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

a stop, she answered, “I think these are named after donors. If you donate enough money, you have your name on a building.”

“Maybe we could go in and pool our money and have one called Webb-Warne Hall. Or, if you’d prefer, we could make it Warne-Webb Hall. Hey, we could have them name the ASU PD Building after us. What do you think? You in, Jilly?”

“I don’t think we have that kind of money, Wes. I’ll bet you have to have a cool mil even to talk about it.”

“It’s like the sports stadiums. The taxpayers pay the bill, but some corporation gets naming rights, till they get sucked-up in a merger or brought down in a scandal. And viola, there’s a new stadium name. And then, the team threatens to move unless they get a new stadium. The taxpayers are supposed to pay for that, too.” He shook his head in disgust.

Jillian had stopped the cart about twenty yards short of University. Wes hopped out and said, “OK, I’m off to the bureaucracy wars. When you finish over in English, you know in Vanderbilt-Rockefeller Hall, text me and we’ll connect-up.”

“Will do, Wes.”

“Drive carefully, Jilly. Don’t get a ticket for speeding. Although I don’t know how much horsepower this baby has,” he laughed and pointed at the golf cart. “It’s no Batmobile.”

Jillian slowed the cart for the left turn just before the MU. Although there were only a handful of students out and about, one of them, a guy, flagged her down.

“Sorry to stop you. But could you tell me what’s going on? I got the alert about closing campus…but I’m a graduate student and I need to pick-up some books at the library that I ordered through inter-library loan. I got an email a little while ago that they’re in. Do I really have to leave campus?”

“Yes, you should. There’s been a serious crime on campus and an investigation is underway…that’s why the campus is closed...evening classes, too…so, yes.”

“I really need those books…for my thesis. I mean, is it safe to be here?”

“It should be, yes, but I’d suggest that you get them and then leave immediately. And you know what, I don’t even know if the library will still be open…given the campus closure.”

“Guess I’ll run give it a try. But then one way or the other, I’ll leave immediately,” he said, as if promising Jillian.

“Good luck,” Jillian smiled. She felt sorry for they guy…he looked sad and confused.

As Jillian started-up again, she wondered why he’d stopped her. She thought, “Guess I don’t look like a student…although I don’t think I look that much older...the guy was a grad student. Maybe it’s the cart…maybe anyone driving a cart comes across as an authority figure.“

She drove on. There were fewer and fewer people now, and most of them were walking quickly.

Jillian entered Ross-Blakely Hall and crossed directly to the English Department office. The atrium area was all but deserted. She asked directions at the front desk and the woman, who was probably a staff person…definitely not a student like earlier…pointed left and then right.

Grace Wilson’s desk was in an alcove off to one side. When she saw Jillian, she stood and said, “Come with me, please, Detective Sergeant Warne. We’ll sit in one of the Enclave offices; that’ll afford us some privacy.” Jillian could hear activity in a nearby office, and could see into another one where someone was putting books into a rolling backpack; she seemed to be packing-up to leave for the day.

Jillian followed Grace Wilson out of the departmental offices and back through the glass doors that she’d entered earlier. They didn’t take the stairs this time, though. Instead, Wilson led them down the hall. Off to the right, Jillian could see a large, open area filled with desks and carrels and huge windows that looked out onto the former law school. They’d been so busy earlier that she hadn’t even noticed it. It was empty now.

Grace Wilson stopped at the first office marked Enclave. It was a small room and it contained a desk and four chairs. The front was all glass. She motioned Jillian in first, then closed the door behind her after she entered.

Grace Wilson was a small, trim woman. Seated opposite her, Jillian noticed that the dress that she’d thought was simply blue actually contained flecks of material of the same blue color. It was a beautiful dress. Her complexion was beautiful, as well. Her hair was cut short and looked great, too. To Jillian’s mind, Grace Wilson looked like a million dollars.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask, would you like some coffee or tea? Maybe water?”

Jillian held-up her purple Hydro Flask. “I’ve lived in Arizona all my life…I always carry water. Thank you, though, and thank you for staying…for still being here. Your building is obviously clearing-out…and so’s the campus.”

“Well, yes…you and Detective Sergeant Webb said you’d be returning for more interviews, and I thought I should wait. Obviously, this is important. And, I had a few other things that needed tending. I’ll leave after that.”

“Thank you...and yes, it is important. When you’re in an investigation, the quicker you get started, the better. By the way, is it Dr. Wilson?”

No, it’s Ms. I’m staff, not faculty.”

“But you’re the Assistant Chair.”

“Yes, but I hold a staff position.”

“What are your duties…as Assistant Chair?”

“There is a great deal to do,” she laughed. Essentially, I manage the daily workings of the English Department. That includes budgetary oversight, some involvement in the scheduling of classes…oversight again to insure we offer the necessary curriculum each semester, and I oversee the staff, which is large…we’re a very large department…over seventy faculty, and dozens of lecturers and instructors.”

“Wow, that sounds like a lot.”

“It keeps me busy. As I’m sure your job does.”

“Yes, it does, and I should get to it…so you can finish your other work and get out of here.” Jillian smile as she opened her IPAD, then said, “So, obviously we’re interviewing people, trying to get a