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

said,“but we still have several subpoenas outstanding at the banks andbrokerage accounts you told me she might have. If we find any ofAudrey’s hidden assets, we’ll add those to the ones we already knowof, and we’ll be ready to file criminal charges.”

“That's great, Sue Anne. What about my case? Has theFDLE taken it and begun investigating?” I asked.

“There's no way to tell,” she replied. “Even withme, they're very secretive.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

2011 - The Year of Revelations

Eight months later. . . .

Johnny and I reclaimed our ownhappiness and it wasn’t unlike the one we enjoyed before Audrey.Finding this happiness, however, was not easy. My Boynton home andmy Jupiter Palms home were both sold through short sales. I rented out theCalifornia home, but the stress and frustration caused by all ofthis convinced me that Johnny and I needed a fresh start. Thisbrought us to the one place I swore I’d never again findmyself.

This journey began as I was confronted with turningforty, still not having found any real fulfillment in my life.Those four, cold, gray walls of my cubicle that propelled me toseek out love, leave California, and search for success are nowreplaced by four glass cubicle walls in my father’s insuranceagency in Rhode Island, working with my father, my brothers, andeven one brother's son. Though I no longer stared into grayness,wondering if my own life is passing me by, the glass provided amore accurate reflection of how my life passed and who I became asa result.

For so long I was running from this very existence,so sure was I that there was more in store for my life. I wanted toblaze my own trail, create my own success, and step out of theshadow of my father. I also wanted to find a perfect love, build aperfect family, and realize a happiness that I had only seen othersenjoy.

I never considered that, given everything that hastranspired, happiness and success could be mine, even if it wasn’tthe way I’d envisioned.

* * *

The field was a sea of eager parents, awedgrandparents, pregnant women scolding the bleachers, andimpassioned coaches barking various commands. I couldn’t help butget caught up in the fervor of opening day where Johnny’s soccerteam, the Yellow Jackets, was matched up against the formidableforce named the Green Machine. I was also anxious to see if ourconstant practice in the backyard paid off.

And it did.

From the moment the referee whistled thestart of the game, the brood of eight year olds ran back and forthacross the field in excited clusters, each rushing for the ball andthen retreating as it was kicked toward them. Along with all theother parents, I cheered every exchange, which ultimately left mehorse and exhausted by the end of the first half. As the game wounddown, tension grew while the score remained close and the playerswere showing signs of fatigue. Never taking my eyes off the field,I thrilled over every play Johnny made and then, as he headed downthe field ahead of the pack with the goal in sight, my heart jumpedand my breath stopped. Could he? Would he? He did! He scored a goalto the excitement of everyone. His teammates jumped all over himand issued their congratulatory high fives while I gave my own highfives to my new friends, Mary and Joe, along with some of the otherteam parents.

Returning home with victory in our heartsand triumph in our heads, Johnny and I went over every moment ofthe game with color commentary and a plan for a celebratory dinnerreplete with our favorite Shake ‘n Bake chicken and vegetableentrée. It was the perfect day, one of many we’d had of late.

Tucking him in, I felt completely at peacewith where we were in our lives. I whispered good night as I softlyclosed the door, delighting in the smile that remained on my nowsleeping son’s face.

Fighting my own weariness, I headed to myoffice where more than a few emails awaited my attention. There wasthe usual spam, some forwards from friends, and one veryinteresting reply from Miles, Bob Thompson’s private investigator.Miles was responding to an email I had sent him the week beforeinquiring about two things: first, a question about Bill Rockland’scredibility; and second, confirmation that the elusive FBI and FDLEwere really on the case.

Since the subject line read “InvestigationSolid,” I already had a good feeling that the response would bepromising, and it was, in Miles’ characteristically succinctmanner. In regard to Bill Rockland, his source had confirmed thathe was a “straight shooter” and could be trusted and, as to the FBIand FDLE’s involvement, Miles confirmed that the investigation wasa “multi-task force (fed/state) case.” Miles also attached adossier on Albert Chang that was littered with “High Risk” stampsthat did not offer up any specific transgressions, but did confirmthat Mr. Chang was far from a straight shooter.

Closing my emails and preparing for bed, Iallowed my mind to wander down the long path I’d traveled sinceAudrey. Though I had made a vow not to linger in the past, Ithought about things I might have missed or avenues I had yet toexplore. Determined to end this perfect day with perfect sleep, Ipushed those thoughts from my mind and put my head to thepillow.

I awoke the next morning with a new ideathat had never occurred to me before. It had been a year sinceTerri Lynn had alerted me to Audrey’s pornstar past as “AudreyAlmond,” though my efforts to locate hard evidence of this had beenunsuccessful. Even though Kim from the adult video store recognizedher name, I was never able to track down any actual Audrey Almondperformances. Dismissing the likelihood of ever finding any, I hadput it out of my mind until that morning when I realized I hadnever simply looked under the name Audrey Munson. I would neverhave guessed she used her real name.

But she had.

A quick search of theInternet resulted in a movie entitled, Fast Times at Amsterdam High, whichincluded the name Audrey Munson among its cast members. Thoughslightly reluctant in my own repulsion, I clicked on the movie formore information and found myself face to face with a host ofgraphic, albeit blurred