“One of our sources said that there was an article in The Chronicle of Higher Education about the topic?”
“Yes, I’m aware of THE ARTICLE,” he emphasized the words. “I think it’s taken on the air of some sort of a bogy-man…out there lurking…I don’t know.” He shook his head in, either in disgust or just dismissal…Jillian couldn’t tell which. “I have never actually seen the story because it hasn’t been published, at least not to date. The putative author is a mystery, too.”
“Professor Seay,” Wes asked, “Is the situation with Rand and the Koch Brothers….whatever it is…is this something that people were deeply angry about, angry enough…” he didn’t complete the sentence, just opened his right hand.
“I would not have thought so. People have a right to their opinions…I understand the opposition…I do…although I think it’s been blown out of all proportion, as is so much these days. Do I think someone would be so fired-up as to attack Nelda, no, I cannot imagine any sane professor doing anything that…that hurtful.”
Jillian continued, “What about in your department or in the Business College generally…did she OR the Center for Ayn Rand Studies have any enemies, any particularly vocal opposition?“
“Not so much, no. The idea of being business-oriented…that’s what we do. It’s our raison d’etre. No, my sense was that most of the opposition came from elsewhere. Some in English…I guess that was to be expected because Nelda held an appointment there. And to be honest, I suspect that there were just some sour grapes, you know, colleagues upset that Nelda had more resources than they did…higher salary, lower teaching load…the usual issues.” He looked away briefly, then continued, “Maybe it’s human nature, but little things take on more meaning when you don’t have much. I guess there’s a tendency to be jealous of those who have more than you,” he shrugged made a ‘who knows’ face? “Of course, there was also opposition in other departments on campus. And again, that was of a more ideological nature” (again, the unusual pronunciation) “although I think a lot of this wouldn’t have been so intense had it just been Ayn Rand Studies. It was also the investment from the Kochs.”
Wes said, “We’ve run into that, too. So, what’s the story there?”
“Same thing, only even more political, if that’s possible. For some—both in academe and out—they’re the purveyor of all that’s…evil. Seems they’re always in the news…the Koch brothers…for funding some foundation, or for trying to end some government program, or for giving money to their favorite political candidate...and all this is, of course, always on the conservative side of things…which is their right…it’s their money after all, and they can support whatever they believe in, whatever’s in their interest, be it their ideological interest or their economic interest. But, this just serves to rile-up the other side. Of course, for academics who think this, well now the barbarians are at the gate. The Koch brothers are threatening to breach their precious ivory tower.”
Seay thought for a second, then said, “I know there’s been a lot of ongoing anger about this—about the Kochs and all the rest—but honestly, I thought it had blown over. And, I just don’t think these larger issues could be related to Nelda. But then, what do I know?”
There were a couple of seconds of silence that were broken by buzzing, first Seay’s cell phone, which was on his desk, then Jillian’s. Seay and Jillian exchanged looks. He returned to his desk while she opened her bag.
“Oh my,” Seay said, “They’re closing ASU for the rest of the day.” He looked to Jillian as he returned to his chair.
“Yes,” she said, and showed her cell to Wes.
He said, “As you predicted.”
She nodded, “Well, that’s the protocol.”
Seay asked, “And, I’m assuming that this is because of Nelda’s…murder?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Any idea how long the closure will last?”
“No…probably not long. I mean, the alert says for today.”
“Oh well, if it goes on tomorrow, a lot of faculty will be smiling. We had a faculty meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. It’ll be like a ‘snow day’ for school kids in the southeast. My kids always love that when we lived in North Carolina…I was getting my doctorate at Duke,” he added.
Wes said, “Nobody likes meetings, in whatever job.” He smiled, then said, “Professor Seay, it’s standard procedure in a situation like this to speak with people who were close to the deceased. Are there people, other professors or anyone…who you would suggest that we speak with? Knowing more about her will help us understand…the situation.”
“Certainly.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he thought, then said, “I’ll suggest two colleagues. David Roberts—he’s actually in The Center for Economic Liberty as well as in our department…Entrepreneurship and Innovation. And Miriam Moser. Miriam’s out at SkySong. Are either of you familiar with SkySong?”
Wes asked, “That the place on Scottsdale Road with the thing that looks like a giant sail?”
“Yes, although it’s always referred to as the ‘iconic shade structure,’ he corrected, and laughed his snorty laugh again. “It’s an ASU campus…a center for innovation. Miriam Moser is SkySong’s Executive Director. Nelda spent a good deal of time at SkySong and she and Miriam are colleagues, and, I believe, good friends. And David and Nelda are also friends and colleagues. He had a courtesy affiliation with Rand Studies, so…” he made a motion as if to say, “so it follows.”
“Anyone else come to mind,” Jillian asked.
“Well, obviously Nelda knows…” he stopped mid-sentence and exhaled “…she knew a lot of people…in Business and I would guess in English, too. And for that matter, across campus. But, I think Miriam and David are your best bets in terms of a real connection. I mean, they’re friends.” He looked down and pursued his lips.
