Origin in Death (In Death #21)(5)

He nodded, and looked slightly disappointed that he wouldn't be required to jump on his expensive white horse and ride to his client's rescue. "I'd like to see the official statement before it's released to the media."

Eve made a sound that might have passed for a laugh as she turned and walked away. "Bet you would."

"You okay?" Peabody asked as they headed for the elevators.

"Don't I look okay?"

"Yeah, you look fine. And speaking of looks, if you were going to go for Dr. Icove's services, what would you pick?"

"I'd pick a good psychiatrist to help me figure out why I'd let somebody carve on my face and/or body."

The security to get down was as stringent as it had been to get up. They were scanned to ensure they'd taken no souvenirs, and most important, any images of patients who were promised absolute confidentiality.

As the scans were completed, Eve watched Icove rush by, then key into what she saw was a private elevator camouflaged in the rosy wall.

"In a hurry," Eve noted. "Somebody must need emergency fat sucking."

"Okay." Peabody exited the scanner. "Back on topic. I mean, if you could change anything about your face, what would it be?"

"Why would I change anything? I'm not looking at it most of the time anyway."

"I'd like more lips."

"Two aren't enough for you?"

"No, jeez, Dallas, I mean plumper, sexier lips." She pursed them as they got on the elevator. "Maybe a thinner nose." Peabody ran her thumb and forefinger down it, measuring. "Do you think my nose is fat?"

"Yes, especially when you're poking it into my business."

"See hers." Peabody tapped a finger on one of the automated posters lining the elevator walls. Perfect faces, perfect bodies, modeled for passengers

"I could get that one. It's chiseled. Yours is chiseled."

"It's a nose. It sits on your face and allows you to get air through two

handy holes."

"Yeah, easy for you to say, Chiseled Nose."

"You're right. In fact, I'm starting to agree with you. You need plumper lips." Eve balled a hand into a fist. "Let me help you with that"

Peabody only grinned and watched the posters. "This place is like the palace of physical perfection. I may come back and go for one of their free morphing programs, just to see how I'd look with more lips, or a skinny nose. I think I'm going to talk to Trina about a hair change."

"Why, why, why, does everybody have to change their hair? It covers your scalp, keeps it from getting wet or cold."

"You're just scared that when I talk to Trina she's going to corner you and give you a treatment."

"I am not." She was, too.

It was a surprise to hear her name paged through the elevator's communication system. Frowning, Eve cocked her head.

"This is Dallas."

"Please, Lieutenant, Dr. Icove asks that you come, right away, to the forty-fifth floor. It's an emergency."

"Sure." She glanced at Peabody, shrugged. "Reroute to forty-five," she ordered, and felt the elevator slow, shift, ascend. "Something's up," she commented. "Maybe one of his beauty-at-any-price clients croaked."

"People hardly ever croak from face and body work." Peabody ran a considering finger down her nose again. "Hardly ever."

"We could all admire your skinny nose at your memorial. Damn shame about Peabody, we'd say, and dash the tears from our eyes. But that is one mag nose she's got in the middle of her dead face."

"Cut it out." Peabody hunched her shoulders, folded her arms over her chest. "Besides, you couldn't dash the tears away. You'd cry buckets. You'd be blinded by your copious tears and wouldn't even be able to see my nose."

"Which makes dying for it really stupid." Satisfied she'd won that round, Eve stepped off the elevator.

"Lieutenant Dallas. Detective Peabody." A woman with a- hmmm-chiseled nose and skin the color of good rich caramel rushed forward. Her eyes were black as onyx, and currently pouring tears. "Dr. Icove. Dr. Icove. Something terrible."

"Is he hurt?"

"He's dead. He's dead. You need to come, right away. Please, hurry."

"Jesus, we saw him five minutes ago." Peabody fell in beside Eve, moving quickly to keep up with the woman who all but sprinted through a hushed and lofty office area. The glass walls showed the storm still blowing outside, but here, it was warm, with subdued lighting, islands of lush green plants, sinuous sculptures, and romantic paintings-all nudes.

"You want to slow down?" Eve suggested. "Tell us what happened?"

"I can't. I don't know."

How the woman managed to stand much less sprint on whip-thin heels Eve would never understand, but she bolted through a pair of double doors of frosted sea green and into another waiting area.

Icove, pale as death but apparently still breathing, stepped out of an open doorway.

"Glad to see the rumors of your death are exaggerated," Eve began.

"Not me, not. .. My father. Someone's murdered my father."

The woman who'd escorted them burst into fresh and very noisy tears. "Pia, I want you to sit down now." Icove laid a hand on her shaking shoulder. "I need you to sit down and compose yourself. I can't get through this without you."