CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

 

If it was possible, the Majestic Lounge was busier tonight than previous competition nights. Jack was sure the place exceeded legal capacity as set down by the city's fire codes. Patrons stood shoulder to shoulder like the proverbial sardines.

Jack chuffed to himself about how much he'd gleaned in the last few weeks. When he'd first met Chad, he'd said drag was all about the performance, the dramatics of it all. Almost no one went out in drag unless they were performing. But drag was a different lifestyle.

Men occasionally dressing as women, as Franklin did to transform himself into Carol. The old term was transvestism, but common parlance called it cross-dressing.

Those living as women, dressing full time in women's clothing, and even some seeking gender reassignment, were transgender. The term transsexual had been replaced because one’s gender had nothing to do with sexual preference.

The difference between trans and drag was that while some drag queens were openly trans, most trans people weren't into drag. Especially as there were a number of straight men who also performed in drag. Even some women. Drag was all theater. Over-the-top theater, but theater just the same, no matter one's sexuality or gender.

Was either lifestyle something he could see himself in? Absolutely not. But it didn't mean he didn't respect the lifestyle choices of others. His mother had raised him to believe a person's true identity was what was on the inside. "Inside is where the truth lives, Giacomo. The light and the shadows. You must see both to know the real person," she had told him.

The thought of his mother squeezed his heart. She had been the only person to call him Giacomo. His father preferred anything but. Jack hadn't heard his given name since his mother had passed away nearly seven years ago, having survived his father by ten years. She'd lived long enough to see him make detective and to see him marry but had died shortly after Zoë had been born. Thank God she hadn't known what had happened to his family. It would have broken her, as it had broken him.

The shadows lurking inside him darkened further at the thought and made his heart squeeze in another way. How would his mother feel, knowing in his darkest shadows, he thought of taking his own life? He thanked God again she she'd never have to see that either. It saddened him that his actions may take him right to Hell, even if the modern belief suggested he wasn't in his right mind and thus not culpable for his actions. Was he in his right mind? Perhaps it depended on the day. He lived in hope that he'd find Leah alive and well and he wouldn't have to find out.

"I don't see her," Ray said loudly over the pounding music as he sidled up beside Jack, pulling him out of the dark place.

When they'd arrived earlier in the evening, Christmas music played in the background, but was quickly replaced once the acts—winners from the previous four competitions—took to the stage for their final performances. Now, the place was jumping with heart-thumping electronic dance music, getting many patrons onto the dancefloor while everyone waited for the announcement of the ultimate competition winner.

Jack had to admit excitement was in the air, and if Leah was home—he still refused to believe she was dead—he knew she would've loved coming here for the event.

He leaned toward his friend to be heard. "Are you sure? Half the city has to be in here tonight."

Ray shook his head. "I've been all over the club. If she's here, she's well hidden."

"What about outside?"

"Harry and Wash are still up front, posing as bouncers. Massie and James are over on 17th checking IDs on anyone using that alley behind the theater. Don't look at me like that. They've been given strict instructions—if either of them so much as thinks about abandoning their post, they're both getting written up."

"As his TO, Massie needs to keep her eye on the ball," Jack said. "Let's hope she keeps him in line. Have you seen Franklin yet?"

Ray shook his head. "I wonder what's keeping him. He said he'd be here."

Jack gazed toward the back door to where Rod and his harem were in their usual spot.

Out of professional courtesy, and to not step on each other's toes, Special Agent Roderick Henderson had been invited to attend the task force meeting at the department. Haniford laid it out in clear terms—Rod either went along with the operation and worked with the team to apprehend their suspect or took a night off and stayed out of the club so his team could do their job. Rod's cooperation would make it a win-win for both departments—PD and DEA. He only reluctantly accepted the terms because Jack told him he knew who was dealing drugs in the club and would tell him after they captured their suspect. When Rod agreed, he was brought up to speed on incidents leading up to obtaining an arrest warrant on Ginnie Whitney-Cummings, aka Eleanor Mae Hogg.

Rod's girlfriend, Vice Inspector Susan Sharp, had also been invited to work the case, but Rod explained she had morning sickness. Jack wondered at their sudden engagement.

Sergeant Bill Waters had been roped in to take Sharp's place in the harem, and both he and Rod monitored the comings and goings near the back door. Waters towered behind the special agent, his beefy, dark brown arms crossed, his chest and biceps straining under his tight leather biker vest. Jack knew the man was a big softie, but right now he looked anything but. Gay or otherwise, his intimidating gaze was effective.

