Justice
By Kurun t’Gath
Translated from the Kashlanin
(99.3% accuracy)
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  morgdl


Three.


The vehicle stopped in the residence’s parking space. I stepped out, looking up and down the street to orient myself.

The houses were of a similar design and construction, with variations reflecting the residents’ tastes. There was [groundcover], shrubs and a variety of shade and fruit trees. I had checked with the Constabulary office, and there was no surveillance footage of the area. Rekkadh had a low crime rate, so sensors were concentrated in areas where crimes would regularly occur.

I turned and walked a crushed stone path to the front door of the home. The front door was partly concealed by a bend in the path and two tall ornamental trees. [Mourning color] sashes were draped over the doorframe, and I was pleased that I had guessed rightly. In my work, it is important to make small gestures to show respect.

The door had a small plate set to one side. I reached out and tapped it with a finger, and a brief light told me that I was being scanned.

A female face appeared on the door, and I recalled that this was Vikan g’Zherin, the wife of the dead male. Her fur was sand-brown shading to cream, and she was wearing a patterned heavy robe in red and blue. A [mourning-band] was around her left wrist. “Yes?” she asked.

I placed my left hand flat against my right chest to show my rank insignia. “Captain-Inspector t’Gath, g’Zherin-madam. I am with the Constabulary.”

She glanced down, checking her display as the information and my identity were confirmed. “Come in as far as the entry hall,” she said. “Wait there and I will meet you.” The door unlocked.

“Thank you[respectful], g’Zherin-madam,” I said, and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

The entry hall was spacious, with a closet to my left and the door leading into the house ahead of me. I was not kept waiting for very long as the inner door opened and g’Zherin-madam gestured to me with her hand to come into the house. I gestured respectfully as I crossed the threshold into the main room.

The main room’s [décor] and furnishings used native stone and wood, with comfortable chairs arrayed around a central hearth fire. Rekkadh is in a temperate [climate zone], so I guessed that the family was religious. The kitchen and dining areas were off the main room, along with a guest room and the [remembrance-room]. A length of [mourning color] cloth was draped around the entrance to the [remembrance-room].

“I am very sorry to hear of your loss, g’Zherin-madam,” I said, “and I apologize[sincere] for the necessity in coming here to question you.”

“You are very kind, Captain, and I thank you for your respectful gesture,” she replied. She looked as if she had been crying when I arrived. “Please, sit down,” she said. “I and my other mates know that you need to question us about Yifan.”

I sat, and she sat in another chair, drawing the robe closely around her. I unfolded my [personal access device], set it to record and prefaced the recording with the date, time and case number. “You are Vikan g’Zherin?”

“I am,” she replied, and gave me her date of birth when I requested it. She was 125 years old.

“How long have you been resident here in Rekkadh?”

“Twenty-one years. We moved here from Shandh.” G’Zherin-madam closed her eyes briefly and clasped her hands together. “Yifan . . . “

I paused, allowing her a moment. “I [empathize], g’Zherin-madam. Had you two been married long?”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Forty-nine years. We – Yifan, Kinan and I – married on the same day.”

“And your third mate?” I asked.

“We [invited/proposed to] Yezhef thirty years ago. He is the same age as Yifan.”

“You, Yifan and Kinan?”

“Yes.”

“I understand.” I felt the tip of my tail twitch. “The Person who discovered Yifan g’Zherin?”

She gestured affirmatively. “Veridh, one of my daughters by Yezhef. She is [family-guest] here as she prepares to enter military service.” The tip of her tail lifted momentarily. “I have told her that an inspector of the Constabulary will want to speak to her.”

“Thank you.” I glanced at my [personal access device] before looking at her. “What did she tell you after she discovered Yifan?”

G’Zherin-madam [trembled/shivered]. “She said that Yifan-father was dead, and she had called Emergency Services.”

“Is she here now?” I asked, glancing at the closed guest room door.

“No. She is out with friends.”

“I apologize[sincere], g’Zherin-madam before I ask this.” She gestured affirmatively, and I asked, “Did anyone in the house have military training?”

Her ears moved. “Yes. All four of us did. Yifan and Kinan and I were members of the same unit.”

“What branch?”

“Support.”

I considered this. All branches of the military, even the Constabulary, undergo the same basic combat training. That included edged weapons such as the weapon that had killed Yifan-sir. “And Yezhef?”

“He had served in the Fleet,” she replied.

“Where are Kinan and Yezhef now?”

“At work. Kinan owns and operates a storage company and does business with the shipping firms here on Grevchak. Yezhef is a teacher.”

“What was Yifan-sir’s occupation?”

“He was a teacher as well.”

“And your occupation, g’Zherin-madam?”

“I work here at home, for the planetary medical service. In an administrative capacity.”

“I see. G’Zherin-madam, with respect I ask your permission to see Yifan’s [bedroom], as well as the kitchen area.”

She gestured [affirming-permission]. “His bedroom is the second on your left as you exit the stairway. He did not usually spend time there; we all preferred to sleep together,” and she began to weep quietly.

Permission having been given and recorded, I shut off my [personal access device], folded it and placed it in my pocket after I stood. As I began to head upstairs, I looked back to see that g’Zherin-madam had removed her robe and was kneeling before the hearth fire to pray.

Yifan-sir’s bedroom was neat and clean, the bed appeared undisturbed. Images of the family members and several art works were arranged on the walls, including a group portrait of Yifan-sir with his husbands and wife. An actual painting, not a still image or hologram. The other two husbands’ bedrooms were also neat, while the fourth bedroom bore out g’Zherin-madam’s assertion that all four of them slept in the same bed.

I went back downstairs to find that g’Zherin-madam and her robe were no longer before the fire, but the door to the [remembrance room] was open. I chose to give her privacy and crossed the main room to the kitchen.

My [personal access device] could have showed me a projection of the crime scene, but I chose to rely on my memory. I studied the room and the floor carefully.

Something bumped the lower [quarter] of my tail, and I reflexively batted at the object. It beeped and I turned to see a cleaning drone moving across the floor. The sight of the small machine gave a certain [poignancy] to the scene.

A Person had died here, and now there were no traces of what had happened. Memories could not be so easily cleared away, something that Yifan-sir’s family were learning.




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