Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Page 12

  “Did you have any more run-ins with him?”

  “No, we figured they’d be surveilling us, wanting us to get into something…so they’d get more fines, more money for the state. So, when it ended…the class…we just walked away from each other.”

  “Anything else, Mr. Paxton?”

  He thought for a few seconds, then said, “She wasn’t a nice lady…still,” he paused and made a motion with his hand…”sorry she’s passed. On the news they said she was murdered.” His eyes went out of focus, and he shook his head, as if in disbelief. He refocused and said, “That’s about all I know.”

  Wes wasn’t around, but she saw the door to Detective Sergeant Kostelac’s office was closed, and she thought maybe Wes was in there. She went to her office to organize her notes with Paxton.

  Wes came in a few minutes later. “I was in Stu Kostelac’s office…Peter Voss was there, too. He’s coordinating some of the other uniforms who’ve been assigned to our investigation…canvassing and such.”

  “Officer Voss?”

  “Yeah, Peter is thinking about maybe shifting over to being a detective…so he’s getting his feet wet, and helping us out, too.”

  “In terms of the meeting, anything I should know?”

  “No, just the usual…lines of communication, that sort of thing. Oh, yeah, Peter will check with Legal on getting a copy of the Professor’s will. Anyway, the meeting was mostly boiler-plate business, which is why I didn’t ask to delay the meeting till you could come…figured what you were doing was more important. Besides, we’ve got an appointment over in the Professor’s BAC office.”

  As they walked from Headquarters to the BAC, Wes joked that they were having to rough it, being without Jillian’s Batmobile…his new term for her golf cart. Along the way, Jillian briefed him about her interview with Andrew Paxton. She’d already told him about the broad outline of the walkout and the grievance, so she fleshed-out this overview with details of the interview, and also with her observations about Paxton.

  In answer to his question, she said that “the other two students are African-American and Paxton is white.

  He nodded, then asked, “And the other two students are now out of state?”

  “Yes, I checked.”

  They walked on, then he asked, “Do you think there’s anything there, Jilly, on Paxton?”

  “My immediate reaction is no. He’s very nervous and defensive, Wes, which he hides behind a false bravado. On the other hand, he’s a big, tall guy…he obviously had issues with Professor Siemens, and he’s willing to mix-it-up…that fight at the political rally. Maybe I should dig deeper.”

  “I think so, yes. Why don’t you ask Grace Wilson if there’s been any more fallout on all this…if his name has come-up anymore.”

  “OK. For now, though, let me change gears and give you my take on Carla Nagel.”

  As they walked, Jillian described her conversation with Carla Nagel, including her concern about the student’s mental state.

  Wes asked, “What about counseling services?”

  “Done. She has their card…provided by Ms. Grace Wilson yesterday morning, even as she allowed Ms. Nagle to head to her next class.”

  Wes smiled.

  Wes had called ahead and arranged for someone from Professor Siemens’ department in Business to have her office door opened. He’d also called Professor David Roberts, one of the people Professor Seay had named as someone who knew the victim, and he’d agreed to meet them at Professor Siemens’ office in BAC.

  As Jillian and Wes walked along the hallway, Professor Roberts emerged from his own office—he’d been waiting for them, door open—and accompanied them to her office.

  “Detective Sergeant Webb? I’m Dr. David Roberts…we talked on the phone.”

  Wes and Jillian said hello, displayed their IDs, and entered Professor Siemens’ office first. Once they were all inside, Professor Roberts asked, “What exactly am I looking for?”

  Wes said, “We want you to look over the office and see if everything appears to be normal. Is everything here and in place…as best you can recall. Take your time.”

  “Alright,” he answered and stepped deeper into the office and began to look around, from the left to the area behind the desk, to the right, and back again.

