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

interviewed Gilroy…why don’t you schedule a follow-up with him…today if possible…tomorrow if today doesn’t work.”

“Do you want to be in on it?”

He shook his head “no” as he removed some business cards from his desk, picked-up the phone, and dialed. He listened for maybe 20 seconds so Jillian assumed he’d gotten an answering machine.

When Wes hung up, Jillian said, “I’ll call Grace…she’s the Assistant Chair over there…maybe she can help.”

She dialed from her cell contacts. “Grace, hi, It’s Jillian Warne. My partner and I wanted to do a follow-up interview with Professor Keefer, but got his voice mail.” She listened, then said, “OK. Yes, that would be great…11 tomorrow…” She looked at Wes who nodded. “11 is perfect. No, of course not.”

Jillian paused, then asked, “Would you happen to know if Professor Gilroy is in this afternoon? OK, thanks.”

Jillian covered the phone with her hand and said, “She’s checking on Professor Gilroy’s schedule. Also, she said Professor Keefer is in a meeting—it wasn’t on his calendar so Grace didn’t know where…after that, he’s gone for the day. But, she has access to his calendar so she gave us an appointment at 11. I promised that we wouldn’t attribute her as the source of the info about his promotion.”

“No, of course not.”

Wes was about to continue, but Jillian held-up her hand and was back on the phone. “Great, thanks…no, I’ll call him, myself. Yes, I think I’d like to interview him again. Thanks, Grace…me, too.”

She hung up, then said, “So Professor Gilroy has office hours this afternoon. I’ll give him a try. But, before I forget, I did ask Grace about Paxton, the student, and she said that as far as she knew, he’s not surfaced…in any way…since the business with the grievance.”

She went to her office and got her own stash of business cards, and called from the phone there. Professor Gilroy sounded a little surprised, but said that he was in, and could see her within the hour.

“She returned to Wes’ office, and said, ”OK I’m in…sure you don’t want to come?”

“No, I want to check with the people in Criminal Intel…see if they have anything new…they’re analyzing the Professor’s bank records. Besides, you did the first interview with Gilroy, so let’s go for the continuity. Tomorrow, of course, with Keefer…that’s a different story.”

He paused, thinking, then said almost as if to himself, “Main thing, I want to learn more about the nature of their relationship—Keefer and Siemens.” Then, to Jillian, he said, “Let’s be honest…this promotion thing probably is nothing. Or…our first break.”

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Professor Gilroy.”

“No, worries. I have office hours this afternoon, but, it’s early enough in the semester that there’s not much student trade. That will change after the first exam…always does.” He smiled, then asked, “To what do I owe the honor of this follow-up, Detective Warne?”

“Well, as you might expect, the more we speak with people, the more information we get…some of it is relevant to our investigation…and sometimes it merits a follow-up.”

“I see.”

On the walk over, Jillian had decided to get straight to the point with Professor Gilroy.”

“We were told about a rather heated exchange between you and Professor Siemens at a faculty meeting last month.”

To Jillian, he looked sad (the word ‘crestfallen’ came to mind), then defiant, then with some movement of his lips, back in charge…all within the space of only a couple of seconds.

“Don’t know if ‘heated’ is the right descriptor, but, oh well…perhaps that’s how others would describe it.” He gestured with his hand. “What would you like to know?”

“Mostly, I’d like to hear your take on it.”

“Very well. I’m sure your informants gave a blow-by-blow description of what was said. By the way, Nelda did most of the talking, as I recall. Perhaps this leaves it to me to provide some commentary.”

He was quiet again, and to Jillian looked genuinely sad. He took a breath and said, “As I mentioned before, Detective Warne, I’m sure that my ‘detractors’ (he sounded very southern when he said this, with no ‘r’ at the end of the word) had shared with Nelda my objections to her position specifically, and my opinion of Ayn Rand’s place in literature, more generally. What’s more, Nelda has a vicious tongue, not unlike the Bard’s Kate Minola.” He glanced at Jillian and added, almost as if a question, “Shakespeare’s Shrew?”

Jillian nodded, and thought that it was hard to feel sorry for him for long because here he was testing her again.

“She had her own candidate for our faculty position, which is most certainly within her rights. What she did, however, was to state that opinion in a decidedly nasty way. It was extremely unkind to the candidate the hiring committee had recommended, and, of course, it was a gratuitous insult to me.”

“So I heard.” She paused, then changed gears. “Professor Gilroy, I know that aside from Professor Siemens, you received many compliments for the recruitment that you and your committee managed.”

His expression brightened. “Yes, well…others were more gracious about our efforts.”

“Given this praise, did Professor Siemens apologize for her…well, her insulting comments?”

“An apology, no, that wasn’t within Nelda’s repertoire.”

“How did things stand between you two?”

“Well, there was no rapprochement (he gave the French pronunciation), if that’s what you’re asking.” His demeanor shifted again, this time from angry to conciliatory. “Look, I don’t like being disrespected…who does…but what could I do but consider the source, and move on…” He shrugged and said, “Life goes on…’ob la di, ob la da…’ Right?”

He pursed his lips, thoughtfully, then said, “I’ve been at this a long while, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to wear my feelings on my sleeve. What Nelda did was inexcusable, but I didn’t murder her, Ms. Warne…as a matter of fact, I’m genuinely sorry she’s dead.”

As Jillian crossed the campus, she thought about the difference between how Professor Naremore had reacted to the Professor’s murder—strong, negative words—and Professor Gilroy’s expression of sorrow. But, as she’d thought