Other
Read books online » Other » Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Gray Cavender (motivational novels for students .TXT) 📖

Book online «Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Gray Cavender (motivational novels for students .TXT) đŸ“–Â». Author Gray Cavender



1 ... 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 ... 146
Go to page:
bottles of wine or champagne
there were slots for eight bottles. They were mostly Spanish or French (including the champagne) with a couple of labels from California sprinkled-in. Jillian was not familiar with the French or the Spanish wines. She thought she’d heard of a California wine that was definitely out of her price range
would even be out of her mom’s, and she was a wine buff. Toward the end of the counter, there was a wooden holder with a set of high-end cooking knives, a complicated-looking coffee maker, and a coffee bean grinder. A wicker basket held neatly stacked take-out menus from restaurants in Tempe and Scottsdale, although there were no phone numbers anywhere for delivery services
Jillian figured the Professor had phone aps for those. Although there was a lot of stuff on the counter, it was large enough that it looked uncluttered. The pantry cabinets held the usual assortment of stuff, like granola and muesli.

The office was next. On a trim desk under the largest window was a Mac Mini (screen closed), a small printer and a scanner. A coffee table held several business-oriented magazines and a short stack of New York Times and Wall Street Journal newspapers. A two-shelve bookcase held several novels (mostly New York Times bestsellers), two Ayn Rand novels, and copies of the books about Rand that Professor Siemens had written. The novels were on the top shelf. The lower shelf was stocked with popular business practitioner-type non-fiction titles. All books were in hard cover.

A two-drawer wooden file cabinet stood in near the corner and the closet. The file cabinet and bookcase were a matched set
even the same height. Jillian opened the drawers of the file cabinet. They contained several plastic folders, all with computer-generated labels in a large font. Jillian fingered through the files without removing them. Some held typed notes, and from the file labels probably were for Rand-related courses that the Professor taught. Others held reprints of academic articles—all hers—and a draft of what maybe was an article that she was writing. Another folder contained correspondence about the upcoming Rand symposium that Professor Billy Gilroy had mentioned. All in all, there wasn’t much paper in either drawer
Jillian figured that she must have had most of her work on her computer.

Everything in the office was neat and orderly from the plastic file folders (and their labels) in different colors—suggesting some sort of organization—to the placement of the magazines and newspapers on the coffee table. There were two chairs, one scooted neatly under her desk and the other beside the bookcase. Jillian knelt to see the identifying labels—both read Herman Miller, although they were different models. She thought she’d heard that company named as a sponsor on NPR. She snapped more photos.

The closet held casual clothes
jeans, several light jackets of different weights, sweats (tops and bottoms), tennis shoes, even a pair of hiking boots.

A more recent photo of the man from the living room photo—Jillian assumed her dad—was on top of the file cabinet. He was still smiling, although he was older in this photo. He looked to be on a hike: he held a hiking staff and was standing in a wooded area. The sleeves of some kind of jacket were tied around his neck, and he was wearing a USC baseball cap.

A second framed photo rested on top of the small bookcase. Professor Siemens and a man were pictured, their hands on a plaque, smiling to the camera. Jillian assumed that that the plaque was an award, and for some reason—maybe because of her wide smile—that Professor Siemens was the recipient. In the photo, the Professor was wearing a dark blue dress. It had a V neck and a bloused waist line. Jillian couldn’t tell anything about the material—the photo included more of their bodies so it was shot from a bit further away—but the dress was elegant and commanded the viewer’s attention.

There was no way to know her height—that would come later from morgue data—but the Professor was three or four inches shorter than the man. Her physique was rounded and curvy, but not heavy. Brown, curly hair hung to mid-neck. She was well-coiffed and her make-up was expertly done. Professor Siemens was not stereotypically pretty, but was very attractive. She looked to be roughly the same age as what Jillian had originally thought: late 30s to her early 40s. So, despite the longer hair style, this must be a fairly recent photo. As she looked at the photo, Jillian thought about this same woman lying on the floor in her office in the English Department. She sighed. She said nothing to Wes although he’d seen her looking at the photo. They headed to the bedroom.

The master bedroom was equally neat. It was dominated by a queen-sized bed with a beautiful tan duvet. She photographed the labels. The bedroom reminded Jillian of the occasional ‘staycation’ when she was a kid and the family would go to a resort at the edge of Scottsdale. The city had spread and today those resorts were now well-within the city’s border.

The bedroom comfortably accommodated a large chest-of-drawers, a matching dresser, and two chairs, all of which looked as if they were pulled from the glossy pages of an interior design magazine. Another painting and two prints—again, both with low numbers—were perfectly placed, all in light, pastel colors that complimented the room perfectly.

The walk-in closet contained a large selection of suits and dresses, skirts, dressy pants, blouses, shoes, and hand bags. Most of the clothing, the shoes and bags were in labels that Jillian knew, but didn’t own. Some of the clothes—especially suits and dresses—were encased in garment bags from a Tempe dry cleaner that specialized in “green cleaning.” Wes worked his way over to the closet, glanced in, whistled and rubbed his forefinger and thumb together in a ‘money’ gesture.

Both bathrooms were equally spotless. The bath connected to the master bedroom was obviously the Professor’s. The vanity and drawers contained the usual creams, cosmetics, and

1 ... 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 ... 146
Go to page:

Free ebook «Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Gray Cavender (motivational novels for students .TXT) đŸ“–Â» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment