The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [40]
“I’ll dig out my heat shields.”
“Save me time. Dig info instead. I want all the data your researchers have on Icove, then I want more. Anything that has to do with medical or social areas of interest that are off-center.”
Nadine pursed her lips. “In which direction?”
“Any. You get me something that helps me, when this is ready to go public, I’ll give you the whole ball, a full media cycle ahead of the pack.”
Nadine’s eyes, a feline green, were vivid with interest. “You think he was dirty.”
“I think anybody who looks that clean’s got grime washed down some drain.”
When they were in Eve’s vehicle, the bakery box tucked in the back, Peabody produced finger wipes out of her bag. “You don’t believe someone can live a blameless life?” she asked. “Be intrinsically good, even selfless.”
“Not if they’re made of blood and bone. Nobody’s spotless, Peabody.”
“My father’s never hurt anyone. Just a for-instance.”
“Your father doesn’t pretend to be a saint, or have a PR firm spinning his halos. Got himself arrested a couple times, right?”
“Well, just minor charges. Protesting. Free-Agers mostly feel honor-bound to protest, and they don’t believe in permits. But that’s not—”
“It’s a mark,” Eve interrupted. “A little one, sure, but a mark. He doesn’t try to erase it. A slate this squeaky clean? Somebody washed it.”
The slate remained pristine as they worked their way through staff at the center. From his administrative assistant to lab techs, from doctors to orderlies. It was, Eve thought, more shrine than slate.
Eve tried the admin again, from a different angle.
“It seems, looking over Dr. Icove’s schedule, his personal calendar, he had a lot of free time. How did he use it?”
“He spent a lot of time visiting patients, here and at other facilities where he was affiliated.” Pia wore black, head to toe, and had a tissue balled in her hand. “Dr. Icove believed, strongly believed, in the personal touch.”
“From his surgical and consulting schedule, it didn’t appear he had a great many active patients.”
“Oh, he also visited patients who weren’t his own. That is, he considered every patient or client who came into one of his facilities to belong to him. He spent several hours every week doing what you’d call informal visits. Keeping his finger on the pulse, he liked to say. He also spent considerable time reading the medical journals, keeping current. And writing papers for them. And he was doing another book. He’d published five. He kept busy, even though he was semiretired.”
“How often, per week, did you see him?”
“It varied. If he wasn’t traveling, at least two, sometimes three days a week. He’d also check in holographically.”
“You ever travel with him?”
“Occasionally, when he needed me.”
“Did you ever . . . meet his needs in personal areas?”
It took her a moment to translate, and Eve knew there’d been no sexual relationship here. “No! No, of course not. Dr. Icove would never have . . . Never.”
“But he had companions. He enjoyed the company of women.”
“Well, yes. But there was no one specific, or serious. I’d have known.” Pia sighed. “I wish there had been. He was such a lovely man. But he still loved his wife. He told me once there were some gifts, some relationships that could never be replaced or replicated. His work sustained him. His work, and his family.”
“How about personal projects? Experimental projects he was working on that he wasn’t ready to make public. Where did he keep his personal lab, his personal charts?”
Pia shook her head. “Experimental projects? No, Dr. Icove used the research facilities here. He considered them the best in the world. Anything he or the researchers worked on would have been logged. Dr. Icove was meticulous about recording data.”
“I bet,” Eve replied. “His last appointment. How did they greet each other?”
“He was at his desk when I brought her in. He stood up. I’m not sure . . .”
“Did they shake hands?”
“Um. No. No, I don’t think . . . I remember he stood up, and smiled.