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

at the table behind Professor Clement and ZZ was literally leaning-in toward them.

Professor Clement said, “As you can see, Jillian, everyone’s on edge about this.” She didn’t actually acknowledge the listeners at the nearby tables, but she didn’t have to…the lack of a conversational hum was noticeable. “What we all want to know is…is it possible that this a hate crime, as ZZ asked, or is it something that was specifically directed against Nelda?” She gestured toward the empty seats at their table and said, “Please, would you like to sit?”

Jillian wanted to diffuse the situation AND to allay their fears, so she remained standing, and without obviously addressing everyone at the nearby tables, spoke loudly enough so that her professors and the others could hear. “It’s too early in the investigation to know anything, but we really are on it. And, we have no reason to think that the larger ASU community is in any way at risk.”

Wes added, “And as for the university re-opening, that was the decision of the ASU administration, but I know that my chief at Tempe PD and Jillian’s chief at ASU PD were a part of that discussion. I can assure you that for both of them, the safety of everyone on this campus would have been a paramount factor in their recommendations…I know them…I can promise you that.”

There was silence, and a stillness, too, at their table and at the tables nearby…as if someone had hit a giant pause button’ in the restaurant. Even two people who were walking by, probably on their way of the restaurant, had stopped moving, somehow caught-up in the frozen moment.

Reading the situation, Wes said in a calm but definitive voice, “Honestly, it’s too early for us to know what happened…or why…but we will find whoever did this…and we will bring them in…it’s what we do,” he said, and included himself and Jillian with a hand movement.

The situation was still tense, but Jillian could almost feel some release.

Wes said, “It’s nice to meet you both. Jillian always has such positive comments about her time at ASU, including her professors.” She noticed that he referred to her as ‘Jillian,’ not ‘Jilly.’

Somehow, his comments did the trick...the conversations at nearby tables resumed—if a bit subdued—and even the people who’d been stopped while walking by were freed, as if from a trance, and headed toward the door.

A waiter arrived carrying the entrees, a salmon salad and a panini, for her professors. Jillian said, “We are doing some interviews on campus, so if I’m in Wilson Hall, I’ll come by and say hello.”

Professors Clement reiterated how glad she was to see Jillian, and said she hope she could come by for a chat. ZZ smiled, said, “yes, I hope you can visit,” but continued to have a wary look.

After they said their goodbyes, Jillian and Wes went to their table. Their placard was number 22. They talked quietly while they waited for their food to arrive.

Jillian asked, “Did I handle that OK?”

“I think so, yes. They’re expressing what a lot of people must be feeling…uncertainty, anxiety…fear. You know what, though, I think it may have helped that you’re on the case…they know you…and obviously, they like you. I think that helped.”

Outside the MU, they spotted a three-person TV crew interviewing passersby. A serious-looking woman reporter held a microphone toward a woman who could be either a professor or a staff person, while a guy filmed them with a shoulder-held camera. A third man, Jillian figured that maybe he was directing the sequence, completed the crew. They were standing midway between a side entrance to the MU and a large, circular fountain.

Jillian asked, “You think they’re here about Professor Siemens?”

“You bet. Can you route us away from them, Jilly…I’d rather not be interviewed just now.”

“OK, we’ll take a right here…then double back in a minute. But what if they see us?”

Out of the corner of his mouth, Wes said, “Try not to look like a detective.“

The traffic was light so it was about a ten-minute drive from Headquarters to ASU’s SkySong. As he turned off Scottsdale Road just before McDowell, Wes asked, “You ever been here before?”

“I’ve driven past it many times, but no. You?”

“Me either. Course…Jilly, do you remember back when this used to be Los Arcos Mall?”

“That’s a long time ago, so only a little. Tempe was less developed then, so my parents shopped at the mall a lot. And, if you remember, Harkins had movie theaters there…they showed a lot of foreign films, which my mom loves—especially French films—and she and I would go there some. I was young, so I wasn’t a big fan of foreign films, but I loved going with Mom…it was a ‘girls’ day out’ on the weekend kind of thing.”

Wes found a parking space and pointed to a building under and then through the large shade structure. “It’s this building over here.” As the exited the car, he said, “I still think it looks like the masts on a sailing ship. What was it the Business guy called it?”

Jillian thought for a couple of seconds, and then said, “He called it the ‘iconic shade structure.’ If you noticed, there’s another one a little like it outside the MU, where we ate…just a lot smaller.”

Wes nodded. Once inside the building, they walked to the bank of elevators and Wes pushed the up button. The elevator door opened immediately, and up they went to the 2nd floor. There was an information desk to the right of the elevator as they exited. Wes asked for Ms. Moser’s office, and a young man—probably a student—pointed past the elevator, told them to then take a right and they’d see her office.

They headed along a wide, open corridor. There were desks here and there, but they were scattered throughout the open corridor as were chairs and mini-couches. Up ahead, they saw an office with mainly glass walls…so that, in its own way, it was open like everything else.

Wes had called