Chapter 12
The Mango Place apartments was one of the few that would rent to people on the registry. No background checks.
All a prospective tenant needed was to come up with the first and last month’s rent and security deposit, and they could move in.
It was a dingy, poured concrete building with a pitched roof and a few towering palm trees standing sentinel around the property.
It wasn’t in a great part of town, on the edge of Jamaica Village.
"It's total bullshit," he said when I asked him about his conviction. He stood in the doorway of his apartment.
I looked at him with doubtful eyes.
"Bro, I was at a frat party. She told me she was 18.
She looked 18," he said, cupping his hands in front of his chest. "How was I supposed to know? What was she doing at a frat party anyway?” He shook his head in dismay.
"It was totally consensual, but her parents wanted to press charges.
Don't ask me how they found out. Totally fucked my life, bro. Can't get a decent job. Nobody wants to hire somebody with that shit on their record. They all think you’re some type of pervert. I have to live in this shithole. Nobody else will rent to me.”
"Tell me about the incident at the mall."
Dustin slumped, and his eyes fell to the floor.
He shook his head. "See what I'm talking about? That shit sticks with you. It haunts you forever.” A frustrated exhale escaped his mouth.
“I didn't do shit. Then all of a sudden, this guy is accusing me of sick shit. I’m not into six-year-olds, dude. I must have had something in my pocket.”
We gave him a doubtful look.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you. I didn't do anything. Now I got that guy threatening me.”
"Talk about the threats," I said.
"Well, he said he was gonna kill me. Everybody heard it. They had to hold him back at the mall.” He paused, looking for sympathy.
“Look, if I had a daughter, I'd kill anybody who messed with her. I get it. But I swear to God, I didn’t do anything. I'm telling you the truth.” His eyes pleaded with us to believe him. "I already talked to the deputies and DCF. They found no wrongdoing. I still lost my job. Now I can’t pay rent. I’m going to get kicked out of this place. I’m totally fucked.”
"Can you think of anybody else who may have wanted to harm you?" I asked.
Dustin thought about it for a moment. "Well, I did bang this chick last week.
" He raised his hands innocently. "I didn't know she was married. Of course, she told her husband. I think she did it just to piss him off. Now that guy’s after my ass.
He came by here, banging on the door the other day.
Said he was going to kill me, too. I mean, right there, that's two guys that want me dead.”
"You happen to know his name?"
"No. But his wife’s name is Ivory.”
"You know her last name?”
He frowned and thought about it for a moment. "No. It wasn't exactly a long-term relationship.”
"Where did you meet Ivory?" I asked, having a pretty good idea.
"Forbidden Fruit.” Then he added, “I never would have had sex with her if I knew she was married." He paused. "Okay, well, maybe I would have. She was hot.”
"How old was she?" Jack snarked.
Dustin sneered at him. "Old enough.”
I asked him, "What about that guy who came up to the mall, claiming you were the devil putting thoughts into his head?"
Dustin laughed. "That guy was a fucking nutjob.” He paused. "I don't know his name.”
"You sure know how to make friends," Jack said.
Dustin shrugged. "What can I say? I guess I just rub some people the wrong way."
"Apparently, that's what got you in jail the first time."
Dustin stared at him again. "Did you come over here just to bust my balls?”
"Are you at odds with anybody else?" I asked.
Dustin frowned and thought about it for a moment. "Well, I owe a guy a little money. Which I sure as hell can’t pay back now.”
“What’s his name?”
“Little C.”
“What’s his real name?”
“How should I know?”
"Where can we find Little C?”
"I don't know, man," he said, shifting, looking away, knowing full well where we could find Little C.
"Why do you owe him money?" I asked.
Dustin's mouth tightened. "For stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” I asked, knowing exactly what he owed him money for.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Look, I don’t give a shit about you or your drug habit. Little C is your dealer. Tell me where I can find him?”
Dustin frowned. “His name is Clarence. That’s all I know. You can find him at Bumper, but he bounces around to all the clubs.”
“What does he look like?”
Dustin gave me a description. “You can’t miss him.”
“How much do you owe him?”
“A couple grand.”
In some circles, that was enough to get shot over. But that was typically a last resort. Most drug dealers would rather force their deadbeat clients to pony up. But sometimes you had to send a message.
“Do you know a woman named Evelyn Ellington?”