Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Gray Cavender (motivational novels for students .TXT) 📖

Wes was interrupted by his desk phone ringing. He darted back to his office and answered the phone by the third ring. “Detective Sergeant Webb, Tempe Police Department.” He listened for maybe 20 seconds, then said, “That’s excellent…I owe you a drink, and thanks, Greg. Yes, perfect. Thanks again.”

Wes hung-up and called Jillian over to his office. As she took the proffered seat, she said, “That’s your smiley face, Wes. What’s up?”

“Happy days are here again,” he sang. “That was Greg Bromley…they’ve finished the forensics on Professor Siemens’ devices: cell phone, computers, laptops, the whole shebang. He’s sending me a PDF as we speak.” Almost on cue, Wes’ computer pinged. He pointed toward it.

“Wow. That was fast.”

“Yeah, you’re right. The thing is…Paul Miller—you remember Paul, he’s still Tempe PD’s legal advisor—anyway, he got immediate warrants on all of the Professor’s stuff, from car to condo to electronic devices. Paul’s how we got the Professor’s will so fast. Anyway, none of the Professor’s devices were encrypted. So…”

Jillian had worked with Wes for long enough to know that he’d print everything rather than work from computer screens. He wasn’t going paperless anytime soon. “Why don’t we get a conference room so we can spread out?”

“Sounds good,” he said, and hit print.

They snared a smaller conference room and Wes hung an “in use” sign on the door. They sat at a one-chair diagonal across from each other so they could spread out. They organized their materials and were both quickly ‘in the zone.’

An hour passed, then part of another. They read quietly, the only noise in the room was the turning of pages, pens scratching across paper, the occasional swoosh of Jillian’s yellow highlighter, and the on’s and off’s of the air conditioner. At some point, sandwiches appeared. Jillian had a fizzy water and a turkey and swiss on wheat (she thought, because she ate without really noticing). Wes ate, too, but she couldn’t say what.

Jillian smiled now and then as she read. At these times, she wrote more quickly and underlined her print-out. At other times, she pursed her lips or even went wide-eyed, and her note-taking became more aggressive. She underlined, sometimes in pen, sometimes with her highlighter. Once, she took a restroom break, and called Grace Wilson while she was out of the conference room.

When Jillian finished her reading, she looked up, stretched her neck and shoulders, and saw Wes smiling at her. He asked, “You done?”

She nodded “yes,” then asked, “How long have you been finished?”

“Five minutes at most,” he said. “I don’t know if you’d call this a treasure trove, but I’m excited.”

“Go for it.“

“OK,” Wes said. “Well, first of all, Professor Siemens doesn’t much seem to have deleted her texts…she just keeps responding…keeps them going…and, there are a lot of them…calls and texts. Looking through the calls and syncing them with names, we have many business-related calls—I’m assuming they’re business-related—to people all over the US...internationally, too. Most of these people are other professors, although a fair number are with non-profits, foundations, and businesses. I take it that these are the paid boards and affiliations that the Skysong woman mentioned.”

“Moser…Miriam Moser. I tracked the same thing.”

“Right. Now, there were a couple of calls with Jonathan Keefer—both from him—this was over a period of months. There are more calls, again, especially from him, after that conference where their affair started-up.”

He checked his notes again. “There were quite a few calls from David Roberts late in the spring, and basically none during the summer…that’s when she was out of town. Then, there are a couple from him in late summer after she returned. And, no calls to or from President Davidos, but there were several to and from his staff…again, none to or from him directly. And as for her former lovers—the professor at the downtown Phoenix campus and the other guy, the lawyer—any calls from them were way back in the spring…nothing since. Oh yeah, and some Amazon restaurant deliveries…a professor’s gotta eat,” he smiled.

Wes shifted to a different set of print-outs. “Now, the texts are more revealing. Just as an example, there’s a bunch of texts between the Professor and Miriam Moser. Moser said they were friends and their texts bear that out…arranging get-togethers, observations about this or that, comments about dates they’d been out on (some with accompanying fireworks),” he looked-up and smiled, “…and some business-related communication…mostly Skysong stuff. But, the most important texts are with Roberts and Keefer.”

Wes sorted the papers into several different piles. “Roberts first. Lovey-dovey messages back in the spring, then, radio silence. I assume this is when they broke-up. Later in the summer when Siemens was away, some ‘hope your trip is going well’ texts. There also was a ‘welcome home’ text.”

Wes raised his index finger for emphasis. OK, there were more texts from Roberts over the last two weeks. They were fairly generic, although one mentions missing Professor Siemens and he invites her to dinner. She answers that she was booked for the next couple of nights, but says ‘maybe another time.’ Several days later there’s another dinner invite from Roberts…this one she accepts. There’s another text arranging the details: Roberts picked her up. The day after, there’s a text where he says ‘last night seemed like old times.’’ She responds with a smiley emoji. Then, another dinner invite from him…she declines. A couple of movie invites from him…she accepts one of these.”

Wes looked up and added, “I hope I’m clear that on all of these texts, Roberts is the one doing the inviting. Seems like maybe he’s trying to get them back together.”

Jillian nodded. “There are some emails along those lines, too.”

“Right. OK, on to Professor Keefer. There are only two texts in the months before their Montreal get-together, and that goes all the way back to the spring. Both are about arrangements for professors who are visiting ASU…things like what time to pick-up them up at their hotel…or that they’re running late for dinner.”

Wes glanced down to