Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit

by Paul T. Goldman

  * * *

  Much like the clear line that divides those who believe in the supernatural and those who do not, there is an even clearer line separating those who patronize sexually-themed stores and those who do not, at least for the record. The former tend to feel no shame in their consumerism and browse as openly as they do unapologetically, while the latter can only be found surreptitiously browsing with a ready excuse, such as the need to pick something up for a friend, a joke, or a bachelor party. Regardless of the purpose of the visit, I can honestly say that I was probably among the very small percentage of men investigating the possibility of his wife being a porn star. No matter, I was prepared with pictures and without apology.

  Pushing open the door to the store, bells in the shape of a certain anatomy announced my entrance and I was immediately confronted with rows of videos, confusing and in some cases terrifying instruments, and even some apparel. The store was completely empty of people except for the three clerks standing behind the counter, two of whom were conducting an inventory while the third stared absently out the front window into the parking lot. None of them bothered to glance at me.

  With pictures of Audrey in hand, I approached the first two clerks directly and cleared my voice to signal my need for assistance. Without looking up, the first clerk, a tall, gangly young man with unwashed hair and wire rimmed glasses asked, “How can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if you could tell me if you recognize this woman from any movies?” I asked, placing the pictures on the counter. The second clerk looked up, a smaller version of the first clerk without the glasses, and peered down at Audrey’s image.

  “Never seen her,” he responded, sounding disappointed while the first clerk peered over his shoulder.

  “Me neither. Sorry, man.” The first clerk said, adjusting his glasses before using the back of his hand to wipe his nose.

  “Well, what about her?” I asked, pointing to the third clerk who continued to stare out the window. My question must have jarred her from her trance, since she turned toward me, revealing a tired face, blonde spikes of hair concealing one eye, and a rusted nameplate that read “Kim.”

  “Excuse me,” trying to encourage her to join the viewing, “do you recognize this woman?” Kim didn’t answer, but instead walked over to the counter and picked up one of the pictures, tilting her head and squinting her eyes. Between the three of them, I figured they'd probably seen the store's entire library of porn films, so I was indeed talking to a panel of experts. Sure enough, Kim identified her.

  “Oh yeah, that’s Audrey Almond.” She spoke with complete certainty and then she let the picture drop back to the counter before returning to the window.

  “Wait, how do you know her?” I asked, unable to conceal my surprise.

  “I remember her films from stocking shelves where I used to work at the Red Light Video Store. That was a year ago.” Her back stayed turned to me as she answered.

  “Well, do you remember the titles of the movies she was in? Any ‘Audrey Almond’ movies?”

  “Nope, sorry. I don’t really remember titles, just faces. But that is definitely Audrey Almond,” she said again, the back of her head nodding. Desperate to learn more or find something, I turned to the two clerks who were still staring at the pictures.

  “Can you run the name Audrey Almond through your computer? Find the names of her movies?”

  “No, we can’t do that. Our computer system searches by movie titles only,” the taller one confessed with a sniff, while the smaller one seemed to be memorizing Audrey’s face. “Not names, sorry.”

  “You should just search her online. I bet you’d find something,” the smaller one offered, finally shifting his glance away from the pictures back to some boxes on the floor.

  “Right, thanks,” I answered, collecting the pictures and hurrying out the door. I dialed information on my cell phone before I even got to my car and was able to hunt down the address of the Red Light Video Store so I could continue my search. Unfortunately, a thirty minute drive, two clueless clerks, and an equally inept computer system offered up no answers. On my way home, I decided to try searching the Internet, after I took a long, detoxifying shower.

  Over the next few days, I searched through every porn star engine on the internet for ‘Audrey Almond,’ but came up completely empty. I called Terri to see if she could come up with an actual title of a movie, but she couldn’t. I even hit one more adult store to see if I might stumble upon a clerk with a more encyclopedic knowledge of porn, but there were none. All I found was a new list of jobs I was happy not to have, a slew of annoying pop-up porn ads on my computer, and the computer equivalent of an STD, a virus. Frustrated by my fruitless efforts, I decided to refocus my investigation and follow another of Terri’s suggestions: seeking out a journalist.

