Art major, Eve read, with minors in domestic sciences and theater Married Wilfred B. Icove, Jr., the summer after she'd gotten her degrees-putting him in his middle thirties, with no blemish on his official data, no cohabs.
She'd have to nudge Nadine, see if the reporter could find any juice on serious relationships for the young, rich doctor in any old media records.
No employment for Avril. Professional mother status after the birth of her first child.
No criminal.
She heard the faint swish of airskids and took another hit of coffee as Peabody came in.
"Avril Icove," Eve began. "Personality assessment."
"Well, hell, I didn't know there was going to be a quiz first thing." Peabody dumped her bag, squinted her eyes.
"Elegant and contained," she surmised. "Well-bred and -mannered, and I want to say correct. Assuming the house is her territory-as it most likely would be considering she's a pro mom and he's a busy doctor-I'd say tasteful and discreet."
"She wore a red coat," Eve commented.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, maybe nothing. All that quiet elegance in the house, and she wears a bright red coat." Eve shrugged. "Anything else?"
"Well, she also strikes me as being subservient."
Eve's gaze whipped over. "Why?"
"Our first visit to the house, Icove told her what to do. It wasn't Hey, bitch, get your ass out in the kitchen.' It wasn't harsh, not even really direct, but the dynamic was there. He was in charge, he made the decisions. She's the WIFE, in big letters."
Peabody glanced hopefully at the coffee, but kept going. "Which is something I've been thinking about. She's used to him running the show, making the decisions. So it's not that off-base that she'd be kind of blank and out of it when you tell her he's dead. Nobody's giving her a playbook now."
"She's had sixteen years gilded private education, with honors."
"A lot of people are school smart and don't have any practical skills."
"Get coffee, you're starting to drool."
"Thanks."
"Her father took off, mother's a medical missionary type, off in the wilds. Dies there." Eve raised her voice as Peabody hotfooted it to the kitchen. "Only connection I find to Icove is the mother's professional association. Could be they were lovers, but I don't know that it matters."
Eve cocked her head, studied Avril's ID image on screen. Elegant, she thought. Stunning. And at first glance, she would've said soft. But she'd seen that flash, that one instant. And there'd been steel in those eyes.
"We're going back to the scene," she continued. "I want to go through the house, room by room. Talk to neighbors, other domestic. We'll need to verify her alibi. And I want to know the last time, prior to her father-in-law's death, she was in the Center."
"Going to be busy," Peabody said with her mouth full of glaze doughnut. "They were right there," she mumbled when Eve frowned at her.
"Where?"
"Under D on the menu." She swallowed hastily. "McNab went in with the electronics, so he got home after me. Way. He said he red flagged them. He'll bring Feeney up to date this morning, save you the trouble."
"She wasn't worried about the electronics. She wasn't sweating the security, the transmissions, data." Eve shook her head. "Either she's ice, or there's nothing there to point at her."
"I'm still leaning toward the adultery angle. If Avril's in it, she had to have a partner. You don't kill for someone unless you love them. or they've got you by the short hairs on something."
"Or you pay them."
"Yeah, that. But I was rolling it around. I know it's high yuck factor, but what if the father-in-law had been up her skirt? We're looking at him to have an interest in young women with that project. She was his ward. So he could've been using her sexually. Then pa
sses her to the son so he could, um, keep her handy. Maybe they were tag teaming her."