I had to find out.

Ringing the doorbell was out of the question. Eduardo was sure to turn me away. So I crept around the side of the house, my sneakers still squishing. I only hoped they couldn’t hear me inside.

I peered in the living room, but it was empty. So I continued on past a tiny den. Empty, too. Then, at the back of the house, much to my annoyance, I saw that the windows were set high up on the wall. Damn. I couldn’t even begin to see in. I looked around and saw some empty terra-cotta planters by the fence separating Eduardo’s property from his neighbor’s. I grabbed the largest of the lot and turned it upside down under the window. Then I stepped on it gingerly, hoping it would hold me. My thighs and I are happy to report that it did.

I looked inside the window into what was obviously Eduardo’s bedroom. A king-sized bed with black satin sheets dominated the room. And stretched out on those sheets, alone in the room, was the blonde. Probably waiting for Eduardo to gather his sex toys and ravish her.

At last, I could see her face. It wasn’t any of the usual suspects. Not Ginny. Not Larkspur. Not Denise. But there was something about her that looked familiar.

Then slowly, languorously, she reached up to her beautiful blond hair—and pulled it off. Good Lord, she was wearing a wig. And Good Lord, Part II—it wasn’t a She. It was a He. It was Eduardo! No wonder that face looked familiar.

He got up from the bed and started undressing. And I’m ashamed to say, I watched. I couldn’t help myself. He kicked off his high heels, then peeled off his capris and tank top. Underneath he was wearing a black lace bra and panty set, straight out of Victoria’s Secret Extra Naughty Department. Except for the bulge in his black lace panties, he made a damn convincing woman.

I watched as he reached into his bra and pulled out a pair of sweat socks. When he started to take off the panties, I called it a day and got down off the planter, stunned at what I’d just seen. Eduardo Jensen was a transvestite. That was the dirty secret SueEllen threatened to tell the world. Not that he was boffing a young girl, but that he was dressing like one.

And that’s why he killed her. He couldn’t let her destroy his reputation as a stud-about-town. So he put on his blond wig, sashayed down the hallway to her bathroom, and tossed a hair dryer in her tub.

I’d bet my Joan & David suede boots that the hairs from his wig would match the hairs found at the murder scene. I had to call Lt. Webb right away. But what if Eduardo destroyed the wig before the cops could confiscate it? What if he’d worn it this morning one last time, for old time’s sake, and was planning to toss it in his trash compactor? I couldn’t take any chances. I’d have to get it myself. I’d simply break into the house, grab the wig and—