  The major newspaper in Palm Beach County was The Palm Beach Post, which I contacted and asked to speak to someone in their investigative department. That request led me to a man named Jim and his voice mail. I left a message.

  The week had been one of those weeks when nothing seemed to go right and some part of me believed that, as long as I could get through it, the next week would bring a change of momentum, a new chance for a good week. I went to sleep on Sunday night wondering if I would hear back from the Post, considering Audrey Almond may not actually exist, and desperately trying not to think about Audrey’s fate as foretold by Terri. And then Monday morning, the phone rang.

  “Paul, I have some interesting news,” Bob Thompson’s voice spoke to me through the blur of morning haze.

  “Yeah? What’s that?” I was sitting up in bed, rubbing my eyes, and hoping that Bob really had something good given the early hour.

  “My lawyer subpoenaed the deposit slips from Audrey’s Bank of Florida account and they just came in.”

  “Just came in? What time is it?” I asked, my eyes searching out my alarm clock.

  “It’s nine-thirty. Were you sleeping?”

  “No,” I lied, wondering how I slept so late. With Johnny visiting my father and my late night theorizing, this morning marked the first time I had slept past seven in recent memory.

  “Anyway, I just got off the phone with him and he asked me to come in to review them. However, he also told me the most important finding. You know all those deposits in odd numbers, those we previously believed were interest from CDs or stock dividends?”

  “Um, yeah. Absolutely.” I was standing now, my curiosity more than peeked.

  “Well, are you ready for this? They’re actually cash deposits!” Bob sounded downright giddy, and I felt it too.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said, offering up some opportune sarcasm, “You’re telling me a hooker is making large cash deposits?”

  “That’s right. So I asked my lawyer to make copies of the statements for both of us. And there are a few other things you and your lawyer might want to know...”

  After a few minutes of dropping some more little bombshells on me, I said, “Thanks, Bob. I’d like to see how she explains all this in court.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be in touch.” And that began my new week. I immediately called Adam to let him in on the new, hard evidence.

  “We must be on the same wavelength,” Adam remarked when he heard my voice on the phone. “I was just about to call you with news about our court date.”

  “You mean the date set for next week? Please don’t tell me Jack Smith managed a continuance to further delay things.”

  “No, Jack actually quit, citing ‘ethical reasons’ as his excuse for not wanting to continue representing Audrey.”

  “Get out! He must have learned what we’ve known all along!”

  “What we’ve known? I think you mean what you’ve suspected,” he clarified.

  “Actually, no. Are you ready for this?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, what is it?” he asked, his perpetual skepticism showing itself in his tone.

  “I just got off the phone with Bob
Thompson and his lawyer has Audrey's deposit slips. Believe it or not, the $40,000 of additional income isn’t from some sort of trust or CDs. It’s cash. It’s all cash.” I bounded down the stairs as I spoke, and hurried into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

  “Really?” was all Adam said after a long pause. Finally having some real evidence for the ever-incredulous Adam was validating, and I smiled, carefully measuring out my coffee.

  “Not only that, there’s a check to Audrey from the very trust fund she and her lawyer have denied existed all this time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and finally, there’s a check from Tony Sawgrass made out to Audrey in the amount of $200, what I understand is the standard fee a hooker charges for an hour’s time.” I pushed the button on the coffee maker triumphantly, believing that this would be a pivotal point in my investigation of Audrey.

  “Really?” Adam repeated, revealing how much he doubted my suspicions all along. “I want to see that check.”

  “I’ll make a copy for you,” I remarked, doing my best but failing to avoid the juvenile yet always satisfying 'I told you so.' “So, do you now believe that she’s a hooker? I mean, where does an unemployed, stay-at-home mom get 40k in cash in her bank account? And what about three hundred calls to Royce? And the outside mailbox? And the calls to hundreds of men? To Palm Beach Bail Bonds? Still think I’m delusional?” Though I couldn’t resist the last question, I knew I was right.

