Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Read online

  His question caught her off guard…although, maybe not so much. Quickly, she mentally ran through several possible responses, and then settled on one. She smiled and looked directly into his eyes and said, “No thank you.”

  “It’s just coffee…are you sure?”

  “Yes, but no thank you.”

  Voss smiled although he also blushed. He nodded and said, “OK then, back to it,” and left the area.

  She walked back to Wes’ office. There was no eye rolling or knowing smiles from Wes, he just said, “I’m thinking it’s significant that you didn’t use coffee with Grace Wilson as an excuse.”

  “You heard?”

  “Couldn’t help but…”

  “I guess I was waiting for that. And, well, actually I did think about saying that I had something scheduled with Grace Wilson.” She smiled, “This way just seemed more…better.”

  “More final,” he answered and smiled, a friend’s smile. “No more Brian’s.”

  ”Well, no more Brian, that’s for sure…and no Peter Voss either. In terms of the bigger picture…” she shrugged. Jillian glanced around the room. It had been almost empty when they’d first returned from the Chief’s office, but now others were trickling in.

  Wes noted her glance and said, “Right, so back to it,” and grinned. OK, tell me about Professor Patek.”

  “So, I was going to brief you anyway, but Officer Voss’ comment about a neighbor possibly seeing Professor Siemens and President Davidos at her condo reminded me of something Professor Patek said. First of all, she’s Vice President of the Faculty Women’s Association, and Professor Siemens attended those meeting. Carolyn said she was fairly unpopular because she was critical of the other women who she said acted as if they were victims, and she wasn’t in to coalition-building either. In her view, everything rests on the individual, not on groups…same with people of color. Her view is that sexism and racism have been dealt with…they’re over…so, it’s up to the individual. All of which, by the way, squares with Ayn Rand’s philosophy, too.”

  Wes shrugged and said, “Well, I can see her point about individual responsibility, sure, but, at the same time, sexism obviously isn’t over, not in policing, anyway—remember your run-ins with Larry Gruber—and neither is racism…in policing or anywhere else.” He frowned, then said, “I’m thinking these positions would make the Professor very unpopular. Seems like the list of people with a motive keeps getting longer.”

  He shook his head in frustration, then said, “Not that we have any real suspects, yet…we don’t…just a lot of little pings on the radar…”

  “Right…anyway, here’s why Officer Voss’ comments reminded me of something Carolyn said. She thought that Professor Siemens and President Davidos were friendly. As a matter of fact, she was fairly certain that they sat together at a Faculty Women’s meeting last spring.”

  “Of course, Davidos told us that himself…about them being friends.”

  “When you pressed him on it…anyway, I also started my homework on Ayn Rand last night. And from what I read, she was as much of a lightning rod in her day as Professor Siemens is…was…today. For example, she argued that a lot of the people in the movie business were communists, and that many Hollywood films were pro-communist…or, at least they were anti-business. She even testified as a friendly witness at the McCarthy hearings.”

  Wes whistled “Whew.” HUAC.” When Jillian looked confused he added, “House Un-American Activities Committee…HUAC’s the acronym.”

  “Oh, right. And, Rand was basically required reading during the Regan Administration, and from what I read, I guess she still is among libertarians and a lot of conservative politicians…I see her quoted all the time.”

  As they talked, Wes rose from his desk and nodded with his head for them to head down the hall. He opened an interrogation room and motioned Jillian in first. Once inside, he closed the door and said, “It seemed like maybe we were attracting some attention back there. You know, the walls have ears.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice. What’s up with that?”

  “Who knows? Maybe it’s because some of our guys are very conservative themselves. Or, maybe they just want to know more about our case, which is, as we’ve just been discussing, very high profile…and getting more so all the time.” He thought for a second, then continued, “Police are people, too, Jilly…they’re influenced by the media…like everyone else.”

