Origin in Death (In Death #21)(39)

"Dr. Icove, this is the police. We're coming in."

She opened the door.

The first thing she heard was music, the soft, mindless mush often played in elevators or on 'link holds. The desk stood in front of a trio of windows. If he'd been working there, there was no sign. A door to the left opened into what she could see was a bath. Beside the door was a mood screen, set on a soft, mindless mush of colors to match the music

There was art, and books, family photographs, what she assumed were awards, diplomas.

The privacy screens were engaged on the glass, the lights were on low, and the room was comfortably warm.

A sitting area was stylishly arranged in the right front corner. Or the table were a glossy black thermal pot, a plate of fruit and cheese, an oversized white cup and saucer, and a pale green cloth napkin.

On a long merlot-colored sofa, its leather as rich as her coat, lay Wilfred B. Icove, Jr. His feet were bare, and a pair of black slippers were neatly tucked at the end of the sofa. He wore dark gray lounging pants and a pullover in a lighter tone.

The heart blood stained the sweater, and the handle of the scalpel gleamed silver in the light.

"Field kits," Eve snapped out to Peabody. "Call it in. Have McNab seal up and hit the security discs right now. Seal the house."

"Yes, sir."

"Son of a bitch," Eve said softly when she was alone. "Son of a bitch. Victim visually identified by investigating officer is Icove Jr., Dr. Wilfred B. Victim is DOS, visual determination. Until investigators are sealed, the body will not be examined, nor will the room be entered to avoid contamination of scene. What appears to be a medical scalpel, of similar or same type used in the case of Icove Sr., has been inserted in victim's chest. It's heart blood. As seen on record, victim is in a reclining position on a sofa in his home office. The door to the office was secured, lights were on low setting, privacy screens on all windows engaged."

She held up a hand as she heard footsteps-high heels. "APA Reo approaching scene. No entry, Reo. We seal up first."

"What's happened? Peabody said Icove's dead. I don't-"

She broke off, looking around Eve into the room. Her eyes tracked, from the bath, across the room, to the sofa.

Then they rolled back in her head as she made a small sound, like a balloon deflating. Eve moved quickly enough to break her fall, then left the APA sprawled unconscious in the hallway to continue the oral portion of her incident report.

"Entry to residence was gained through entry and search warrant. Single household droid was reactivated by automated security system. Crime scene shows no sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle."

Eve held her hand out for her field kit when Peabody came back. Her partner stepped over the APA. "What happened to her?"

"Fainted. Do what you can."

"I guess Southern types are delicate."

Eve sealed up, then carried her kit inside. For form, she checked for vitals, found none. "DOS, confirmed." She scanned his prints. "Identification confirmed. Peabody, do a sweep through the house, but secure the droid first."

"I already secured the droid. I'll do the sweep once I wake up Sleeping Beauty. He go out the same way as his father?"

"Looks that way." She took the body temperature, worked the gauge. "He's been dead less than two hours. Goddamn it."

Eve straightened, studied the angle of the body, the angle of the weapon. "In close again. He's lying down. He's deactivated the droid- leaving it and the house security programmed for do-not-disturb. But he's lying here and he doesn't worry about somebody coming in, leaning over him. Tranqs maybe. We'll check the tox screen. But I don't think so. I don't think so. He knew her. He wasn't afraid of her. He didn't fear for his life when she came into the room."

She stepped back to the doorway to see it in her head. Reo was sitting up now, her head in her hands. Peabody stood by, smirking.

"The sweep, Detective."

"Yes, sir. Simply making certain the civilian is all right."

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just a little shaken up." She waved a hand in Peabody's direction. "Go ahead. I've never seen a body before," she said to Eve. "Images, photographs. But I've never walked in on a real one It just took me by surprise."

"Go downstairs, wait for Crime Scene."

"I will, in a minute. I heard you say he'd only been dead a couple hours." Her eyes were still a little glassy, but they met Eve's straight or. "I couldn't get the warrant any faster. I did damn handsprings to get it at all. I couldn't move it faster."

"I'm not blaming you."

Reo leaned her head back against the wall. "Maybe not. But it's hard to convince myself not to. We sure as hell found something, didn't we: Did you expect this?"

"No. And it's hard to convince myself I shouldn't have. Go downstairs, Reo. I've got work here."

Reo got to her feet. "I can contact the next of kin."

"Do that. Don't tell her he's dead. Just tell her we need her back in the city, now. Do another handspring and get her into a police shuttle, and back here within the hour. Keep it under media radar, Reo. This is going to be one hell of a mess soon enough."

Eve lifted the thermal pot, sniffed. Coffee. She marked it, the cup, the plate of fruit and cheese for the lab.