  “Show me the deposit slips with cash deposited and I’ll admit you were right all along,” he conceded.

  “I will,” I responded, happy to have risen to the challenge.

  “In the meantime, Audrey has hired a new lawyer, Peter Walton, who’s requested a continuance in order to prepare. This is pretty normal, but the judge has also ordered us to have another mediation before proceeding to trial. This isn’t horrible, especially considering what you’ve just told me, but it does mean some more delays.”

  “At this point, they can ask for whatever they want, but we have the upper hand. I’ll be by later this week with the deposit slips.” I ended the call with the feeling I’d just won something. I grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet and twirled it on my finger before setting it down on the counter. It seemed that the tide had finally turned in my favor.

  By Wednesday at 9 a.m., I was at Bob’s lawyer’s office, the office of Mark Applebaum, to collect my copy of Audrey’s deposit slips. Just like the phone records, I was anxious to dive into the numbers and see what secrets I might find, never guessing that they would be even more telling than her phone calls. Returning home, I scoured the deposit slips and their corresponding bank statements dating back to early 2007, before we were married. I found some interesting transactions and more than a few eye-opening purchases. One purchase in particular was very telling, and I emailed it to my lawyer along with my analysis of Audrey's cash deposits, which averaged around $3,000 per month:

  Adam, attached is a copy of Audrey's cash deposits. In total, they come to over $40,000. Furthermore, I have attached her bank debit charges for February 22, 2007. These charges were made in Las Vegas. Audrey spent $1,515.76 at Neiman Marcus, $1,112.63 at Jimmy Choos, then $632 at Southwest Airlines. Over $3,000 spent in one day. There are no charges for food, no charges for hotels. Probably paid for by the tricks. Still believe she is a stay at home mom who lives on $1,600 a month child support? Still think I’m delusional? Paul.

  Within minutes, my computer alerted me to a new email. It was Adam.

  Good job, Paul. Few people can afford Jimmy Choos. Our case is now pretty much complete. The fake trips to take care of her grandma in Cocoa Beach, the Florida Health Company check scam, the phone logs, and the cash deposits. We are ready.

  I read the email twice, basking in the progress we had made and the strong position we would surely hold over Audrey in court. So, motivated by the recent turn of events, I decided it was time to approach some more cops with the new evidence and my renewed confidence. I called the Jupiter Police Department and asked to speak with an agent in their VICE department. Like Sergeant Kowalski and Agent Tobias before him, I explained to Agent Hunter the nature of my suspicions and the details of my private investigation, and arranged to meet with him the following day. Given my previous experiences with the authorities, I kept my expectations low, simply hoping that eventually someone would take on the case. When I met Agent Hunter the next day, I believed I finally found that person.

  Agent Timothy Hunter was as formidable in his size as he was intimidating in his manner. He talked tough, seeing no use for euphemisms or small talk, and with his closely shaved head, and piercing blue eyes, he was everything I expected a VICE cop to be. We exchanged the briefest of introductions, and I followed Agent Hunter into a barren interview room. I began my presentation, starting with a brief retelling of what I said on the phone the day before, and quickly proceeded to give him the first of my supporting documents.

  “Here they are, Agent Hunter. The pre-August 1st documents showing that Audrey Munson is a liar and a con artist, and the post-August 1st documents, which prove she’s the madam and working prostitute of a large prostitution ring.” After relaying the details to so many different people, my words now sounded rehearsed, but I sat back in my cold, uncomfortable chair and awaited his reaction.

  “Well, Mr. Goldman,” he said gruffly, his eyes still examining the documents, “you’ve got my interest.” I smiled and thumped down in front of him the best proof of all, the bank statements.

