RANSVESTIA

"She had a raincoat attached on to one of her cases. I said she ought to put it away. But she said she'd need it soon where she was going."

The sale price on the Corvette was quite a bargain. "Bought it from the original owner," said the proud salesman. "Only got 2,500 miles on its dash.”

"Yes," said Lincoln. "It's the car I want. But how do I know that that mileage is correct?"

"I wouldn't turn the mileage back," huffed the car salesman. "It's against the law. Besides, that's what was on the car when it was brought in for sale."

"Can I check with the last owner?" asked Lincoln. "If I can, we'll have a deal for sure—if what you say is true."

"Well," the salesman was doubtful. "I bought it from this blond chick who was just passing through."

"Oh, yeah," Glen Lincoln was sarcastic. "Could be a hot car, then."

"Oh, no. She had a proper bill of sale," the salesman said rapidly. "I checked it out with the dealer in Los Angeles. It was her car all right. See!" He had been fumbling through some papers and he showed the bill of sale to Lincoln. "A. Rodriguez, and there's her signature. It's the same on both, or I'm a Dutch uncle."

"How did you know it wasn't a forgery?" asked Lincoln.

The salesman laughed. "I got the salesman in Los Angeles to describe the Rodriguez dame." He shook his head. "There can't be two chicks in the world with a figure like hers."

"A good figure?" Lincoln sounded interested.

"Man, you haven't seen anything like this doll," the salesman was warming up. "She was wearing this sweater, and she wasn't wearing no bra, see? And these white boots and a mini-skirt. I mean I was

29