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

“Do you want to come along?”

“I don’t think so…we need a division of labor to move things along. Also, after I talk with the Professor’s other love interests, I want to mobilize more uniforms—with Peter Voss in the lead—to canvas the neighbors at the Professor’s condo. I need to check in with him anyway…he was going to track down the Professor’s car, and Angel and the team were going to give it a going over…and I want to see where we are there.” He tapped the wheel again, then said, “I think the Professor’s office at SkySong is not relevant…it was totally empty.”

“I agree.”

“I’m also thinking that since he knows you, Naremore might be more forthcoming if you interview him without me there. By the way, what IS the story on Professor Naremore?”

“Well, as I said, I had him for several classes...”

“Inducing the one where you spoke-up for Mr. Sarsour.”

“This is embarrassing, Wes, but I don’t remember much about that. And, to the degree that I do, I remember more about the insulting comments that the other student made than about what I said in response…I’m not even sure that I even remember Mr. Sarsour.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on him, and that’s good. So, Naremore?

“OK, so in addition to a couple of his classes, like I said, he was a member of my undergraduate honors thesis committee and he was also on my graduate project committee. Actually, he’s a pretty interesting guy, Wes. He grew-up in the Bay Area, although he always emphasized it was the East Bay. He was fairly poor, but he was a really good athlete. What’s unusual is that he’s an African American man, and his sport was tennis…he even went to UC Berkeley on a tennis scholarship.

“So, an Arthur Ashe type…hmm.”

“Wes, just because he’s a black tennis player…”

Wes interrupted, “Yeah, no…I mean, Arthur Ashe was an African-American tennis player, but that’s not why I made the comparison. Ashe was a lot more than just an athlete…although he was a great tennis player. But he also was a vocal opponent of apartheid in South Africa…he was an AIDS activist…and he was a writer. So, yeah, he was a star athlete, but he was all of those other things, too. And from what you’re saying, Naremore went from being an athlete to being a professor.”

“OK, I understand, and you’re right. I don’t know all the details about his college tennis career, but do know that after graduating, he stayed on at Cal and go his PhD in Jurisprudence and Social Policy.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a law and society-type program. But, instead of getting a law degree, you get a PhD. Professor Naremore’s area is corporate crime and regulation. He wrote a book about Enron.”

“Really. That seems interesting.”

“It’s a very good book. Also, he’s ‘out.’ His partner’s also a professor…in Geography, I think. I know his name,” Jillian grimaced, “just can’t recall it right now. Anyway, they are an amazing couple...a real academic power couple. First, they’re both tall men, and they’re seriously cool…fashionable, just…different. So, Professor Naremore is a tall, good looking African American man, and his partner is a tall, good looking Brit. So, you have these two tall guys, one black, one white, both very stylish, but very different looks: Professor Naremore is ‘California cool,’ and the other guy…Griffiths, his name is Russell Griffiths…he’s cool in a British way. I think they met at Cambridge…Professor Naremore did some sort of a graduate certificate at Cambridge University.”

“They do seem interesting. And Professor Naremore…he was helpful on your projects?”

“Very much so, yes. Sometimes, he’s intimidating because he’s so smart…but he’s also really positive, always upbeat.”

Wes maneuvered the car into a parking space. Then he said, “UC Berkeley. As in The Republic of Berkeley. That’s’ got to be the most liberal place in the US. Did he have any problems when you started working at Tempe PD?”

“No…not at all…he even wrote a letter of reference for the job at the Research Division. Of course, this was several years ago. He always seemed to be accepting of people who either already were or wanted to go into law enforcement. Justice Studies didn’t get many students like that, but he was always welcoming of students from the Crim program on the downtown campus. They seemed to enjoy his classes, although I imagine it was a challenge…they had to think more abstractly, a lot more theoretically in his classes. I always had a sense that he really liked having people from other departments…he made everyone feel as if his class was the place you needed to be.”

“Like Mr. Sarsour?”

Jillian nodded. “Yes, him too...a Business major.”

“Well, you obviously like Professor Naremore…let’s just hope you don’t have to arrest him.”

“Wes…”

It seemed genuinely strange to Jillian to be entering Wilson Hall…something she hadn’t done in a while, yet something she’d done a zillion times. She walked up the steps to the second floor, the door was open—it always was during business hours—and pretty much as always, a couple of students were seated at the cafeteria-style table under the windows, 10 yards in front of her, facing the doorway she’d just entered. They were working together…reading something on an open laptop. They glanced up at her and smiled. Jillian didn’t know them, which wasn’t surprising since she’d graduated more than two years ago, but it still felt…she felt a little homesick. She smiled in return as they lowered their heads back to the screen. She turned toward the left side of the hallway. The Justice Studies faculty filled the left and right halls of the second floor.

Jillian had emailed Professor Naremore as soon as she and Wes had arrived back at Headquarters. He’d answered quickly—he seemed to live on social media…email, Facebook, now probably Instagram and the rest and, really, all of the above. In her message, she said that she was working on the investigation into Professor Siemens’ death and would appreciate any guidance he could