  They remained in the interrogation room discussing several ‘what next’ issues on the case, and also the upcoming rally. Finally, Wes said, “I need to run upstairs to check with the Chief…we had a quick confab there at the end of our meeting. She wanted to do some follow-up on logistics, and then brief me on the details.”

  “Should I come with you?”

  “No, she’ll be in touch with Al…so we’ll know what he’s thinking…and besides…you’re ‘on loan’ to us for the duration, so Chief McCaslin is calling the shots…for both of us. Obviously, Tempe and ASU will have plenty of ‘uniforms’ there for security, and ‘plain clothes,’ too. So, unless she and Al say otherwise, I’m thinking we ought to be there…you know, ‘lurking’ on the somewhere on periphery…just to see who comes to the party.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Why don’t you do a little more of your google homework, but do go meet with Ms. Wilson…maybe you’ll learn something that will help…we could use it. Oh yeah, and ask her about the student grievance guy…Paxton.”

  Wes left and Jillian returned to her office. She googled Miller Sterling whose entry was a lengthier version of what Wes had said up in the Chief’s office, but he’d hit most of the highlights. Sterling’s photo looked fairly non-descript, but also a bit scary. She wondered if he looked scary because of what she was reading about him. She also wondered what goes on in the mind of someone like that…how could he believe the hateful things that he said.

  Jillian glanced at her watch and decided on the spur-of-the moment to pay a quick visit to Lt. Timms. She had the time before her coffee meet with Grace Wilson.

  The Research Division, including the intelligence-led policing unit, was in a different wing from the Homicide Division offices. Jillian entered the familiar section…her former ‘workplace home.’ The layout was different from that in Homicide, but there still lots of offices…lots of cubicles. Often, these researchers had computer screens on the left and right of their desk…large computer screens. One long, rectangular glassed-in office had three desks side by side, again, two computers each. Jillian had been at the middle desk. There had been some turnover since her time there, but she still knew many of the people. Ersula had not lonely replaced Jillian, she waved from her former desk. As Jillian smiled and waved back, she thought about her time here…but kept walking.

  Linda’s office—a real office, not a cubicle—was around the corner. The first thing you noticed when you entered her office was two oversized computer screens—Linda was almost hidden behind them—and a very large map of Tempe on the wall behind her. The map was busy with crime data info.

  Jillian was happy to see Linda. At first, she had worried that Linda would be angry that she left the Research Division, but Linda was genuinely gracious. Maybe it helped that they shared Carolyn Patek as a mentor.

  Linda was a tall, willowy woman. Although she was friendly, she wasn’t much given to hugs. She had blondish hair that she wore fairly short. Jillian remembered that she was quickly back to her normal weight after childbirth, but then she always was physically fit. She was 35 years old. Usually, she wore a blouse and pants and sensible shoes…as she did today.

  She had an interesting background: BS in engineering at Georgia Tech, MA in religious studies from Yale…and she’d actually been a prison chaplain for a while. Her engineering background gave her math and statistical skills, and she’d taken courses and workshops along the way to enhance her modeling skills.
And now, she was working on her PhD in Justice Studies. Linda wasn’t a sworn officer; her lieutenant’s rank was a bureaucratic accommodation to afford her the appropriate authority in the police hierarchy.

  “Carolyn told me the good news…a completed draft of the dissertation. That’s awesome, Linda.”

  “I’m really excited, although, you know the drill with Carolyn…a draft is just a down payment on more revisions. Still, the end is in sight…finally. So, Jillian, when are you starting YOUR PhD program?”

  “Gosh, it makes my palms sweaty just thinking about it. Wes keeps encouraging me, though.”

  “Oh, I know…we discuss you and your PhD all the time. Wes is a great believer in education.”

  Jillian laughed and shook her head. “For now, I think I have a full plate…I should say Wes and I have a full plate.”

  Linda’s smile was replaced by an all business expression. “Everyone here is on edge, and I’m sure it’s the same at ASU in your shop.”

