"Devil's corner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Scottoline Lisa)

TWELVE

"You're a lawyer?" the manager asked skeptically, which dispelled Vicki's concern that he'd recognize her from the TV news. His name was Mike Something and he was maybe thirty-five, his face dotted with old acne scars. He wore a ratty blue sweater with jeans, and his short, dark hair was gelled and spiky, so it stuck up like an unfortunate crown. His eyes were narrow and blue, his nose straight, and his teeth stained with nicotine. Vicki stood in the door to his tiny, windowless back office, and he took way too long to eye her up and down.

"Yes, I'm a lawyer," Vicki answered.

"You don't look like a lawyer. You're so little."

"I'm a little lawyer."

Mike smiled crookedly. "You watch The Practice? I used to watch The Practice. I don't know why they took it off." They were in the back office at Bennye's, a raggedy sandwich shop in West Philly. The paneled walls were covered with an old Miller High Life ad, a taped-up 2001 calendar from a local heating oil company, and an obscene Lil' Kim poster, which was redundant. The office reeked of leftover cooking grease, and Vicki couldn't fight the sensation that even the air was sticky. Mike sat behind a small desk cluttered with old newspapers. "I liked the blond chick on The Practice, you know which one?"

"Yeah, I liked her, too." Vicki didn't have all day. "Talk to me about Reheema Bristow. She waitressed here, right?" There had been a note in the file.

"You're here about Reheema?" Mike brightened, sitting straighter in his black vinyl chair. "Whyn't you say so? How the hell is she?"

"Fine." Only because they stopped me from strangling her.

"I went to visit her a couple times, inside. Tell her I said hi, will you?"

"Oh, I'm not her-" Then Vicki caught herself. Mike thought she was Reheema's lawyer. Well, what's the harm? "Sure, I will. I'll tell her you said hi."

"Thanks. My best to her mom, too. How's she doin'?' "

"Her mom? Fine." I hope. "Now, you're a friend of Re-heema's, right?" Vicki was taking her cues from Mike's demeanor, like a cable TV psychic. "She mentioned you to me. She said you'd be glad to talk to me, if it helped her out."

"I am. Anything she needs, you just ask."

"What I need most is information. Background info, for her case." Vicki thought a minute. "I don't remember her mentioning anyone but you from here. Didn't she have any other friends at work? People who know her well? I could use them for character witnesses at her trial."

"Not really. There's only the one waitress, the joint is so small. I prolly was the closest one to her, being the boss. I'd be a great character witness."

"Great, we'll get to that in a minute." Vicki made a fake note in her Filofax. "By the way, did she have any boyfriends, that you know of? We don't get time to talk girl stuff."

"A boyfriend? Reheema? No way. She worked this job in the day and the housecleaning at night, at Presby, the hospital. She didn't have the time. She was like a church girl, anyway, you know."

Church girl? Vicki blinked, nonplussed. "I know, that's what's so unfair, with the charges against her. The government indicted her for buying two guns and selling them to someone else."

"The government can kiss my sainted ass." Mike snorted. "She would never do that. Reheema was the kind of girl, you know, she took care of people. Her mother, all the customers. Reheema wasn't ghetto, like some of them."

Vicki let it go. "Let me ask you something. Why did she work here and at the hospital, if she was a college grad? If you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all, I know this ain't the Ritz. I think she used to work for the city, like a case worker or somethin,' but she got laid off. I knew she'd leave when something better came along." Mike was shaking his head. "Then they picked her up. Whatever they said she did, she didn't do it."

"How do you know that? I mean, how can I prove it?"

"She never done nothin' wrong, I'll come in and testify, I'll tell 'em. Reheema, she was the best." Mike pursed his lips, and Vicki read his look. He'd had a crush on her.

"What would you say about her, in detail, if I called you to testify?"

"I'd say she worked the day shift when I started here, opened up each morning, and kept the place always clean as a whistle when I come in. And she took real good care of all the customers. The customers loved her, too. They still ask about her. She worked every day, seven days a week, always on time, super-reliable. The only time she missed work was when her mom was sick. That's four days in two years."

"What was her mom sick with?"

"Cancer. Her mom's big in the church, too." Mike cocked his spiky head. "Don't you know, about her having cancer?"

Oops. "Right, she did mention that, but she didn't go into detail. Reheema keeps the personal stuff to herself."

"She is quiet, a sweet girl. Very sweet. She's a beautiful person, inside and out." Mike got lost in thought, and Vicki could guess where he was going, but didn't want to follow.

"The guys who came in, they'd all hit on her."

"Of course."

"But she'd put them off real nice, not to hurt their feelings. And if they got a little too handy, or came in drunk, she could take any of 'em." Mike straightened in his chair. "You get her offa these charges, tell her she can have her old job back anytime. My business went through the roof when she worked here. Nobody comes here for the food."

"Great, thanks. Did she ever talk to you about a girlfriend named Shayla Jackson?"

"No."

"They were best friends," Vicki said, increasingly puzzled.

"Never heard the name."

Damn. Were Jackson and Bristow friends or not? Somebody was lying or didn't know the truth. "How about Jamal Browning?"

"No."

"Jay-Boy or Teeg?"

"No. She never talked about nobody except her mom. She was a loner."

"Then how do you think she got mixed up in all this? Any idea? I mean, she just got indicted out of the blue?"

"I wonder about that, sometimes. She sure don't deserve what happened to her. I think it's a conspiracy." Mike sucked his teeth. "The way I figure, somebody set her up. I told her so in my last Christmas card, she mention that?"

"Your Christmas card? Yes, she did mention that. She said it was very thoughtful of you."

"I send her mom a card, too. Every year."

Vicki blinked. He hardly looked like the kind of guy to keep a Christmas card list, much less one that included sick mothers. He must have had a major crush on Reheema. Worse than mine on Dan. Vicki hadn't realized how completely pathetic she was until she started investigating.

"She mention that, too? The card to her mom?" Mike's eyebrows lifted in a hopeful way. "I ask because I slipped a few bucks in there, you know, like a Christmas present."

Vicki got an idea. "She never mentioned the card to her mom, which does seem odd. You sure you sent it to the right address? You know, if you send cash to the wrong address, it'll never get to her."

"Hmmm, you're right," Mike said, leaning forward and reaching across the desk to a grimy old-fashioned Rolodex. He flipped though the wheel of plain white cards written in ballpoint, then stopped at one, and Vicki went over to snoop as he read. "Here we go. Arissa Bristow. Her address is 6847 Lincoln. It's in West Philly."

"Sounds right." Vicki made a mental note. "I'll check it with Reheema." "Appreciate it." "One more thing," Vicki said, deep in thought. None of this was making any sense. Reheema wasn't earning much at this crummy deli, so she'd have an obvious need to supplement her income by reselling guns.But the whole picture was out of whack. Reheema fit the profile of a typical straw, but it was hard to believe that a church girl or a social worker would conspire to have an informant killed. "Did anybody else come here, asking you about Reheema?"

"No." "No detectives?" "No." "Cops?" "No." "How about the feds? FBI?" "No." "Another lawyer? A guy named Melendez, or somebody who works for him?" "No." "Well, thanks," Vicki said, mystified. What had Melendez intended to do to defend Reheema anyway? "I appreciate your help, and so will Reheema."

"Sure thing." Mike rose, a bit of gallantry. "You know, I don't believe Reheema would even know how to shoot a gun."

And for a minute, Vicki didn't either, though she had proof positive that Reheema had bought two and sold them.

Clearly, she wasn't finished with her errands yet.