AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

Denver. And Rybold invited me. Or rather, he invited most of the top management. I’m the only one who showed up, that I know of. The only single, unattached guy.” He sighed. “Woe is me.” He brought his hands to his shoulder and mimed playing a violin and hummed something that was supposed to sound mournful. She liked a man who didn’t mind making himself look stupid.
    “So what’s a CTO do?”
    He stopped his performance. “I evaluate all the coming technologies that might impact the AfterNet and I make sure the day-to-day technologies continue to work.”
    “So, super nerd.”
    He smiled. “Yeah, that’s me.”
    “A pretty important job, I should imagine.”
    “Maybe, definitely a pretty busy one. Part of the reason I don’t … uh … know anyone I could spend Christmas with.”
    “I bet you’re another rich person like them,” she said quietly, vaguely gesturing at the other people in the room.
    “No, not in their league, I’m afraid.”
    “Oh yeah? Here, hold this.” She gave him her tray, which he accepted in his right hand, and with her right arm, she grabbed his left wrist and lifted his arm. She slid back his sleeve and exposed his watch: a Swiss Army watch.
    “All right, you’re a regular guy.” She took back the tray.
    “What was all that about?”
    “Nothing. You want to sit?” she asked. The rich food, the wine she’d been drinking and the sense of intrigue were starting to catch up with her.
    She started walking back to the library and Feore followed. She sat on a window bench and he sat next to her.
    “Are you OK? You look a little beat.”
    “Just getting over a cold. And I’m not used to all this.”
    “All this what?” he asked.
    “Wealth. I mean this guy is seriously rich.”
    “So I take it you come from poor but humble folk.”
    “Well, not poor exactly. They’re both college professors. And my dad still is.”
    “What about your mom?”
    “She died a while ago.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Not as sorry as I am. No, I shouldn’t say that. Or should I say that? It’s hard to figure out. I love my mother, but she can be a colossal pain in the butt.”
    “So, you still keep in touch?”
    “Yes, but right now, my mom’s in Japan, torturing my dad. He’s alive. What about you?”
    “Both my parents are dead. My dad died when I was 18, my mom when I was 20. I haven’t been able to contact them. So actually, I’m a little envious of you. It’d be nice to talk to them again.”
    “Be careful what you wish for.”
    “My, we are being bitter.”
    “I’m sorry, Christmas brings it out in me.”
    “What’s the matter with Christmas?”
    “That’s when my mom killed herself.” She’d said it before she realized. She’d never told anyone this.
    “I’m so sorry,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say.
    Oh what the hell, she figured. In for a penny … “In ’97, the Christmas after the discovery. You know, people were killing themselves right and left. And my mom, she was always threatening to kill herself while I was growing up. It was her way of getting what she wanted. Whenever my dad and her would argue, she’d try to kill herself — take some sleeping pills, but never enough to really do it. But after the discovery, I guess she figured, why not. Look, I’m sorry. Suddenly I start spilling my guts out to a perfect stranger.”
    “Perfect, huh?” he asked her. She could see in his face that he was doing his best to amuse her. I guess I know how to charm a guy. Tell him about my dead mom.
    “Just a phrase, doesn’t mean anything,” she said with a smile.
    “Well, I’m going to consider it a compliment. So, other than the fact that you’re mom’s dead and your partner’s dead and you’re at a dead guy’s party, what else is bringing you down this Christmas.”
    “Well, Safeway is not stocking the Dickens Toffee coffee I like.”
    “I know. What is up with that? And you know they closed that little deli shop at Sixth and Grant. Another burrito shop took its place.”
    “Which deli? Cushman’s?” She decided not to mention she ate at the burrito shop two days ago.
    “Yeah. I always ate there. Best pastrami in Denver.”
    She laughed. “The world is going to hell, isn’t it?”
    “What are you two laughing at?” Munroe’s voice asked her. She was startled for a second.
    “Oh, Alex, I’m sorry, I didn’t see … Alex, this is Bob, Bob Feore. Bob, this is Alex Munroe, he’s my partner.”
    “The one Rybold’s