RANSVESTIA

""

Alice Skinner moved away from the subject of her painting. "No," she said. "He had the implants, of course, before he left here. He work- ed as a stripper and topless dancer, you know, and that's where he picked up the name, Yvonne. Last I heard, he was the belle of the Fre- mont Circle. I guess he was turning someone on up there."

"The Fremont Circle?" Hamilton's tone was curious.

Skinner was losing interest in their questions. "Yeah," she nodd- ed absently. "A bunch of ugly, older drag queens who meet and party now and then. Tommy Moore's no ugly queen, mark you, but most of them meet at his place in Fremont somewhere. I just call them the Fremont Circle."

After getting Danny's last known address, they left her arranging jewelry in Ronny's hair and about his lovely neck. Ronny was smiling happily and expectantly as the woman continued the feminizing process.

"Can't we run them in?" Ellis exploded as they left the studio.

"On what charge?" Hamilton was surprised. "Come on, Mike. You can see that these people aren't hurting anyone and they've done nothing in public."

"Someone killed that freak in Manton, didn't they?” Ellis' voice was thick with emotion. "That Skinner woman is corrupting that kid, isn't she?"

Hamilton sighed. "I can see you know very little about transvestites which is the correct name for these deviates. These guys have been at it since they were little kids — and they'll never stop till they're in the grave." He shrugged. "So you want to lock a few up because they offend your masculinity. Well, I wouldn't worry on that score. The women they attract aren't the kind you or I are interested in, or who are interested in us."

"Not that we've met so far," Ellis' voice was unchanged and grim.

"Come on. Let's find out just how nice Tommy Moore's legs are, said Hamilton, chuckling at his younger colleague's expression of dis- gust.

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