Origin in Death Page 12

  "That's okay. I wasn't."

  "But..." As Eve turned toward the stairs, the droid clutched her hands together. "Dr. Icove is very particular about not being disturbed when he's in his office. If you must speak to him, I wonder if you might go through household communications first." She gestured toward a Household scanner and 'link, similar to the ones Eve had at home.

  "Reo, go that route. McNab, check security. Peabody, with me." Eve continued up the stairs

  "Reo put the eye on him," Peabody muttered as they reached the second floor.

  "What?"

  "On McNab. She put the juicy eye on him. And she better make sure that's all she puts on him, or I'll have to kick her tiny Southern ass."

  "Maybe you could make some pretense about actually being on duty," Eve suggested. "Just for the frigging record."

  "Just saying." She glanced around as they turned toward the third-floor stairway. "Big place. Nice colors, pretty art. Quiet."

  "Wife and kids are supposedly tucked into their summer house. I'd imagine his office is soundproofed. Deactivates his household droid for the night, puts a no-pass on his security. Yeah, he's serious about not being disturbed."

  The third floor had been reconfigured into three rooms. She noted the play area-kid world-with high-end arcade games, entertain­ment screen, lounging chairs, snack bar. Beside it was an area more adult, and more female by Eve's gauge. A kind of woman's sitting room/office done in pastels with arches and curves.

  Across from it, a door was closed. Assuming soundproofing, she didn't knock, but pressed the intercom button. "Dr. Icove, this is Lieu­tenant Dallas. I'm accompanied by two detectives and an assistant prosecuting attorney. We've entered the residence with a warrant to search. You are legally obligated to open this door and cooperate."

  She waited a beat, heard no response. "Should you refuse to co­operate, we are authorized to bypass the locks and enter. You may contact your attorney or representative for verification. You may request that your attorney or representative be present to supervise said search.

  "Silent treatment," Peabody commented after a moment.

  "Let the record show that Dr. Icove has been informed and has re­fused to respond verbally. We are entering without his acknowledg­ment."

  Eve dug out her master, slid it through the standard interior lock.

  "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.

  Leaving the body, Eve crossed to the desk and began to check in­coming and outgoing transmissions, recent data input or deleted. She ragged all discs, marked the unit itself for EDD transfer.

  "House is empty," Peabody reported. "Domestic droids-three in full-were all deactivated. All doors and windows were fully secured. No sign of tampering. McNab told me that the current security disc- which, in ord
er from the previous, would have run since nine hundred hours this morning-is missing two hours."

  Eve glanced back, frowned. "Two hours."

  "Affirmative. There's no record through the system of entry or exit of the premises during that time. The disc stops at eighteen-thirty, and picks up again at twenty hundred and forty-two hours. It clearly shows us approaching, being verified, and admitted at twenty-one sixteen."

  Minutes, Eve thought. Missed her by minutes. She gestured toward the desk 'link. "He had that on privacy mode. Set it at seventeen hun­dred. No transmissions in the holding area. Let's check the other links."

  They headed down while the sweepers headed up.

  "Icove's wife is being picked up now. She'll be here in about twenty minutes," Reo told them. "ME's on his way now. I got you Morris."

  "Then you got me good. I need to check with my e-man. You can -old here, or go."

  "Go?" Reo let out a short laugh. "Screw that. I've never been in on a homicide from the get. They're going to want to pull this out from un­der me when you close it down. I need ammo, to stay at the table. I'm here.”

  "Fine. Where's the security room?" she asked Peabody. "Utility and security space, off the kitchen. Rear of the house." "Start checking the 'links for transmissions. Bag any discs for re view. Let's tag all the units. Wife's, kids', domestics'." She looked back at Reo. "Did you speak with the wife, personally?"

  "Yes. At the connection the household droid gave me. Hamptons.

  "Okay." Eve nodded, walked off to find McNab.

  He may have looked like a victim of Fashion Trends R Us, but Mc­Nab could romance electronics. He sat, a skinny tube of neon, flipping through screens on a console and muttering commands into a handheld.

  "What are you doing? What's the deal?"

  He spared Eve the briefest glance, and shoved his long, loose golden hair out of his face. "You really want to know?"

  "Bottom line it. In English."

  "Checking the system for jams, glitches, bypasses. You got a top-line here. Multisource, full scan, motion, voice, and visual detection. Entry through code and voice print. All I got on me is my PPC, but it's prime I'm not finding any holes."

  "So how'd they get through?"

  "That's the question." He swiveled on the stool, away from the se­curity console, scratched the side of his jaw. "We'll take a closer look in-house, but it's looking like they came through on green."

  "Meaning someone let them in, or they cleared security."

  "I took a look at the door unit, and there's no sign of tampering Mostly it's going to show. Mostly. We'll take a closer at that, too, and other entries, but if you want my own site, yeah. Bad guy waltzed through. Either cleared through or was aided by an inside source Maybe the dead guy let him in."

  "Then went upstairs, locked his office door, and stretched out on the couch and waited for a knife in the heart?"

  He puffed out his cheeks, blew out air. Patting his pockets, he came up with a silver ring, then threaded his hair through it forming a tail "Okay, maybe not. Anyway, whoever it was took the discs for the time frame he'd show on camera. Slid them right out. No sign of search or fumbling around in here. And I had to use my master to open the door Locked up behind himself, nice and neat."

  Eve studied the security room. It was about the size of her office at Central, and a hell of a lot slicker. A series of screens relayed images of various rooms and entry ways. McNab had left them live, and she could see sweepers in their protective suits working the scene, Reo on the main level talking on her 'link, Peabody doing the tags on a data and communication center in the kitchen.