  David Roberts looked younger than Jillian had expected…maybe mid-30s. He was about 5 10…maybe more, approximately 180 pounds, and he looked to be physically fit. He had the regulation four-day growth of beard, and his black hair was in a stylish cut, but looked rumpled. Jillian thought he was handsome in a TV soap opera actor kind of a way, although his eyes looked puffy, as if he hadn’t slept long or well enough. He wore black jeans, a black shirt that she thought was a tee shirt, but standing behind him, she could see that it was a nice pull-over, and cordovan loafers.

  While Roberts perused the office, Jillian took the opportunity to revisit the photos behind the desk: definitely Ayn Rand making a speech somewhere, and the other photo was signed “Best Wishes MF,” just as Jillian remembered, and, consistent with her google search, it was Milton Friedman. And, there was, indeed another paperweight atop a file cabinet. It also looked to be fairly heavy, although it was shaped differently from the one that was potentially the murder weapon. Jillian walked to the file cabinet for a closer look. This paperweight was made of some sort of see-through plastic material, and was shaped more like a shield. It was also a commemorative paperweight…according to the notation, to mark the 60th anniversary of the publication of Atlas Shrugged. And, it was issued by the Ayn Rand Center of Arizona State University.

  After maybe fifteen seconds, Professor Roberts said, “I mean, I don’t have a photographic memory, but it all looks…right. One thing that makes this easy is that Nelda is very orderly…a place for everything, and everything in its place. Jillian thought that his description of the Professor being orderly squared with their observations at her condo yesterday. Roberts continued, “So, yeah,” and opened his hands as if presenting her office for their perusal.

  Wes asked, “You’re sure? Take your time.”

  “I mean, obviously Nelda’s computer…” he said, pointing to the empty spot on her desk.

  Wes said, “Yes, our Criminal Intel team has the computer.”

  Professor Roberts nodded a quick “yes.”

  Wes asked, “OK, aside from the professor’s computer…everything in here looks OK you?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  Wes said, “Thank you. He paused, changed gears and said, “We have a few questions for you Professor Roberts. For instance, what about any enemies that Professor Siemens may have had?”

  Roberts started to answer, stopped, and then said, “If it would be OK, could we continue this discussion somewhere else…maybe my office? Nelda and I were friends, and I feel uncomfortable being in here…given…”

  “Of course, Professor Roberts.”

  They left the office, Jillian pulled the door shut and made sure that it was locked. As they walked down the hallway, Wes and Professor Roberts were side by side, and Jillian was a few paces behind. She could see that Professor Roberts was a little taller than Wes, so yes, he was just over 5 10.

  Jillian looked through the narrow door windows, and some of the classrooms were occupied…classes were going on. She definitely remembered being in one of these classrooms—they were like mini- amphitheaters—but couldn’t recall what for.

  Roberts unlocked his office door, entered and invited the detectives in. He sat behind his desk, and they took the two chairs in front.

  His office was nice, if not as upscale as Professor Siemens’ down the hall, but still nicer than many faculty offices that Jillian remember from her student days. He also had framed diplomas on a side wall. Jillian looked at them without making a point of it. Roberts’ undergrad degree was from USC, and his PhD was from Stanford University.
A blue sport coat was hooked on a clothes tree in the corner…Jillian thought the material looked to be denim. Two posters hung on the wall behind his desk. One was a blow-up of a book cover entitled Incentivizing Innovation: The Deregulation of American Enterprise…Roberts was the author. The other poster was of a smiling President Ronald Reagan.

  Roberts sighed, then said, “I have to apologize…I’m not on my game. Nelda wasn’t just a colleague, we were friends. Her death was a real jolt, and I felt out of place being in her office without her. Even though ASU’s re-opened, I wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t called.” His shoulders slumped as he exhaled. “Have you made any headway in…the case?”

  Wes answered, “First, let us say that we’re sorry for your loss…and we appreciate it that you came in to meet with us. What I can tell you is that forensics has been in both of her offices, and in her condo...and we have some preliminary information from some of the lab work…we’re waiting for still more. It will start coming in over the next few days.

