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

told Jillian that it was an excellent first draft, and that because she was ahead of schedule, there was more than enough time to complete the next draft by the end of the month. Still, Jillian left Carolyn’s office feeling really low. BUT, she did get the next draft in by the end of the month. There still were lots of red marks on the revised draft, but not as many. And, a year-and-a half later, a greatly shortened and heavily edited version of her honors thesis was published in Feminist Criminology, or Fem Crim, as Carolyn called the journal.

Wes returned with some forms, including a temporary password so that Jillian could access Tempe PD’s WYFY system. He also had a form for her photo, which Wes had arranged to be taken now. He walked with her to another part of the building for that, and as they walked, told her that they were set to meet Professor David Roberts at Professor Siemens’ BAC office in an hour and a half.

That worked-out well because it gave Jillian time to meet with Andrew Paxton, the English student. Before he arrived, though, she still had time to tell Wes about her real google homework.

She described the price of the Professor’s home office chairs AND of her art collection. His eyes went wide when she told him about the $20K painting.

He said, “So, in addition to the little matter of how a professor could afford a million-dollar plus condo, we have to add-in the issue of the rest of her lifestyle…and her champagne tastes.”

“I knew her pricy art collection would get your attention.”

“Yes, indeed.” He scrunched up his mouth, then said, “This is probably a long shot, but given all of the Professor’s high-end stuff, I’d like to have a look at her will. She’s obviously worth a lot…could be a motive.”

“Good idea.”

Wes said, “Oh, and I’m sure you noticed that ASU re-opened for business…”

“Yes, I saw the announcement last night before I went to bed. By the way, I’m meeting with Andrew Paxton in a little while…he’s the English student I told you about…want to be in on that?”

Wes thought, then said, “Better not. I’m going to get with Angel and see if there’s anything new from the lab.”

“Sounds good…and I should have plenty of time with Paxton before we have to leave for the interview with Professor Roberts.“

Soon, her desk phone (Eduardo’s phone) buzzed. “You have a guest here at Reception, Detective Sergeant Warne,” the caller said.

Jillian was surprised that anyone knew that she was at Eduardo’s desk. But then, she said, “Is that you, Joy?”

“Yes indeed, and welcome back, Detective Sergeant,” she said these words with emphasis…then laughed. I had an email—we all did—that you’re back and using Eduardo Lin’s desk. It’s nice to know your up there…even if it’s just for a while. So, would you like me to send Mr. Paxton up?”

“No, I’ll ride down and get him…and say hi to you. See you in a second.”

Jillian took the elevator to the lobby, said hello to Joy, then greeted Andrew Paxton, and showed him her identification. On the ride up, she said, “Thanks for coming in, Mr. Paxton.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I had much choice…”

“Still, we appreciate it. We’re interviewing people with any connections to Professor Siemens.”

“You mean people with bad connections,” he said, lifting his chin as if making a point. ”This is about our grievance?”

“Yes, that and the walkout.”

“Thought so. What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters, why don’t you tell me about it?”

The elevator door opened and they walked along the hall, Jillian in the lead…she was heading for the first open interrogation room. Almost as if by silent agreement, neither spoke till Paxton was seated.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Paxton?”

“Yeah, I’d take a bottle of water.”

“O.K. I’ll be right back.”

She returned in less than a minute, hung an “In Use” sign on the doorknob, and closed the door behind her.

Paxton had taken a seat facing the door. Although he was quiet, his right hand was taping against the table, although he stopped when she re-entered the room. Jillian thought that his fairly brash demeanor was meant to mask his nervousness.

As she sat, Jillian scooted the small water bottle across the desk. “You were going to tell me about your run-in with Professor Siemens…”

Even seated, Paxton was tall. When they were on the elevator, Jillian estimated his height as a good 6 feet, maybe even a little taller. He seemed on the thin side, but probably that was because he was so tall. He was very pale and had close-cropped hair, almost like a military haircut. His most notable feature was several large tattoos. These were on both arms, and they ran from his forearms to where they disappeared under his short sleeve shirt.

Paxton’s tats were large and bold and in a blue-black ink. Jillian thought they were lightning bolts, but realized that they were just angular, jagged designs. At first glance, they appeared to be alike, but on closer inspection she realized that the tat on his right arm was a mirror opposite of that on the left arm.

She remembered that he was graduating senior, but he looked to Jillian to be a little older than a typical college senior…maybe 25 or 26.

“Not a lot to tell,” he said as he unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. Jillian notice the absence of any “thanks” or any kind of acknowledgement for the water.

“Mostly, I’d say it was just an example of white privilege.” His expression was as if showing disdain…for Professor Siemens, maybe for her, for Jillian…she couldn’t tell. Paxton took a loud sip of water, then held on to the bottle.

He continued, “In class…this was the second class—she just handed-out the syllabus at the first class—she was telling us not to expect any favors because of our color or gender.”

“She actually said that?”

“Well, not in so many words, but basically, that was her point…yeah. So, the three of us just