Chapter 3

Muriel intervened. "Everyone sit down. I am about to serve the soup. John, see the girls to their seats, will you?"

The meal was a wonderful means of breaking the ice, and by the end, they were all chatting together, mostly about the children, but John spoke to Tabitha about the bedrooms, the time of breakfast, and other non-baby subjects, as he had remembered Penny's comments about Tabs.

He asked Tabitha about her schoolwork, questioning her about her possible career choices. Being a new Colony, most girls were keen on marrying and starting a family, but the Colony also needed trained nurses, teachers, and so on, so girls had open choices.

John served them some Rehome wine, to relax them a little, and allow them to accept the strange rooms and beds more readily. Gloria had established that the girls wanted to share a room tonight, so Gloria and Muriel had moved a bed from the second guest room so that both girls could have their own bed. The beds were double beds, so if they wanted to sleep together for reassurance, they could just use one bed.

Giving them the choice made things easier for the girls. The one wardrobe and dresser was perfectly all right, as they had few clothes of any kind as yet.

After coffee, Muriel allowed the girls to help her clear the dinner table and wash the dishes. She took the opportunity to say to Tabitha, "Tabs, at some point soon you are going to want to cry your heart out at losing your Mum. Feel free to come and cry on my shoulder. I will gladly hold you in my arms while you let it all out. Any time is the right time. You will find it suddenly hits you. Just come to me and I can hold you for a while. Okay?"

"Thanks, Mrs Wells. I would like that. Is Penny too big for that?"

"No, she isn't, but she might feel embarrassed to talk about it. Will you help by telling her she can come and cry when she feels the need? I won't say anything about it, just offer her what she needs. Will you do that for me? – Oh, and I am just Muriel, or Mum, as Gloria and I are both Mrs Wells."

"Right-oh, Muriel. I don't think I could call you Mum just yet. The memory is too ... raw."

"I understand. Get Gloria to show you the upstairs bathroom, in case you have to go during the night. When we were heavily pregnant, we were in and out of the bathroom every hour or so. Babies can be a damn nuisance in the last month or so of pregnancy, but the joy of watching them grow up is sheer wonder. Gloria was my singleton in my first marriage, but now I am trying to have as many as my body will allow, with John. He is a great husband and father."

"Muriel, to me, babies are messy nuisances. I don't know what Penny sees in them: she goes all gaga every time she sees a baby. Show off your babies to her, not to me, if you don't mind."

"All right. Don 't forget that shoulder to cry on, will you?"

Penny was duly shown the Wells' babies: two of them a year and a half old, the others only a few months old. She was delighted at the two who were by now toddling, and lifted them up to give them a cuddle. She declined to change nappies, however. The Governor came along and demonstrated, while warning her to steer clear of them when the nappy was off. Babies were inclined to pee in such circumstances, which was why the bathroom was perfect for nappy changing; urine could spray in any direction!

The girls elected to share a bed for the first night. By bedtime Tabs was beginning to droop, and after they were in bed she gave in to her feelings, and the tears flooded out of her.

"I miss Mum, Penny! We are never going to see her again, never be held by her, and never kissed to make us feel better, never cuddled when we are sad any more, never ... Oh ... everything! Poor Mum! I never want to see Pa again: I could never forgive him, Penny."

When they got up in the morning, both teenagers were bleary-eyed with lack of sleep. Muriel took one look at them in Gloria's rumpled pyjamas, and surmised what had occurred. She instructed them to eat a hearty breakfast, then to go back to bed and get some more sleep.

"I will tell your school that you will not be in for a few days, and why. You are not going out shopping today until you have had adequate sleep and are properly refreshed. Shopping can be tiring, and is no fun if you are not at your best."

The girls reluctantly agreed. They stuffed themselves with a cooked breakfast, then retired to get some more sleep. John had been up early and was already at his office, clearing all the incoming notifications, queries, and advice, and all the unwanted junk mail that bypassed his firewalls.

That dealt with, he asked his assistant for an update on the violent death of Mrs Fabricci. His clerical assistant, Rob Bryson, told him, "mostly what we have is holding messages. Security is still working on the crime scene, the medical report is awaiting an autopsy finding, and the medical report on the prisoner is expected around lunchtime."

"Right, I accept all that. Nothing we can do. Do we have any guidance available to us on punishment for murder, Rob?"

"I am afraid not, Governor. There is nothing specific in our own files. All we have is what happens on Rehome. There they have a few choices: Return the criminal to Earth; rehabilitation on Rehome, or banishment to a remote site on the planet with the basics to survive and establish a site for potential settlement in the future.

"The last of these is not exactly practical on New Eden. Put a criminal down anywhere else on the planet, and he is likely to be dead before the day is out. It would effectively be capital punishment, yet we officially do not have capital punishment in our penal code."

"Yes, I can see the problem. I wonder if we could dump our own major offenders on remote sites on Rehome, where at least they have a good chance of survival, albeit as solitary confinement. Can you connect me with the Rehome Governor, and I will ask his advice on that?"

"Yes, sir." Rob went off to get someone to set up the phone link. He was back in a minute or two. "The Governor of Rehome should be clear for your call in about fifteen minutes, sir."

"Thanks, Rob. Next, I'd better speak to Joe Fabricci's boss, to let him know what to expect. Do you have the number for me?"

"Yes, sir. We thought you might need it. It is in this phone, under Railtrack. The man you want is named Robbins." He offered the phone, and John took it with thanks. Ringing the number, he got through to a man who sounded under pressure.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"If you are too busy, Mr Robbins, I'll ring back later. This is the Governor, about Joe Fabricci."

