Mad About You

asked.
    Gloria nodded, pleased with herself. "Ron likes to dress up on his nights off—he has a bent toward long, feminine skirts and high heels."
    Tenner expelled a noisy sigh and scratched his head. "Wigs?"
    "Dark, shoulder-length. Looks pretty good too."
    The detective winced. "Damn."
    "You should drop by there tonight. On Sundays they have a drag queen pageant at seven, with talent competition and everything." She winked. "And Ron does a great Tina Turner impression."

    *****

    James felt more than a little self-conscious standing offstage with Tenner and Kat, waiting for Ron Beaman to finish a teeth-jarring rendition of "Proud Mary." The detective had hoped to catch Beaman off guard, and from the gaped expression on the man's face when he skipped off stage, blowing kisses to the audience, Tenner had certainly achieved his goal.
    "Nice duds, Beaman," Tenner said sarcastically.
    "H-How..." The security guard was speechless, his hand to his fake bosom, his eyes darting from face to face.
    "Never mind how," Tenner barked. "Where were you Friday night between midnight and one o'clock?"
    "H-Here," Ronald whispered, dragging the wig from his head to reveal a stocking cap. Without the hair, his fake eyelashes and heavy makeup looked clownish.
    "I'll take that," the detective snapped, grasping the wig by thumb and forefinger. "And you're lying because the bartender already told us you left before midnight."
    Moisture welled up in Beaman's eyes.
    "Okay...okay. I left w-with a man. I'll give you his name, but you have to promise not to go to his house." A tear slid down his rouged cheek. "His wife doesn't know and neither does mine."
    "Don't even think about skipping town," Tenner warned, shaking the wig at him. "If we've been on a damned wild-goose chase and it turns out you're the bird, your wife's reaction to your sideline will be the least of your worries, Tina."
    Gloria Handelman, dressed in a painful-looking sling of black leather, lifted her hand in a little wave from the bar as they made their way toward the door, then added punctuation by giving Tenner the finger.
    "I think she digs me," he said as they walked outside.
    The man was as smart as a tree, James decided. "Maybe you should join her," he suggested. "That is, unless we can come up with just one more lead suspect before midnight," he added sarcastically.
    The detective snorted. "Think it was Beaman?"
    James shook his head slowly. "I'd be surprised, although he could have been in on it with someone else."
    "Ms. McKray," Tenner said, turning toward her. "Do you have any theories?"
    Kat jerked her head up. "Are you saying, Detective, that you no longer think I’m involved?"
    He gave a curt nod. "We might never catch the person who staged that break-in, but I'm not interested in putting an innocent woman in jail. I'll make a call to Ms. Pena's office in the morning to ask her to drop the charges."
    Relief flooded James's body at the same time Kat's face erupted into smiles, her openmouthed laughter music to his ears. Yet even as he gave her shoulders a squeeze, James felt his chest constrict. Should he leave now? The letter wasn't any closer to being found, yet somehow he felt as if his duty had been done. So why did he feel torn?
    "Come on, I'll give you both a lift," Tenner said, taking Kat's elbow. "His hotel and your apartment are on my way."
    "Well, actually," Kat said, biting her lower hp, "I'm staying at the Flagiron."
    Tenner lifted an eyebrow.
    "In my own room," she added hurriedly. "And just until I get the locks changed on my doors tomorrow."
    "Good idea," Tenner said as they stopped by his faded car. "Considering someone was able to waltz in and out of there like they knew the place."
    James held open the front passenger door for Kat, then claimed the seat behind her in the boat-size, four-door sedan. The inside smelled moldy and he was rather glad the interior light had expired so he couldn't see what scuffed and rattled beneath his feet.
    The detective rolled into the front seat. "So, Agent Donovan, when is a good time tomorrow for me and you to question this guy who's supposedly fooling around with Beaman?"
    James realized with a start that at some point, the detective had passed him the lead in handling the investigation. Just when he was thinking of making his escape to New York... his escape from Katherine McKray. "I'm not sure of my schedule at the moment," he said vaguely. "I'll call you, Detective."
    The ride to the hotel seemed