Page 50 of The Liar

“Be careful not to lose any of it,” I told her. “It wasn’t easy to get my hands on a copy without leaving a trail.”

Portia pulled a face, but nodded. She opened the baggy, withdrew the papers and started reading the one on top. “This is going to take forever.”

West and I exchanged a glance.

“That’s police work,” I said. “Hardly anything happens as quickly as they make it seem on TV.”

Portia leaned across the table and studied the words scrawled across the page. I’d flipped through the diary myself at the crime scene, and while we’d decided it was worth collecting as evidence in case it became useful later, I hadn’t observed anything that stirred my interest. All she wrote about was what she wore, who she saw, and what she ate.

“So”—Portia picked at the edge of her cuticle but didn’t take her eyes off the diary—“Sasha was crazy obsessive about recordkeeping, but she was also paranoid about people getting into her business. Although, with what happened to her, I guess she was right to be. But I’d forgotten until you mentioned it on the phone last night that she used a code.”

“She did?” I’d known it was a possibility, but anyonewho read the utterly banal things Sasha had written would consider it unlikely. Perhaps that was the point.

“Yes.” Portia nodded vigorously. “Certain foods were code names for people. Makeup items were codes for other objects. Like, lipsticks refer to drugs, and the different colors are different types.”

“The places?” I asked.

She raised one shoulder and dropped it. “I’m not completely sure, but I think she did this thing where she’d name a place a block away from wherever she was actually talking about, or something like that. I can’t remember all the details off the top of my head, but if we look through this together, I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Huh. That’s quite clever.”

She smirked. “I told you. Sasha was scary bright. The problem is, she wasn’t quite as smart as she thought she was. Obviously. Or else she’d have known someone was going to come after her.”

She looked despondent, so I opened my bag and grabbed a notebook and several pens. I couldn’t get her friend back, but I could provide a distraction.

“Come on, then. Let’s solve this puzzle.”

We pored over the diary page by page, and after a while, patterns began to emerge. We went back to the first few pages and started to interpret Sasha’s notes.

At first, it was relatively vague. References to drugs and people within Ortez’s organization, although they were always referred to by foods, so we had no way to connect them to their real names. Later, the notes became more detailed.

I’d like to think that even without Portia here to assist, I’d have known something was off about the later pages in the book. The code was simple, but she seemed to havegiven up on trying to use it in a way that looked innocuous to anyone who didn’t know what it meant.

“Look at this,” I murmured, tracing my fingertip over the plastic-covered page. “I think she’s outlining the method Ortez uses to get law enforcement personnel on his payroll.”

West turned the book toward himself. “Let’s see.” He scanned the text, his eyebrow climbing his forehead. “If I’m reading this right, there’s a cop who’s paid to recruit others. This here is a reference to the Red Door. I think he takes them there.”

Portia jabbed the page. “This is the brothel I work out of.”

“Huh.” I angled my head so I could read it too. “So, this cop took his colleagues to a strip club. If they passed whatever test he had for them, he took them to the brothel.”

“And then they’re told they can either use the brothel whenever they like and get payouts for brushing things under the carpet for Ortez, or they can lose their career—and potentially their marriage—if anyone sends in evidence that they’ve solicited sex from a prostitute,” West finished excitedly. “Portia, are there cameras in the brothel?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. We’re told they’re for security, but come on. Who cares about the safety of a few sex workers? You’re right. It’s probably a blackmail thing.”

I frowned. “We care about your safety.” I reached into my pocket, withdrew one of my business cards and passed it to her. “If you ever get into trouble, call me. I know you probably won’t, but just take it. Then you at least have the option.”

To my surprise, she accepted the card and tucked it inside her shirt. “Thanks.”

I returned my attention to the photocopied diary and flipped another page. If I focused on Portia, I’d make heruncomfortable. I was scanning the text when something leapt off the page at me.

I gasped. “Look! This is a name! An actual name, not a coded word.”

West’s eyes widened, and he leaned over to see what I was pointing out. “I know that guy.” He glanced around. “Now that we can make progress ourselves, perhaps we should take this back to the police station. We don’t want anyone to overhear us.”

“You’re right.” I slid the papers into my bag. “Portia, just so you know, this could be what leads us to Sasha’s killer.”

Portia pursed her lips. “I hope so.”

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