the old man that owned this place died, the Carews bought it and tore it apart. They pulled out the back wall and drove a JCB in here.”
“A backhoe?” Jace asked.
“Probably the same thing. They tore out all the old stuff.” Clive gave a little smile. “They burned a lot of it and by then I was trying to reform, but I stood around with the other kids and breathed deeply of that smoke.”
Jace made himself smile at the story, but he wanted Clive to continue about Stacy. “Everything was changed?”
“Everything. Due to my wasted youth—fun but wasted—I knew the place well, but after Emma and George redid it, I didn’t recognize it. After I became a cop, I had to go up those stairs several times and I always tripped in the same place. The stairs are where they used to be, but now there’s a funny little curve in them. Emma had it built that way so she could put in that fancy jar. See it?”
Jace gave a cursory glance at the big brass vase on the stair landing, then looked back at Clive. “What you’re saying is that you think this young woman…what was her name?”
“Stacy Evans.”
“You think that Miss Evans had been in this pub so many times that she was familiar enough with it that she tripped on the new stairs?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“But even if that was true, why would that make murder more likely than suicide? Maybe she met an old boyfriend here in Margate, had a fight with him, then took her own life because of it.”
“That’s what everyone said happened.”
“Then why don’t you believe it?”
“You’ll laugh at me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“She didn’t look unhappy. Does that make any sense? I was in a school—at least that’s what they called it, but it was really a prison for kids—so I saw some attempts at suicide. There was a point when I played with it myself. There’s a look about people who want to off themselves that’s like no other. It’s around the eyes and…”
“Miss Evans didn’t look like that?”
“Naw, if anything, I’d say she looked happy. She was lying there on the bed with a little smile on her face. Man! She was beautiful. I just couldn’t believe that that woman had anything to be unhappy about. Her father was rich, she was…what’s that you Yanks say about dropping dead?”
“Stacy Evans was drop-dead gorgeous,” Jace said quietly, making Clive look at him.
“Yeah, she was.”
“And she died with a smile on her face. Maybe she was smiling because she was at last going to get out of her problems. Didn’t you say she was engaged to be married?”
“No,” Clive said quietly, staring at Jace. “I didn’t say that. Nobody did.”
“I guess I assumed it. Was she supposed to be married?”
Clive was looking at Jace hard. “You’re him, aren’t you? Stacy had your picture in her wallet. I used to look at it and wonder why you didn’t come over and see about her.”
Jace took a moment to make a decision. Should he try to lie his way out of this? No. “I wasn’t told of her death until her body was already back in the States,” Jace said. “Will you—”
“Tell on you? No. I have so many secrets about the people in this town that you wouldn’t believe it. See that little old man over there? When he was nineteen, he killed three men in a barroom fight. He spent most of his life in jail. Now he grows peonies. See that woman? Oh, well, you get the picture. So did you buy that huge place, Priory House, just to find out what happened to Stacy? I guess I should call her ‘Miss Evans,’ but I spent so much time on her case that I feel as though I know her. What was she like?”
Jace took a long drink of his beer. “She was funny and smart and loved marshmallows. She liked them toasted, plain, in chocolate, however she could figure out a way to use them. She had a photographic memory. She was very kind and I was mad about her. When she died I wanted to die with her. She wasn’t crazy and I think she was
“A backhoe?” Jace asked.
“Probably the same thing. They tore out all the old stuff.” Clive gave a little smile. “They burned a lot of it and by then I was trying to reform, but I stood around with the other kids and breathed deeply of that smoke.”
Jace made himself smile at the story, but he wanted Clive to continue about Stacy. “Everything was changed?”
“Everything. Due to my wasted youth—fun but wasted—I knew the place well, but after Emma and George redid it, I didn’t recognize it. After I became a cop, I had to go up those stairs several times and I always tripped in the same place. The stairs are where they used to be, but now there’s a funny little curve in them. Emma had it built that way so she could put in that fancy jar. See it?”
Jace gave a cursory glance at the big brass vase on the stair landing, then looked back at Clive. “What you’re saying is that you think this young woman…what was her name?”
“Stacy Evans.”
“You think that Miss Evans had been in this pub so many times that she was familiar enough with it that she tripped on the new stairs?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“But even if that was true, why would that make murder more likely than suicide? Maybe she met an old boyfriend here in Margate, had a fight with him, then took her own life because of it.”
“That’s what everyone said happened.”
“Then why don’t you believe it?”
“You’ll laugh at me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“She didn’t look unhappy. Does that make any sense? I was in a school—at least that’s what they called it, but it was really a prison for kids—so I saw some attempts at suicide. There was a point when I played with it myself. There’s a look about people who want to off themselves that’s like no other. It’s around the eyes and…”
“Miss Evans didn’t look like that?”
“Naw, if anything, I’d say she looked happy. She was lying there on the bed with a little smile on her face. Man! She was beautiful. I just couldn’t believe that that woman had anything to be unhappy about. Her father was rich, she was…what’s that you Yanks say about dropping dead?”
“Stacy Evans was drop-dead gorgeous,” Jace said quietly, making Clive look at him.
“Yeah, she was.”
“And she died with a smile on her face. Maybe she was smiling because she was at last going to get out of her problems. Didn’t you say she was engaged to be married?”
“No,” Clive said quietly, staring at Jace. “I didn’t say that. Nobody did.”
“I guess I assumed it. Was she supposed to be married?”
Clive was looking at Jace hard. “You’re him, aren’t you? Stacy had your picture in her wallet. I used to look at it and wonder why you didn’t come over and see about her.”
Jace took a moment to make a decision. Should he try to lie his way out of this? No. “I wasn’t told of her death until her body was already back in the States,” Jace said. “Will you—”
“Tell on you? No. I have so many secrets about the people in this town that you wouldn’t believe it. See that little old man over there? When he was nineteen, he killed three men in a barroom fight. He spent most of his life in jail. Now he grows peonies. See that woman? Oh, well, you get the picture. So did you buy that huge place, Priory House, just to find out what happened to Stacy? I guess I should call her ‘Miss Evans,’ but I spent so much time on her case that I feel as though I know her. What was she like?”
Jace took a long drink of his beer. “She was funny and smart and loved marshmallows. She liked them toasted, plain, in chocolate, however she could figure out a way to use them. She had a photographic memory. She was very kind and I was mad about her. When she died I wanted to die with her. She wasn’t crazy and I think she was
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