Beneath The Surface. Linda Turner

a woman?”

      He nodded grimly. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a woman running around town with a gun, demanding money, but it’s not that common. From what we can tell, she was working alone.”

      Logan lifted a brow in surprise. “No kidding? She drove her own getaway car?”

      “At this point, we’re not even sure she had a car. She slipped out the back door and just seemed to disappear.”

      “And no one saw or heard a vehicle?”

      “Most of the customers are half-lit, Logan,” he said dryly. “The bartender was the only sober one in the joint, and when the robber started spraying the place with bullets, he ducked behind the bar. By the time it was safe to come out, there was no sign of the perp.” A police helicopter approached from the west and began scanning the area. “If she had a car stashed down the block, she’s probably long gone. If she’s on foot, though, that’s another matter.”

      “Let me know if she’s spotted,” Logan told him. “Mind if I interview the witnesses?”

      “No, go ahead. We’re still collecting evidence inside, but we’ve finished questioning everyone.”

      Thanking him, Logan began working his way through the customers who still lingered, obviously waiting for the police to finish their work so that they could go back in and resume drinking. As Tim had warned him, the customers had had a little too much to drink to know for sure what had happened, but they were all clear on one thing. The perp was a big woman with a gun.

      A thought hit Logan, and he went in search of the bartender. “You must have got a good look at her when she pulled the gun out,” he told him. “What did you think of her?”

      “She was big-boned and ugly as homemade soap. And she had big hair.”

      Logan smiled. “You mean long hair?”

      “Yeah, it was long, but it was also big. You know—like women used to wear back in the seventies.”

      “Could it have been a wig?”

      Considering that, the bartender shrugged. “Sure, I guess so. Though I can’t imagine why any woman would want to look like that. It wasn’t attractive at all.”

      “Are you certain the perp was a woman? Could it have been a man in drag?”

      “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Transvestites come in here occasionally. In fact, there’s a brunette who shows up sometimes who’s absolutely gorgeous. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen in my life. I think he’s really the superintendent for one of the school districts here in town. What do you want to bet he doesn’t wear a dress to work?”

      Busy jotting down notes, Logan was already formulating his next question when he suddenly realized what the bartender had said. He glanced up sharply. “Wait a minute. Back up. Did you say a school superintendent is a transvestite?”

      “Well, I couldn’t swear to it,” he admitted. “After all, the guy looks a lot different without the makeup and wig and everything. But I’ll bet last week’s paycheck it’s him.”

      “What makes you think so?”

      “He’s been in here a number of times, always dressed as a woman, and he always sits at the bar. I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. He goes by the name Elizabeth.”

      Taking notes, Logan could see the headlines already. “Has he ever told you anything about himself?”

      “No, but I had to go to a program at my daughter’s school one night, and the superintendent was there. The second I saw him, I knew he was Elizabeth. And he knew I knew! When he saw me, he turned his back on me.”

      “How long ago was this?”

      “Three weeks ago.”

      “Has he been in for a drink since then?”

      The bartender shook his head. “No, but he’s not a regular. He only comes in a couple of times a month.”

      Logan pulled out his business card, which contained his office and cell phone numbers. “The next time he comes in, give me a call. Okay?”

      “Sure,” the man said, pocketing the card. “I don’t want to cause the guy any trouble, but I don’t want him hanging around my kid, either. I thought about calling the school board, but I didn’t figure anyone would listen to me, being as I work in a bar.”

      “That doesn’t mean you’re not honest,” Logan pointed out. “Or that you’re not concerned about who’s running your daughter’s school. What’s the superintendent’s name?”

      When he told him, Logan said, “I’ll do some checking and see what I can find out. I doubt, though, that I’ll find anything. The school district would have done a background check before they hired him.”

      “Then they didn’t do a very good one,” the bartender retorted. “It’s not like this guy was raiding his wife’s closet and parading around the house in her clothes. He’s going out in public! And if he’ll do this, what else is he doing? He works with kids, for heaven’s sake!”

      Logan could understand his worries, but just because the man liked wearing female clothes didn’t mean he was a threat to the bartender’s kids or anyone else. “I’ll check it out and get back to you,” he promised. “Thanks for the lead.”

      Excusing himself to question other witnesses about the robbery, Logan had to fight back a grin of anticipation. He couldn’t wait to see Nick’s face when he told him he’d gotten not one story tonight, but two. His boss would be shocked, and Logan couldn’t blame him. He’d shown little interest in work over the last year.

      That was about to change, he silently acknowledged as he headed back to the office. He didn’t know what had happened to spark the change, but over the last couple of days, he’d found himself more interested in work, more interested in life. When his family heard about the change in him, they would say that he was finally getting over Faith’s death and would thank God for it, but nothing could have been further from the truth. He missed his wife more every day and had never been lonelier. Maybe he was just coming to accept the fact that he would feel that way the rest of his life.

      Thankful that he had work to distract him from that thought, he grabbed his notes on the bar robbery, booted up his computer and threw himself into the story. He wasn’t one of those writers who had to sit and think and wait for the muse to strike. As a reporter, he just didn’t have time for that. The second his fingers touched the keyboard, they were flying.

      Lost in his story, he didn’t realize he was no longer alone until Josh Garrison drawled, “Well, look who’s busy burning the midnight oil. Not that it’s midnight yet,” he added, “but you don’t strike me as a man who works overtime. I thought you left hours ago.”

      Logan barely bit back a curse. What the devil was he doing there? Tomorrow’s deadline had come and gone, and the newspaper offices were practically deserted. Oh, Nick was still there—he always stayed after hours just in case a late story broke—but he was holed up in his office. Everyone else had either gone home or was out working on a piece for tomorrow’s deadline…which was why Logan often came in after the paper had been put to bed. The phones were silent, and he had the place to himself. Or at least he usually did.

      Wanting to tell Garrison to take a long walk off a short pier, he growled, “I could say the same thing about you, Garrison. What do you want?”

      He made no effort to be nice to the guy. He hadn’t liked him from day one, though he’d tried to be civil. Garrison, however, hadn’t made it easy. He made snide remarks whenever he thought he could get away with it, then smiled like a politician and said all the right things whenever Nick was around. As far as Logan was concerned, the man was nothing but a two-faced brownnoser, and he wanted nothing to do with him.

      Garrison, however, seemed to enjoy goading