As the interview drew to a close, Wes and Jillian exchanged cards with Seay. They promised they’d be in contact as they learned more, he promised to call if he thought of anything important, and he provided campus phone numbers for Miriam Moser and David Roberts. Wes and Jillian again offered their condolences.
Wes and Jillian re-entered the BAC to check if Forensics had arrived at that office. They found another room full of people. They’d been there about ten minutes.
Wes asked Jaime Lopez who was in charge, “Anything so far?”
“Not so far, Wes. We’ll follow our protocol, but everything looks OK, at least on the surface.”
“Appreciate it,” Wes answered. “Anything on the office over in the English Department?”
“There was a dead woman in there,” Jaime said in his usual drole manner. “But, I expect you mean beyond the obvious.”
Wes canted his head, but said nothing.
Jaime smiled and said, “OK, Detective Sergeant Webb…there were blood smears on the floor, and some of the furniture, although not a lot...probably due to the nature of the head wounds…I saw more trauma than laceration. Also, blood smears on the victim’s blouse. And, I don’t know if you guys noticed, but there was blood on that paperweight thing. Given those smears and its shape…could have been the murder weapon…but don‘t hold me to that.”
“Thanks Gil,” Jillian laughed.
“No worries,” Wes assured him. “But, you’re done over there?”
“Yes, everything is logged and bagged and on its way to the lab. Angel took charge of all of it herself. You know Angel. By now, she’s already running tests on everything.”
Wes looked around the office again, then said, “OK, guys, we’re heading out. Let us know when you know.”
Jaime said, “Will do, and by the way, we released the ASU campus cop guy. I hope that was OK.”
“We’re good, Jaime.”
Back out at the golf cart, Jillian said, “It’s a pretty big deal that Angel is working
this.”
“Well sure, she manages the lab, but she still gets out into the field now and then. You know, on really high profile cases…I guess like this one. Or on cases that are near and dear…like when children are victims. But yes, you’re right. Her being all ‘hands-on’ says a lot. But…because it is so high profile, she’ll make us the lab’s top priority.”
Jillian nodded, “Hope so.” They were seated in the cart now, but she didn’t start it yet. “OK, so what next?”
“Well, I was thinking about that. OK, why don’t you cart me to the edge of campus and I’ll walk back to Headquarters from there. I want to check-in, mainly to start the ball rolling about getting you assigned to the case. I’ll check with Chief McCaslin first, on the Tempe PD side of things…then call Al, and clear it with him since he’s your boss.”
“OK, sounds good. And what do you want me to do?”
“I thought about that, too, Jilly. You go ahead and interview the woman who’s the Assistant Chair in English. When I finish with our chiefs, maybe I’ll call that student, the one who missed her appointment with the Professor, and talk with her. Or, I may just wait and you can talk with her. You were an ASU student not so long ago and I’m thinking that might put her more at ease.”
Wes bit his lip, paused, and said, “I think that’s about it. When you finish-up in the English Department, why don’t you come over to Tempe and we’ll see what’s what.”
Jillian started the cart. As they moved forward, they saw the Tempe PD Forensics Van parked on their right.
She set out…a straight shot across the campus. As they passed MU and then the original building of Hayden Library on their right, she maneuvered between students and traffic cones and small orange and red and white stripped barricades. The students had noticeably thinned although there were still some. Jillian assumed they were heading to nearby parking structures or to the edge of campus on University.
Jillian said, “In about fifteen minutes, the campus is going to look as empty as it does during Christmas.”
Wes nodded, then said, ”Geez, you can tell this is ASU’s Tempe campus though…there’s as much construction here as there is on Tempe’s city streets.”
“Tell me about it. This construction is all over the campus. And as for Tempe, there’s so much construction over around College Avenue where I live that sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to get home. And, what’s even crazier, you never know from day to day what streets will be closed, so you can’t even plan your route. It’s a secret…like a Rave.”
“Same in our neighborhood, Jilly. Yeah, Tempe needs new water pipes, but this is insane. I was kidding Marilyn the other day that pretty soon the only way in or out of our street will be by chopper.”
They passed the Social Sciences Building on the right, and then, as they neared the Language and Literature Building, also on the right, Jillian slowed the cart. “So, this is where the English Department was when I was a student. They just recently moved to where we were earlier…like I said, that used to the library for ASU’s law school.”
“What’s that building called again? Some sort of hyphenated name, right?”
“Yes, it’s Ross-Blakely Hall.”
And the one we just past isn’t just Language and Literature. Says, Dunham Language and Literature. What’s with all the names?”
As she braked to a stop, she answered, “I think these are named after donors. If you donate enough money, you have your name on a building.”
“Maybe we could go in and pool our money and have one called Webb-Warne Hall. Or, if you’d prefer, we could make it Warne-Webb Hall. Hey, we could have them name the ASU PD Building after us. What do you think? You in, Jilly?”
“I don’t think we have that kind of money, Wes. I’ll bet you have to have a cool mil even to talk about it.”
“It’s like the sports stadiums. The taxpayers pay the bill, but some corporation gets naming rights, till they get sucked-up in a merger or brought down in a scandal. And viola, there’s a new stadium name. And then, the team threatens to move unless they get a new stadium. The taxpayers are supposed to pay for that, too.” He shook his head in disgust.
