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

cave-ins, but maybe it was three…she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t known if the cave-ins were just an odd coincidence—there had been cave-ins before—or if it was somehow related to the asbestos abatement.

Jillian was buzzed on adrenalin, but stayed within the speed limit. It was rush hour so College Avenue was clogged—lots of people leaving the campus in cars and on bikes—but she was headed against that traffic. Of course, the light at Broadway caught her, and it was a long one. She used the time wisely.

First, she called Ginny, the dispatcher at ASU PD, and told her that she needed backup at the BAC Building. And she needed it now! She didn’t remember Roberts’ office number so she gave Ginny his full name. She called Wes again, and got his voicemail, again. She hung up and called his desk phone number. After five rings, someone picked-up.

“Sergeant Halliday, Tempe Police Department. Can I help you?”

At first, Jillian was confused because Doc had answered Wes’ phone. Then she was glad that he’d answered. “Doc, it’s Jillian. I have to talk to Wes. This is important, Doc.”

“OK. OK. Simmer down. I talked to him earlier and he said that when the trial was over for the day, he’d be in the judge’s chambers.“

“Shoot.” Her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled. “OK, Doc, listen…write this down, OK? I’m all-but-certain that Professor Roberts murdered Nelda Siemens. Wes will know who that is…Professor David Roberts.”

“Alright, got it…David Roberts.”

“He killed her in her Business building office and then transported her body across campus to her office in the English Department. And, he used the tunnels. Doc, do you know about the tunnels?”

“Ah…yeah, I know the tunnels. But aren’t they always locked up?”

“Yes, but not right now. They are under renovation…an asbestos abatement project.”

“Oh man.”

“I’m headed to Professor Robert’s office…I’m in my car now. It’s in a building called BAC. Wes will know it…we interviewed Roberts there. Tell Wes…and send back-up.”

“Got it. I never got to crash into a judge’s chambers before,” he said and chuckled.

When Jillian was quiet, Doc said, “I got this…I promise. Watch your back, Jillian.“

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and hoped that she’d told Doc everything…and that he’d get the info to Wes. The courts and the judges’ chambers were in the same building at the PD. Surely he would…

Jillian cleared Doc from her mind. She shook her head in amazement as she thought about the campus update she’d read earlier that morning, when she was working through her emails. Late last night, two goofy students—on a dare—jumped down into one of the tunnel cave-ins over on Palm Walk, near the overhead walkway that arches across University Avenue. The tunnel there was ten feet down, which was a long enough drop: one student broke her ankle. Another student—she hadn’t jumped—called the Campus Police. They got the injured coed out, and to Student Health Services.

Reading that story should have been the final piece of the puzzle, but it had been early in the day when Jillian was consciously NOT thinking about the case. She had been waiting for Ersula to arrive, and was pre-occupied with the Task Force report, so she just read the story about the ASU students, had a good laugh, and moved on.

It was the water pipe guys on College who had pulled it together for her. For whatever reason, when she saw the one who was chest-high in a ditch, that’s when she knew: ASU’s tunnels were open, unmonitored, and actually breached in several places. Jillian vaguely remembered that there were tunnels over at the MU…near the BAC. She didn’t remember where the breaches were, except for the one on Palm Walk…but it didn’t matter. So, that was the first part…there was more, of course…

The light turned and Jillian inch-wormed across Broadway; she was the third car back. She had to drive even more slowly because a pod of bikes had also been stopped at the traffic light, and they were wobbly as they started building up speed—there’s a slight rise when you’re headed in that direction…toward campus.

And worse, some of the cyclists who were guys, were passing others—it’s always guys who passed others—and edging out of the bike path and onto College, actually in traffic. Jillian couldn’t move over too much because of the solid line of oncoming cars, so she passed the bikes carefully, resisting the urge to blast them with her horn.

Once around them, she looked ahead and hoped that a train wouldn’t roll through and block her way. As she passed Daley Park, she knew she was good on that front.

Jillian pulled into the ASU PD parking lot, locked her car and headed at a fast walk to the traffic light at College and Apache It was red. Of course, it was red. “Come on, come on,” she kept saying. She had to wait for the light to turn green. She couldn’t even jaywalk because oncoming traffic leaving campus had a left turn arrow, and a steady stream of cars cut across her path.

Jillian was counting-down the seconds in the Walk/Don’t Walk control. When it hit 0, even before the light had changed, she was fast-walking across Apache. She continued to fast-walk past the parking structure—she even dashed in front of a car exiting there—and onto the main part of campus. As she passed between Discovery Hall and the Business Admin Building, she remembered only days ago she was driving her cart here and heading to the English Department and the beginning of all this business. Just as quickly, those thoughts disappeared as did thoughts of Professor Naremore, Professor Keefer, and all the rest. She was focused on what to do next.

Jillian took a right just passed the Business Building and headed between it and the MU. BAC was at an angle in front of her now. She took the stairs two at a time. She remembered that there was an office directory near the elevator on Professor Roberts’ floor; she’d get his office