“What was your angle, Rita?” Rita, like Jim, had known the Hangman victims. Had she taken the job at Billy’s to meet Jim and perhaps be close to the other victims? “Was it your job to lead those women to the Hangman? Did Jim figure out what you were doing? Did you kill him?”
Across the street, a door creaked open and then shut. Julia turned to see an old woman easing herself into a chair on her front porch. The woman waved her over.
Glancing both ways, she crossed the street and stopped at the base of the concrete steps. Rows of potted plants were crammed on the front porch around the woman’s chair. Once painted a fresh white, the porch had grayed and chipped, and the Astroturf that covered the cement front steps curled up at the edges. A security door covered the historic wooden door. Bars protected the first-floor windows.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re police.”
“Yes, ma’am. Agent Julia Vargas with Virginia State Police.”
“Etta Greene.” She adjusted her glasses and squinted. “You’re here about that body the police found the other day?”
“I am.”
“Thought so. You have that look.”
Julia smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You have an air about you. Like you’re in charge.”
Julia nodded. “What can I do for you?”
“The cops came by the other day and were knocking on doors and asking questions. I wasn’t here, but I still have the card from Detective Novak.”
“He and I are working the case and need all the help we can get. How long have you been in this house, Mrs. Greene?”
“Seventy years. My folks moved here when I was a child.”
“That’s saying a lot. I bet you’ve seen some changes in this area.”
She picked at the folds of a white crocheted shawl. “It was a nice place when we moved in. A real community. And then the area went downhill bad and stayed down for the longest time.”
“I never policed this area when I was in uniform, but I heard stories. Happy to see the new development coming back.”
“And young families. We’re getting more and more young families.” She adjusted the folds of a thick purple housecoat. “It’s good to hear the laughter of children again.”
Julia glanced at the house across the street. “You heard about what we found in that house the other day?”
“I arrived home from my grandson’s this afternoon, but I heard.”
“We think the woman found in that house died about twenty-five years ago.”
“The early nineties,” she said, more to herself. “I remember that time. My mother was real sick, so I had to quit my job for a time and was home a good bit.”
Julia rested her hand on her hip. “You remember what was going on with that house at the time?”
“Like a lot of houses on this block, it was home to druggies and homeless people. Some of those houses closer to the river were getting fixed up, but not this street. It was rough. I didn’t dare go out at night. Mr. William Delany owned that house in the early nineties, and after he died he left it to his son. I saw the son, Marcus, a lot. Came and went around the clock. He’d show up at odd hours. Carrying boxes. Had a redheaded girl with him all the time. Often, there was another man with him, but I didn’t catch his name or his face.”
“That’s a good memory. You remember the woman?”
“Pretty. Big laugh. Big chest.” She sniffed. “I never spoke to the woman, but I didn’t like Delany. He was rude and left his trash in the yard. Made me so mad I would go over and pick it up.”
“You happen to catch the name of the girl he was with?”
“No.”
“You remember what she looked like?”
“It was usually dark and hard to see, but the one I remember wasn’t a big woman. A white girl.”
Julia pulled her phone and found Rita’s picture. “How about this woman?”
Mrs. Greene took the phone, squinting. “Make the picture bigger.”
Julia swiped the image with her fingers and enlarged Rita’s face.
“Got great-grandkids who have phones like that. They’re always looking at it rather than playing outside. They type messages, snap pictures, and play games. Don’t think anyone talks on ’em. My phone is attached to the wall, where it should be.” She studied the image while adjusting her glasses. “Can’t say for sure if it was her. But this one reminds me of that woman.”
“I’m still amazed you remember back so far. Twenty-five years is a long time.” She wasn’t questioning her honesty, but the story of the body had been in the paper, and memories, though helpful, weren’t always reliable.
“I remember them real well because the last time I saw them together was the night my mama died. The ambulance came, and I was so upset. And then I heard that woman cackle as she and Mr. Delany staggered into the house. They saw the damn ambulance taking my mama away, but they didn’t stop to give their respects. Some moments stick hard in your memory.”
“You’re sure it was Marcus Delany? I understand he had a guy living in the house.” She flipped through her notes. “The guy’s name was Scott Turner.”
“No one else lived in that house but the younger Mr. Delany. The others came and went.”
“You sure? This Turner fellow could have come and gone at odd hours.”
“I know my street, young woman. Especially in those days with me being home so much. It’s like now. I don’t work no more, but I know my street.”
She showed her a picture of Jim Vargas. “Did you ever see this man?”
Mrs. Greene leaned in and studied the image. “No.”
Julia cleared her throat, surprised by the emotion that cut through her body. “What day did your mother die?”
“November 2, 1992.”
November 2. One day after Jim Vargas had died. There’d have been no way Jim Vargas could have killed Rita if Etta Greene had seen Rita here on November 2 with Delany.
“Did Delany come back to the house?”
“That next week was mighty busy making the funeral arrangements for Mama. Fact, I don’t think I ever saw Mr. Delany again until the week before last.”
“He was here over a week ago?”
“The Thursday or Friday before last, I think it was. He looks a lot like he did back in the day. Fit. Hair is grayer, but he looks about the same.”
“What was he doing here?”
“I don’t know. He went inside the house and was in there for about a half hour, and then he came out and left.”
“You’re sure about the day?”
“I went to see my grandson that next Saturday afternoon.”
The fire started the following Sunday night around seven. Natasha had said there might have been a delay device that had set the fire. But why set the fire for forty-eight hours later? Why bring everyone here? Did he know Rita’s body would be found? Or did he want her body found?
“Thank you, Mrs. Greene. I appreciate your time.”
“Think it helped?”
“It was a big help.”
“You going to tell Mr. Novak? I was gonna put a call in to him, and then I saw you. Now I reckon he won’t have to call me.”
“I’ll tell him.” She handed Mrs. Greene her card. “And if you think of any new information and can’t get Novak, you can call me.”
“Sure will.”
Julia crossed the street to her car and slid behind the wheel. She dialed Novak. He answered immediately. “Julia.”
“I paid a visit to Etta Greene. She lives across the street from Delany’s Church Hill house.”
“What were you doing there?”
“It all circles back to Rita. So I wanted to see the house again were she was found. Mrs. Greene saw a woman that looked like Rita with Delany the night Rita disappeared. It was the night Mrs. Greene’s mother died, so she remembers it clearly. It was November 2.”
“Assuming it was Rita, why would Delany kill her?”
&nbs
p; “I think Rita’s job was to set Jim up. And maybe after he was dead, she was of no more use.”
“Where are you now?”
“Headed to Delany’s residence. I need to talk to him.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t engage unless I’m there.” His voice was tense with worry.
“I think Rita might have shot Jim.”
Novak repeated his demand. “Don’t engage until I arrive.”
“Understood.”