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“It’s just a shock. I’m okay.”
“Take your time. But we do need you to answer a few questions.” I glanced over at Conway. “Do you want to go check the shed for the machete? Just to make sure. I’ll keep Jace company.”
Conway nodded and went out the back door as Jace watched him nervously.
“You can’t think I had anything to do with killing Dylan? I don’t know how that machete got there. Iswearit. You can’t think I had anything to do with any of this.”
I ignored his outraged tone and glanced down at my notebook.
“Let’s talk again about the last time you saw Dylan. That was on Thursday evening, is that correct?”
“Yes. But there’s not much to tell.”
“Humor me,” I said, looking up to find his eyes glinting at me.
“He was here when I got home, waiting for me. He followed me into the kitchen and asked me for a loan. I told him I didn’t have the money and he got…excited.”
“Excited how?”
“He pushed me around a little.” When I just kept looking at him expectantly, he sighed. “I tried to leave the room, because he—I could tell he was getting angry.”
“How’s that?”
“Huh?”
“How could you tell he was getting angry?”
“He slapped me.” He stared down at his hands, looking embarrassed. “His face got red, and his eyes got…he just looked pissed off. Hewaspissed off.”
“Because you didn’t have money to loan him?”
“No. Because I wouldn’t take out a loan on the house and give him the money.”
“He expected you to get a loan against your house? How much money did he owe?”
Jace started fiddling with the pop top on his can. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. He said he’d pay me back, and he told me he had a good part in a play at the theater where he worked. The Bard’s Playhouse on Virginia Avenue.”
“Yes, we know he hangs out there,” I said impatiently. “But he hasn’t been in any plays, according to the owner. About this loan, though—what would make him think you’d do a thing like mortgaging your home for him?”
He shrugged. When he spoke, his voice sounded defeated.
“Because there was a time when I might have done it. Or tried to talk my mom into it. It’s not even my house. It’s hers.” His face was getting red. “Anyway, I told him I couldn’t. The house is in my mother’s name, and she’d never agree. I wouldn’t have let her if she’d wanted to. He got angry so I got up to leave.”
“Why?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Why did you get up to leave? Were you afraid of him? You said he hit you?”
“Yeah.”
“Where? Or did he just give you a rough push.”
“No. He hit me. On my jaw.”
There was a little silence as I glanced at the bruise there, and he got red again. “I know I lied about it, but it was embarrassing. Look, Dylan has a bad temper. Tyler was in the next room and my mom, too, and…I didn’t want…I just thought I’d get out of there before things escalated.”
“You mean escalated worse than him hitting you? Did he knock you around like that a lot?”
