In Death 21 - Origin in Death

don't need them, take my word."
    "Ever worked on Icove's wife? Avril?"
    "She uses Utopia. I worked there about three years ago. She had Lolette, but I filled in on her body care one appointment 'cause Lolette was out with a black eye. Boyfriend was an asshole, which I told her, but would she listen. No, not until he-"
    "Avril Icove," Eve interrupted. "Could you tell if she'd had any work done? Sculpting, reconstruction, surgical enhancements."
    "You get a body naked under the scanners, you know all the dish. Sure, she had some. Little face work, little boob job. Top work, but you'd expect that."
    Her husband had claimed she was just blessed, Eve remembered. "You're sure about that?"
    "Hey, you know your job, I know mine. Why?"
    "Just curious." Eve closed her eyes again. Thinking about murder made a facial almost bearable.
     
    AFTER AN ENDLESS EVENING, AND MORE WINE
    than was probably wise-but extremely necessary - Eve trudged up to her office. Maybe a couple hits of strong coffee would counteract the alcohol, and she could squeeze in an hour of work.
    First on the list was a check of Avril's standard medicals. She'd be interested to see just what sort of elective surgery she'd find.
    Then she wanted a closer look at Brookhollow Academy.
    She was taking the first slug of coffee when Roarke walked in from his office.
    "Yellow belly," she said.
    "Excuse me?"
    "Your belly's as yellow as Nadine's was a couple hours ago."
    "I don't even want to know what that means."
    "You skipped out, left me alone."
    He gave her a look that would have passed for innocence on anyone else.
    "It seemed obvious that tonight's festivities were for women only. Respecting female ritual, I discreetly got lost."
    "To quote you, Yellow Belly, 'Bollocks.' You slithered out as soon as Mavis started yapping about coaching classes."
    Guilty as charged, and I'm not ashamed. Lot of good it did me, for all that." He took her coffee, drank. "She hunted me down."
    "Oh yeah?"
    "Oh aye, look smug-for you're in it, my friend, as deep as me. Sometime between the body scrub and polish, she scouted me out and have me the contact information and schedule for the instruction we're going to be forced to take in order to participate in the birthing. There's no escape for us."
    "I know. We're doomed."
    "Doomed," he repeated. "Eve, there are vids."
    "Oh God."
    "And simulations."
    "Stop. Stop now." She grabbed her coffee mug and chugged. "It's still months away."
    "Weeks," he corrected.
    "That's like months. It takes weeks to make a month. It's not now, that's the important thing. I have to think of something else. I have to work. And you know," she added as she walked to her desk, "things could happen. Like ... we could get abducted by terrorists right before she goes into labor."
    "Oh, if only."
    She had to grin as she called up the Icoves' client and patient lists. "It turns out Trina slopped cream on Avril Icove once, and claims she round sculpting when she was under the scan. Now, it's most likely that one of the Icoves would've done the work, or at least consulted."
    "Consulted, most likely. I'd think working on a family member might be tricky, ethically."
    "If one or both of them consulted, she'd be listed. That's legal standard. Computer, search for Avril Icove, medical consult and/or procedures."
     
    Working…Avril Icove is not listed in selected files.
     
    “You see, that just doesn’t jibe for me. You’re in a medical family---top of the line---and you don’t use them for any of your elective work?
    You don't have your beloved husband consult on a procedure, one in which he's a leading expert?" She drummed her fingertips. "If I had a cargo ship of money I wanted to invest, I'd go to you, not to some stranger. If I wanted to break into the National Treasury-"
    "Now, wouldn't that be fun?"
    "I'd go to you."
    "Thank you, darling. They might have examined and consulted off record."
    "Why? See that's the thing. I can get Dr. Will claiming his wife’s perfect face and body is God-given-privacy. And hey, nosy cop, none of your business. But I don't get this kind of secrecy for some finetuning or whatever. If she had the procedures, on record, and used the Icove Center-which is logical-why not document the consult? It’s covering your legal ass, for one thing."
    "So she might have had the procedures off record, at another of their facilities."
    "That's my thought, which leads to another why. I need image-her. Old images, for comparison. Then there's