Devil's Corner by Lisa Scottoline Page A

You called me right away. You couldn't believe it, I couldn't, either. I was washin' dishes and I dropped the cookie sheet. Almost made a dent! My best one, with the air cushion." She looked over at Mrs. Bott. "You know the one, with the cushion? The air cushion down in between the layers?"
    "I do, yes." Mrs. Bott nodded. "That is a good cookie sheet."
    Vicki paused. "Did Shayla tell you who the baby's father was?"
    "No. Jus' that they was having trouble and she might move out."
    The boxes . "She was getting ready to move where?"
    "I don't know, exactly. Said she wanted to find a new place and change her life."
    Vicki made a mental note. "What did she mean by that?"
    "I don't know. I figgered she'd tell me, in time. I was just happy to have a grandbaby comin'."
    "Did she mention a Jamal Browning?"
    "No, no. She didn't tell me that."
    Vicki didn't get it. "I think he was her boyfriend."
    "Don't know him."
    "I think he may have been the father of her baby. I believe that he paid her bills, like electric and phone."
    "Hmmm. I don't know that. I don't know that name."
    Vicki sighed inwardly. "Who do you think was the baby's father?
    "I don't know. I didn't ask. I figgered that was her business, not mine."
    "Did she date anyone that you know of?"
    "Like I say, not serious. She always went out, she liked to dance. Shay was a good dancer. She liked music." Mrs. Bott paused, thinking. "A while ago, there was someone, his name was Dwayne."
    Yay ! "Dwayne what?"
    "I don't know. Or maybe Don. Or Wayne." Mrs. Bott waved a gnarled hand. "That was years ago."
    "When she visited, did she ever bring anybody? Any friends or boyfriends?"
    "No. She always came alone."
    Vicki was getting nowhere. "What did she do for a living?"
    "She used to type. She typed. On a computer. Keypunch, they used to call it," Mrs. Bott answered vaguely.
    "Did she work for a company, if you know?"
    "No, different places. For a temporary, like."
    "I see."
    "But she never asked me for money, not once," Ms. Bott added.
    "So she was independent."
    "Yes, very. Stubborn."
    "Did she ever mention anyone named Reheema Bristow?"
    "No."
    "Are you sure?"
    Mrs. Bott thought a minute. "I don't know that name. I would recall that name. Reheema. That's an unusual name."
    "Yes, it is," Mrs. Greenwood added, leaving Vicki frustrated.
    "Who were her girlfriends, did you know?"
    "Not really."
    "Didn't she have a best friend? Every girl has a best friend." Then Vicki blinked. Except me . "I mean most girls."
    "She said some names. Mar, that was one."
    "Mar? Did she have a last name?"
    "I don't know it. I would say Mar was her best friend, I think. Mostly she talked about Mar."
    "Is Mar in Philly? Do you have her address or phone number?"
    "No, I just know Shay used to call her, on the cell phone. When she was home ta visit she'd always be calling Mar. Mar this. Mar that."
    Vicki made a note. Maybe there was no connection between Jackson and Bristow. But then again, it was clear that Shayla Jackson wasn't telling her aunt much about her life in Philly, or maybe Vicki was projecting. Either way, time to get down to business:
    "Mrs. Bott, I have a feeling that someone close to Shay, maybe her boyfriend, sold drugs. Do you know anything about that?"
    Mrs. Bott fell silent. "I don't know about that," she answered after a minute. "She didn't do anything like that, growing up. She was a good girl. She drank a little, at parties in school, but nothing like that."
    "Not Shay." Mrs. Greenwood clucked a dry tongue, shaking her head.
    "Do you know about any friends of hers who did drugs or sold them? Or guns? I don't think she did anything wrong, but she knew some bad people. What you know about this could help find her killers."
    "I didn't know anything about that, I wish I did." Mrs. Bott looked into her paper coffee cup, then sighed. "Shay could get talked into things. She trusted people. She trusted everybody."
    "So maybe she trusted the wrong people?"
    "Maybe."
    "Maybe that's why she wanted to