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

meds that were indicators of an up-scale life. The only really noteworthy item in the master bath was a box of condoms in a drawer. Jillian and Wes exchanged looks, but said nothing. The other bath down the hall—obviously for guests—was well-stocked: unopened toothbrushes, a fresh tube of toothpaste, a hair dryer, a razor and a travel size can of shave cream. There were even house slippers—like in a pricy hotel—still in their original wrap.

A closet next to the guest bath held a mid-size washer/dryer in a single unit. Given the garment bags, Jillian wondered how much the professor used the unit.

They’d moved back to the master bedroom. Wes said, “I see nothing. You?”

“No. I only wish my place was so neat.”

Wes laughed. “Yeah, I think the Professor must have a weekly house cleaner, not someone every other week. Which reminds me, we’ll need to find out who her cleaner is and interview them. In the meantime, I’m calling-in Angel and her team.”

Jillian nodded.

“OK Jilly, you’re closer to the university types than me. Can a prof, even a business prof…” he added with emphasis, “…afford a place like this…the condo, the clothes, the furniture, the art…the whole nine yards?”

“Well, as I said earlier, I know that business professors earn more than professors in the social sciences or the humanities. But still…this condo…?” Jillian remember when she bought her condo, what it cost, how she had to think and rethink the money. And even then, her parents had helped with the down payment.

They returned to the living room and gave it a last once-over. The management company rep was standing just outside the doorway in the hall, texting. He ended this when he saw them coming. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to tell me, but did you see anything important?”

Wes answered, “Not really. But, the forensics team from Tempe PD will still come over, probably later today, or first thing tomorrow morning at the latest. They’ll call ahead, but can you or someone let them in?”

“Yes, of course. Will it be like on TV…you know, a room full of people dusting for prints, taking photos, and all that?”

Wes laughed, “Some of that, sure, although this place looks to be unrelated to the crime, at least on the surface. I know they will remove some of the items in here…her laptop for sure, but things like that. And they’ll have a proper search warrant.”

Sarsour nodded. “Understood.”

Wes asked, “By the way, have you ever met Professor Siemens?”

“I don’t think so. My division is more involved in management than in sales.” He paused, then said, “But, I have met you, Detective Sergeant Warne. Although you probably won’t remember me.”

“Really, when?” she asked, trying to recall him.

”We had a class together. At ASU. I was a Management major, but enrolled in a Justice Studies class…about regulating corporate crime.”

“Professor Naremore’s class. Yes…it was a senior class.”

“That’s the one. I had some room for electives and since it was about regulation, I thought it would be interesting.”

“OK…” Jillian said, and studied Mr. Sarsour.”

“Sometimes, the Professor could be very opinionated. And that allowed the students to voice strong opinions, as well.”

Jillian smiled and nodded. “Mr. Sarsour, did l voice strong opinions?”

“No, quite the contrary. A student in the class made several derogatory comments about Muslims…and as a Muslim, I was offended. But before I could respond to her, you did. You were polite, but…critiqued her. You referred to her views as, and I quote, ‘unsupported stereotypes.’ It was such a relief not to have to engage the student, which is why I recall it all in such detail.”

Jillian said, “You know, I do recall that exchange. But, I’ll bet if I hadn’t said what I did, Professor Naremore would have.” Jillian thought to herself that she did remember the student’s slur and vaguely that she’d responded, although she didn’t remember any specifics…at all. And maybe, just maybe she remembered this man. She couldn’t be sure.

“No doubt. Still, you are the one who came to my aid that day and dismissed her negative stereotypes. So, thank you.”

Jillian smiled, and nodded.

Wes grinned, too, then said, “By the way, Mr. Sarsour, Detective Sergeant Warne and I are trying to get a sense of the whole picture involving Professor Siemens, and we wondered what a condo like this would sell for.”

“Well, as I said, I’m not in sales…but, I know that these condos go from over half a million to almost two, depending… The two-bedroom units are the least expensive, of course. There also are some four-bedroom units…they’re the most expensive, especially if they have a view of the lake…all the lakefront views are more expensive than those on this side of the building. This one…I’d guess this unit would have a price point at well over a million. It’s not a lake view, but it is a larger three-bedroom. And of course there’s a HOA fee as well.”

Wes and Jillian thanked him again on the elevator ride down. Wes reminded him that the forensics team would be coming by. Jillian said it was nice to see him again.

During the drive back to headquarters, Jillian looked over at Wes, who was smiling. “What,” she asked.

“Just that even during your undergrad days you were still stirring things up…righting wrongs, you know?”

Jillian started to say something, stopped herself, then simply said, “Yes,” and smiled.

They talked, speculating again on how Professor Siemens could have afforded such an expensive condo.

Wes parked and they entered Headquarters through the basement. He used a key pad code to enter the building, then upstairs he swiped his ID to gain them entry to the first floor where the Homicide Division was located. Jillian smiled and slowed a bit when she looked around the familiar hallway: same photos on the walls—Tempe police officers on horses, on motorcycles, and pictures from long ago with old-timey police cars, including a kind of precursor to today’s SUV. Jillian wondered if those old police cars might have been from the same time period as