“Did you have anyone check on the property over the years?”
“I didn’t invest a dime in the place. My properties in the West End took all my energy. And when they paid off, I set my sights even farther west. I’m always looking for the next big real estate score.”
Novak handed the man one of his cards. “If you think of anything else about the house, let me know.”
“Yeah sure. So who was this woman?”
Novak rose, not willing to discuss details. “I don’t know much at this stage. Like I said, I’m still pulling the pieces together.”
Delany stood. “And she’s been in the house for twenty-five years?”
“Looks like it.”
He shook his head. “Damn. I’m glad I didn’t know. She can’t be much more than bones.”
Novak didn’t comment on the state of the body. “Thank you for your time.”
“Sure. Call me anytime.”
In his car, he drove toward the Far West End to the last address listed on Rita Gallagher’s driver’s license. The Maple Tree Apartments were next to the area hospital and in the early nineties had been new. The development had been updated with a fresh coat of gray paint, but the design and building materials hearkened back to that decade. The landscaping was neat and crisp and the lawns mowed.
He parked in front of a rental office and, once inside, found a petite strawberry-blond woman with large glasses sitting at the reception desk. “I’m Detective Tobias Novak with the City of Richmond Police.”
“I’m Wanda Richardson, the manager.”
“I’m hoping you can help me with a former tenant. The name is Rita Gallagher, and she listed her last address as 702 unit D.”
“Sure. Let me see what I can find.” Smiling, Wanda turned to her computer and typed. “You’re lucky. We digitized our records several years ago. When was she here?”
“Around 1992.”
“Why’re you digging into twenty-five-year-old records?”
“We found Rita Gallagher’s body last night. I’m trying to trace her last steps.”
Wanda adjusted her glasses as she looked up. “You just found her?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I didn’t see any mention on the news.”
“We’ve not released any information yet, but I imagine it will make the evening news.”
“Did you find her in a grave?”
“I can’t say.”
“Right. Sorry. Not the kind of question I should be asking.” She nodded and turned her attention to the computer. “We’ve been through a couple of management changes since 1992.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since ’96. Sorry.”
She keyed in the name and leaned in to read the screen. “She lived here with a roommate, Charlotte Gibson. They were in the apartment for a year. According to a note from the property manager, Rita Gallagher moved out and defaulted on her share of the rent. Ms. Gibson was able to finish paying the last two months, but was late both times. Ms. Gibson moved out at the end of 1992.”
“Do you have any forwarding information for her?” He pulled out his notebook and flipped to a clean page.
“I have an address where we sent the remainder of her security deposit.” She rattled it off. “But it’s twenty-five years old. Not sure if it will help.”
“It’s a start.” He looked up. “Was there employment information on file for Rita Gallagher?”
“She listed her place of employment as a bar called Billy’s, located on Main Street in the city.”
Julia lived above Billy’s now. He didn’t like all the leads trailing back to her. He scribbled the information. “Thanks.”
Wanda frowned as she read the computer screen. “Charlotte and Rita lost most of their security deposit. The carpet in the back bedroom was destroyed. I have a note here that Charlotte came in and complained about us keeping her deposit. She blamed the stain on Rita. She received ten dollars and two cents back from her deposit.”
“Does it say how the carpet was damaged?”
She read the files, scanning lines of neatly written notes. “Nope. Says it was a rust stain. Floorboards also had to be replaced. When the floorboards have to be redone, that’s usually pet damage. At that time we had a no-pet policy, but people break the rules all the time.”
“That color usually associated with pets?”
“Depends. There’s mention of a rust smell, which we usually don’t find with pet damage.”
“Can you print out what you have on file for me?”
“Sure.” She turned to a printer and collected the pages. “Just because they weren’t supposed to have a pet doesn’t mean they didn’t. If this job has taught me any lesson, it’s that people lie. Some more than others.”
“Right.”
Rita had been killed by blunt force trauma to the back of her head. There’d been no blood at the basement crime scene, but blood upstairs. She could have been struck in her apartment and brought to the Church Hill house to die. Or neither stain could be of relevance. At this point, he suspected he was dealing with multiple crime scenes.
CHAPTER FIVE
Monday, October 30, 10:00 a.m.
As Julia slipped into the courtroom, the commonwealth’s attorney and the defense attorney were huddled in front of Judge Robert Bischoff, an athletic man in his late sixties. The judge did not suffer fools gladly and had a reputation for imposing the maximum prison terms allowed by law.
