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

across campus and walking to the Tempe PD…she was excited and needed to move. But, she looked back along College Avenue and saw the bus—a Jupiter had stopped at the railroad tracks as they’re required to do—and she figured it would be to her in a couple of minutes. It’d be quicker than walking, so she waited at the bus stop just beyond the intersection. The Jupiter made the light so she was on in under two minutes. Still, she had a lot of nervous energy as the bus made its way through campus and then along Mill Avenue (Apache and Mill converge and become Mill through downtown Tempe). She kept glancing at her watch, which she couldn’t help, and tapping her right foot, which she stopped doing…several times.

Wes met her at the employee entrance, wearing a big smile. He seemed calm, but then he was waiting for her at the employee entrance. He said, “Good on Ms. Grace Wilson. Glad you two hit it off.”

“What do you think, Wes?”

“Well, as I said, we might be getting a break—Keefer’s promotion—and now this.” He shrugged. “Who knows? It is significant that he was having an affair with Professor Siemens and that he neglected to tell us about it. But, we will see what we will see.”

They reconvened in Wes’ office, and Jillian immediately opened her IPAD and started typing. “So, let’s see, first, of all, who Professor Jonathan Keefer is.” She logged-in to the ASU website, then navigated to the English Department. “OK…undergrad degree in English from the University of Pennsylvania. Hmm…PhD from Manchester University in the UK.”

“Manchester United,” Wes chimed-in.

She smiled. “Then, a position at New York University.” She read quietly, then, “Up through the ranks from assistant to associate to full professor…looks like he moved up fairly quickly. He left NYU and came to ASU as chair three years ago.”

“Moved down to move up,” Wes said. When Jillian looked confused, he added, “I assume because it’s in New York City, NYU is more prestigious than ASU. So, he got a chair’s position, but had to come here to get that sort of a promotion. So, he moved down to move up.”

“Oh, like me,” Jillian laughed.

Wes tilted his head and made a face. “In a way, I guess. Still…and don’t forget my PhD plan for you.”

She shook her head, and then said, “OK, on to Google. Let’s see if he has a Wiki entry.” She made a few key strokes, “And yes, of course he does.” She scrolled quickly through the initial paragraphs. “This is pretty much the same info as on ASU’s webpage.” She scrolled more.

“OK, here we go. His specialization is literary theory…mostly interested in identities. He wrote a book critical of Raymond Williams. Don’t know who that is…OK, I see, Williams is a Marxist literary scholar. The rest is a lot of academic name-dropping. I’ll print this and look-up some of them later.” Jillian made a mental to check with Ian Naremore or maybe Professor Szabo—ZZ—to find out more about Raymond Williams.

They were interrupted by the loud scrapping of a chair in the office on Wes’ right. Detective Doc Halliday walked by Wes’ office, clutching a handful of files, and, with an audible sigh, left the Homicide area. Doc was a nickname…his real name was Donald, but Halliday was close enough to Holliday, and after all, it was Arizona.

Jillian, who had always been somewhat neutral on Halliday, made a “what’s with him” expression to Wes. He shrugged a “don’t know” response.

Jillian and Wes discussed how they would approach the interview as they walked onto the campus. Wes again lamented not having Jillian’s “Batmobile’ during the long walk to Ross-Blakey Hall.

When they approached the front desk, Jillian said, “Detective Sergeants Warne and Webb…we have an 11 o’clock appointment with Professor Keefer.”

The work-study student, a young woman with several visible tattoos, including an elaborate green and pink one that resembled a permanent, lacey necklace, quickly nodded and pointed to her right and then arched her wrist to indicate another right. Her nervous reaction—she didn’t speak—confirmed Grace Wilson’s assessment about everyone in the English Department being on edge…even the work-study undergrads.

Grace Wilson was around the corner at her desk. She gave Wes and Jillian a slight smile as they knocked on Professor Jonathan Keefer’s closed door. They heard a curt “come in.”

Wes and Jillian entered and displayed their IDs, which Keefer acknowledged with a dismissive wave. “May I ask why you’ve returned? I told you everything I know the other day.” These comments were directed to Wes.

“It’s a follow-up, professor,” Wes responded.

“Well, let’s hurry then. I have a Zoom meeting in 15 minutes. And it’s important...a conference call. So, if you please…”

“OK, let’s get to it then,” Wes said. “Were you romantically involved with Professor Siemens?”

Because Wes handled the interview the other day, this was Jillian’s first time in Professor Keefer’s office. She noticed that even though he was the Chair of English, Professor Keefer’s office was basically the same size as the others she’d seen in the building…and without Professor Siemens’ upgrades.

He wore a rumpled green linen suit and a loosened tie featuring red and green Rorschach-like patterns. He had a three-day growth of beard and his hair, which was shaved, was also at about the three-day mark, as well. Jillian could see that he was balding. His beard and hair and suit gave him a disheveled look.

“I fail to see how my personal life could be any of your business,” he said, and folded his arms across his chest.

Jillian said, “We’re investigating a murder, Professor Keefer. It’s for us to decide what information is relevant.”

He glanced at Jillian as if he’d only just now realized she was in the room. “You’re a campus cop, for Christ sakes.”

“And the murder occurred on campus…we’re on campus now,” Jillian responded. “So, back to Detective Sergeant Webb’s question…were you, Professor Keefer, involved romantically with Professor Siemens?”

Keefer sighed an exasperated sigh. “Yes, we got together. What can I say?”

Wes asked the follow-up question.