something in there. Everybody's got a deep and dark somewhere."
"You wear your cynicism well, sir."
"Interestingly, he was the legal guardian of the girl who grew up to become his daughter-in-law. Her mother, also a doctor, was killed during an uprising in Africa. Her father, an artist, ditched his little family shortly after Avril Hannson Icove was born. And was, subsequently, killed by a jealous husband in Paris."
"Lot of tragedy for one family."
"Isn't it just." She pulled up in front of the Upper West Side town-house where Dr. Icove, the surviving one, lived with his family. "Makes you think."
"Sometimes tragedy haunts families. It's like a karma thing."
"Do Free-Agers believe in karma?"
"Sure." Peabody stepped out on the curb. "We just call it cosmic balancing." She walked up a short flight of steps to what she assumed was the original door, or a hell of a reproduction. "Some place," she said, running her fingers over the wood as the security system asked their purpose.
"Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody." Eve held her badge up to be scanned. "NYPSD, to speak with Dr. Icove."
One moment, please.
"They've got a weekend place in the Hamptons," Peabody continued. "A villa in Tuscany, a pied-a-terre in London, and a little grass shack on Maui. They'll add two other prime properties to their personal geography with Icove Sr.'s death. Why couldn't McNab be a rich doctor?"
lan McNab, EDD hotshot, was Peabody's cohab and apparently the love of her young life.
"You could ditch him for one," Eve suggested.
"Nah, Too crazy about his bony butt. Look what he gave me." She dug under her shirt, drew out a four-leaf-clover pendant.
"What for?"
"To celebrate the completion of my physical therapy and complete recovery from being injured in the line. He says it's to keep me from being hurt again."
"Riot gear might work better." She saw Peabody's pout form, and remembered partnership-and friendship-had certain requirements. "It's pretty," she added, taking the little charm in her palm for a closer look. "Nice of him."
"He comes through when it counts." Peabody tucked it back under her shirt. "Makes me feel, I don't know, warm knowing I'm wearing it."
Eve thought of the diamond-big as a baby's fist-she wore under her shirt. It made her feel silly, and awkward, but warm, too, she supposed. At least since she'd gotten used to its weight.
Not its physical weight, she admitted, but the emotional. It took time, at least in her experience, to grow accustomed to carrying love.
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.
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
"You wear your cynicism well, sir."
"Interestingly, he was the legal guardian of the girl who grew up to become his daughter-in-law. Her mother, also a doctor, was killed during an uprising in Africa. Her father, an artist, ditched his little family shortly after Avril Hannson Icove was born. And was, subsequently, killed by a jealous husband in Paris."
"Lot of tragedy for one family."
"Isn't it just." She pulled up in front of the Upper West Side town-house where Dr. Icove, the surviving one, lived with his family. "Makes you think."
"Sometimes tragedy haunts families. It's like a karma thing."
"Do Free-Agers believe in karma?"
"Sure." Peabody stepped out on the curb. "We just call it cosmic balancing." She walked up a short flight of steps to what she assumed was the original door, or a hell of a reproduction. "Some place," she said, running her fingers over the wood as the security system asked their purpose.
"Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody." Eve held her badge up to be scanned. "NYPSD, to speak with Dr. Icove."
One moment, please.
"They've got a weekend place in the Hamptons," Peabody continued. "A villa in Tuscany, a pied-a-terre in London, and a little grass shack on Maui. They'll add two other prime properties to their personal geography with Icove Sr.'s death. Why couldn't McNab be a rich doctor?"
lan McNab, EDD hotshot, was Peabody's cohab and apparently the love of her young life.
"You could ditch him for one," Eve suggested.
"Nah, Too crazy about his bony butt. Look what he gave me." She dug under her shirt, drew out a four-leaf-clover pendant.
"What for?"
"To celebrate the completion of my physical therapy and complete recovery from being injured in the line. He says it's to keep me from being hurt again."
"Riot gear might work better." She saw Peabody's pout form, and remembered partnership-and friendship-had certain requirements. "It's pretty," she added, taking the little charm in her palm for a closer look. "Nice of him."
"He comes through when it counts." Peabody tucked it back under her shirt. "Makes me feel, I don't know, warm knowing I'm wearing it."
Eve thought of the diamond-big as a baby's fist-she wore under her shirt. It made her feel silly, and awkward, but warm, too, she supposed. At least since she'd gotten used to its weight.
Not its physical weight, she admitted, but the emotional. It took time, at least in her experience, to grow accustomed to carrying love.
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.
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
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