Origin in Death (In Death #21)(3)

He had maybe an inch on Eve's five-ten, and his body looked trim and fit, even elegant in a slate gray suit with pearly chalk stripes. He wore a shirt the color of the stripes, and a silver medallion on a hair-thin chain.

He offered Eve his hand, and an apologetic smile that showed perfect teeth. "I'm so sorry. I know you've been waiting. I'm Dr. Icove. Lee-Lee-Ms. Ten," he corrected, "is under my care."

"Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. Detective Peabody. We need to speak with her."

"Yes, I know. I know you've tried to speak with her before, and again, my apologies." His voice and manner were as groomed as the rest of him. "Her attorney's with her now. She's awake and stable. She's a strong woman, Lieutenant, but she's suffered severe trauma, physically and emotionally. I hope you can keep this brief."

"That'd be nice for all of us, wouldn't it?"

He smiled again, just a twinkle of humor, then gestured. "She's on medication," he continued as they walked down a wide corridor accented with art that highlighted the female form and face. "But she's coherent. She wants this interview as much as you do. I'd prefer it wait at least another day, and her attorney . .. Well, as I said, she's a strong woman."

Icove passed the uniform stationed at his patient's door as if he were invisible. "I'd like to attend, monitor her during your interview."

"No problem." Eve nodded to the uniform, stepped inside.

It was luxurious as a suite in a five-star hotel, strewn with enough flowers to fill an acre of Central Park.

The walls were a pale pink, sheened with silver, accented with paintings of goddesses. Wide chairs and glossy tables comprised a sitting area where visitors could gather to chat or pass the time with whatever was on-screen.

Privacy screens on a sea of windows ensured the media copters or commuter trams that buzzed the sky were blinded to the room inside, while the view of the great park filled the windows.

In a bed of petal pink sheets edged with snow-white lace, the famous face looked as if it had encountered a battering ram.

Blackened skin, white bandages, the left eye covered with a protective patch. The lush lips that had sold millions in lip plumper, lip dye, lip ice, were swollen and coated with some sort of pale green cream. The luxurious hair, responsible for the production of bottomless vats of shampoo, conditioner, enhancements, was scraped back, a dull red mop.

The single visible eye, green as an emerald, tracked over to Eve. A sunburst of color surrounded it.

"My client is in severe pain," the lawyer began. "She is under medication and stress. I-"

"Shut up, Charlie." The voice from the bed was hoarse and hissy, but the lawyer thinned his lips and shut up.

"Take a good look," she invited Eve. "The son of a bitch did a number on me. On my face!"

"Ms. Ten-"

"I know you. Don't I know you?" The voice, Eve realized, was hissy and hoarse because Lee-Lee was speaking through clamped teeth. Broken jaw-had to hurt like a mother. "Faces are my business, and yours... Roarke. Roarke's cop. Ain't that a kick in the ass."

"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Detective Peabody, my partner."

"Bumped hips with him four-no five years ago. Rainy weekend in Rome. Holy God, that man's got stamina." The green eye sparked a moment with bawdy humor. "That bother you?"

"You bump hips with him in the last couple years?"

"Regretfully, no. Just that one memorable weekend in Rome."

"Then no, it doesn't. Why don't we talk about what happened between you and Bryhern Speegal in your apartment night before last?"

"Cocksucking bastard."

"Lee-Lee." This gentle admonishment came from her doctor.

"Sorry, sorry. Will doesn't approve of strong language. He hurt me." She closed her eyes, breathed slowly in and out. "God, he really hurt me. Can I have some water?"

Her lawyer grabbed the silver cup with its silver straw and held it to her lips.

She sucked, breathed, sucked again, then patted his hand. "Sorry, Charlie. Sorry I told you to shut up. Not at my best here."

"You don't have to talk to the police now, Lee-Lee."

"You've got my screen blocked so I can't hear what they're saying about me. I don't need a screen to know what the media monkeys and gossip hyenas are saying about all this. I want to clear it up. I want to have my goddamn say."

Her eye watered, and she blinked furiously to stem a tide of tears. And in doing so earned points of respect from Eve.

"You and Mr. Speegal had a relationship. An intimate relationship."

"We f**ked like rabbits all summer."

"Lee-Lee," Charlie began, and she pushed her hand at him. A quick, impatient gesture Eve understood perfectly.

"I told you what happened, Charlie. Do you believe me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then let me tell it to Roarke's cop. I met Bry when I got a part in a vid he was shooting here in New York last May. We were in the sack about twelve hours after the how-do-you-dos. He's-he was," she corrected, "gorgeous. Toss-your-skirt-over-your-head gorgeous. Dumb as a toad, and-as I found out night before last-vicious as a ... I can't think of anything that vicious."

She sucked on the straw again, took three slow breaths. "We had some laughs, we had great sex, we got a lot of play on the gossip circuit. He started to get a little too full of himself. I want this, you're not doing that, we're going here, where have you been, and so on. I decided to break it off. Which I did, last week. Just let's chill this awhile, it's been fun, but let's not push it. Pissed him off some, I could tell, but he handled it. I thought he handled it. We're not kids, for God's sake, and we weren't starry-eyed."