Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit

by Paul T. Goldman

“Wow. That is unbelievable,” articulating each syllable to emphasize my shock. “I’m going back to the phone logs to find out how often she called him. I’ll get back to you.” Grabbing the now worn and scribbled pages of the phone logs, I began to review Tony Sawgrass’ number again, and once again, a pattern emerged.

  On any given day, Audrey would call Tony Sawgrass early, around 7:00 a.m., and then call three or more men. These calls would then be followed by calls to Royce as well as calls to collect messages from the voice mailbox, to get the names and phone numbers of more tricks. Calls took place between Audrey, Tony, and Royce all day and all night long. Considering the regularity of the calls and the daily patterns, I was beginning to get a clearer picture of what seemed to be a prostitution ring and its cast of characters: Tony Sawgrass, procurer of men; Royce Rocco, pimp and possible owner of ring; and Audrey Munson, prostitute and madam. The phone logs revealed the entire process. Tony gets the names and numbers of men through some network of referrals and Audrey calls Tony each morning to get the men’s names for the purpose of seeking out their likes and wants. After that conversation, Audrey then calls Royce, who makes arrangements with the girls and sends them on their way. At midday and then again in the evening, the cycle begins again with new names, new calls, and more girls.

  Disgusted by an operation that had thrived throughout the course of my marriage, I examined the month of May 2007, a busy time for Audrey and her associates. Remembering that Bob had told me Audrey didn’t have custody of her children for three weeks of that month, I felt my stomach turn as I counted calls to fifty-three different people. When I contacted Bob to share my findings, he in turn shared the numbers with Miles.

  Of the fifty-three numbers, almost all were men, and most were either real estate agents or developers. I swallowed hard as I digested Miles’s findings, fighting the tumultuous turn of my stomach.

  I knew I was on to something big. My mind went back to my reading with Terri Lynn over two months ago. Never considering how true and literal her words were, the phrase, “she looks at it like whoring” burned my ears. Audrey is a hooker, she is a whore. More than that, it explained why a stay-at-home mom would be so attentive to the grooming of her pubic hair, why a stay-at-home mom would have large breast implants. It even explained why our love making was always so impersonal, Audrey simply lying back, never looking at me, never showing any signs of interest, passion, or even an attempt to kiss me. Recalling the movie “Klute,” I remembered Jane Fonda, who played a hooker, explaining to someone that the reason she never French kissed her johns was that it was too personal. I was looking for answers, and now I was finding them in a torrent of lascivious revelations.

  I wanted still more answers. I picked up the phone and once again reached out to Terri Lynn.

  August 11, 2009: The Second Reading

  PAUL - I have something unbelievable to tell you. Ten days ago I received Audrey’s cell phone logs. They showed 300 calls per month to a man named Royce, even three calls to him on our wedding night, after I had gone to sleep. Then there were 150 calls per month to an outside voice mail box, and then, between calls to Royce and calls to collect messages from this voice mail box, calls to men. Hundreds of different men. Terri, I feel like I’m living in “The Twilight Zone.” I married a prostitute.

  TERRI - I’m so sorry, Paul. I think Audrey will end up in jail. If Audrey is going to Chicago a lot, that is “conspiracy to commit illegal interstate commerce,” so you should contact the FBI.

  PAUL - How much money does she have stashed away?

  TERRI - I believe Audrey has almost $900,000 in cash spread out between a dozen banks and a brokerage account. I am seeing a big sign that says “tax fraud.” She has fraudulent tax returns. I think you should contact the IRS. I’m also being shown that she has a rap sheet, and she uses aliases.

  PAUL - Aliases, what aliases?

  TERRI - I am seeing a “T.”

  PAUL - Do you mean, Audrey T. Munson?

  TERRI - No Audrey Munston. Adding a “T” to Munson. Now I am seeing a yacht where they do sex boat parties. I see a yacht, lots of guys, six or seven girls, and lots of bedrooms.

  PAUL - How many girls are there in the ring all together?

