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

Jillian and Georgia became sparing partners in Chai’s judo class. Georgia had a fierce intensity that scared Jillian but also impressed her. Still, Jillian knew some advanced counter moves so that she could beat her, although Georgia was learning fast.

Sarah Wells delivered a healthy baby girl. When Jillian visited them at their home, Sarah gave a mock introduction. “Jillian, meet my daughter, Ruth…Ruth, meet my friend, Jillian.”

“She’s precious, Sarah. Is she named Ruth someone in your family?”

“No, come on…I’m a woman lawyer. It’s an homage to RBG.”

Lt. Linda Timms completed and defended her dissertation. Jillian attended the defense, and Chief McCaslin was there, too. Everyone went out for a champagne celebration afterward. Graduation was still a few weeks away, but already people were calling her Dr. Timms.

Jillian had caught a case involving a string of IPAD thefts. The thefts were mostly in Hayden and the other libraries across campus, although interestingly, there had been a similar spate of thefts in the libraries at ASU’s other campuses, as well. There seemed to be some sort of organization behind the thefts. She’d been interfacing with Ersula and the Crim Intel division at Tempe PD, and had been using the data bases from ASU PD, too. Jillian thought she was starting to see a pattern.

She had been conducting another round of interviews at Hayden Library and felt that she was closing in. Her interviews completed for the day, she exited the library and had just walked-up that long flight of steps to the ground level.

Spring semester was winding down. The spring flowers were long gone, and there already had been several 100-degree days. It was mid-afternoon so the band that had been playing over by the MU when she had entered Hayden Library was gone.

Jillian looked over toward Wilson Hall…it was second nature for her to look over there. The back door to Wilson opened and Wes stepped out…at least she thought it was Wes, but couldn’t be sure. There is a low-hanging portico at that small back entrance so it was a bit dark, and her view was partially blocked by a concrete column. The man stepped forward, and looked carefully to his left where a blind spot blocks a view of oncoming bikers.

Once safely out on the sidewalk, he turned toward Jillian, who was standing maybe 30 yards away at the top of the steps. It was Wes. He saw her then, and waved.

She was happy to see him. They gave a quick hug.

“Were you in Wilson Hall?”

“Yes, I was visiting Ian Naremore,“ he answered as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Really, why?”

“Oh, I’d seen a UTube video from back when he was playing serious tennis…this would have been in his college days. That guy was some kind of competitor.”

“So, you were there to talk about tennis? With Ian, Professor Naremore?” She gave Wes her most incredulous look.

“Well, that and some other stuff.” He smiled, then said, “Not to change the subject, Jilly, but I sorta miss you. How about a drink at Postinos…after work?”

The End