Page 42 of The Liar

“My partner and I were the only ones available when West made his anonymous call about the discovery of Sasha’s body.” I placed my hands on the table, hoping it would set her more at ease if she could see that I wasn’t doing anything beneath. “Do you know which of my colleagues he has on his payroll?”

Portia wrapped her hands around a half empty cup of coffee. “In the murder department? No.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “One of the other girls spent some time with one of them though.”

I forced myself not to give away how desperate I was to know more. “Did she happen to catch his name?”

She pursed her lips. “Sorry, no. She said he was an older guy though. A little overweight. That’s all I remember. She only mentioned him because he kept going on about his wife afterward and how she’d leave him if she ever found out.”

My heart squeezed, and I schooled my features. So what if her physical description matched Detective Hanson? He wasn’t the only detective in homicide who could be described as an overweight, married older guy. And I had no way to be certain the person she’d heard about was even from our precinct.

I leaned toward her across the table and lowered my voice. “Is there anything else you can think of about any police who could be involved? If you want to see Sasha’s killer locked away, then I need to make sure the wrong people don’t interfere. You understand?”

She sighed, and there was a world of weariness in the sound. “I get it. And I hope you slap cuffs on the bitch responsible and never take them off, but I know how the world works. Even if you and your partner are clean, your boss—or their boss—might not be. I doubt this will ever get to trial.”

Determination to prove her wrong flowed through me. Okay, perhaps she had a reason to be jaded about the justice system, but I wouldn’t let that happen. Not on my case.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure it does.” I held her gaze, allowing her to search my eyes, and eventually, she nodded. “Now, do you have any idea who might have done it?”

She didn’t hesitate for a second. “That bastard’s psycho wife.”

A server appeared at our table and set down a tray. They passed the americano to me and a smaller cup with a foamy top to West. I waited until they’d left before I spoke.

“What makes you say that?”

Portia rolled her eyes. “Sasha wanted to oust the bitch. She was smart. Much more than me. She was learning everything she could about their business. Who was important, who she needed on her side, how they did what they did… She was fucking obsessed with knowing everything, so she could replace his wife when the time came.”

I raised my coffee to my lips as I considered this. I sipped but the liquid was still too hot. “How much do you think she knew?”

“Much more than she ever said to me.” Portia tipped hercup back, even though the coffee looked cold at this point. She grimaced at the taste. “It took her ages to piece things together from bits of pillow talk and overheard phone calls, but she could be very determined when she wanted something.”

“Sounds like it.”

Sasha Sloane may have been a formidable woman, in her own right. It would be easy to dismiss her as Carlos Ortez’s stripper mistress, but if Portia’s assessment of her was correct, Sasha was seemingly far more cunning than most people had given her credit for.

Sasha was a climber, and those were dangerous.

“Do you know if her boyfriend knew that she wanted to replace his wife?” I asked, since West remained silent.

Portia shrugged. “Beats me. I’d guess that she hinted at it, but if he didn’t take her seriously, then she wouldn’t have pushed. She is—was—more devious than that.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. “Fuck, I loved that sneaky girl. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

West glanced at me, obviously uncertain about whether to try to comfort her while I was present. I reached across the table and laid my hand on her arm, patting her awkwardly. I wasn’t exactly the soft and cuddly type, but maybe it would help.

“Thanks.” She sniffled and blinked rapidly. “Um, yeah. So, my money is on the wife.”

I squeezed her arm gently. “Thank you for talking with me, Portia. I know it must have been hard for you, but I promise I’ll do whatever I can to find Sasha’s killer, and you’ve really helped today.”

She visibly pulled herself together, and carefully removed my hand from her arm. I grabbed my coffee and sipped it again. It was still hot, but bearable.

“I’m going to grab a glass of water,” West said, pushing his chair back. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He left, and Portia wrapped her hands around her empty cup again, as if she needed to keep them occupied.

“You’re nicer than any of the other cops I’ve dealt with,” she said.

I let out a huff of amusement. “Not many people would say that.”

“West would.” Her lips curved slightly. “He’s crazy about you, but there’s something going on between you. Some kind of tension. What’s with that?”

I took a mouthful of hot coffee to delay responding for a few seconds. While I’d be within my rights not to answer, something inside me wanted to.

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