Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit by Paul Goldman (surface ebook reader txt) 📗

“Adam, I'm looking at a reportabout paparazzi and garbage. Is it legal to take someone else'sgarbage?” I asked, an idea percolating in my head.

“Actually, it is,” Adam replied.“Once you put your garbage out on the street, you lose what theycall the 'expectation of privacy.' Why?”

“Well, I can't get Audrey's,because she lives in an apartment and puts it into a communitydumpster, but Royce lives in a house, and I thought I would makethe drive and see what I could uncover. What do youthink?”

“It's legal, Paul, but probablyreally foolish. This guy is dangerous and if he were to catch you…” he said, not at all encouraging my latest brainchild.

“I'll be careful. Don't worry.Thanks.” I hung up the phone and went to my computer. I searchedfor the company that handled the garbage in Royce's town, and thenI called them to see what days they picked up. Turned out, it wouldbe the next day.

That night I tucked Johnny intobed and reminded the baby-sitter of my cell phone number beforehopping in the car to make the twenty-five minute trip to Royce'shouse, which was on a long, lonely stretch of road in thecountryside. I was excited by the idea of my little covertoperation and bars of the theme to “Mission Impossible” played in myears as I drove. The closer I got, the more dangerous this wholething seemed. Turning on Royce’s street, I saw two filled garbagecans on the curbside. I slowed the car, glanced up the driveway tohis house, and squinted. I was relieved that I couldn't see hishouse, since it was set far down a winding tree-lined driveway.Good, I thought. If I can't see him, he can't see me.

I drove slowly past the cans andparked about fifty feet farther on. I waited to see if someone elsemight catch sight of my nocturnal activities, but the street wasquiet and dark and almost no cars were present. Seizing the moment,I cautiously opened my door, not wanting to allow even the faintestsqueak to draw attention. Suddenly, all the interior lights of thecar came on like so many brilliant searchlights, certainlysilhouetting me. I got out of the car as quick as I could andclosed the door behind me, shutting off those damn searchlights. Iran to the cans, and opened the lids. One was full of roof tilesand I guessed Royce had recently done some roof repairs. The otherhad a couple bags of garbage, which I quickly removed, closed bothlids, and sprinted back to the car. I steeled myself against thesearchlights coming on again, threw the bags in the back seat, andjumped into the car. My “operation” had taken about two minutes.Out of breath, I made a quick u-turn, and headed home.

When I got back to my house, I thanked the sitter forher hour and paid her. After she left, I fetched the bags from mycar and dumped them onto my kitchen floor. Grabbing the latexgloves I had purchased specifically for this mission, I began thetask of inspecting one item at a time.

The first thing I saw was a shopping bag printed inChinese followed by an airline ticket. There were also two piecesof paper, both crinkled into a ball. I opened the first, and it wasa fax from the same person whose name was on the airline ticket. Itread:

My name is Albert Chang and I aminquiring about a visa request and passport sent to you two monthsago by overnight courier. I am now becoming concerned as yourwebsite indicated that 3-5 work days is all that is required.Please see my itinerary with my flight scheduled for the18th of this month. I askthat you please help me in this moment of concern with your kindreply. Thank You.

Albert Chang

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I read itthree times. Could this really be evidence linking Royce toforgery? If it was I had hit the jackpot. Royce was forging entrypapers, visas and passports, for people to enter the country. Butwhat people? I hastily unwrinkled and smoothed out the second paperball. It was a fax of a photo. The photo answered my question. Ayoung Asian girl was standing in front of a blank wall in what Icould only guess was a photo to be used for a passport. My mindstarted racing with possibilities. Could Royce be importing womenfrom Asia to be part of his ring? I had heard of immigrants beingkept in sex houses as sexual slaves before, but that was on thenews. Now it was real, right in front of me. I placed both thepapers aside, amazed that I had found such potentially damningevidence.

I continued to hunt through thebags. There was an empty United Airlines ticket envelope. AlbertChang came in on Continental, so who came in on United? I wondered.The next piece of evidence answered that question. A receipt from aperfume store in the Singapore Airport. In order to have thepurchase be duty-free, they had to give the airline and flightnumber: United Airlines flight 584. Then, another receipt, datedthe next day, from a Sprint store. A cell phone was purchased, andon the receipt was the name given as the customer: Susan Wright. Avery American name for a very Asian girl. Then, two emptyenvelopes, addressed to Albert Chang. The return addresses wereChristian organizations. Finally, I came across the biggest find ofall: Royce's phone bill, detailing every call he made for the pastmonth. Exuberant in triumph, I peeled off my gloves and flung themto the ground.

Paying no attention to the mess on the kitchen floor,I rushed upstairs to my computer. Spreading the phone bill out overmy desk, I did the same thing that I had done with Audrey's phonelogs. I started with the first call and analyzed the whole list.The ten calls per day to and from Audrey were there, along withcountless others. There was a number in Texas that he called everyday, five times, before calling Audrey. I Googled it, and up poppedan advertisement of a man selling, of all things, land in Poland.The ad finished with “call DOC in Texas,” and gave