  TERRI - At least a dozen, maybe more. Plus there is a website connection. I'm hearing the words Fantasy Girls. Check it out.

  PAUL - I will. Also, there were lots of calls to hotels. How does she get the business from the hotels?

  TERRI - Through the concierges. People come in on business, and talk to the concierges. As I am tuning in on her, I feel she's demented, and a sociopath. I don't know exactly what's going to happen to her, but it won't be good, because she's putting out such low, negative energy all the time, and this will ultimately attract the same to her. She might end up dead.

  PAUL - Well, I guess that would not be unexpected. I understand the Law of Karma.

  TERRI - Paul, you shouldn't stop your investigation. This prostitution ring is really big, bigger than we now believe.

  PAUL - Thanks for this information, Terri.

  I hung up the phone feeling validated and even more driven to seek out the truth. As if the words of Bob and Terri weren’t enough, I was now beginning to feel like I had an answer to the one question that was constantly nagging me, constantly stealing my sleep: Why me? I now knew that I had been chosen because I would be the one to bring her down.

  It was only a matter of time.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A Private Investigation

  Not sure exactly what to expect, I quietly watched her and waited for her full attention. Attractive and seemingly in her early forties, I admired her long blonde hair, the soft tone of her voice, and the subtle way her mouth turned as she spoke. Though I had only been in her company for a few moments, her clothes, her manner, and even the way she greeted me made it clear that I was in the presence of a professional. When she finished her phone conversation, I leaned forward, anxious to begin our appointment.

  “Sorry about that, Paul. It’s important for me to stay in constant contact with my people on the street,” she said, smiling. For someone who’d been working as a private investigator for so long, I was surprised to find her not at all hardened by her experiences.

  Two weeks after my reading with Terri, I called Bob Thompson to see if he would ask his private investigator, Miles, to start tailing Audrey, and I offered to split the cost. Bob admitted that he too had thought of that, but his lawyer, Mark Applebaum, advised him against it. For legal purposes, it would be in our best interests to employ separate private eyes. So, on Wednesday, eager to deepen my investigation and fully aware that Audrey would be free of kids on Friday, I needed to find someone who would be available to follow her on such short notice. That someone turned out to be Joyce Foster.

  I found Joyce’s name where I had found so many others, in the phone book. I started making phone calls and on the third one, I succeeded. Within a few minutes, Joyce impressed me with her confidence, directness, and intolerance of prostitutes. We ended the call with an appointment for the following day.

  The next day, I drove to meet Joyce at her home office. Amazingly, Joyce's house was only a mile from Audrey's trailer, even though it was in a much nicer part of Stuart. Joyce welcomed me warmly, and I took a seat at her conference table and began to spread out all my paperwork.

  “Though we spoke briefly on the phone, I’d like you to tell me a bit more about your relationship with Audrey, your suspicions about her, and what you hope to achieve through us,” Joyce began, while opening a yellow legal pad on which to take notes. And so, with complete clarity, I relayed the sordid details of my life with Audrey, which proved to be as informative for Joyce as it was cathartic for me. I outlined the timeline of our courtship and marriage, the details of her unreasonable demands, and of course, the patterns of her deception. I explained Audrey's schedule, and where she was now living, an apartment in Jupiter as well as the trailer. She had rented an apartment in Jupiter so
that her children could attend the Jupiter public schools, which were a lot better than the Stuart ones. How Audrey was feeding herself and her children on her stated $1,600 a month income, when the rent on the apartment was $1,000 and the space rent on her trailer was $400 was a question whose answer was now obvious. When I finished, I handed Joyce my analysis of Audrey’s phone logs and sat back, awaiting her response.

  “I have to say, Paul, in all the years I’ve been doing this, you are certainly among the most organized and comprehensive,” she said, scanning through her notes and nodding her head. “Really, I do think you have every reason to pursue this and I am certain I can help you come to some sort of conclusion.” Her tone was reassuring and her words offered some unexpected validation. I wrote her a check, thanked her for her time, and firmly shook her hand before leaving.