  She stood another moment, watching the screens. "Okay," she said, then watched Morris come through the front door. He had a brief con­sult with Reo, who then directed him up the stairs.

  ''Okay," she said again, and left McNab to his e-work.

  The domestic droid was standing in the kitchen on wait mode. Eve engaged it.

  "Did Dr. Icove have any visitors after his wife left the house today."

  "No, Lieutenant."

  "Did Dr. Icove leave the house at any time after he returned from work today?"

  "No, Lieutenant."

  One thing about droids, Eve thought, they kept to the point. "Who set the evening security? Who ordered the lockdown for the night?"

  "Dr. Icove locked down personally at seventeen-thirty, just prior to deactivating me for the night."

  "And the other droids?"

  "Both deactivated before me. I was the last. Set on sleep mode at seventeen thirty-five, with do-not-disturb command."

  "What did he have for dinner?"

  "I was not asked to serve an evening meal. I served soup-chicken and rice-at thirteen-fifteen. However, Dr. Icove only consumed a small portion of the serving, along with a cup of ginseng tea and three wheat crackers."

  "Did he eat alone?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant."

  "What time did his wife leave?"

  "Mrs. Icove and the children left the house at twelve-thirty. Mrs. Icove gave instructions for me to serve Dr. Icove soup and tea. She ex­pressed concern that he wasn't eating properly and would make him­self ill."

  "Did they have a conversation?"

  "Conversations between family members and guests are private."

  "This is a murder investigation. Your privacy functions are overrid­den. Did they have a conversation?"

  The droid looked as uncomfortable as a droid could manage. "Mrs. Icove expressed the desire that Dr. Icove accompany them, or that he allow her to send the children with the nanny droid so that she could remain with him. Dr. Icove insisted that she go with the children, anc told her he'd join them in a day or so. He communicated his desire to be private."

  "Nothing else."

  "They embraced. He embraced the children. He wished them a good trip. I prepared and served him the meal Mrs. Icove had ordered for him. Shortly thereafter, he left for the Center, informing me he would return by five, which he did."

  "Alone."

  "Yes, he returned alone, at which time he began deactivation of the domestics and lockdown."

  "Did you serve fruit and cheese this evening?"

  "No, Lieutenant."

  "All right. That's all for now."

  Upstairs, Morris was finishing his on-site. He wore a clear gown over a shimmery deep purple shirt and narrow black pants. His hair was pulled back in three stacked tails, perfectly aligned.

  "Did you dude up just for me?" Eve asked him.

  "Late date, with serious heat potential." He straightened. "But I’ll get him started for you. What you got here is like father, like son. Same method, same weapon type, same cause of demise."

  "Got it lying there."

  "Yep." Morris leaned over the body. "Killer at this angle, and round about this distance. Up close and personal."

  "Need a tox screen."

  "Yeah." He straightened again, glanced at the tray. "None of that looks touched. Waste. That's some good-looking fruit."

  "Domestic droid reports he ate a little chicken and rice soup, a couple of crackers, and tea about thirteen hundred. He shut the droids down just after seventeen hundred. None of them served this tray of stuff."

  "So he got it himself. Or the killer brought it to him."

  "Maybe it's tranq'd, maybe not. Either way, the guy just lies there and takes a knife in the heart."

  "Knew his killer."

  "Knew, and trusted. Comfortable enough to stretch out. Maybe he let the killer in himself, and was lured up here. But I don't see it." She shook her head. "Why bother bringing the vic upstairs, putting food on the tray? Why not just stick him downstairs, save the trouble? Maybe you want a conversation first, but hell, you can have that downstairs, too. Door's locked. Inside lock."

  "Ah, a locked-door mystery. And you our Poirot-minus the mus­tache and accent."

  She knew who Poirot was because she'd dug into some Agatha Christies after viewing Witness for the Prosecution-and the murder that had gone
along with it.

  "Not so mysterious," Eve corrected. "Killer knows the codes. Just does the job, sets the codes from inside, shuts the door, and walks away. Takes the security discs for the time elapsed. Even resets the security."

  "Knew his way around the place."

  "Her. I'm betting her. And she had to. You get him in, I need a close check for any other wounds, any pricks, pressure marks, anything. But I don't think you'll find them. Or the tranq. Like father, like son," she repeated. "Yeah, just like."

  EVE TOOK TIME TO CONTACT ROARKE.

  "Got into Icove's place, found him dead. Gonna be late."

  "There's a pithy report, Lieutenant. Dead how?"

  "Same as his father." She walked outside as she spoke, the better to keep an eye out for the new widow. "Wife and kids went to their week­end place earlier today. He was home alone, house locked up tight, do­mestics deactivated. And he's taking a little lie-down on his office sofa With a scalpel in his heart. Room's locked, and there's a tray of healthy snacks on the table."

  "Interesting," Roarke replied.

  "Yeah. More interesting that EDD, at this point, hasn't found any holes or tampering in security, and the disc for the murder time is missing. Security was fully activated on our arrival, and in full DND mode as the domestic reports the doctor himself set it this evening. The killer entered approximately ninety minutes thereafter. This is slick business."

  "Are you back to considering a professional?"

  "All the earmarks, none of the vibes. Anyway. See you later."

  "Anything I can do from here?"

  "Find me the money," she said and ended transmission as she watched a sedan draw up behind one of the black-and-whites.

  She walked down to meet Avril Icove herself.

  Avril was dressed in dove gray, pants and sweater, with a dark red coat thrown stylishly over her shoulders. Soft, heeled boots matched the coat.

  She leaped out of the car before her driver could make his way around to open her door. "What's happened? What's wrong? Will!"