Origin in Death (In Death #21)(27)

"Some," Louise said, coolly now.

"Even God didn't create the perfect woman. Maybe Icove figured he could one-up God. Thanks for the coffee," Eve added, and let herself out.

"I think you pretty much ruined her day," Peabody commented as they walked to the elevator.

"Might as well go for a streak and ruin Dr. Will's day next."

A domestic droid opened the door of the Icoves' home. She'd been created to replicate a woman in her comfortable forties, with a pleasant face, a trim build.

She showed them directly into the main living area, offered them a seat, refreshment, then stepped out. Moments later, Icove came in.

There were shadows under his eyes and a weary pallor to his cheeks.

"You have news?" he asked immediately.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Icove, we don't have anything to tell you at this time. We do have some follow-up questions."

"Oh." He rubbed the center of his forehead in a firm up-and-down motion. "Of course."

As he crossed over to take a seat, Eve saw the young boy peek around the doorway. His hair was so blond it was nearly white and spiked up-as the current fashion demanded-from a youthful and pretty face. He had his mother's eyes, she noted. So blue they were nearly purple.

"I think we might want to discuss this in private," Eve told Icove.

"Yes. My wife and children are still at breakfast."

"Not all of them." Eve inclined her head, and Icove turned in time to catch a glimpse of his son before the boy scooted back out of sight.

"Ben!"

The sharp command had the boy sliding into view again, chin on chest. But those eyes, Eve saw, where bright and avid despite the shamed posture.

''Haven't we discussed eavesdropping on private conversations?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody," Icove said, "my son, Ben."

"Wilfred B. Icove the Third," the boy announced, straightening his shoulders. "Benjamin's my middle name. You're the police."

Because Peabody knew her partner, she took the front line with the boy. "That's right. We're very sorry about your grandfather, Ben, and we're here to talk to your father."

"Somebody killed my granddad. They stabbed him right in the heart."

"Ben-"

"They know." Ben's face was a study in frustration as he turned to his father. "Now they have to ask questions and follow leads and gather evidence. Do you have suspects?" he demanded.

"Ben." Icove spoke more gently and wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders. "My son doesn't want to follow family tradition and enter the medical field. He hopes to be a private investigator."

"Cops have to follow too many rules," the boy explained. "PIs get to break them and they get big, fat fees and hang out with shady characters."

"He enjoys detective book discs and games," Icove added with a light of amusement-and, Eve thought, pride-in his eyes.

"If you're a lieutenant, you get to boss people around, and yell at them and stuff."

"Yeah." Eve felt a smile twitch at her lips. "I like that part."

There was the sound of footsteps moving fast down the hall. Avril appeared, apology on her face. "Ben. Will, I'm sorry. He got away from me."

"No harm. Ben, go back into the breakfast room now with your mother."

"But I want-"

"No arguments."

"Ben." Avril's voice was a murmur, but it worked. Ben's head drooped again as he dragged his feet out of the room.

"Sorry for the interruption," Avril said, curved her lips in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then retreated.

"We're keeping the children home for a few days," Icove explained. "The media doesn't always respect grief, or innocence."

"He's a great-looking kid, Dr. Icove," Peabody put in. "He favors your wife."

"Yes, he does. Both our children favor Avril." His smile warmed, became genuine. "Fortunate DNA. What do you need to know?"

"We have some questions regarding some information accessed from discs recovered from your father's home office."

"Oh?"

"The data they're on was coded."

There was a change-just a flicker-when puzzlement became shock, a shock masked by mild interest. "Medical notes often seem like code to the layman."

"True enough. Even when the text was accessed, the contents are puzzling. Your father appears to have taken notes on the treatment of some fifty patients, female patients from their late teens to early twenties."

Icove's expression remained neutral. "Yes?"

"What do you know about those patients, those .. . treatments, Dr. Icove?"

"I couldn't say." He spread his hands. "Certainly not without reading the notes. I wasn't privy to all my father's cases."

"These strike me as a special project, and one he took some care to keep secure. My impression was his field of interest was reconstructive surgery and sculpting."

"Yes. For more than fifty years, my father dedicated his skills to that field, and led the way to-"

"I'm aware of his accomplishments." Deliberately, Eve hardened her voice. "I'm asking about his interests, and his work, outside of that field, the field he's publicly known for. I'm asking about his sidelines, Dr. Icove. Those that involve testing and training young women."