Jillian had stopped the cart about twenty yards short of University. Wes hopped out and said, “OK, I’m off to the bureaucracy wars. When you finish over in English, you know in Vanderbilt-Rockefeller Hall, text me and we’ll connect-up.”
“Will do, Wes.”
“Drive carefully, Jilly. Don’t get a ticket for speeding. Although I don’t know how much horsepower this baby has,” he laughed and pointed at the golf cart. “It’s no Batmobile.”
Jillian slowed the cart for the left turn just before the MU. Although there were only a handful of students out and about, one of them, a guy, flagged her down.
“Sorry to stop you. But could you tell me what’s going on? I got the alert about closing campus…but I’m a graduate student and I need to pick-up some books at the library that I ordered through inter-library loan. I got an email a little while ago that they’re in. Do I really have to leave campus?”
“Yes, you should. There’s been a serious crime on campus and an investigation is underway…that’s why the campus is closed...evening classes, too…so, yes.”
“I really need those books…for my thesis. I mean, is it safe to be here?”
“It should be, yes, but I’d suggest that you get them and then leave immediately. And you know what, I don’t even know if the library will still be open…given the campus closure.”
“Guess I’ll run give it a try. But then one way or the other, I’ll leave immediately,” he said, as if promising Jillian.
“Good luck,” Jillian smiled. She felt sorry for they guy…he looked sad and confused.
As Jillian started-up again, she wondered why he’d stopped her. She thought, “Guess I don’t look like a student…although I don’t think I look that much older...the guy was a grad student. Maybe it’s the cart…maybe anyone driving a cart comes across as an authority figure.“
She drove on. There were fewer and fewer people now, and most of them were walking quickly.
Jillian entered Ross-Blakely Hall and crossed directly to the English Department office. The atrium area was all but deserted. She asked directions at the front desk and the woman, who was probably a staff person…definitely not a student like earlier…pointed left and then right.
Grace Wilson’s desk was in an alcove off to one side. When she saw Jillian, she stood and said, “Come with me, please, Detective Sergeant Warne. We’ll sit in one of the Enclave offices; that’ll afford us some privacy.” Jillian could hear activity in a nearby office, and could see into another one where someone was putting books into a rolling backpack; she seemed to be packing-up to leave for the day.
Jillian followed Grace Wilson out of the departmental offices and back through the glass doors that she’d entered earlier. They didn’t take the stairs this time, though. Instead, Wilson led them down the hall. Off to the right, Jillian could see a large, open area filled with desks and carrels and huge windows that looked out onto the former law school. They’d been so busy earlier that she hadn’t even noticed it. It was empty now.
Grace Wilson stopped at the first office marked Enclave. It was a small room and it contained a desk and four chairs. The front was all glass. She motioned Jillian in first, then closed the door behind her after she entered.
Grace Wilson was a small, trim woman. Seated opposite her, Jillian noticed that the dress that she’d thought was simply blue actually contained flecks of material of the same blue color. It was a beautiful dress. Her complexion was beautiful, as well. Her hair was cut short and looked great, too. To Jillian’s mind, Grace Wilson looked like a million dollars.
“I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask, would you like some coffee or tea? Maybe water?”
Jillian held-up her purple Hydro Flask. “
I’ve lived in Arizona all my life…I always carry water. Thank you, though, and thank you for staying…for still being here. Your building is obviously clearing-out…and so’s the campus.”
“Well, yes…you and Detective Sergeant Webb said you’d be returning for more interviews, and I thought I should wait. Obviously, this is important. And, I had a few other things that needed tending. I’ll leave after that.”
“Thank you...and yes, it is important. When you’re in an investigation, the quicker you get started, the better. By the way, is it Dr. Wilson?”
No, it’s Ms. I’m staff, not faculty.”
“But you’re the Assistant Chair.”
“Yes, but I hold a staff position.”
“What are your duties…as Assistant Chair?”
“There is a great deal to do,” she laughed. Essentially, I manage the daily workings of the English Department. That includes budgetary oversight, some involvement in the scheduling of classes…oversight again to insure we offer the necessary curriculum each semester, and I oversee the staff, which is large…we’re a very large department…over seventy faculty, and dozens of lecturers and instructors.”
“Wow, that sounds like a lot.”
“It keeps me busy. As I’m sure your job does.”
“Yes, it does, and I should get to it…so you can finish your other work and get out of here.” Jillian smile as she opened her IPAD, then said, “So, obviously we’re interviewing people, trying to get a sense of Professor Siemens. Who she was…friends, enemies, anything that might help to figure out what happened. What can you tell me about her?”
Wilson was quiet at first, then seemed to make up her mind, pursed her lips and said, “I’m from Virginia, originally, and my parents always taught me not to gossip, not to speak ill of anyone, and certainly not of the dead.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve calmed myself a bit since we talked earlier, but still can’t quite wrap my head around this. It’s just…” she shook her head.
Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar: Mystery Page 5