AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

guessing from the sourpuss expression on the woman’s face that she said something disparaging. The woman must not have been talking loud enough for the terminal to translate her words. Yamaguchi nodded and said, without moving her lips, “she thinks Im on cell.” She was using the terminal’s field to talk directly to Munroe.
    “What a tight ass. You want I should rough her up?”
    “Yamaguchi, glad you made it,” someone said behind her, before she could answer Munroe.
    She turned around quickly and Munroe lost the field of the terminal. He saw her talking to someone, a very tall, good-looking guy with a politician’s smile whom he recognized as their boss, deputy administrative chief Paul Clemens. Her terminal and purse were still in her left hand and she was standing near another group of people so Munroe couldn’t capture the field and get the translation of their conversation.
    He saw her shake Clemens’ hand and exchange pleasantries. He’s got to be saying something about the dress. He saw Clemens laugh at something she said and he used the opportunity to put his hand on her shoulder, for just a second. Then she looked around and transferred her purse into her right hand and Munroe was able to talk to her again.
    Finally remembered me, did you?
    “… here somewhere.” He caught the tail end of Yamaguchi’s introduction.
    “Alex, glad you could come,” Clemens said, with the usual unfocused stare.
    “Tell him that was a clear case of sexual harassment.”
    “Munroe says hi,” she said.
    “I was just telling your partner what a lovely dress she’s wearing.”
    “Tell him I agree.”
    Suddenly the crowd seemed to be moving and groups of people were starting to wander off. It must have been the warning bell that the concert would be starting soon.
    “The reception will be in the Aspen ballroom,” Clemens said. “We’ll want you and Alex there, of course.” He realized he must have missed something while he was checking out the crowd.
    “We’ll be there,” she said. Clemens turned away and Munroe realized another woman had been with the deputy chief the whole time — his wife, he assumed. Left her standing there and didn’t even introduce her, the creep, he thought, although he saw Yamaguchi nod to the woman as they left so maybe she was introduced while Munroe was incommunicado.
    “I always hated deputy chiefs,” said Munroe.
    “Will you shut up?” she asked, while marching away from him. He hurried to catch up with her. “Come on, we’re in the nose bleed seats.” Their tickets were complimentary and were on the highest ring level, so she and Munroe climbed two big flights of stairs and then several more little flights to get to their seats.
    At this height, most of the concertgoers were dressed casually and her dress stood out, which made her self-conscious. She showed her two tickets to an elderly usher and he peered with the aid of a small flashlight at the tickets. He handed her two programs and without a word led them to their seats at the end of an aisle. There was, however, a large man sitting in one of their seats.
    “I’m sorry, these are our seats,” Yamaguchi said. The man looked at her, then at the usher, then at the empty seat. “Sir, I have tickets for both these seats,” she said, with the same voice she used to tell gawkers at an accident scene to keep moving. The man immediately got up and started showing his ticket to the person next to him, who got up and showed her ticket to the person next to her and so on until the whole row shifted over one seat. “Thank you,” she told the large man, and sat in the aisle seat.
    She shifted her purse to her right hand and Munroe sat.
    “You do cause a lot of trouble,” he told her. She shrugged without saying anything.
    The house lights dimmed and after a minute, the audience applauded and Munroe saw the first violinist come out. After her bow and the last minute tuning, the conductor came out. It was her last ever performance before she left Denver for a job at another city and the concert hall was packed. It took a while before the applause died down and she could begin.
    And for the next forty-five minutes, Munroe was unbelievably bored. Unable to hear anything, he could only amuse himself by watching the movements of the orchestra and the conductor, which was interesting for about two minutes. He vaguely recalled that he liked Handel’s Messiah the one time wife number two dragged him to a performance,