  “So, a forensics team was in Nelda’s office here, too? I knew they’d be in her office in the English Department since that’s where…where she was discovered.”

  “We’re trying to be thorough, Professor Roberts,” Wes answered. “And, in the meantime, we’re talking with as many people as possible, trying to get a complete picture. That’s why I asked about enemies.”

  “Enemies,” he exhaled, pursed his lips, then said, ”Sad to say… yes. Some faculty were very upset about the Rand Center grant. Not so much here in Business, but in other departments...English and elsewhere around campus. They were jealous…they’re…they’re living in the past.”

  “How so,” Jillian asked.

  “Well, these types…they’re out of touch. This country has become more conservative, politically and socially, and rightly so. More pro-business. These faculty…” he said the word with disdain, and was then quiet. He seemed to be on the verge of becoming a little unhinged, but, he regained his composure and continued.

  “What I think is that some faculty opposed the Rand Center because Ayn Rand was such a brilliant spokeswoman for capitalism. Her philosophy eviscerates their arguments, their economic perspective. Of course, they really don’t mount a coherent economic position...they’re nothing but ideologues…and a failed ideology at that. But, they use their positions in the university to try to spread their views.” Roberts, whose gaze had become unfocused again—or at the least he wasn’t looking at Jillian and Wes—paused, and held up his right hand, as if to rein himself in.

  “Sorry I’m so passionate about this, but the Center was an awesome idea. It brought in a million dollars to ASU. And I should know, I co-authored the grant. And the very idea that one of these cretins who opposed it has murdered Nelda…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

  Jillian thought he was a bit tightly wound, although she understood…so were Grace Wilson and Carla Nagel. A death, much less a murder, does that to people. And Roberts had lost a colleague and a friend.

  Wes, who rarely showed any emotion during an interview unless it was strategic, continued the questions. “So, you co-authored the grant? How’d that work?”

  A work-related question seemed to calm Roberts. “A private organization was offering grants to universities that would create such centers. As I said, Ayn Rand is a hero to many in the business community, and in government, too. Anyway, I’d read about these grants…maybe in The Wall Street Journal or could’ve been in The New York Times. Anyway, I discussed the idea with William Norland…he’s a colleague…we put together a proposal…the funding organization liked it. Probably helped that the proposal came from ASU because we have a reputation for entrepreneurship. The long and short of it…we got the grant…the Center was funded…and there was a national search for a professor to head the Center. Nelda applied, and she was far and away the best candidate…she’s an internationally recognized Rand scholar, you know. Better still, she has degrees in English AND an MBA in Business from the University of Chicago…impeccable credentials.”

  Jillian asked, “Did you apply to head the Center…you co-authored the grant, after all?”

  “No, I didn’t. Realistically, an internal candidate would have been disadvantaged. But more important, the funding organization was clear in their language…the head of the center had to have a reputation as a Rand scholar…and I’m not a Rand scholar. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really into her ideas, but Nelda’s exactly the sort of a person they had in mind.”

  Wes nodded at Professor Roberts’ explanation, and then circled back to his original question. “Thanks, Professor Roberts…that helps us. So, back to enemies? You explained why Professor Siemens may have had enemies…any comments on who they were?”

  It seemed to Jillian that even though Roberts was calmer, there was still anger or maybe some other emotion just under the surface. He made a dismissive face and said, “Well, Ian Naremore for one.”

  Wes nodded and held up an index finger. “I think someone else also mentioned him as being against…I don’t recall their exact comments…was Naremore against the Center or against Professor Siemens, or both?”

  Roberts seemed to be thrown off by Wes’ question, but he did a slight reset, and then said, “A guy like that, who knows? Naremore is one of the ideologues that we were talking about. Everything he writes is the usual anti-business screed. He’s forever calling for more regulation, not less.” Roberts shook his head in disbelief. “I assume that his classes are the same. I’ve heard that the better business students have virtually black-balled him and refuse to take any of his courses.”

