Chapter SeventeenAfter talking to her son, Beverly Phillips was in turmoil. She hadn't spoken with his father in years. She didn't want to make contact with him now, but she knew she had to. She believed her son. The shooting had been an accident. No one else was involved and no one Jeffrey knew was trying to protect him by killing an innocent girl. That could mean only one thing: the person behind the attempt on the girl's life had to be Jeffrey's father.
They had met at a south side jazz club long since closed down called the Lickity Split. Beverly was only nineteen and was an occasional vocalist for the house band. As soon as she turned eighteen she began making the rounds to clubs in town trying to jump-start a singing career, but short stints at places like the Lickity Split were as