  “Yes…and now there’s some sort of protest demonstration planned on campus tomorrow and everyone is worried about that somehow getting out of control.”

  “I heard…”

  “And, if that wasn’t enough, apparently President Davidos is turning-up the heat on both chiefs.”

  Linda shook her head in sympathy. “I know you and Wes have to worry about pressure from ‘on high,’ but if wasn’t for that, we’d all be laughing…it’s like a cop movie, you know, the mayor’s calling the chief, the chief is yelling at the captain…and IT flows downhill.” She shook her head in amazement again. “Anyway, at the risk of sounding like President Davidos, I guess the obvious question is…anything?”

  ”What’s odd, Linda, is that if anything, we have too much. Apparently Professor Siemens was a fairly unpopular woman…among faculty, staff, and students. Women, people of color, and anyone who is remotely liberal.”

  “Which makes it even harder. Carolyn said that some people had mentioned Ian Naremore as being especially ‘anti-Professor Siemens,’ and that when you interviewed him, he didn’t do himself much good.” Linda sighed. “I know you have to be careful about what you say…even to your former boss,” she smiled, “but you don’t really think…I mean, do you?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just, you know how opinionated he can be.”

  Linda said, “Oh yes,” and made a pained expression.

  “Anyway, let’s hope not. I don’t see myself having to arrest a professor who’s been on my honors thesis and my MS project. Honestly, though, apparently, he and the victim really had it in for each other.”

  “Don’t forget…he’s on my dissertation committee, too.” Geeze Louise,” Linda shuddered. “And we both know how nasty those academic wars can be. I think these people never forget…anything…even some slight from…2008, or whenever. Grad students have to walk on egg shells, you know, being careful that if Professor X is on your committee, you cannot under any circumstances have Professor Y on it. I had all kinds of very scary advice from students in my PhD cohort…I actually had nightmares about my dissertation committee members. Carolyn walked me through all that, but, honestly, it was like a minefield. I’m sure she helped you navigate that business, too.”

  “She did, yes…but still…it’s more intense on a PhD committee.” Jillian was quiet, then said, “Professor Naremore said some pretty strong stuff, Linda, but still…I can’t believe that he’d murder someone.”

  “Me either.”

  They talked a little longer…about Linda’s son, about Jillian’s transition to the new job, and that was that. They agreed to do lunch once the murder investigation ended. Linda, ever positive, assured Jillian that she and Wes would sort it out.

  Jillian had lost track of the time while visiting Linda and had to dash for coffee with Grace Wilson, but she made it on time. The café/coffee shop had two entrances: one from the concreted area outside the library and the other form the library lobby…Grace was waiting inside.

  She was wearing a gorgeous light red dress that went well with her complexion, and for a further dash of color, a paisley scarf with blues and greens and grays.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d know this place,” Jillian said and gestured toward the café.

  “Oh yes, it was my ‘go-to’ when we were in Language and Lit.”

  They waited in line behind two women students.

  Jillian asked, “How is the new building? Are you enjoying the move?”

  “I’d give it mixed reviews. Language and Lit needed some work and our new building was nicely renovated for us…new furniture and all that, so in that way, yes, it’s an improvement in terms of the physical facility. Still, it’s over there on the edge of campus so I feel a bit on the margins. Maybe that’ll change once the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences moves into the old law school. The College is a big operation, and I have several friends who work there, so I’m hoping I’ll feel less isolated.”

  They made their way to the front of the line…Jillian ordered an iced green tea and Grace had an iced mocha, decaf, skinny, and no whipped cream. Jillian noticed that Grace didn’t have to read the menu. The waiting area was to their left by the condiments, but their orders were ‘up’ quickly.

  Most of the tables were outside, but there were a few at the edge of the lobby. By unstated agreement, they grabbed the last empty table indoors.

  “How is everyone in the English Department handling Professor Siemens’ death?”

