Hobbs tipped his beer at him in acknowledgement. “Second, what’s up with the SD card? If he was disguised, why the heck would he want the video from the surveillance camera? That’s a clue if I ever heard one.”
Blowing out a breath, I shook my head. “Uncle Darling said he was dressed all in black, and he noticed creases in the pants of his trousers, but that doesn’t feel like something that anyone could easily make an identification from. Maybe he had something else on him that could identify him, but Uncle Darling missed it? That’s my best guess.”
Hobbs cupped his bearded chin. “And here’s something else, why would a guy who was going to commit a crime in a raging snowstorm wear dressy pants, and not boots or snow gear?”
“Is there a fashion rule against wearing dressy clothes to commit a crime?” I asked. “Like a dress code amongst criminals?”
“Still hopin’ to kickstart that standup career, huh, Hal?” Hobbs asked with a laugh. Then he shrugged, his wide shoulders lifting under his white-and-blue-checked flannel shirt. “I just mean, it’s dadgum cold out there at thirteen degrees. What criminal wears dress pants anyway? Maybe it has something to do with who he is or what he does when he’s not committing murder. Just stuck out to me.”
Wincing, I clenched my fists together when I remembered Gable’s body being carried off to the ambulance. “You have a point, let’s put that away for now because I have another question.”
I had to be careful how I asked this. I didn’t want to lie to Hobbs about how I knew, but I guess I really didn’t have a choice. There’s never been another human soul I’ve told about my magic.
In fact, if you’re wondering, I never even told my ex-fiancé, and even though I could never figure out why I wasn’t entirely honest, now I’m glad I wasn’t.
Our breakup was ugly, and he was angry that I’d left him with nothing but the bed he’d cheated on me in. He sent me ugly texts for a long time after. Imagine how that would have gone, had he the kind of ammunition knowing I was a witch would give him.
The only two humans who know are Stiles and Uncle Monty, and I didn’t know how long it would be before I could tell Hobbs—or if I ever would. I needed complete trust, and that took time.
Yet, if I wanted his help… If I wanted him to help me figure out who’d hurt Uncle Monty, and if this person was out there lurking around, looking to shut him up entirely because he might have information that could identify the killer, I had to reveal everything I knew.
“Uncle Darling, did you or Monty have any lipstick on you tonight? Pink, specifically?” I knew the forensics team was going to find it, and if my vision was inaccurate, I’d make something up. But I had to know.
He flapped his hands at me, still looking miserable. “Not a stitch of makeup, Lamb. Nothing. I’m on the sauce when it comes to anything drag. It’s been a nice break since I retired. And of course Monty wants nothing to do with makeup. He’s a lighting engineer. He likes sounds systems and stage lights, not foundation and eyeshadow. Why do you ask?”
Shrugging, I pretended it was no big deal. “I heard one of the officers mention they’d found one, I think. Could be a customer dropped it. No big deal.”
“Dropped it in the men’s bathroom?” Hobbs asked.
I turned my face away and went to find a plate of the cookies I knew Hobbs liked and a treat for Stephen King, to keep from looking him in the eye. Food always quieted Hobbs—especially cookies.
“Did I say it was in the men’s bathroom? No. I did not.” Crud. I’m a really bad liar. “And why can’t a man have lipstick?”
“I’m not at all sayin’ a man can’t, but no matter the killers gender, it still could mean the killer dropped it,” Hobbs suggested, not appearing to notice my irritability.
I put the white plate of cookies down in front of him and agreed. “Maybe so. But if we go with the law of averages, and he was a man, he wouldn’t likely have a lipstick. I thought it seemed more likely Uncle Darling would have it, or maybe Monty was carrying it for him. That was where my train of thought was going.”
Uncle Darling rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t it be ironic if he’s a drag queen like me—or a cross-dresser…or a very sturdily-built woman?”
“Are you sure the person you saw was a man, Uncle Darling?”
He shuddered again, rubbing his hands over his arms when he looked to Hobbs with his answer. “I’m pretty sure, Good-Lookin’.”
Grabbing my uncle by the hand, I pulled him upward. “C’mon. Let’s go sit by the fire while we wait for news. It’s beautiful by the fireplace and the tree is so pretty this year. The cowboy here helped decorate it.”
I picked up his special Christmas mug, the one my mother insisted we each have, with a picture of a snowman holding a gingerbread man’s hand, and pulled him with me, tilting my head at Hobbs to encourage him to join us.
Uncle Darling stopped in front of the tree and said, “There’s a light out in the middle of the tree, Lamb, shall I—”
I squeezed his hand and shook my head, reminding him with my eyes we were among mortals and he couldn’t use his magic. “I’ll fix it later. You shouldn’t be worrying about anything but resting and having your tea.”
Pulling an icy-white blanket with red pom-poms off the back of the couch, I turned on the sound system, piping some instrumental Christmas music through the house before leading him to a chair, covering him and dropping a kiss on his forehead.
But he held my hand tight when I tried to sit opposite him. “What if…” he asked, his voice trembling.
“What if you tell me how you became a drag queen?” Hobbs asked. “Ever since Hal told me about what you did for a living, I’ve been fascinated. I even watched some RuPaul’s Drag Race in honor of your visit.”
I smiled to myself. If there was anything Uncle Darling liked to do, it was talk about himself and his career, and Hobbs was very good at picking up on what made people tick.
A text buzzed from my phone in my back pocket, and when I pulled it out to see Stiles wanted me to call, I decided it might be better to do so out of Uncle Darling’s earshot.
“You guys mind if I go feed Karen? I didn’t have time earlier, and I already know about how Uncle Darling clawed his way to the top and became the best lip-syncing eyeliner ninja in all the land.”
My uncle blushed. Two bright spots appearing on his rounded cheeks, spots I was convinced he’d somehow taught himself to make appear when he wanted to come across as humble.
“Oh, you. It wasn’t like that, Lamb, and you know it.”
“Well, you tell Hobbs about your adventures while I go feed Na— Karen. I’ll be right back.” I plopped another kiss on the top of his head of thick hair.
As I left them, chatting amicably, Uncle Darling’s hands animated, his voice less fraught with worry, I sighed a little. Hobbs was really good with people, and he was really good at making everyone around him feel comfortable.
Especially me.
Whistling to Atti, I trudged to the mudroom and pulled on my jacket and hat, pushing the door open to make my way to the barn. Atticus clung to my shoulder, nestling against the length of my hair to keep warm.