RANSVESTIA

depressed economically then, and there wasn't any work nearer than Boone. Then some guys, including Winter here, who had the option on this property got the fantastic idea of developing a camp here. With the jobs the camp provided then, and the orders to farmers and merchants since, the camp has just about kept the county afloat." Hamilton could hardly believe the bitterness of Gantsby's tone. "But we sure had to pay a price, didn't we, Kim?" He addressed the dark- haired man, who squirmed a little on his chair, and looked back at Bud in acute embarassment. To Bud's ear, it sounded that Mel Gantsby was recounting a personal price that he had had to pay for the construction of what seemed to be a godsend for such a backwater county.

"Cause you see, Hamilton," the sheriff was going on with his caustic introduction to the crime, "all these guys wanted to do was to dress up like dolls, isn't that right, Kim?" At the sneer in Gantsby's voice, Kim Winter looked down at the floor and color started to seep across his face. "And that's all this place has ever been used for, Hamilton. There was a standing rule here that only female clothing was to be worn in the camp." The sheriff turned away from the little group and stepped over to the detective-sergeant at the bar. "I understand that you know all about these kind of people. Well," there was contempt on his face, but whether for Bud or for the camp, the detective wasn't able to tell, "you're welcome to it!" The words were spat out. "Now they've started killing each other. One, two nights ago, and another yesterday. You can get the details from her." The last word was flung out like a live grenade. "I'll send your bags in. You got forty-eight hours to find the killer." And with that, Sheriff Mel Gantsby left.

"I'm Frank Buchanan," said the larger of the two detectives, extending a hand and walking over to the city detective, he was big across the shoulders, bull-necked, flattened nose and close-cropped, red hair. A football tackle, thought Hamilton. "Johnny and I work out of Tremayne, mostly on shoplifting." A wry smile crossed his face. "This is too far out of our line for us to even start on."

Hamilton nodded. He was watching Winter, who'd cooled right down as soon as Gantsby had left and was now quite relaxed. He was even looking out the bay window again. In the distance, Bud could see a dark figure, a woman by the length of her black hair, in a red bathing suit, playing with several small children out on the beach, making sand castles. "Fill me in on the details," said Hamilton.

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