Maybe he could have helped her. Or maybe he could have pointed her in a direction where she could get help.
“Not as far as I know. I think Cathy might have urged her to get counseling at one time, but Mira blew her off.”
John was beginning to get some insight into the murdered woman’s past, but Adam still hadn’t answered his original question. “Why do you think it’s your fault Mira died?”
Adam appeared disoriented for a moment at the change of topic, then caught up. “My review gave Mira’s game an ‘A’ rating. I called it ‘a fresh, new take on the text adventure.’ I also said the game proved that Twine was a valid game development system.”
“I’m guessing there were some who disagreed?” John drank the rest of his punch and put the cup on the table.
“Disagreed is a very mild word for the reaction.” Adam looked around as if to make sure none of the other gamers were in earshot, then lowered his voice. “These guys are hard core computer nerds. Unless you can hack an OS, they don’t think you have the chops to write real games. So Twine, which almost anyone can use, doesn’t count in their opinion. They came down pretty hard on that review. They also came down pretty hard on Mira.”
“How so?” John asked.
“They said I only gave her a good review because she slept with me—which not only wasn’t true, but totally ridiculous given that Mira wasn’t attracted to men.”
“I know,” John said.
Cathy had made this clear to John when he spoke to her about the memorial service. Because she’d been rejected by so many clergy, she’d wanted to make sure he didn’t have a problem with Mira being a lesbian. As far as he knew, Christ hadn’t said one word about homosexuality being a sin. John had a feeling Jesus would have accepted gay people the same as he accepted all others—except Pharisees. It amused him that the one group Jesus had a problem with was the group most convinced of their own righteousness. If it was good enough for Jesus, it was good enough for John.
Adam licked his lips. “She was being harassed online, being called names like… well, I don’t think a minister would want to hear the words she was called.”
“Didn’t she report the harassment to the police?” Now John was alarmed. Surely that behavior was against the law?
“She didn’t want to, but eventually I convinced her she should. They couldn’t track down who was posting the stuff. The places they posted were designed for anonymity and, being geeks, the ones doing it knew how to hide.”
John shook his head. “It really is a sad story.” He turned his eyes from Adam and observed each of the remaining attendees, trying to see if any one of them looked like a killer. Faith’s influence, no doubt.
“It is. I hope the police do a better job of finding the murderer than they did of finding her tormentors.”
“So do I,” John said, and meant it.
“Well, I’d better see if Cathy wants to go home. This whole episode has been rough on her.” Adam tossed his paper cup in a nearby trash can and headed across the room.
* * *
Faith wasn’t sure what to say next to Cathy. She’d already been through the standard “Sorry for your loss.” Her shoes, bought new for Karl’s funeral and not worn since, pinched her toes. The memories they evoked, along with the simple black dress she wore, filled her with emotional as well as physical pain. She vowed never to wear them again.
What she really wanted was more information about Mira, and, in her typical blunt way, she decided to just ask. “So tell me about Mira. You were roommates, right?”
“Yes, we shared an apartment.” Cathy’s tone was guarded.
“How long did you know her?”
Cathy twirled a strand of her long, dark hair around a finger, exposing a gold hoop earring hanging from a pink earlobe. “About a year and a half. She bought one of my drawings at the Fourth Avenue Street Fair. We got to talking and found we had a lot
“Not as far as I know. I think Cathy might have urged her to get counseling at one time, but Mira blew her off.”
John was beginning to get some insight into the murdered woman’s past, but Adam still hadn’t answered his original question. “Why do you think it’s your fault Mira died?”
Adam appeared disoriented for a moment at the change of topic, then caught up. “My review gave Mira’s game an ‘A’ rating. I called it ‘a fresh, new take on the text adventure.’ I also said the game proved that Twine was a valid game development system.”
“I’m guessing there were some who disagreed?” John drank the rest of his punch and put the cup on the table.
“Disagreed is a very mild word for the reaction.” Adam looked around as if to make sure none of the other gamers were in earshot, then lowered his voice. “These guys are hard core computer nerds. Unless you can hack an OS, they don’t think you have the chops to write real games. So Twine, which almost anyone can use, doesn’t count in their opinion. They came down pretty hard on that review. They also came down pretty hard on Mira.”
“How so?” John asked.
“They said I only gave her a good review because she slept with me—which not only wasn’t true, but totally ridiculous given that Mira wasn’t attracted to men.”
“I know,” John said.
Cathy had made this clear to John when he spoke to her about the memorial service. Because she’d been rejected by so many clergy, she’d wanted to make sure he didn’t have a problem with Mira being a lesbian. As far as he knew, Christ hadn’t said one word about homosexuality being a sin. John had a feeling Jesus would have accepted gay people the same as he accepted all others—except Pharisees. It amused him that the one group Jesus had a problem with was the group most convinced of their own righteousness. If it was good enough for Jesus, it was good enough for John.
Adam licked his lips. “She was being harassed online, being called names like… well, I don’t think a minister would want to hear the words she was called.”
“Didn’t she report the harassment to the police?” Now John was alarmed. Surely that behavior was against the law?
“She didn’t want to, but eventually I convinced her she should. They couldn’t track down who was posting the stuff. The places they posted were designed for anonymity and, being geeks, the ones doing it knew how to hide.”
John shook his head. “It really is a sad story.” He turned his eyes from Adam and observed each of the remaining attendees, trying to see if any one of them looked like a killer. Faith’s influence, no doubt.
“It is. I hope the police do a better job of finding the murderer than they did of finding her tormentors.”
“So do I,” John said, and meant it.
“Well, I’d better see if Cathy wants to go home. This whole episode has been rough on her.” Adam tossed his paper cup in a nearby trash can and headed across the room.
* * *
Faith wasn’t sure what to say next to Cathy. She’d already been through the standard “Sorry for your loss.” Her shoes, bought new for Karl’s funeral and not worn since, pinched her toes. The memories they evoked, along with the simple black dress she wore, filled her with emotional as well as physical pain. She vowed never to wear them again.
What she really wanted was more information about Mira, and, in her typical blunt way, she decided to just ask. “So tell me about Mira. You were roommates, right?”
“Yes, we shared an apartment.” Cathy’s tone was guarded.
“How long did you know her?”
Cathy twirled a strand of her long, dark hair around a finger, exposing a gold hoop earring hanging from a pink earlobe. “About a year and a half. She bought one of my drawings at the Fourth Avenue Street Fair. We got to talking and found we had a lot
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