  Driving home, I felt invigorated by the energy of forward movement. Keeping true to the promise I made to myself, I was no longer a doormat, no longer a person to be manipulated or used. Through Terri and Adam’s widely different perspectives, I had gained some guidance, and now Joyce and her team would further help me to refocus my energies and take matters into my own hands. For the first time in a long time, I was not consumed with analysis or worry. Instead, I turned on my radio nice and loud and enjoyed some musical escape as I looked forward to Joyce’s findings on Friday.

  I awoke Friday morning anxious and excited, going about my daily routine of getting Johnny ready and off to preschool with a little more energy and drive. I ran errands and returned phone calls while constantly looking at the clock. Audrey’s own schedule was always fairly predictable. She had all three kids from Monday afternoons through Friday mornings, when she dropped little Tommy off at Bob Thompson’s house, and then dropped the two older ones at their school, where Joe Munson would pick them up at the end of the day for the weekend. This schedule left Audrey completely free from Friday mornings until Monday afternoons when the cycle would begin again. Joyce, or one of her investigators, would be following Audrey beginning Friday around 7 a.m.

  At four o’clock, the phone rang.

  “Let me tell you what happened today,” Joyce began, while I quickly shuffled into my office, not wanting Johnny to overhear the details of my conversation. Surprisingly, Johnny never asked about Audrey, and I was relieved that her impact on our family life had been minimal. “Though the day didn't end well,” Joyce continued, “we’re very early in the case and I'm already getting an idea of her patterns.”

  “So, what happened?” I asked, wondering why I was whispering. This wasn’t illegal after all. That was Audrey’s department.

  “This morning she dropped off her kids at school, then returned to her apartment in Jupiter, and stayed there. At noon, however, she did a strange thing. She went out to her car, and moved it from her assigned parking space to a nearby garage. I assumed she was expecting some ‘company’ to park in her space, but no one showed up. At three, she went back to pick up her kids at their school. Unfortunately, the traffic was so bad that the P.I. lost her. My guy went back to her apartment, but Audrey never showed up. We broke the surveillance at four.”

  Given that this was only the first day, I tried not to show my disappointment. It wasn't that I expected to have hard evidence, complete with pictures and videos, but my anticipation had gotten the better of me. “Oh well,” I said, “Next weekend is Labor Day weekend, and Audrey won't have her kids. Can you reserve your guy to have him start following her next Friday morning at eight?”

  “Absolutely,” Joyce confirmed.

  “Great. We’ll talk then,” I ended, already looking forward to the following week and its potential for new information.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, the following Friday came with even less information when the phone rang at ten in the morning.

  “I have some bad news for you, Paul,” Joyce confessed, triggering even more disappointment. Unable to contain an audible sigh, I said, “What happened, Joyce?”

  “I decided to tail her myself today, instead of having one of my guys. At 8:45 she and her daughter came down from the apartment to the car. The daughter got into the car, but Audrey spent about ten minutes arranging items in her trunk with a piece of paper in her hand. Then, after she dropped her daughter off at school, Audrey got on the highway and headed south. I stayed a car length behind her and one lane to the left and she was talking on her cell phone the entire time. She took the exit for the airport, and I followed her. Then, she made a quick turn across three lanes and took a ramp exit leading to the rental car companies. Unfortunately, I couldn’t cross three lanes in time to make the ramp, so I had to continue on to the next exit. By the time I drove back around, she was gone.” My mind began to race. Was she going back to Chicago? Picking someone up? Why a rental car? Joyce continued, “I checked all the car rental places, but no luck.”

  “That’s it for this weekend,” I said, “but I’ll bet she has a lot of cash to deposit come Tuesday, so why don’t you follow her beginning Tuesday morning, to see what bank she goes to? Bob Thompson will be dropping off his son at her apartment at eight, so you can pick her up then,” I instructed, encouraged by Audrey's suspicious airport rendezvous.

  “I will, and sorry, Paul,” Joyce responded. I could tell she was discouraged by having lost her, but this was still only the second day.

  “That’s okay, Joyce. I’ll talk to you Tuesday.”

