Free Justice in the Shadows by Radclyffe

the elevator.
    “Hi, Sandy.”
    Sandy grunted a greeting and pointedly ignored Watts. When the elevator stopped, Rebecca led the way down the hall to the conference room.
    “Hey,” Sloan said as the group filed in.
    “Sloan,” Rebecca acknowledged, studying the dark-haired woman by Sloan’s side. She was certain they hadn’t met, but the stranger seemed familiar nonetheless.
    “Yo,” Watts said, eyeing the woman, too. Sandy sat beside him, pointedly not looking at Mitchell, who took the seat across from her.
    “Jasmine, this is Sergeant Frye, Detective Watts, and Sandy.” As they all nodded, Sloan continued, “Jasmine works at the Troc, and she knows some of the regulars at Ziggies.”
    “Uh…doin’ what, exactly?” Watts asked, his gaze dropping from Jasmine’s face to her breasts and lingering a moment.
    “I’m a singer,” Jasmine replied, her voice whiskey warm.
    Watts glanced at Rebecca, who continued to study Jasmine intently. Watts shifted in his chair, almost as uneasy at Rebecca’s silence as he was with the way Jasmine’s voice made his blood race. He didn’t usually go for hookers, but Jesus, she was something.
    Abruptly, Rebecca stood. “Excuse me a moment, Miss…”
    “Just Jasmine.” She nearly purred the words.
    Rebecca smiled, then glanced at the blond beside her. “Sandy?”
    Sandy rose, pretending not to notice the hard stare that Dell threw her way, and followed Rebecca to the far end of the room.
    In a quiet voice, Rebecca asked, “Know her?”
    “Uh-uh and I’d remember. She’s major competition.”
    “What do you think?”
    “She’s good. Really, really good.” Sandy shrugged. “I know a few trannies, but…she’s different. Classy…I don’t think she’s selling it.”
    “Who do you know who could check her out for us?”
    Sandy shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
    Rebecca sighed. She needed a street contact badly, but she was loathe to trust someone she didn’t know, even if Sloan and Jas… “Son of a bitch. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”
    Sandy stared as Rebecca turned and walked back to her place at the table.
    “Jasmine?” Rebecca asked. Blue eyes rose to hers. A full mouth smiled slowly.
    “Yes, Sergeant?” The tone was openly seductive now.
    “They know you by name in Ziggies?”
    “Probably. I drop in there now and then with some of the other entertainers from the club.”
    “Other drag queens?”
    “We prefer the term female impersonators.” Jasmine tossed her head. “Although some of the other performers are drag queens, of course.”
    “Huh? What’s she saying?” Watt’s voice had gotten louder.
    “She’s a he, you twit,” Sandy said disparagingly
    “No.” Watts looked at Rebecca, who nodded. He slumped in his chair, shaking his head. “Fuck me.”
    Mitchell suddenly gasped. “Oh man…Jason. You’re…beautiful.”
    “What’s going on?” Watts exploded.
    Sloan took pity on him. “Jasmine is Jason’s stage name, Detective. “
    “Jason’s stage name?” Watts looked as if he had been pole-axed. His head tilted from side-to-side as his face turned from red to purple. “Jason?”
    Jasmine smiled kindly. “Jason isn’t here at the moment, Detective. He asked that I stop by to lend you a hand.”
    Watts sat, placed his hands in his lap, and stared fixedly at the tabletop.
    “How friendly are you with the girls in Ziggies?” Rebecca asked. “Because if there’s someone in there who knows about the porn videos, it would be them.”
    “Nodding acquaintances. Most of the working girls consider us competition and there’s little love lost because of it.”
    “What makes you think that you can get what we need in Ziggies if the girls won’t talk to you?” Rebecca asked.
    “ I might not be able to, but the show at the Troc has female and male impersonators,” Jasmine explained. “The drag kings are regulars at Ziggies. I can put one of us with them.”
    “A drag king?” Watts finally found his voice. “A