  Grace looked sad, resigned but sad, and Jillian thought that maybe she was reliving her discovery of the Professor’s body. She took a sip of the coffee, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and said, “Most people are freaked-out about this…it’s so…so beyond the pale. I think that it’s hardest on those who are the most vulnerable…graduate students and assistant professors…basically, they’re scared. One young assistant prof—she’s from Canada—asked me if I thought it was safe to work in our building in the evening. These people are younger and have had less experience in dealing with death, much less one like this. But really, everyone is just flat-out uneasy.“

  “I’m sure it doesn’t help that the Professor’s office is taped-off with yellow ‘crime scene’ tape.”

  Grace nodded. “And besides…Nelda’s death has just disrupted things in the department. She did have some friends…naturally, they’re devastated. Of course, at times like this, you always see some who weren’t all that close acting like they were BFF’s.” She shrugged. “But you know, it may be worse for the faculty who opposed her. They were up in arms when she was hired last year…and then once she was here, some faculty came to dislike her…personally. And now this…her death has really sucker-punched them.”

  “Professor Gilroy, for instance?”

  “Yes, I actually was thinking of him. Billy’s a good soul…he’s from the south so he knows how to ‘act right’ when someone dies, even when it’s someone you don’t like very much.”

  “So, Professor Gilroy and Professor Siemens didn’t get along?” As she asked, Jillian remembered the back-and-forth between Professor Gilroy and Professor Keefer in the hall, and then his comments about Professor Siemens when Jillian interviewed him in his office.

  “Not so well, no. It’s just that Billy sometimes get his feelings hurt, and Nelda’s the kind person who can be harsh on purpose…at faculty meetings…or wherever.”

  “They’ve argued at faculty meetings…have you seen this?”

  “I don’t attend faculty meetings, so not first hand, no. But I have a good sense of what happens because we record them. One of my assistants transcribes the minutes and after she finishes a draft, I do an edit before I forward them on to Jonathan. He looks the minutes over—of course, he’s at the meetings—and makes whatever revisions he wants…sometimes he tones things down. Anyway, when Jonathan’s done, I send the minutes to the faculty. So, because of our process, I do
have a sense of what happens at faculty meetings.

  “OK. So, can you give me any examples of run-ins between them…Professors Gilroy and Siemens?”

  She thought for several seconds, then said, “Well, the easiest is the most recent…I’m thinking of a something at last month’s faculty meeting.” She was quiet again, then said, “There was a discussion about hiring a new associate professor—we had an opening for a senior line, which is rare, so everyone was vested in the decision, and the discussion became very heated. Campus interviews were over and the discussion centered on which candidate to recommend.”

  Jillian nodded that she understood, and Grace continued. “Billy chaired the hiring committee and was making the committee’s pitch for their preferred candidate, a woman who’d gotten her PhD from The University of North Carolina…that’s Billy’s alma mater.”

  “And Professor Siemens preferred a different candidate?”

  Grace nodded, and continued, “Which is fine…except…I’m trying to remember exactly how Nelda put it when she referred to Billy’s candidate. She said something like, ‘Well, she’s been an associate professor for a while, but I’ve never heard of her…which could say something about me…or maybe it says something about her.’ Nelda’s tone was so arrogant—even just reading it—that I remember what she said.”

  Jillian grimaced and said, “Not good.”

  Grace said, “Not good at all, no. Nelda supported a candidate whose doctorate was from Yale, and he’s at Cornell University. She said something else demeaning about Billy’s candidate…something like ‘do we really want someone who specializes in southern fiction?’ When Billy argued that his candidate, who was at Wake Forest University, by the way…”

  Jillian interjected, “Also in North Carolina…”

  “Exactly…anyway, when Billy responded that his candidate had several areas of specialization and none were southern fiction, Nelda said something even more dismissive like ‘Oh, I thought because of her North Carolina connections…oh well, my bad.’ Anyway, not a good interchange.”