In Death 21 - Origin in Death

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