"Oh, yeah. He is the reason I am hashed just now. We are a man short, and I don't have anyone with his experience to fill the post. You can die easily if you don't know what you are about. What is the situation with him?"

"You might have heard that he is in jail, awaiting probable trial for killing his wife?"

"Yeah, it was on the news last night. Is he likely to be convicted? He was short-tempered, but an okay guy in normal circumstances. I sent him home yesterday when he nearly got brained by a concrete slab. He wanted to take out his anger on the crane driver, and I wasn't having that, so I sent him home to cool off. Looks like he took out his anger on his wife instead."

"Interesting. Has he done things like that before?"

"Well, Governor, I don't want to talk out of turn, but the guy is easy to explode. I gather he takes pills to make him calmer, but he doesn't always remember to take them, and that is the time when he is bad to have around."

"Pardon me asking, but what pills are these? Do you know?"

"I dunno what they were exactly, but he told me he suffers from a form of epilepsy that results in these flare-ups. The pills were to counteract that, I gather; some sort of anger management by pills. You would need to speak to his doctor to get the full story, Governor."

"I'll see that the doctor is asked. What I wanted to tell you is that it is unlikely that you will see him back at work anytime soon, if at all. He will be put on trial, as he has already confessed to striking his wife, resulting in her death."

"Sounds serious, Governor. Right, I'll take him off the books and advertise for a replacement. Damn nuisance, this is."

"Sorry this happened to you, but I am the one picking up the pieces."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, Governor. I sure hope there are not too many complications in the investigation. Good luck with it, and goodbye."

John closed his phone thoughtfully. Time to speak to the family doctor. He phoned the Security office, and got Fred this time.

"Sorry, Governor. Welty is away, his shift was over. Can I help?"

"Sure, Fred. Would you ask Joe Fabricci who his family doctor is: the one who prescribes his pills?"

"Can you hang on sir, or do you want me to phone you back?"

"Fred, why don't you take the phone to Mr Fabricci, and get him to tell me direct?"

"Good idea, sir. I'll do that."

A minute later, Joe was there: "Governor?"

"Hello, Joe. Can you tell me who your doctor is; the one who prescribes the pills you take?"

"Oh, that's Doctor Beattie. Works at the health centre practice. Why do you want to know?"

"Joe, in an investigation, we like to know everything about the people involved, including their medical history. Thanks for your help."

Fred returned with his phone to the front desk. "Was there anything else, Governor?"

"Not at the moment, Fred. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, sir."

John called Rob Bryson again. "Rob, can you get me Doctor Beattie at the health centre, whenever he has a couple of minutes to talk to me about Joe Fabricci?"

"Right sir. I'll make that appointment now."

John returned to his examination of the facts surrounding the violent death. While he was fully convinced of Joe's culpability, he was beginning to see extenuating circumstances. It looked like the killing was not premeditated, in fact was not intended to be a killing, just a violent strike at his wife because she happened to be in reach and apparently relaxing when he expected to find her working.

This did not in any way excuse the man, but might affect the severity of his punishment. John pondered this for a while, until his phone rang. Rob said, "Dr Beattie on the phone, Governor."

"Hello, Doctor Beattie. I need to ask you about one of your patients, Joe Fabricci, currently in jail facing a murder charge."

A female voice responded, "Yes, Governor. Very unfortunate. I expect he forgot to take his medicine."

"Yes, I think that is the case. Some sort of depressant, to calm him down, I understand?"

"Indeed. He suffers from a form of epilepsy that manifests itself in bouts of uncontrollable anger. The medication is meant to prevent that happening, but if he fails to take it, he is liable to lash out at the slightest provocation."

"I may have to ask you to come to court and make a statement about that, for the jury. It may affect his sentence."

"Of course, Governor. I know my civic duty, and will oblige. Just give me enough advance warning."

"Do me a favour, doctor. Send me a written version of what you have just told me, with the technical names included. It will be a help."

"Very well, I shall do that. My witness statement to the court will probably be me reading it out!"

"That's fine, doctor. Thank you for your time."

The medical autopsy report arrived on his phone by lunchtime, along with the medical report by the doctor who attended the body. There was little new in either report. Both merely confirmed what had already been understood or conjectured, but it was now officially on record. A contusion on the body was interpreted as the result of a punch, which would cause the lady to fall. The fall had resulted in her head coinciding with the sharp corner of a table, which led directly to her death.

This linked well with the prisoner's admission of his actions. All that was now needed was the scene of crime report. That always took longer than one would expect, because the detectives took samples of dust in the air, blood samples to confirm it came from the deceased, along with the directions of blood flow; fingerprints from surfaces all over the room; and anything else that came into the minds of the detectives, such as the patterns of debris in the room – even though that was known to have occurred after the death of the victim. They worked on the basis that such assumptions might have been wrong.

That investigation report arrived mid-afternoon, with a rider that the crime scene was still fenced off in case further checks were authorised. The analysis bore a close resemblance to the facts as reported by the prisoner, and by the two teenage witnesses. John felt he had enough to lay before his legal expert, to show that a crime had been committed, and by whom.

Once the legal expert had given his blessing to the outcome of the various enquiries, the time would come to summon a jury to be presented with all the reports. The selected jury would decide what questions they wanted answered, and by whom, to add to the investigations, and to inform themselves of the best solution in the form of sentence. John would need to give them advice on the banishment option, so that they could consider that more fully, instead of dumping the prisoner among dangerous beasts.