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

in a closet off from the copier room. It was late so there was not a soul about.”

He shrugged again. “I literally pushed her on the dolly to the elevator, then it was down to the basement. I unhooked the bungee cord and used it to lower first her body and then the dolly into the tunnel. The lights were on down there, the directions plainly marked, and it took no time at all to get over to Ross-Blakey.”

He took a sip from a water bottle. “Now, getting her up out of that tunnel, that was the toughest part. But I managed it. I used the building key from her purse, took the elevator, and then used her office key.

Roberts was a little livelier now, less flat. “I staged the scene. I switched the paperweights.” He smiled as if he was especially pleased with himself.

“Then, I simply retraced my steps in the tunnel. I looked all along the way, trying to be sure that I hadn’t left any tell-tale signs, you know, blood stains or the like. I’d brought that other paperweight—the one from English—and put it on her file cabinet. I cleaned-up her office, which was fairly easy because, although she had bled quite a bit, it was mostly on the plastic runner under her office chair. I googled how to clean blood off plastic. Mostly, I just wiped it clean with paper towel. There was some ammonia in the storage closet and I used some of that, too. And then, just to be on the safe side, I turned her A/C cooler to blow out the smell.”

He looked away briefly, as if trying to remember the remaining details. “Let’s see, I returned the dolly to the closet after wiping it down, too. The garment bag was bloody so I tossed it in a dumpster on my way home, along with the paper towels that I’d used. And when I got home, I changed clothes, went out again, and tossed everything—every stitch—in a different dumpster further from my house. Oh yeah, and I took a long shower when I got home.”

He was quiet, then said, “And that’s pretty much it.”

Jillian and Wes had been absolutely quiet during his monologue. It was very still and silent when Roberts finished until Wes broke the silence. “Why did you run away from Detective Sergeant Warne…why’d you re-enter the tunnels?”

He nodded, almost as if to himself. “So, when I was getting into the elevator, someone called…I thought they were calling my name…but wasn’t sure. When I got to the ground floor, I tried to hurry away, but not appear to be running away…you know what I mean?”

Wes and Jillian nodded, automatically.

“But then I heard someone call me again, and I knew it was her.” He nodded toward Jillian but continued to look at Wes. “I knew there was something up…I wasn’t sure exactly what, just something was different in her voice. I guess I panicked. I thought if I could just get away from her, I’d figure-out what to do. I was just trying to buy some time. But then she had to come after me…down below.”

He finally looked at Jillian, angry at her, as if this was all her fault.

Jillian responded with a question. “Did you check to see if the Professor was alive when you were still in BAC?”

“I checked for a pulse, and thought she was dead, but it’s really hard to tell. I just assumed so.”

Wes asked, “And your prints and DNA on the paperweight?”

“I wiped it clean. Really clean. I mean, I watch CSI.”

Jillian asked, “What about the blood on the floor in English?”

“Yeah, well, once I got her there, I hit her again…I had to generate more blood, didn’t I? I held the paperweight with some tissues from her desk, and then also smeared some of the blood from it on the floor, and on other surfaces in there…like the seat on her chair after I knocked it over… you know, places like that. But, I tried to wipe-off my prints from that paperweight to remove any…what do you guys call it, ‘trace evidence.’ I mean, I really tried.”

He shrugged, almost as if he was embarrassed, but that quickly disappeared and he seemed pleased with the rendition of the story. He was almost smug.

The room was quiet again. It seemed to Jillian that never once had Roberts actually said the Professor’s name.

Again, it was Wes who broke the silence, “Almost worked,” he said. And smiled, but only with his mouth.

Roberts responded with his intense stare.

In the time that followed, Jillian received two commendations: a general one from ASU, and another, more specific one from ASU PD. These were displayed in the hallway of the ASU Police Department along with other awards for individual officers and for the Department. Her two awards book-ended the Department’s International Association of Campus Law Enforcement Administration Award.

She also experienced one reality check. A few days after all of the hubbub died down, Al called her into his office. He got to the point right away.

“Jillian, what you did was great…figuring everything out, and then taking him down like that… But, I don’t like it that you did all this alone…not for your own safety, not for the case. I don’t like it that you went to Roberts’ office by yourself, much less that you pursued him down in the tunnels. We talked about this once before…you make up your mind and go for it, but sometimes…”

He held up his hand to stop her from speaking. “I know what you’re going to say…you called for back-up, from us and from Wes, which is smart…still, you didn’t wait for it.”

Without asking permission, Jillian sat in a chair. She felt deflated, and worried that she was about to be in trouble.

Al stepped from around his desk and scooted the other chair so that it was a little further away from Jillian, but angled toward her.

“Jillian, I’m not saying you’re a rogue cop…nothing like that. It’s