“It was an accident.”
“An accident.” Felice breathed this line, her head bowed and hands clasped together.
So that was the story they’d agreed upon. The story Frain had told them to tell.
One of the young men — baffled, he didn’t seem to understand what was happening — was the one to slip. “She brought this down on us, why do the rest of us have to put up with the mess when it’s all her?”
Enid narrowed her gaze. “So you know she cut out her implant?”
He wouldn’t say another word after that. He bit his lips and puffed out his cheeks, but wouldn’t speak, as if someone held a knife to his throat and told him not to.
Enid wasn’t above pressing hard at the young one, Susan, until the girl snapped.
“Did you ever notice Aren with a bandage on her arm?”
Susan’s face turned red. “It’s not my fault, it’s not! It’s just that Frain said if we got a banner next season I could have it, not Aren, and she was jealous! That’s what it was; she did this to punish us!”
Banners were supposed to make things better. Give people something to work for, make them prove they could support a child, earn a child. It wasn’t supposed to be something to fight over, to cheat over.
But people did cheat.
“Susan — did you send the anonymous report about Aren?”
Susan’s eyes turned round and shocked. “No, of course not, I wouldn’t do such a thing! Tell Frain I’d never do such a thing!”
“Thank you, Susan, for your honesty,” Enid said, and Susan burst into tears.
What a stinking mess this was turning in to. To think, she could have retired after the murder investigation and avoided all this.
She needed to talk to more people.
By the time they returned to the common room, Felice had gotten tea out for everyone. She politely offered a cup to Enid, who accepted, much to everyone’s dismay. Enid stayed for a good twenty minutes, sipping, watching them watch her, making small talk.
“Thank you very much for all of your time and patience,” she said eventually. “I’ll be at the committee house in town if any of you would like to speak with me further. I’ll deliver my decision in a day or two, so I won’t keep you waiting. Your community thanks you.”
A million things could happen, but these people were so locked into their drama she didn’t expect much. She wasn’t worried that the situation was going to change overnight. If Aren was going to grab her boy and run she would have done it already. That wasn’t what was happening here. This was a household imploding.
Time to check with the local committee.
“Did they talk while I was gone?” Enid asked.
“Not a word,” Bert said. “I hate to say it but that was almost fun. What are they so scared of?”
“Us. The stories of what we’ll do. Aren was sure we’d drag her in the street and cut out her baby.”
Bert wrinkled his face and said softly, “That’s awful.”
“I hadn’t heard that one before, I admit. Usually it’s all locked cells and stealing the baby away as soon as it’s born. I wonder if Frain told the story to her, said it was why they had to keep it secret.”
“Frain knew?”
“I’m sure they all did. They’re trying to save the household by convincing me it was an accident. Or that it was just Aren’s fault and no one else’s. When really, a household like that, if they’re that unhappy they should all put in for transfers, no matter how many ration credits that’d cost. Frain’s scared them out of it, I’m betting.”
“So what will happen?”
“Technology fails sometimes. If it had been an accident, I’m authorized to award a banner retroactively if the household can handle it. But that’s not what happened here. If the household colluded to bring on a bannerless baby, we’d have to break up the house. But if it was just Aren all on her own — punishment would fall on her.”
“But this isn’t any of those, is it?”
“You’ve got a good eye for this, Bert.”
“Not sure that’s a compliment. I like to expect the best from people, not the worst.”
Enid chuckled.
“At least you’ll be able to put this all behind you soon,” he said. “Retire to some pleasant household somewhere. Not here.”
A middle aged man, balding and flush, rushed toward them on the path as they returned to the town. His gray tunic identified him as a committee member, and he wore the same stark panic on his face that everyone did when they saw an investigator.
“You must be Trevor?” Enid asked him, when he was still a few paces away, too far to shake hands.
“We didn’t know you were coming, you should have sent word. Why didn’t you send word?”
“We didn’t have time. We got an anonymous report and had to act quickly. It happens sometimes, I’m sure you understand.”
“Report, on what? If it’s serious, I’m sure I would have been told —”
“A bannerless pregnancy at the Apricot Hill household.”
He took a moment to process, staring, uncertain. The look turned hard. This didn’t just reflect on Aren or the household — it reflected on the entire settlement. On the committee that ran the settlement. They could all be dragged into this.
“Aren,” the man breathed.
Enid wasn’t surprised the man knew. She was starting to wonder how her office hadn’t heard about the situation much sooner.
“What can you tell me about the household? How do they get along, how are they doing?”
“Is this an official interview?”
“Why not? Saves time.”
“They get their work done. But they’re a household, not a family. If you understand the difference.”
“I do.” A collection of people gathered for production, not one that bonded over love. It wasn’t always a bad thing — a collection of people working toward shared purpose could be powerful. But love could make it a home.
“How close were they to earning a banner?” Were. Telling word, there.
“I can’t say they were close. They have three healthy young women, but people came in and out of that house so often we couldn’t call it ‘stable.’ They fell short on quotas. I know that’s usually better than going over, but not with food processing — falling short there means food potentially wasted, if it goes bad before it gets stored. Frain — Frain is not the easiest man to get along with.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You’ve already been out there — I wish you would have talked to me; you should have come to see us before starting your investigation.” Trevor was wringing his hands.
“So you could tell me how things really are?” Enid raised a brow and smiled. He glanced briefly at Bert and frowned. “Aren had a romantic partner in the settlement, I’m told. Do you know who this might be?”
“She wouldn’t tell you — she trying to protect him?”
“He’s not in any trouble.”
“Jess. It’s Jess. He works in the machine shop, with the Ironcroft household.” He pointed the way.
“Thank you. We’ve had a long day of travel, can the committee house put us up for a night or two? We’ve got the credits to trade for it, we won’t be a burden.”
“Yes, of course, we have guest rooms in back, this way.”
Trevor led them on to a comfortable stone house, committee offices and official guest rooms all together. People had gathered, drifting out of houses and stopping along the road to look, to bend heads and gossip. Everyone had that stare of trepidation.
“You don’t make a lot of friends, working in investigations,” Bert murmured to her.
“Not really, no.”
A young man, an assistant to the committee, delivered a good meal of lentil stew and fresh bread, along with cider. It tasted like warmth embodied, a great comfort after the day she’d had.