Then I open Jenna’s email again. A DBA—doing business as—is typically used when a person wants to set up a business under a name that doesn’t include their legal name, like Ace Dogwalkers. But a DBA can also be a con artist’s greatest advantage, allowing anyone who can pay the filing fee to hide their true identity behind a fake company and a different IRS number. If you know the company name, you can plug that into the state website and find out who set it up. But they don’t work in the reverse. If you only know a name—in this case, Meg Williams—you’re locked out.
I’m almost certain Meg’s mystery buyers—the industry insiders guarding their privacy so carefully—are Meg, hiding inside of a DBA. Somehow, she’s figured out a way to either steal her own property back or buy it at a steep discount.
I get to work trying to figure out exactly what she did in Pennsylvania. Jenna had given me the details of the sale—a property located on a lake and the seller’s name. Phillip Montgomery. When I Google him, the usual hits come back: Facebook and Twitter handles for various people—a doctor, a carpenter, and the CEO of a grocery chain. Among the hits is an article from a local Reading paper. It’s a filler piece, used to take up page space, and it’s short. “Local Business Leaders Come Together at Thanksgiving to Feed the Hungry.” It talks about the great turnout, how many people were served, and then it goes on to list the volunteers. Two names stand out: Phillip Montgomery and Melody Wilde. The article comes with a tiny photo that I have to zoom in to see. A group of about ten people, wearing aprons and hair nets, gathered behind a long counter. And there, in the back, is Meg. Though she’s partially obscured by the large man beside her, it’s unmistakably her.
I stare at Meg, trying to pick out details until she’s nothing more than black and white pixels on the screen. What would she say if I showed her this article? Undoubtedly, she’d spin a story about visiting a friend in Pennsylvania for the holidays. Maybe she’d claim she was playing a joke on the reporter, giving a fake name and profession. Meg is a formidable storyteller, entertaining me not only with stories of former clients and deals gone bad, but other adventures as well. The time she went skydiving on a dare. The vacation she took to the Everglades where her boat was almost overturned by alligators. Even though I know better, I still find myself sucked in, having to constantly remind myself that every word she says is a lie.
I start making calls, beginning with Phillip, quickly ruling out the doctor and the carpenter and focusing on the CEO of Prince Foods. “My name is Kat Roberts and I’m a journalist in Los Angeles. I’d like to talk with Mr. Montgomery about a woman named Melody Wilde.”
“Mr. Montgomery isn’t available, but if you leave your number, I can make sure he gets back to you.” His receptionist’s voice gives nothing away. It’s possible she’ll pass on my message, but equally likely she’ll drop it in the trash instead.
Next, I start making my way through the other volunteers listed in the article. I have no luck reaching anyone until Frederica Palmieri, the owner of a dance studio. “My name is Kat Roberts and I’m doing a story about a woman named Melody Wilde. I was hoping you’d be able to talk to me about her?”
Frederica’s voice is wary. “What’s your story about?”
I choose my words carefully. “Melody may have been involved with a fraud case here in Los Angeles.”
In the background, I can hear piano music and a voice giving directions. “I’ve never heard of her. How did you get my name?”
“I found a photograph of you in the Reading paper, and Melody’s in it as well. It was a group shot at the local soup kitchen for Thanksgiving two years ago. You’d volunteered to serve meals.”
Frederica’s voice clears. “Oh yeah. Well, if I spoke to her at all, it was probably just to say hello and goodbye.”
“Do you happen to remember if she was friendly with any other volunteers that day? I’m hoping to connect with someone who knew her.”