Devil's Corner by Lisa Scottoline

library patrons got so tough. "Wait a minute, did Mrs. Bott talk to the police yet?"
    "What police?"
    "The Philadelphia police."
    "No."
    "Didn't they call you to talk about Shayla?" Vicki addressed Mrs. Bott, but she was dabbing her eyes with the soggy Kleenex ball, then resettling her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
    "No, they didn't call her," the friend answered. "Now, excuse us, we have to go. We're going home and we're going to take Shayla home to rest, home with us. She'll rest better, home where she grew up."
    Mrs. Bott looked so broken, and the cold air dried the tearstains on her lined cheeks, making whitish streaks in the cold. As much as Vicki's heart went out to her, she couldn't let them go.
    "I have an idea," Vicki said gently. "Maybe we could go somewhere warm and talk over a cup of coffee. Before you two leave."
    "No, she's too upset," the friend answered, drawing Mrs. Bott closer to her side. Vicki kept her grip on poor Mrs. Bott's other arm. If it became a tug-of-war, the library fan was going down. Vicki was younger, stronger, and a federal prosecutor, which should count for something as against the reserve list.
    "I'm sorry to have to intrude." Vicki leaned over and spoke directly to Mrs. Bott. "And I'm sure the police are going to call you, but I want to find whoever killed Shayla and my friend. I'm hoping that what you know about Shayla could help me."
    "Did you tell that to the police?" the friend broke in, and Vicki bit her tongue.
    "Yes, but I have questions of my own."
    "That's not your job," the friend shot back, and Vicki was considering decking her when Mrs. Bott cleared her throat, lowered her Kleenex, and said:
    "I wouldn't mind talkin', if it would help Shayla."
    A noisy convenience store wasn't what Vicki had in mind for a quiet chat, but the one on the corner of Thirty-eighth and Spruce, down the street from the medical examiner, would do in a pinch. An instrumental version of "Love Will Keep Us Together," the ca-chunk of cash registers, and the endless beep-beep of touch-screen ordering machines filled the air. The place teemed with overgrown frat boys, exhausted med students, and university staff, but Vicki managed to find a free table in the far corner, at which she seated Mrs. Bott and her attack friend, who turned out to be named Mrs. Greenwood.
    Sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass window, warming the three of them, and by the time they'd started on their 184-ounce cups of brewed coffee and Southwestern wraps with suspiciously colorful ingredients, the small talk was over, Mrs. Bott had almost recovered, and Mrs. Greenwood had turned as nice as a librarian.
    "When was the last time you saw Shayla, Mrs. Bott?" Vicki asked, getting to the subject at hand.
    "I hadn't seen my baby girl in so long. She hardly ever came home anymore."
    "How long?"
    "Maybe two years now. Two Christmases ago."
    "So you hadn't seen her in a while. Did you talk on the phone?"
    "Surely, she'd call me, to keep up. Every other week or so."
    Mrs. Greenwood nodded with approval.
    "Did you know she was pregnant?" Vicki asked.
    "I did. At first she didn't tell me, but then she did. She was afraid I'd get mad at her." The creased corners of Mrs. Bott's mouth turned down. She looked so lost in her heavy coat, and her hair, smoothed back in a frizzy bun, glinted dully in the harsh light. "Lord, a baby. The doctor today, he said it was gonna be a girl. Now, if she had a girl, Shayla wanted to call her Shay, after herself. Shay was her nickname. Shay."
    Vicki nodded. So much pain. Who was responsible for it?
    "Shay," Mrs. Bott repeated.
    Mrs. Greenwood nodded again, behind her coffee. "I always liked that name," she said softly.
    Vicki sipped cold coffee and let the moment pass. "When did she tell you she was pregnant?"
    Mrs. Bott thought a minute. "About a month ago, she did. I was mighty surprised. I didn't know she was seein' anybody serious."
    Mrs. Greenwood laughed softly. "You were so surprised, Tillie.