The door opened. The woman from the portrait stood framed in the entrance with a shower of gold light behind her. Even eyes swollen from weeping couldn't diminish her outrageous beauty.
3
«I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, and in the rain.» Her voice matched her, a lovely and rich tone, thickened by grief. «I'm Avril Icove. Please come in.»
She stepped back into a foyer accented by a chandelier—each teardrop crystal was illuminated with soft gold light. «My husband is upstairs, finally resting. I hate to disturb him.»
«We're sorry to intrude at this time,» Eve said.
«But…« Avril managed a sad smile. «I understand. My children are home. We took them out of school, brought them home. I was upstairs with them. This is so hard for them, so hard for all of us. Ah…« She pressed a hand to her heart. «If you'd come up to the second floor. We entertain on the main level, and it doesn't seem appropriate for this.»
«No problem.»
«The family living areas are on the second floor,» she began as she turned to the stairs. «Can you tell me, is it all right to ask? Do you have any more information on the person who killed Wilfred?»
«The investigation is in its early stages, and very active.»
Avril glanced over her shoulder as she reached the top of the stairs. «You really do say things like that. I enjoy crime drama,» she explained. «The police really do say things like that. Please, make yourselves comfortable.»
She gestured them into a living room done in lavenders and forest greens. «Can I get you some tea or coffee? Anything at all.»
«No, thanks. If you'd come back with Dr. Icove,» Eve told her. «We'd like to speak to both of you.»
«All right. This may take a few minutes.»
«Nice,» Peabody commented when they were alone. «You expect elegant, like the main level, but this is nice and homey.» She looked around, taking in the sofas, the sink-into-me chairs, shelves holding family photographs and memorabilia. One wall was dominated by a nearly life-size family portrait. Icove, his wife, and two pretty children smiled out at the room.
Eve stepped up to it, read the signature on the bottom right corner. «Her work.»
«Beautiful and talented—I could hate her.»
Eve wandered the room, studying, accessing, dissecting. Family-oriented look, she decided, with feminine touches. Actual books rather than disc copies, entertainment screen concealed behind a decorative panel.
And all tidy and ordered, like a stage set.
«She studied art at some fancy school, according to her records.» Eve slid her hands into her pockets. «Icove was named her legal guardian through parental stipulation in her mother's will. She was six. After she graduated from college, she married Junior. They lived, primarily, in Paris for the first six months, during which she painted professionally, and had a successful showing.»
«Before or after her father's unfortunate demise?»
«After. They came back to New York, to this residence, had two kids—she took professional-mom status after number one. She continues to paint, portraits being her primary interest, but rarely takes commissions, and donates the proceeds to the Icove Foundation, thereby keeping her professional mother status.»
«You got a lot of data in a short amount of time.»
«Straightforward,» Eve said with a shrug. «No criminal on her, not even minor brushes. No previous marriage or cohab, no other children on record.»
«If you factor out the dead parents, dead in-laws, it's a pretty perfect life.»
Eve glanced around the room again. «Sure looks that way.»
When Icove stepped in she was facing the doorway. Otherwise, she wouldn't have heard him. The carpet was thick, and his shoes made no sound over it. He wore loose pants and a pullover rather than his suit. And still managed to look as if he were wearing one, Eve noticed.
Roarke could do that, too, Eve thought. No matter how casually attired, he could radiate authority in a finger snap.
«Lieutenant, Detective. My wife will be here in another moment. She's checking on the children. We deactivated the domestics for the day.»
He moved to a floor cabinet, opening it to reveal a mini AutoChef. «Avril said she offered you refreshment but you declined. I'm having coffee, if you'd like to change your minds.»
«Coffee'd be good, thanks. Just black.»
«Sweet and light for me,» Peabody added. «We appreciate you seeing us, Dr. Icove. We know this is difficult.»
«Unreal, more like.» He programmed the unit. «It was horrible at the Center, there in his office. Seeing him like that, knowing nothing could be done to bring him back. But here, at home…«
He shook his head, drew out cups. «It's like a strange, sick dream. I keep thinking my 'link will buzz and it'll be Dad, wondering why we don't all have dinner on Sunday.»
«Did you often?» Eve asked. «Have dinner together.»
«Yes.» He passed the coffee to her, to Peabody. «Once a week, sometimes twice. He might just drop by to see the kids. The woman? Have you found the woman who…«
«We're looking. Dr. Icove, records indicate everyone on your father's personal staff at the Center has been with him three years or longer. Is there anyone else, anyone he had cause to dismiss or who left unhappily?»
«No, none that I know of.»
«He'd work with other doctors and medical staff on cases.»
«Certainly, a surgical team, psychiatrists, family services, and so on.»
«Can you think of anyone in that area of his work he may have had issue with, or who may have had issue with him?»
«I can't. He worked with the best because he insisted on doing superior work, and giving his patients the very finest resources.»
«Still he had unhappy patients and clients in his practice.»
Icove smiled a little, humorlessly. «It's impossible to please everyone, and certainly to please everyone's lawyer. But my father and I, in turn, vet our patients very carefully, in order to weed out those who want more than can be given, or who are psychologically inclined to litigate. Even so, as I told you before, my father was semi-retired.»
«He was consulting with the woman who called herself Dolores Nocho-Alverez. I need his case notes.»
«Yes.» He sighed, heavily. «Our lawyers aren't happy, want me to wait until they do some motions and so on. But Avril convinced me it's foolish to think of legalities. I've ordered them turned over to you. I have to ask, Lieutenant, that the contents be considered highly confidential.»
«Unless it pertains to the murder, I'm not interested in who had their face retrofitted.»
«I'm sorry I was so long.» Avril hurried into the room. «The children needed me. Oh, you're having coffee after all. Good.» She sat beside her husband, took his hand in hers.
«Mrs. Icove, you spent a lot of time in your father-in-law's company, for many years.»
«Yes. He was my guardian, and a father to me.» She pressed her lips together. «He was an extraordinary man.»
«Can you think of anyone who would want to kill him?»
«How could I? Who would kill a man so devoted to life?»
«Did he seem worried about anything recently? Concerned? Upset?»
Avril shook her head, looked over at her husband. «We had dinner together here two nights ago. He was in great spirits.»
«Mrs. Icove, do you recognize this woman?» Eve took the print out from her file bag, offered it.
«She…« Avril's hand trembled, had Eve poised on alert. «She killed him? This is the woman who killed Wilfred.» Tears swam into her eyes. «She's beautiful, young. She doesn't look like someone who could… I'm sorry.»
She handed the photo back, wiped at the tears on her cheeks. «I wish I could help. I hope when you find her you ask her why. I hope—«
She stopped again, pressed a hand to her lips, made a visible effort to steady herself. «I hope you ask her why she did this thing. We deserve to know. The world deserves to know.»