Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar by Gray Cavender (red scrolls of magic TXT) 📗

he was early in his career, then, so he had a local pick-up band. Woody Jacoby, who’s the head of ASU’s jazz ensemble, was acting as the music director—he’s a pianist—and Jeff LeJohns was sitting-in on bass. As soon as we walked in his office I was thinking, ‘where do I know this guy from?’ The concert was four or five years ago. And when he said he played jazz locally and specifically mentioned TCA, I knew.”

“Well that’s amazing.”

“Yeah…small world. Ever wonder what must be the personality of a bass player?”

Jillian just shook her head, then said, “No, Wes, I’ve never thought about that…but obviously you have.”

“It’s just that playing bass…that’s got to be so different than playing flugelhorn, for example. You’re not playing the melody, but you’re so much a part of what’s happening…at least in a small jazz combo.”

Jillian just made a ‘hmm’ sound, and let Wes talk.”

“And then to teach bass—jazz or classical—imagine that. Wonder if he teaches some sort of ‘bass world view’…or, if people who already have that world view are drawn to the bass.”

Jillian smiled and realized that even though the serious business of a murder investigation was going on, an investigation that seemed to be implicating one of her favorite professors, that being Wes’ partner was a very good thing.”

He exhaled and said, “But enough Music Psychology 101…what’d you think of LeJohns’ story?”

She was quiet, then said, “Motive. Given what Sarah said, you know, that Professor Siemens hadn’t submitted a formal grievance…but planned to…stopping her from filing the grievance was a motive.”

“Yeah…and don’t forget…their argument, what’d LeJohns call it, their confrontation…that could have been an emotional trigger, too.”

“I hate to say it, but the other relevant point is that Professor Naremore will be going-up for promotion to full professor before too long, and a grievance against him, especially for something as serious as physically threatening another professor, that could hurt his chances…still more motive.”

“You’re right…course, Naremore didn’t actually lay hands on the Professor. And, from what LeJohns said, it’s as if Professor Siemens was basically egging him on…like she was trying to get him to do something foolish.”

“Here’s the other thing, Wes…the dates. The emails back-and-forth between them…that was a week or two before their run-in at the Curriculum Committee…if that matters.”

Wes chewed his lip. “Yeah…maybe.“

They arrived at the side door of the MU, across from where the political rally had been. Wes said, “If it’s OK with you, let’s just get something more along the lines of fast-food instead of that sit-down place upstairs. There are places like that here, right?”

“Follow me,” she said, and took the stairs down as soon as they entered the door.

The basement area where the restaurants are located was crawling with people—mostly students—and they had to wait in a long line. When they eventually worked their way to the front, Wes ordered half a Subway and Jillian had a tuna salad.

She wasn’t very hungry. She was still reeling from the interview with Professor LeJohns. Because he enunciated everything so precisely, it was almost as if he’d painted a picture that allowed her, no, that forced her, to watch that confrontation in the committee meeting. “Motive, and an emotional trigger,” she thought.

And for some reason, the earlier thing with Doc Halliday back at HQ kept nagging her…it weirded her out, too. Most of all, though, she dreaded the interview with Professor Naremore.

The room was noisy with people, which in an odd way gave them more privacy. They quickly worked-out a strategy for the interview with Professor Naremore. In a way, that helped Jillian relax…at least a little.

Then, maybe to distract her, Wes discussed a murder case from North Tempe he’d worked last year that was coming to trial. Jillian had read about the case in the paper back when the crime had happened, and she’d read a recent piece about the upcoming trial. Wes filled-in the details.

Jillian didn’t have that warm fuzzy feeling walking up the stairs In Wilson Hall that she’d had on the last couple of visits. As always, there were two students at the long table opposite the door to the second floor. They looked up from their laptops, but instead of the usual quick ‘head back down’ move, followed Wes and Jillian until they were out of sight. Having sat in those chairs herself, Jillian knew that she and Wes didn’t look like the typical visitors to the second floor of Wilson Hall.

Professor Naremore’s office door was about three-quarters open. As she was about to knock, Jillian saw a Black Lives Matter flyer on the peg board to the right of his door. It announced the time and location of an upcoming campus demonstration. The flyer hadn’t been on his door before…or maybe she just hadn’t seen it.

They showed their IDs and Wes said, “I’m Detective Sergeant Wes Webb with the Tempe Police Department, and I think you already know my colleague.”

Naremore, who was standing at his variable desk, didn’t even glance at their IDs. He looked first at Wes, then at Jillian, and said, “Jillian, I seem to be seeing you more these days than back when you were a student.”

He lowered his head, then looked up again, and said, “No, that’s not right. Sorry ‘bout that, Jillian. Please,” he said, gesturing to the visitors’ chairs as he sat in the one beside his desk, which remained in the ‘up’ position.

To Jillian, he seemed nervous…or annoyed…maybe a little of both. But then, she had to admit that she was nervous, too.

As they’d planned during lunch, Wes did the talking at first. “Thanks for seeing us, Professor Naremore. I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to it.”

Naremore had been looking at Jillian so when Wes started talking, he had to shift his attention. Now, he definitely looked annoyed, she thought.

Wes waited till he had Naremore’s attention, then said, “It’s standard practice in a murder investigation to read the victim’s emails, texts, everything. And when we did, we saw back and forth emails between