Jack caught Waters' attention then and gave a jerk of his head, silently asking if he'd seen Franklin. Waters' reply was a quick shake, telling Jack he hadn't.

He and Ray moved into the crowd again. As they neared the bar, his gaze caught Officer Amy Chin's. She'd also been pulled in for added surveillance. It was painfully obvious she still had a thing for him, as she'd agreed all too readily to work this case. "Anything you want, Jack," she'd said. So far, she was doing as she'd been instructed, but every time Jack looked in her direction, she was always staring back at him—as she was now. She lifted her glass and wrapped her lips around the straw. Her demeanor was meant to be sexy, but to him, he felt embarrassed for her.

Jack turned his back on her.

"What's that about?" Ray asked, jerking his head in Chin's direction.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"I couldn't say anything to Haniford when he brought her into the operation. She's been fixated on me practically from the moment Leah—" Jack took a long breath. "I've been trying to ignore her."

Ray glanced toward the bar again. "She's still staring at you."

"Well, then, ignore her," Jack demanded. "She won't take no for an answer and I don't have time to deal with her right now. We have to find Ginnie. She's gotta be here somewhere."

Ray pivoted and pointed through a gap in the crowd. "Wow! Would you get a load of that?"

Across the room, a beautiful, statuesque woman with curves in all the right places was talking and laughing with friends. It was obvious they were admiring her holiday attire by their animated gestures.

There was nothing drag about this woman. From the top down, she was the epitome of style and grace. Long, wavy blonde hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and curled around her breasts. The deep blue, sleeveless floor-length gown was embedded with white sparkling gems and winked in the club lights, giving the garment a starry-night effect that was echoed in her modestly tall heels. The diamonds hanging from her ears and wrapped around her neck and wrists screamed wealth.

When she saw Jack openly staring at her, she strode in his and Ray's direction.

"Looking good, Carol," Jack shouted over the music. "Caitlyn Jenner, move over."

"It's Caroline, now. Sounds more feminine, don't you think?"

"Sure. What about this . . . transformation?" Jack asked, jerking his head at her new look.

"With Chad's help, I took every lesson I learned from the Indian girls and well—What do you think?" Caroline spun on her toes and struck a pose, fluttering her long lashes at Jack.

"Honestly, we didn’t know it was you," Jack said.

"Get used to it because Franklin is dead and gone. The tabloids will have a field day with this, don't you think?"

Jack chuckled. "No doubt."

"What do you think, Ray? You're awfully quiet. Will I do?"

Just then, the music stopped as the house lights dimmed. Jack heard Ray muttering to himself. "Me voy a quemar en el infierno por lo que está pasando por mi mente en este momento." (I'm going to burn in Hell for what's going through my mind right now.)

"¿Es cierto lo que dicen de los amantes Latinos?" Caroline asked. (Is it true what they say about Latin lovers?)

For once in Jack's memory, Ray was lost for words. Jack wasn't sure if it was because Caroline spoke Spanish, or if it was what she replied to his friend.

Before he could ask, the stage lights came on and Chad flounced up to the microphone dressed as Marilyn. Though, rather than the traditional long pink gown, she now wore a sexy Mrs. Claus red velvet strapless dress. The plunging neckline and short hem were edged in faux white fur, as was the matching Santa hat. Over-the-elbow red satin gloves accentuated her long arms and feminine gestures. Her slender legs were covered with white tights. And her red velvet heels had a white pom pom on each toe.

"Good evening, dahlings!" Chad's Marilyn self crooned into the mic. She blew kisses with both hands and tossed them into the audience as if she was scattering wildflowers. The crowd cheered before she launched into a short monologue about the history of the club and the drag event, the multi-talented contestants, and what winning would mean for that one lucky person, as well as for the city's LGBTQ community.

Jack and Ray had already talked with Chad about what he could and couldn't reveal about the deaths of his friends. Officials wanted the case kept hush-hush. The situation earlier in the year with Travers had been bad enough. The people of San Francisco didn't need the panic of another serial killer in their midst. Especially during the holidays and one targeting gay men.

"For most of us," Marilyn continued, "coming out as gay is a damn tough journey. We're bullied and abused most of our lives, forced to conform to the expectations of others, and when we try living what's in our hearts, we're ostracized, even from our own families—shunned by those who said they loved us. It's been my hope, my dream, that this place," she spread her arms wide, "this club, would be a home for all of us. A place where shame doesn't exist and where we're all free to be the person we were born to be." The crowd cheered again, some whistled, while others spun their boas in the air over their heads. "Which is why it pains me to know so many of our brothers and sisters have been taken from us this season. So, before I announce the competition winner, I want us to have a minute of silence for the friends we've lost."

