Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar by Gray Cavender (classic literature list txt) 📕

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