be a great help to my case.
Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit Page 19