  “Now, here are the bank statements for the term January 1, 2007 to August 10, 2009, which show over $40,000 in cash deposits, and purchases of very expensive clothing in Las Vegas, which is totally inconsistent with someone on the limited budget of a stay-at-home mom.” Satisfied with my presentation, I sat back and watched for his response, but he ignored me, intently examining the bank statements instead. “You know, Agent Hunter, all I ever wanted was a wife and family for me and my son, and this woman conned me from the beginning, scammed me, and then turned out to be a hooker. I guess you can tell I’m a bit angry, but I’m also determined.”

  “Mr. Goldman, the work you’ve done is very impressive,” he said, looking up at me for the first time since we began the interview. “You’ve saved me months of work. From what I see, this is a very large prostitution ring with interstate connections.” His eyes returned to the bank statements, while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll meet with you again tomorrow.”

  “Absolutely, Agent Hunter. And, thank you.” I left the police department feeling reaffirmed that things were starting to really come together. This was not just more information and hard evidence, this was real progress, real action. With the same optimism, I returned to the police department the very next day and once again asked for Agent Hunter. This time, however, he was already waiting for me in the interview room with papers of his own on the table.

  “So, what do you think, Agent Hunter?” I asked, after I sat down.

  “Mr. Goldman, I took your paperwork home with me last night and examined it carefully. Four hours later, I had five pages of notes written on legal sized paper.” His eyes were fixed on me firmly. “This is more than a twelve girl prostitution ring. I got the green light from my captain to begin the investigation, and its case is number C-75978.” I fumbled for my pen to write down the number, disbelieving what I was hearing. This was actually going to be a case. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Agent Hunter continued, “Mr. Goldman, do you know what a MATRIX report is?”

  “No, what is it?”

  “It’s a report that details everything about a person: where they live, where they work, who their associates are, etc. When I began a search of Audrey Munson, a name came up as an associate of hers. A man by the name of Jimmy Chow.” He paused and looked at me for any sign of recognition. I just shook my head, so he continued. “Jimmy Chow is a known drug dealer I put away a few years ago.”

  “An associate of Audrey’s? A drug dealer?” Som
ehow I had never considered drug use as part of the equation, though I had learned enough to not rule anything out at this point. I sat back in my chair and threw up my hands in disbelief.

  “Yes, and there’s more. Audrey Munson does have a rap sheet in other states.” Now Agent Hunter was the one to sit back in his chair, crossing his arms and he continued to read my every reaction.

  “Holy shit!” was my reaction. Though Agent Hunter didn’t go into any more detail, that was enough to send my mind reeling. He finished our meeting with a promise to be in touch as the investigation progressed, and a warning that I should be careful not to make my own motives known to Audrey. According to him, she was dangerous.

  Returning to my car, I was still grappling with the news of Audrey’s rap sheet. Terri was right. This was big. And it would get bigger.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Breakthrough

  Friday, November 2, 2009

  With the Jupiter Police Department conducting a full investigation, and the useful advice provided by both Adam and Terri, I turned to the one area where our efforts had been stalled: my private investigator, Joyce. There was no doubt in my mind that Audrey was an actively working prostitute who was helping to run a large ring, which is why I was becoming more and more frustrated over not being able to witness, photograph, or record any of her actions lending credence to that knowledge. I was determined to find something on Audrey that I could use as proof, and Bob Thompson provided the information that would lead me to it.

  The Friday morning that I got the call was like every other morning in that it found me sipping coffee, reading the paper, and pretending that Audrey and her antics didn't consume most of my thoughts. When the phone rang, I knew that it had to be either my father or Bob Thompson. No one else would call before 8 a.m. It was Bob Thompson, and he made no attempt to conceal the fact that Audrey consumed his thoughts too. “Hey, Paul. I’m heading out to bring Tommy to school, but I wanted you to know that I got a call from Audrey last night telling me to keep Tommy until Monday.” I could hear Tommy singing happily in the background, clearly content to be with his father.