"Yeah," Morelli said. "I'm Mr. Sensitivity."

Sally went about fifteen miles and put his blinker on, so we'd know he was turning. The club was on the right side of the highway, all lit up in red and pink neon lights. Already there were a lot of cars in the lot. The sign on the rooftop advertised an all-girl revue. I guessed that was Sally.

Sally crawled out of the Porsche and straightened his skirt.

"We've played here for four weeks now," he said. "We're like fucking regulars."

Regular what I didn't know.

Morelli looked around the lot. "Where's Sugar's car?"

"The black Mercedes."

"Sugar does okay."

Sally grinned. "You ever see him in drag?"

We both shook our heads no.

"When you see him you'll understand."

We followed Sally in through the kitchen entrance.

"If I go through the front I'll get fucking mobbed," he said. "These people are animals."

We went down a dreary narrow hall to a back room. The room was filled with smoke and noise and the Lovelies. All five of them. All dressed in various forms of leather . . . with the exception of Sugar. Sugar was wearing a blood-red satin dress that fit him like his own skin. It was short and tight and so smooth in front I thought he must have been surgically altered. His makeup was flawless. His lips were full and pouty, painted in high gloss to match the dress. He wore the Marilyn wig, and on my best day I never looked that good. I slid a sideways glance at Morelli, and he obviously was caught in the same dumbstruck fascination that I was experiencing. I shifted my attention back to Sugar and realization suddenly hit me.

"The woman in the bar was Sugar," I whispered to Morelli. "It was a different blond wig, but I'm sure it was Sugar."

"Are you kidding me? He was right in front of you, and you didn't recognize him?"

"It happened so fast, and the room was dark and crowded. And besides, look at him! He's beautiful!"

Sugar saw the three of us come into the room, and he was on his feet, calling Sally an ungrateful slut.

"Christ," Sally said, "what's he talking about? Don't you have to be a chick to be a slut?"

"You are a chick, you dumb shit," one of the other drag queens said.

Sally grabbed his package and gave it a hike up.

"I'd like to talk to you in private," Morelli said to Sugar.

"You don't belong here, and I'm not talking to you," Sugar said. "This is the band's dressing room. Now get the hell out."

Morelli crossed the room in three strides, backing Sugar into a corner. They stood talking like that for a few minutes, and then Morelli eased off. "Nice meeting you," he said to the other band members, who were shuffling foot to foot in awkward silence. "Talk to you later," he said to Sally.