"What about the two footprints at the dumpster?" Harry asked. "Remember, an L.L. Bean chain print and a high heel. You told us about that after we pestered you."
"He had his boots on. The heel was someone else. That was the thing. He could still pass as a man, an effeminate one, if he again dressed in men's clothes. He swears he nailed Leo Burkey in the Outback parking lot. Says he came back around and got Leo in the car. As to Charlie, Ron came down the back stairs, dressed as a man, walked into the locker room and shot him. He always identified himself first. He said Charlie laughed and Leo turned white as a sheet."
"What an elaborate ritual of revenge." Tracy's head throbbed. "To fake his own death. He knew whoever jumped off that bridge would be swept to sea. They hardly ever retrieve the bodies of the people who jump or fall from the Golden Gate Bridge."
"It was a despondent man he met in a bar," Cynthia said. "They made a suicide pact, the other fellow jumped and Ron didn't. Ron wrote the note 'Enough is enough.' People were so shocked at seeing a man standing on the edge of the bridge they didn't notice another man creeping away."
"But the yearbook!" Harry stood up, brushing off her rear end. She was sore from the struggle and her left jaw, turning dark red, would soon turn black-and-blue.
"He rummaged around used-bookstores. Found yearbooks, leafing through them. He said he looked through hundreds until he found a picture of a tall, lanky dark-haired girl that would work. People don't study yearbook pictures. He knew you wouldn't scrutinize. He said he decided to live life a blonde, which would make you laugh. He somewhat resembled Chris Sharpton. He understood people in a cunning fashion. He especially understood the code of politeness. He knew people around here wouldn't pry."
"Is Chris Sharpton alive?"
"Yes. She's married for the second time and lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana. She married her high-school boyfriend, divorced him, and in a fit sold off everything they'd had together, including her high-school yearbook. The book found its way to a San Francisco used-bookshop. Sometimes those dealers buy in lots from other dealers. At least he didn't kill Chris Sharpton," Cynthia said. "Rick had our guys calling and checking everything the minute he started talking."
"Did he fake Marcy Wiggins' suicide?" Susan felt terrible for the dead woman.
"No, she really was despondent and was on antidepression medication for months. She kept her gun in the glove compartment of her car. He'd steal it, then put it back. Brazen. If she'd caught him, he'd have made up a story."
"When did he become a woman?" Miranda wanted to know.
"After college. He worked for a large pharmaceutical com-pany, learned as much as he could about the process, saved his money, moved to San Francisco, and underwent the sex-change process there, which is time-consuming and costly. It didn't make him any happier, though. All those years he was transforming, his one motivation was to return and punish his tormentors."
"Time stopped for him." Fair removed the cold pack from Tucker's head for a moment, to the relief of the dog.
"He'll get the chair," Susan bluntly stated.
"He wants to die. His only regret is that he couldn't kill Hank Bittner and Dennis."
"What will happen to Dennis?" Harry wondered out loud. "Was he in on it from the beginning?"
"No. Dennis drove to Chris's after losing our tail. He put his van in Chris's garage-at her suggestion. Or should I say, his? He was upset from the reunion supper and wanted to talk. She lured him into sex games. He went to bed with her and that's how Chris-or Ron-got the cuffs on him without a struggle. After that Ron was always near him with a gun on him. He was up in the stairwell when Dennis hit you, Harry. They were waiting for Hank."
Cynthia shrugged. "Dennis was a coward in not fighting Leo, Charlie, Rex, and Bob in the locker room but then four against one isn't good odds. Two against four if Ron had fought back isn't good odds either, but Dennis was afraid to be discovered. He was in a sexual relationship with Ron. At least up until the rape. But you know, Dennis wasn't a coward once Chris revealed who she really was. He said he was prepared to die in order to save his children. Ron confirms that, too."
"Is Dennis gay?" Fair asked.
"I don't know. Ron was crazy about him and Dennis said at that time in his life getting laid was the most important thing in the world."
"In a way, I'm surprised more gay people don't lose it, become violent." Fair had never really thought about it.
"Statistically, they are one of the most nonviolent groups we have in America," Cynthia replied. "Yet they are still utterly despised by a lot of people. It was worse in Ron's youth. That doesn't justify what he's done. And the press will make a big hoo-ha over it. Every gay leader in the country will have something to say and every reactionary will point to this as proof positive that gays are the Devil's spawn, ignoring the fact that most violent crimes are committed by heterosexual males between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. The truth is irrelevant."
"It always has been," Susan agreed. "My husband can tell you that."
Ned Tucker, being a lawyer, had seen enough lying, cheating, and getting-away-with-it to fill three lifetimes.
"No wonder we couldn't figure out what was happening," Harry said thoughtfully. "A man consumed by revenge, turns into a woman. One life is deformed, if you can stand that word, and four men die for it twenty years later. I would have never figured out that Chris Sharpton was Ron Brindell. I'm just glad to be alive-even if I am a little dumb."
"None of us would have figured it out." Susan, too, knew she wouldn't have put the pieces together.
"Then what was all that business about the mother of Charlie Ashcraft's illegitimate child?" Fair asked. "A couple of the victims mentioned that-and, well, there was a lot of loose talk."
"That was a red herring," Cynthia replied. "But at that stage no one except the victims knew this was connected to Ron Brindell. They thought Charlie's murder might have something to do with his past lovers or his illegitimate child."
"Does anyone know who that woman is?" Harry asked Cynthia.
"It has no bearing on the case," Cynthia quickly said.
"I'd like to know." Harry shrugged. "Curiosity."
"Forget about it." Susan sighed. "It will come out in time. All of Crozet's secrets eventually see the light of day."
"I can't believe all the times I was in Chris's company and I never thought anything. Although I thought she had awfully big feet," Harry exclaimed.
Cynthia said, "He was brilliant in his way."
"Well, I owe thanks to one brave dog and two kitties who flew through the air with the greatest of ease." Harry kissed Mrs. Murphy and Pewter.
Tracy said, "And I thank them, too. Ron hit me hard on the back of the head. If he'd shot me the noise would have warned you. He would have finished me off after he killed you."
"Tracy, you came all the way back from Hawaii for your reunion. I'm sorry it was spoiled," Harry said.
"Brought me home. I'm thankful for that. I might stay awhile." He squeezed Miranda to him.
"I don't think I would have figured out that Chris was Ron." Mrs. Murphy rubbed against Harry's side as she was again seated on the floor.
"She was as nice as she could be and she didn't seem masculine or anything-except she had this little Adam's apple. I never thought a thing about it," Pewter said.
"I should have known." Tucker sat up on Fair's lap. "Too much perfume. She masked her scent or rather lack of it. You can change forms but you can't really change scent but so much. That's probably why he doused his black sweats and black shirt with English Leather. It smells manly."
"Well, we'd better go check on Simon." Mrs. Murphy left the room followed by Pewter and Tucker, too.
"Are you guys going potsie?" Harry asked.