Bischoff scowled as he stared over half-glasses at the sleek, tall female defense attorney dressed in designer black and then at the thirtysomething male prosecutor in an ill-fitting suit. Today was sentencing day for drug trafficker Benny Santiago.
Julia looked toward the defendant’s seat and noted the wide shoulders of the man in the conservative dark-blue suit. Benny Santiago had cut his long dark hair into a sensible style that now highlighted flecks of gray he normally dyed. There was no sign of the bird tattoo on the right side of his neck, and she guessed the attorney had used stage makeup to cover it up. Benny Santiago was presenting himself as Respectable Man in a play called A Judicial Travesty.
She didn’t need to see Benny’s face to know that the sleeker hairstyle enhanced his angled olive-toned features. He was as beautiful to look at as he was vicious.
When he lifted his arm slightly to adjust a cuff, she noted the tattooed snake on the back of his wrist. She knew from experience the tattoo wound up his arm and coiled around a muscled bicep. Beneath the bland cotton shirt and traditional suit beat the heart of one of the cruelest drug dealers in the mid-Atlantic. And he was here today to learn how much time he’d serve in prison.
For seventy-one days, Julia had worked undercover as a dealer and bartender in El Lobo, a bar ninety miles east of Richmond in Virginia Beach. As she slung drinks, the wire embedded in a necklace had video recorded Benny and his crew as they made deal after deal. She’d blended well into the rough culture, easily losing herself in the role of Jules Glover. She’d been so close to finding out who supplied Santiago with his drugs.
And then, the last night of the operation, someone had told Benny a police takedown was in the works. Benny had gone wild with rage and turned his anger toward a familiar target, his young girlfriend, Lana Ortega, a full-figured blonde with dark-brown eyes. He’d pinned Lana up against the wall and, always careful not to harm her face, drove his fist into her belly. He’d cocked his fist and hit her again as he demanded to know who had betrayed him. She’d crumpled and whimpered, begged him to stop as a bar full of Benny’s boys watched. He’d pulled her up by her hair and raised a gun to her temple.
Julia hurried around the bar. “Shit, Benny. Leave her. If what they’re saying is true, you need to get out of here now.”
“Who the fuck are you to talk to me?”
“The only one here who has the guts to give you good advice.”
&
nbsp; Benny turned on her in a blind rage, grabbed her wrist, and twisted. The pain made her drop to her knees. “I’ve seen you talking to Lana.”
Before she could speak, he hit her with a bone-rattling punch to the jaw. She landed hard on the floor. He grabbed the necklace and ripped it off. “What the hell were you two bitches talking about?”
He rolled her on her back as a crowd gathered. He drove a fist into her ribs. The pain overwhelmed her, and she struggled to reach the small service weapon strapped to her ankle.
Lana stumbled to her feet, her hand pressed to her gut, and watched as Benny reached for the snap on Julia’s pants. “Benny, she wears a gun in her boot.”
Benny’s fingernails scraped along her leg and pulled the gun from its strap.
“Nobody gets in my business, bitch,” Lana spat.
The judge’s gavel brought Julia back to the present. The attorneys returned to their seats as the courtroom doors opened.
As Julia tried to relax against the hard bench, a plump blonde wearing a tight red skirt and a form-fitting white sweater made her way to the front of the courtroom. A thick trail of perfume followed her.
Lana took a seat behind Benny. “Hey, baby.”
As Benny turned to smile at Lana, his gaze swept the room and, for an instant, hitched onto Julia. A small smile tipped the edge of his full lips. Without a word spoken, she understood he considered her unfinished business.
Julia didn’t budge or allow her line of sight to waver.
Lana’s gaze trailed her boyfriend’s, and when it settled on Julia, her lips rose into a snarl. She wore her hatred as plainly as the fresh heart tattoo above her right ankle.
Julia remained as still as stone. She could hide her thoughts and feelings better than Benny. He was an amateur.
Judge Bischoff’s gavel drew Lana’s attention to the front of the court. Benny winked at Julia before he slowly turned to face the front of the courtroom.
The female attorney, Elizabeth Monroe, was on retainer for many of the drug dealers in the area, and Julia knew exactly how Benny had been able to hire her. Monroe beckoned Benny to stand. The commonwealth’s attorney and his assistant also stood and faced the judge.