  Jillian was glad that she hadn’t bragged about being a Justice Studies student or about Professor Naremore having been on her honors thesis and MS project. She asked, ”Do you know if there were ever any specific run-ins between Professor Naremore and Professor Siemens?”

  “Do I know of any personally? No…but that doesn’t mean that there weren’t any. I do know that over the past…” he looked toward his book shelves, thinking…”let’s say over the past month or so, Nelda had experienced some negative interactions with professors.” He held up a cautionary hand, “And no, I can’t tell you any specifics, although she did confide in me that there were some. I don’t even know if these were in-person or over email…or what. Just that there had been some unpleasant exchanges, and I had the sense from her that some of these had been...a bit threatening?”

  “I see,“ Wes said. “So, I understand that you and Professor Siemens were colleagues. You’re both in the Business College…is that correct?”

  “Yes, and I also am an affiliate in The Rand Center…I mean, I got the grant that funded it,” he gave a rueful smile. “Actually, I’m also in Innovation and Entrepreneurship with a joint appointment in The School of Economic Engagement.”

  Jillian asked, “Is that the program that’s funded by the Koch Brothers?”

  “Yes, it is, Detective,” he answered tersely; he seemed annoyed by her question. “Although, I should note that the School is also funded by ASU, and, like any other academic unit on campus, it’s directly under ASU’s supervision...notwithstanding what the faculty critics say.”

  Wes asked, “Was Professor Siemens also a part of this School?”

  “She had a courtesy affiliation, but in terms of a formal appointment, no, she did not.” He paused, then added, “As I’m sure that you’re aware, she did have a joint appointment in English.”

  Jillian continued, “Was there any Koch funding in the Rand Center?”

  “None,” he answered tersely.

  There was some din in the hallway, but Professor Roberts, unperturbed, talked over it. Jillian glanced at her watch and realized that a class period had just ended, and students were leaving the classrooms up and down the hallway. The memory made her smile.

  Wes asked, “Professor Roberts, can you suggest anyone else we should speak with ab
out Professor Siemens? As I said, we’re trying to get a picture of her, of her life here on campus. We have had a suggestion that we should interview Miriam Moser over at SkySong. Can you suggest anyone else?”

  Roberts was quiet, and then said, “Well, in terms of enemies, obviously Ian Naremore. Although, as I mentioned, there were others who also were very critical of Nelda…unfairly critical, let me emphasize. And, although I can offer no specific individuals in the English Department, I would consider people over there, too. She told me that there were faculty who’d opposed her appointment, and were unfriendly to her. But again, she didn’t name names…that wasn’t Nelda’s style,” he smiled.

  Wes asked, “What about anyone outside of ASU?“

  “Well, she was in frequent contact with people in the business community, in Tempe and in Phoenix…really, across the Valley. And, as I think about it, let me suggest that you talk with some ASU people who would be positive about Nelda…the Dean of the Carey College, even President Davidos. Nelda was very well-respected. I know you’ve already spoken with Lucas Seay, and I’m sure he told you that her being here enhanced the reputation of the Business College…and the entire university, for that matter.”

  He was quiet again, and then said, “And, in that spirit, a spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that, for a time, Nelda and I were romantically involved.”

  “OK…” Wes answered…“thanks for sharing that with us. Were you two still involved?”

  “No, that part of our relationship ended…” He thought for a few seconds… “toward the end of last spring semester.”

  Wes asked, “Amicably?”

  “Absolutely, yes. I almost didn’t even mention it. I mean, it was good, you know, while it lasted,” he shrugged. “But, ultimately, we just had different interests…breaking it off was mutual…and we’ve remained friends. I consider Nelda to be a good friend, and I think that she thought the same of me.”

  Jillian asked, “Do you know, if Professor Siemens seeing anyone, currently?”