In Death 21 - Origin in Death

purpose."
    "Where are the images?" Eve asked. "If you, as a doctor, were documenting information such as this on a patient over the course of years, wouldn't you have images of that patient. At certain points? Certainly before and after procedures?"
    Louise said nothing for a moment, then let out a long breath. "Yes. I'd also clearly document the steps of any procedure, who assisted, the duration of the procedure. I would've listed the names of the patient as well as the names of any medical or lay staff who assisted in tests. There would, most likely, be personal observations and comments added. But these aren't thorough notes, certainly not medical charts."
    "Okay. Thanks." Eve held out her hand for the hard copies.
    "You think he may have been involved in some sort of... human auction? That's why he was killed."
    "It's a theory." Eve got to her feet. "A lot of doctors have God complexes."
    "Some," Louise said, coolly now.
    "Even God didn't create the perfect woman. Maybe Icove figured he could one-up God. Thanks for the coffee," Eve added, and let herself out.
    "I think you pretty much ruined her day," Peabody commented as they walked to the elevator.
    "Might as well go for a streak and ruin Dr. Will's day next."
    A domestic droid opened the door of the Icoves' home. She'd been created to replicate a woman in her comfortable forties, with a pleasant face, a trim build.
    She showed them directly into the main living area, offered them a seat, refreshment, then stepped out. Moments later, Icove came in.
    There were shadows under his eyes and a weary pallor to his cheeks.
    "You have news?" he asked immediately.
    "I'm sorry, Dr. Icove, we don't have anything to tell you at this time. We do have some follow-up questions."
    "Oh." He rubbed the center of his forehead in a firm up-and-down motion. "Of course."
    As he crossed over to take a seat, Eve saw the young boy peek around the doorway. His hair was so blond it was nearly white and spiked up-as the current fashion demanded-from a youthful and pretty face. He had his mother's eyes, she noted. So blue they were nearly purple.
    "I think we might want to discuss this in private," Eve told Icove.
    "Yes. My wife and children are still at breakfast."
    "Not all of them." Eve inclined her head, and Icove turned in time to catch a glimpse of his son before the boy scooted back out of sight.
    "Ben!"
    The sharp command had the boy sliding into view again, chin on chest. But those eyes, Eve saw, where bright and avid despite the shamed posture.
    ''Haven't we discussed eavesdropping on private conversations?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody," Icove said, "my son, Ben."
    "Wilfred B. Icove the Third," the boy announced, straightening his shoulders. "Benjamin's my middle name. You're the police."
    Because Peabody knew her partner, she took the front line with the boy. "That's right. We're very sorry about your grandfather, Ben, and we’re here to talk to your father.”
    "Somebody killed my granddad. They stabbed him right in the heart."
    "Ben-"
    "They know." Ben's face was a study in frustration as he turned to his father. "Now they have to ask questions and follow leads and gather evidence. Do you have suspects?" he demanded.
    "Ben." Icove spoke more gently and wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders. "My son doesn't want to follow family tradition and enter the medical field. He hopes to be a private investigator."
    "Cops have to follow too many rules," the boy explained. "PIs get to break them and they get big, fat fees and hang out with shady characters."
    "He enjoys detective book discs and games," Icove added with a light of amusement-and, Eve thought, pride-in his eyes.
    "If you're a lieutenant, you get to boss people around, and yell at them and stuff."
    "Yeah." Eve felt a smile twitch at her lips. "I like that part."
    There was the sound of footsteps moving fast down the hall. Avril appeared, apology on her face. "Ben. Will, I'm sorry. He got away from me."
    "No harm. Ben, go back into the breakfast room now with your mother."
    "But I want-"
    "No arguments."
    "Ben." Avril's voice was a murmur, but it worked. Ben's head drooped again as he dragged his feet out of the room.
    "Sorry for the interruption," Avril said, curved her lips in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then retreated.
    "We're keeping the children home for a few days," Icove explained. "The media doesn't always respect grief, or innocence."
    "He's a great-looking kid, Dr. Icove,"