AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

eyes when he’d seen them and the whole farce of getting better and leaving the hospice was finally over. He knew he’d be dead in a week, and he was right.
    Damn! I went through this the last time I saw this. I got to tell Linda to get rid of it.
    But Linda needed it, he realized. Maybe if she sees me as a real person, sees me as the man I once was, I won’t just be Casper the Friendly Ghost to her. And maybe if I stop playing hide and seek with it, maybe I can come to deal with it, too.
    Munroe forced himself to ignore the picture and captured the field of the terminal. The display instantly came alive and the terminal recognized him. He opened a report form and entered the details of the arrest and submitted it. Then he made another one for Yamaguchi. Picking his words carefully, he tried to make it obvious that her action to get the terminal field in the open might have saved the suspect’s life. He forwarded the form to her and would let her decide whether she’d use it.
    He again checked his email and found nothing new, other than a reminder from Yamaguchi that she’d pick him up at 6 p.m. outside the station. She was almost as big a slave to email as he was, and probably sent it from her phone just minutes ago.
    He wrote back to her. “Get to sleep, Yamaguchi. Big day tomorrow and you don’t want to be seen with bags under your eyes. Oh, and I forwarded the sup to you. Review and sign. Or not. Good night.”
    Chores done, Munroe wandered back to the AfterNet. I should either update my blog, process some reports, or just what was that secret Mr. Wright possessed?
    Yamaguchi tossed her belt onto the couch, missed and winced at the sound of a nightstick, two handcuffs, pepper spray, flashlight, two extra magazines, a knife, phone and gun hit the hardwood floor. She picked it up and reflected for the umpteenth time how heavy it was. She pulled the terminal out of her armband and stuck it in the charger.
    Looking around quickly to make sure all the blinds were down, she started peeling off her uniform. First the leather jacket, then the down vest, then the heavy wool shirt, then the bulletproof vest and finally the T-shirt that protected her skin from the bulletproof vest and finally her bra. She felt 20 pounds lighter, which was in fact, correct.
    By this time, she was in the bedroom and now she pulled off the ugly shoes, the ugly wool pants, the long johns and the hose she wore to keep the long johns from chafing. She flopped onto her bed, a woman again.
    I really don’t need to dress that warm anymore, I’m not on patrol. I don’t have to stand around in the cold writing traffic tickets. But she knew the minute she dropped the warm clothing, she’d be stuck somewhere cold, nasty and wet.
    I wonder what he’s doing now , she thought, not for the first time. Poor guy, stuck in the department all night long until I pick him up the next day. It really made no sense because she knew Munroe didn’t need the sleep. He could easily take another shift with a different partner and work around the clock, if the city would ever foot the bill for more disembodied liaison officers like her.
    She frowned at the thought of Munroe working with another partner. I’m sure he wouldn’t like it. Besides, he always tells me he has plenty to do in the off hours.
    Oh crap, I better remind him I’ll pick him up at six. She slipped on a nightshirt, went back to the living room and used her phone to send him a reminder. His reply to her came back before she could put it to sleep.
    She looked at the supplemental report he’d forwarded and decided Munroe had done a good job making sure her quick thinking was mentioned without making it look too much like bragging. Maybe I can borrow a few words here and there and it’d be OK. She went back to the bedroom and decided to crawl into bed without even brushing her teeth.
    So he’s already surfing the web. Damn he’s addicted. But then, what else does an old, dead cop do? She yawned. Goodnight, Munroe.

Chapter 2
… and Linda Wertheimer reports that non-profits are feeling the pinch.
LINDA WERTHEIMER, correspondent: The assembled musicians are actually happy when they’re told the Dallas symphony will be performing a shortened season this year.
(SOUNDS OF MANY PEOPLE TALKING) I guess it’s better than killing the entire season. This means all I have to do is find a third job.
WERTHEIMER: That’s Audrey Ames, second violinist with the symphony. Like many, she thought