Origin in Death (In Death #21)(32)

"From his surgical and consulting schedule, it didn't appear he had a great many active patients."

"Oh, he also visited patients who weren't his own. That is, he convicted every patient or client who came into one of his facilities to belong to him. He spent several hours every week doing what you'd call informal visits. Keeping his finger on the pulse, he liked to say. He also spent considerable time reading the medical journals, keeping current. And writing papers for them. And he was doing another book. He'd published five. He kept busy, even though he was semiretired."

"How often, per week, did you see him?"

"It varied. If he wasn't traveling, at least two, sometimes three days a week. He'd also check in holographically."

"You ever travel with him?"

"Occasionally, when he needed me."

"Did you ever ... meet his needs in personal areas?"

It took her a moment to translate, and Eve knew there'd been no sexual relationship here. "No! No, of course not. Dr. Icove would never have ... Never."

"But he had companions. He enjoyed the company of women."

"Well, yes. But there was no one specific, or serious. I'd have known." Pia sighed. "I wish there had been. He was such a lovely man. But he still loved his wife. He told me once there were some gifts, some relationships that could never be replaced or replicated. His work sustained him. His work, and his family."

"How about personal projects? Experimental projects he was working on that he wasn't ready to make public. Where did he keep his personal lab, his personal charts?"

Pia shook her head. "Experimental projects? No, Dr. Icove used the research facilities here. He considered them the best in the world. Anything he or the researchers worked on would have been logged. Dr. Icove was meticulous about recording data."

"I bet," Eve replied. "His last appointment. How did they greet each other?"

"He was at his desk when I brought her in. He stood up. I'm not

sure

"Did they shake hands?"

"Um. No. No, I don't think ... I remember he stood up, and smiled. She said something first, even before I made the introductions. I remember that now."

Pia continued. "Yes, I remember, she said something like it was good to meet him, and that she appreciated him taking his valuable time for her. Something along those lines. I think he said he was very pleased to see her. I think that's what he said. He gestured to the refreshments in the sitting area, maybe started to go around his desk, but she shook her head. She said thank you, but she didn't care for any-rung. Then Dr. Icove told me they'd be fine. 'We'll be fine, Pia, you go ahead to lunch at your usual time. Enjoy yourself.'

"It's the last thing he said to me." Now she began to cry. "'Enjoy yourself."

With Peabody, Eve closed herself into Icove's office. Crime Scene ~ad been through, leaving their faint scent behind. She'd already run the probabilities and the reconstruction programs, but she wanted to see it on-site, with people.

"Be Icove. At his desk," she ordered Peabody.

As Peabody obliged, Eve crossed back to the door, turned. "What are you doing? With your face?"

"I'm trying for an avuncular smile. Like a kind doctor."

"Cut it out. It's creepy. Admin and Dolores enter. Icove stands. The women walk over. No handshake, because she's probably sealed, and he'd feel it. How does she get out of it?"

"Ah." Standing in Icove's place, Peabody considered. "Shy? Eyes downcast, maybe hands, both hands, on the handle of her bag. Nervous. Or-"

"Or she looks him right in the eye, because they know each other already. And her face, the look, signals him that they're going to skip the handshakes and how-are-yous. Think about what he said, according to his admin. He was happy to see her-Dolores. Not happy to meet her, or meet with her, but see her."

"Unspoken 'again'?"

"That's what I'm hearing. Refreshments offered, refused. Admin leaves, shuts the door. They sit."

Eve took the seat across from the desk. "She has to bide her time, wait for the admin to go to lunch. They talk. Maybe he suggests they move to the sitting area for tea, but she wants him at his desk, turns it down."

"Why at the desk?" Peabody asked. "It would've been easier for her to get close if they were on the sofa there."

"Symbolic. Behind the desk is in charge, is the power. She wants him dead on his seat of power. Taking it back from him. There you are, she might think, behind your beautiful desk in your big office high above the city, reigning over the center you built in your own name. Wearing your expensive suit. And you don't know you're dead."

"Cold," Peabody added.

"The woman who walked out of here had plenty of chill. Time passes, she gets up."

As Eve rose, so did Peabody. "He'd stand," Peabody stated. "He's old school. A woman stands, he stands. Like he did when she first came in."

"Good point. So she says: 'Sit, please.' Maybe gestures him down. She has to keep talking, but nothing confrontational. No, she has to keep him at ease. She has to come around the desk to him."

Eve mimicked the move she saw in her head. Walking to the desk, unhurried, eyes calm. She saw the way Peabody instinctively swiveled in the desk chair to face her more truly.