AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

out a card and as she gave it to him, she drew in her breath and said, “OK, got to go,” and left.
    Feore stood there with her card in hand and watched her go away. Her equipment swayed with her body as she walked. He thought she looked a little hippy, but cute.

Chapter 10
INT. A BEDROOM -- NIGHT
A shadowy figure moves through room and wakes a sleeping couple.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Ever have the feeling that you’re being watched? Worried that your privacy is being invaded? Well guess what? It’s true. The disembodied are everywhere and you can’t do a thing about it. Until now. Dispelle, the incredible ionizing Z-ray wristband will protect you from unwanted spying.
INT. A CONVENTION HALL -- DAY
Woman stands before Dispelle tradeshow booth.
WOMAN
I no longer have the feeling I’m being watched. Finally I can use a restroom or try on clothes at the store.
Man stands before Dispelle tradeshow booth.
MAN
I’ve got a disembodied friend. But I still don’t want her watching me when I don’t know it.
INT. A BATHROOM –– NIGHT
A woman turns on a light and starts brushing her hair. She turns around, startled.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
If you’re plagued by unwanted guests ...
INT. A BEDROOM -- NIGHT
The same woman is brushing her hair before a mirror. She pauses to spin her Dispelle on her wrist.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
... Dispelle will harmlessly push them away. Our patented technology ...
    “So how long have you been a police officer?”
    “Excuse me?” Yamaguchi asked the man who’d asked the question. She’d been distracted by the sight of yet another person playing with the Star Trek-like doors in Rybold’s mansion.
    Everything in the house bewildered her. It was the largest private home that she had ever entered, although her familiarity with the homes of the rich was admittedly limited. It was south of the Cherry Creek Mall in the Polo Club subdivision, but the rich people who lived there probably would resent the word “subdivision” to describe their gated community.
    The elderly man with the bad comb over and holiday-themed cardigan repeated his question.
    “Oh, excuse me, I pulled a long shift yesterday. I … zoned out there. I’ve been a cop for a little over four years.” The man and his friends all nodded politely at this information and she wondered again why they were all being so nice to her. She assumed rich people were always cold and calculating and uninterested in the lives of the common man, but these people were plying her with questions and listening intently to her stories. At first, she suspected that Rybold had instructed them to keep her occupied while he talked to her partner. But after a while, she lost herself to the unaccustomed experience of having a lot of rich people pay attention to her.
    But every once in a while, out of the corner of her eye, she’d see a door slide open and close, sometimes in response to a person walking up to door — often just to see the door in action — and sometimes without anyone being there at all. Rybold had converted all the doors in his house to pocket doors, with detectors that slid the doors open in the presence of a person, disembodied or otherwise. As nonchalant as she was to the thought of working with a dead partner, this was the first time she really had an idea how many disembodied shared the world with her as the doors opened and closed in the house.
    “Don’t let it bother you,” comb over told her. “They’re just more of Bill’s friends — no different than you or me, but look who I’m talking to. You of all people should be comfortable with the disembodied.” He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and she thought for a moment that he reminded her of her Uncle Saul, a friend of the family who had given her a lot of counsel growing up, until she noticed the Patek Phillipe watch on his arm and realized it was probably the equivalent of her year’s salary or more.
    His comment sparked another round of questions directed at her.
    “Miss Yamaguchi?”
    She turned and found herself looking at Rybold.
    “Mr. Rybold. Hello. Lovely party.”
    “Today I’m not Bill. I’m just plain old Derek Humphries today. See? No pin,” he said, patting his chest.
    He leaned closer to her and said in a confidential tone, “But Bill did ask me to look after you.” He straightened back up and said in a normal tone, “I think I found it for you. If you’d like to follow me …” He smiled at her and made a vague hand gesture.
    “Oh, yes,