RANSVESTIA

The bar was busy when Hamilton and Calesi entered. The hum of conversation quieted a little as they walked across to the office and the only phone in the camp. They received quite a few staring glances, some even hostile, but then they were the only people in the place in male attire. Calesi's face was a picture. He looked directly at the office door, which was just slightly to the left of the dressing room door, refusing to looking about him at all. Hamilton, on the other hand, moved slowly towards the office, glancing about with a bemused smile. He nodded to the silver haired 'waitresses' in their short red skirts, fishnet stockings, white blouses with short, puffed sleeves and long, shoulder-length silver hair. The waitresses smiled back nervously, save for one, younger than the rest, slimmer and yet more curvaceous, who smiled openly at the Detective-Sergeant, giving a little flounce to his skirt before sashaying off to the bar to complete an order.

Hamilton smiled at the table the 'waitress' had left, but the painted, feminine faces were quite grim and put out by the exhibition of the table server. Thick hands with painted nails of silver, red, pink and brown gripped their glasses tightly. There was a rustling of feminine hosiery and of delicate underthings as the 'ladies' fidgeted in embar- assment.

"Sergeant," a smooth silky voice spoke from the opened office door. A brunette woman in a green, silk, cocktail dress indicated to the detectives to come in. The dress had a full skirt to below the knee, below which a fine pair of dark-stockinged legs, on black patent high heels, were revealed. The brunette's hair was swept up on the top of her head, and all her jewelry was silver, hair pins, necklace, rings, bracelet, earrings. She was well made up, not obviously so, but firmly and attractively. Hamilton wouldn't have guessed that Kim Winter could have made such a striking woman.

Calesi almost fled into the sanctuary of the office, but Hamilton took it more slowly, registering as much as he could the responses from the occupants of the bar to his presence. "My, you're the cool one," said Kim in the same tone he had used before. "You're not embarassed at all, are you?"

Hamilton's smile was not friendly. In fact, it was rather grim. "Are you?" he asked pointedly. Then, he heaved a sigh and looked at the stoney faces of Buchanan and Calesi. "How can you expect to

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