The club lights dimmed and nearly everyone bowed their heads. The room had gone absolutely silent except for the faint rustle of fabric.

After the full minute had passed, soft music came up around the room, then Marilyn began singing. Low at first, then her voice grew stronger as the music rose. She'd chosen Lady Gaga's Born This Way and hit every note on key.

Jack was impressed, Marilyn had a set of pipes on her. Jack joined the crowd's raucous applause as she took low, dramatic curtsies, crossing her legs one way then the other.

Marilyn put her hands up to quiet the room. "Now is the time you've all been waiting for. After four weeks of tough competition—believe me, all of our performers were just so amazing—it's time to announce our winner!" The crowd cheered again. "Get up here, girls," she commanded the final four contestants who trotted up to stand beneath the club's neon sign. "Thank the lord I don't have to choose the winner, or I'd lose my ever-lovin' mind. So, give it up for our totally impartial judge, the Applause-O-Meter!" Marilyn waved to the side of the stage where the arm on the giant meter reacted to the audience's whoops and calls. Below the arm, a digital decibel readout registered the exact noise level. "You, our wonderful and amazing audience, will decide who will walk away tonight with the Majestic Lounge drag queen crown!"

"Pardon me, boys," Caroline said before pushing her way through the crowd toward the backstage door. Ray had already brought Franklin up to speed about tonight's operation. He readily agreed to help, so Jack assumed she was now taking her place behind the scenes.

It was easy getting caught up in the reverie, but Jack forced himself to keep his eyes on the crowd. Ginnie had to be somewhere in the club—but where? As Marilyn called out contestant names, one by one, the crowd cheered. It was the last name that drew the most noise.

"It looks like we have our winner. She comes all the way from bonnie Edinburgh—Australia, that is. Give it up for Bunny MacTaversnatch!"

The crowd went wild. People surrounding Jack and Ray bounced up and down, clapping, punching the air, whistling and cat-calling, and otherwise making their approval known.

"You ready?" Jack asked Ray.

Ray nodded. "See you over there. Good luck." He disappeared into the crowd.

Just then, a deep, almost baritone voice came over the speakers. "G'day!" Jack's gaze shot up and he saw what could best be described as a Scottish Highlander drag queen. And she had to be over seven feet tall.

Bunny MacTaversnatch was dressed from head to toe in red tartan—short bustier crop top with long, cuffed arm sleeves; leggings tucked into long, high heeled pirate boots; and flowing, pleated fabric tied around her waist that swung out behind her like a train. Big, wavy, bright auburn hair framed dark, seductive eyes. Surrounding her bright, ruby-red painted lips was an equally bright auburn beard that even Jack was envious of.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She certainly had the curves and everything one would expect in a woman, but that beard was something else. And that deep voice certainly caught Jack's attention.

He watched a scantily-dressed stagehand in red velvet shorts scurry over with a short ladder and set it up beside Bunny. He assisted Marilyn up the steps so she could place a glittering crown on Bunny's head. Once back on the stage, Marilyn presented Bunny with a large bunch of long stem red and white roses and her statuette—a crystal clear and slightly curved cock on a plinth.

"Congratulations, Queen Bunny!" Marilyn applauded along with the cheering crowd. "Please say a few words before giving us another winning performance." She stepped aside and Bunny moved toward the mic once more.

"I'm humbled and honored to have won this amazing competition," Bunny continued with her thick, deep Australian accent. "I'm dedicating my win to all the drag queens here, and those Down Unda!" She fisted the statuette and pumped it in the air. The crowd cheered again, now chanting “Bun-ny, Bun-ny, Bun-ny.”

After relinquishing her wins to a stagehand, Bunny took her place at the microphone to perform the song that got her the win. Once the crowd had quieted, a smooth, jazzy version of Kylie Minogue's Slow came over the speakers. Bunny's voice took on a surprisingly feminine tone as she crooned to the audience. The lyrics' ohs and ahs were breathless and sultry.

When she reached the first chorus, her voice dropped to the baritone that drew Jack's attention moments before. She had everyone under her spell as she pranced back and forth across the stage, using her free hand to dramatically whip her train as she turned.

While the crowd was distracted, and he hoped Ginnie was too, if she were here, Jack took a deep breath and headed backstage.