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

“Seriously, Wes, thanks for stepping-in with Doc…I appreciate it.”

“No problem…that’s what partners do, Jilly. Besides, I was afraid that you’d use some sort of judo move and throw Doc on his ass.” He mimicked the Karate Kid stork pose, then left.

Jillian could hear him laughing out in the hall.

She picked-up the movie guide from the floor. At first, it made her mad all over again…then, frustrated. She’d said to Wes that this work was hard enough without the extra crap from people like Doc. Wes was right…Doc had always been OK to her, had congratulated her when she and Wes made arrests in their cases…but now this. Is what he really thought of her…that whatever successes she and Wes had had…were attributed to Wes?

She mentally shifted gears, seeing beyond herself to the bigger picture. This business with Doc reminded her of her of her masters’ project…about how hard it still was for women in policing. She remembered the women she’d interviewed. Some of the women were stoic…others were pissed-off. A couple of them had cried, and then they’d made her swear that she wouldn’t mention it her paper that they’d cried. Would it ever end?

She thought about what ZZ had said, about how she’d felt when she first learned that Jillian was going to work for the police. She’d had a particular reason, of course—being a Roma—but still…

Jillian wondered what Professor Naremore thought, especially after today. Could he have killed Professor Siemens? She thought about the argument between them…of their ‘confrontation’ at a university committee meeting.

Just for a second, as she remembered Professor LeJohns’ description of their confrontation, she flashed on how she and Doc must have looked when Wes ran into Doc’s office…the only thing separating them had been his desk.

She thought about the argument between Professor Naremore and Wes, and wondered if that made Wes more suspicious of him…she couldn’t really tell.

She thought about what Wes had said about building a ‘better cop?’ Was that ever going to be possible with people like Doc Halliday, much less Larry Gruber? Wes had said training would help but he’d also mentioned the police culture. She thought, “Man, did he get that right!”

Still, she appreciated that, despite how bad Wes had felt after the interview with Professor Naremore, he was there and in between her and Doc in an instant. He knew exactly what to say…how to defuse what was escalating into…whatever it was escalating into. He was such a stand-up person…a stand-out person really. She was lucky to have had him as a partner…and a friend.

After she’d gone around and around on this for a while—back to ZZ, then doubling back to Professor LeJohns—Jillian said “enough,” and opened her IPAD. She figured the best thing to do was what Wes had asked to do…re-read the case file.

CHAPTER 16

First things first…Jillian called Professor Russell Griffiths’ ASU phone number. He answered and she identified herself.

“Ian said you’d be calling, Detective Sergeant Warne. He also told me why.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Before Jillian could speak, he said, “As he told you, I was in San Diego at a conference. I was there two nights…the night before and the night of Professor Siemens’ death. So, unfortunately, I cannot provide Ian with an alibi. But Detective Sergeant Warne, need I say this…I do not understand why he needs an alibi…not with you, of all people. You know him…”

“Professor Griffiths,” she tried to interrupt.

“No, as the risk of being rude, allow me to finish, please. You know Ian…you worked with him for several years. He was always so proud of you as a student, in your undergraduate days, and then as a graduate student. And then when you became a detective, he was a reference for you.”

All of this gushed out in that lovely British accent of his, which somehow even made it harder. For an instant, Jillian was at a loss for words.

Professor Griffiths continued, “I know that Ian can be…he can be quite full of himself. And yes, he can be relentless, tediously so. But, he’s no killer. And after working together so closely, you surely must know this.”

Jillian had dreaded making the call, and it was going as badly as she’d feared. Professor Griffiths never raised his voice, he was never insulting. If anything, it seemed to Jillian that he was somehow ‘hurt’ by having to have this conversation. Or, maybe he was concerned because he couldn’t provide a now-needed alibi for his partner.

She explained that this was a murder investigation and that, given the bad feelings between Professor Naremore and Professor Siemen…and on it went.

In the end, Professor Griffiths said he’d email her a PDF (immediately) of the conference details, including proof that he’d attended—the cover page of the conference program, boarding passes, Lyft receipts, and all the rest. He said he’d already pulled together this information to file a travel reimbursement claim.

It wasn’t much…Jillian thought it wasn’t really needed, but she didn’t know what else to say, so she said, “Oh, yes, that would be a great help. Thank you.”

When the call finally ended—it seemed as if they’d talked forever, but it was less than ten minutes—Jillian felt drained. Before starting anything else, she went to the restroom and splashed water in her face. She also walked around in the corridor for a while, trying to clear her head.

Back in her office, Jillian adjusted her IPAD, then pulled-up her file on Professor Siemens. It was hard to focus. She was distracted by…what had Wes called it…”all that stuff.” And, brother, there was a lot of stuff.

She tried to do what Wes has asked…to dig into her files in a way that would let her spot any inconsistencies, for example, between the two interviews with Professor Naremore, or, between his statements and what Professor LeJohns had said about the run-in at that committee meeting.

At the same time, she genuinely felt shamed by Professor Griffiths’ comments, and so she had to admit to herself that she was reading almost