Origin in Death (In Death #21)(6)

"Yes. All right. Yes. Oh, Dr. Will."

"Where is he?" Eve demanded.

"In here. At his desk, in here. You can .. ." Icove shook his head, gestured.

The office was spacious yet gave the feeling of intimacy. Warm colors here, cozy chairs. The view of the city came through tall, narrow windows in this room, and was filtered by pale gold screens. Wall niches held art or personal photographs.

Eve saw a chaise in buttery leather, a tray of tea or coffee that looked untouched on a low table.

The desk was genuine wood-good old wood by her estimate, in a masculine, streamlined style. The data and communication equipment on it was small and unobtrusive.

In the desk chair, high-backed and buttery leather like the chaise, Wilfred B. Icove sat.

His hair was a thick, snowy cloud crowning a strong, square face. He wore a dark blue suit, and a white shirt with thin red pencil stripes.

A silver handle protruded from the breast of the jacket, just under a triangle of red that accented the pocket.

The small amount of blood told Eve it had been a very accurate heart shot.

PEABODY.

"I'll go get the field kits, and call it in." "Who found him?" Eve asked Icove.

"Pia. His assistant." He looked, Eve thought, like a man who'd just taken an airjack in the gut. "She ... she contacted me immediately, and I rushed up. I ..."

"Did she touch the body? Did you?"

"I don't know. I mean to say, I don't know if she did. I... I did. I wanted to ... I had to see if there was anything I could do."

"Dr. Icove, I'm going to ask you to sit down over there. I'm very sorry about your father. Right now, I need information. I need to know who was the last person who was in this room with him. I want to know when he had his last appointment."

"Yes, yes. Pia can look it up on his schedule."

"I don't have to." Pia had conquered the tears, but her voice was rusty from them. "It was Dolores Nocho-Alverez. She had an eleven-thirty. I ... I brought her in myself."

"How long was she here?"

"I'm not sure. I went to lunch at noon, as always. She needed the eleven-thirty, and Dr. Icove told me to go ahead to lunch, as usual, and he'd show her out himself."

"She'd have to go out through security."

"Yes." Pia got to her feet. "I can find out when she left. I'll check the logs now. Oh, Dr. Will, I'm so sorry."

"I know. I know."

"Do you know this patient, Dr. Icove?"

"No." He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. "I don't. My father didn't take many patients. He's semiretired. He'd consult when a case interested him, and sometimes assist. He remains chairman of the board of this facility, and is active on several others. But he rarely did surgery, not for the last four years."

"Who wanted to hurt him?"

"No one." Icove turned to Eve. His eyes were swimming, and his voice uneven, but he held on. "Absolutely no one. My father was beloved. His patients, through over five decades, loved him, were grateful to him. The medical and scientific communities respected and honored him. He changed people's lives, Lieutenant. He not only saved them, he improved them."

"Sometimes people have unreal expectations. A person comes to him, wants something impossible, doesn't get it, blames him."

"No. We're very careful with whom we take into this facility. And, to be frank, there was little my father would consider unrealistic in expectations. And he proved, time and again, he could do what others considered impossible."

"Personal problems. Your mother?"

"My mother died when I was a boy. During the Urban Wars. He never remarried. He has had relationships, of course. But he's been, by and large, married to his art, his science, his vision."

"Are you an only child?"

He smiled a little. "Yes. My wife and I gave him two grandchildren. We're a very close family. I don't know how I'm going to tell Avril and the kids. Who would do this to him? Who would kill a man who's devoted his life to helping others?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

Pia came back in, a few strides ahead of Peabody. "We have her going through exit security at twelve-nineteen."

"Are there images?"

"Yes, I've already asked security to send up the discs-I hope that was the right thing," she said to Icove.

"Yes, thank you. If you want to go home for-"

"No," Eve interrupted. "I need both of you to stay. I don't want either of you to make or receive any transmissions or speak with anyone-or each other-for the time being. Detective Peabody is going to set you both up in separate areas."

"Uniforms coming up," Peabody stated. "It's routine," she added. "There are things we need to do, then we'll need to talk to you both, get statements."

"Of course." Icove looked around, like a man lost in the woods. "I don't..."

"Why don't you both show me where you'd be most comfortable while we're taking care of your father?"

She glanced back at Eve, got the nod while Eve opened her field kit.

Alone, Eve sealed up, switched on her recorder, and for the first time moved over to examine the body.