  Labor Day came and went without much labor. I had been slowly making moves to ensure that my finances were in order, and with the Boynton and California homes rented, the uncertainty that had only added to my stress was starting to diminish. Johnny and I spent the entire weekend enjoying each other’s company. Before I knew it, Tuesday arrived along with another phone call from Joyce.

  “Like you thought, Paul, the first thing she did was go to a bank, the Bank of Florida, and make a deposit. Then she went to Wal-Mart, after which she spent the rest of the morning and afternoon at a house in Palm Beach Gardens. I ran the address and found that it belongs to Tony Sawgrass, the ‘second pimp’ you told me about.” Now here was something, I thought to myself. A clear connection to confirm my theory that Audrey, Tony, and Royce were in business together. I quickly began to scribble down notes as Joyce continued, “Funny thing, there was no one at home when she arrived, so she must have had a key. Then some older guy showed up around one and nothing was heard from the house until Audrey left around four to pick up the older kids at school, at which point I ended the surveillance.”

  “Interesting day,” I responded. “She spent the day at her pimp’s house probably doing bookwork and arranging tricks for her girls all day. Her four year old son was with her the entire time, can you imagine the conversations he heard? Disgusting.” My heart felt heavy for Bob and little Tommy, knowing what Audrey was exposing his small son to. I knew my findings would not only help me, but also Bob’s custody trial. “Let’s follow her this Friday, again starting at eight when the kids get dropped off at school. Only this time, let’s have two guys follow her so they won’t lose her.”

  “Absolutely, Paul,” she agreed, and again a plan was set in motion.

  The phone rang at 5:00 p.m. on Friday. “That was quite a day,” Joyce began, clearly happy to report some substantial findings. “We’re really beginning to learn her M.O.”

  “How did it go?” I asked, my pen poised in anticipation.

  “Same scenario to start the day: dropping the kids off at school and back on the highway to drive twenty miles north this time. She drove to a park near Port Salerno, where she was joined by two young women, a blonde and a brunette, who were both driving Lexus cars. The three women sat on a bench, and Audrey began to speak to them as if she were conducting some sort of meeting. They brought out what looked like accounting journals, which they worked on for about two hours. Then, something very strange happened: they started to pray.” Of all the things Joyce might have actually found strange, the idea of Audrey praying would be among t
he most unbelievable. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “Pray? Hookers praying?”

  “That’s what it looked like,” replied Joyce, with a chuckle, also appreciating the irony. “I’ll check the video to confirm.”

  “Then what happened?” I urged.

  “After the meeting, Audrey met Royce for lunch. That's when we thought we might really start to see something. Unexpectedly however, after lunch she went and picked up one of her children, just her daughter, at school and they returned to her apartment, only to once again return to the school around 5:30. There were a lot of cars and it looked like some parent-student event was taking place. So, we ended the surveillance.”

  “Interesting,” I said, surprised by both the praying and parental involvement during her typical time off. “I’ll check with Bob Thompson for Audrey’s schedule next weekend and let you know. Thanks, Joyce.”

  “You’re welcome, Paul. Talk to you soon.” Our phone conversation left me with some answers but also with more questions. What could she be doing with those women? What kind of conversations was she having with Tony and Royce? I was tempted to begin following her myself, but I knew that was quite illegal. Plus, I was intent on staying positive and moving forward, something that surreptitious stakeouts and too much alone time in a car would certainly hinder. I decided that I would instead seek out Terri Lynn for further direction in this increasingly confusing investigation, which so far had yielded so little.

  September 12, 2009: The Third Reading

  TERRI - Audrey split from her true self at a very young age, due to sexual molestation.

  PAUL - Really? Who did this? Her father? Her brother?

  TERRI - Neither, it was an outsider, perhaps a caregiver, and she was so young that she probably wouldn't consciously remember it. It's important to make contact with a vice cop in Palm Beach. Law enforcement has to get involved, for your protection too.

  PAUL - Next question. On the night of our wedding, Audrey made three calls to Royce when I was asleep. What did she talk to Royce about?