Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar: Mystery

by Gray Cavender

  Then, she picked-up the Cavell book. The cover, which she hadn’t seen in a long time, brought warm, fuzzy feelings. Before opening the book, she glanced at the back cover. There was Fred Cavell as she remembered him: a mane of unruly white hair, not over the top, just appropriately flamboyant…the guy was a poet. She went to the table of contents and chose three selections that she remembered. She read the first two of these, marked her place with her finger, and thought about having heard these poems on a number of occasions. Then, she read the third one…her favorite.

  Jillian preferred these poems to those of Professor Gilroy, but wondered if maybe it was just the pleasant memories of hearing her dad reading them aloud…in that voice that poets use.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jillian rode the Jupiter to the ASU PD. As they’d agreed, she planned to work on her Sexual Harassment Task Force assignment for a couple of hours before heading over to meet Wes to prep for their follow-up interview with Professor Keefer.

  It was fairly quiet in the building so, after a few ‘good mornings,’ she got down to it. She started with key points raised in the latest meeting, some based on Professor Martin’s ideas, some on language that had floated around at the meeting, and some on the more specific issues that she and Ersula had discussed. She typed-in phrases and some sentences to flesh-out the bullet points, all to be expanded later. Her plan was that once she had a good, advanced draft, she’d run it by Al. But that would not happen for a while.

  She had been at it for about 45 minutes and making good headway when her ringtone pulled her from the screen. She glanced at the caller ID as she answered. It was a 480-area code (Tempe and its surrounds), but not an ASU prefix, and not a number that she immediately recognized.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Jillian. It’s Grace…Wilson.”

  Jillian had a quick presentment that Grace was calling to cancel the interview with Professor Keefer. “Morning Grace,” she responded, her mouth already forming a frown.

  “After yesterday, I promised myself that if anything new came up, anything that might have any bearing on your case, I’d let you know.“

  “And…” Jillian perked-up, the frown gone.

  “Well, something has come up. I have no idea if it’s of any relevance to you, but it might be important.”

  “I appreciate anything, Grace.”

  Jillian heard Grace take a deep breath, and then she began. “OK, so yesterday I told you that Jonathan—Professor Keefer—was being promoted to Associate Dean…right?”

  “Yes…”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  Jillian responded with a long, drawn out, “Why…?”

  “Something’s up. Hold on just a second, please.” After a pause of six or seven seconds—Jillian could hear a breeze distorting the silence—she continued. ”OK, someone was walking by and I wanted to wait till they were gone. I’m outside our building and on my cell…didn’t want to call from my desk.”

  “Grace, what’s up?” Jillian was on high alert now.

  “Well, as near as I can tell, Jonathan went from friends in high places to being a persona non grata. He’s not going to be promoted. He may even be ‘out’ as chair.”

  “Do you have any ideas about why this is happening…or not happening, I guess.”

  “This is why I called, Jillian. I overheard Professor Begay—he’s a Regents Professor and one of the most prestigious professors in the department—talking with Professor Chu…she’s very respected, too. Anyway, Professor Begay was telling her that Jonathan and Nelda had had a fling.” She paused, then continued. “I’m trying to be careful here, Jillian…this is gossip, after all.”

  “Still, this might be really important, but I understand, Grace, and I’ll be careful.”

  “I know you will. Jillian, I’ve never heard an iota of anything about an affair between them…never. But, Professor Begay is usually in the know…and obviously something has happened…so, who knows?”

  “Wow, I’m reeling here.”

  “I guess I am, too. I hope this helps.”

  “Whatever the explanation, this is amazing news. Thank you so much, Grace. By the way, are we still ‘on’ with Professor Keefer at 11?”

  “Oh yes, you are the police, after all.”

  “Thank you again, Grace.”

  Jillian dialed Wes from memory.

  “Morning, Jilly.”

  “You’re not going to believe this.”

  Jillian saved and backed-up her Task Force work, and left ASU PD immediately. As she crossed Apache Boulevard, she thought of cutting across campus and walking to the Tempe PD…she was excited and needed to move. But, she looked back along College Avenue and saw the bus—a Jupiter had stopped at the railroad tracks as they’re required to do—and she figured it would be to her in a couple of minutes. It’d be quicker than walking, so she waited at the bus stop just beyond the intersection. The Jupiter made the light so she was on in under two minutes. Still, she had a lot of nervous energy as the bus made its way through campus and then along Mill Avenue (Apache and Mill converge and become Mill through downtown Tempe). She kept glancing at her watch, which she couldn’t help, and tapping her right foot, which she stopped doing…several times.

  Wes met her at the employee entrance, wearing a big smile. He seemed calm, but then he was waiting for her at the employee entrance. He said, “Good on Ms. Grace Wilson. Glad you two hit it off.”

  “What do you think, Wes?”

  “Well, as I said, we might be getting a break—Keefer’s promotion—and now this.” He shrugged. “Who knows? It is significant that he was having an affair with Professor Siemens and that he neglected to tell us about it. But, we will see what we will see.”

  They reconvened in Wes’ office, and Jillian immediately opened her IPAD and started typing. “So, let’s see, first, of all, who Professor Jonathan Keefer is.” She logged-in to the ASU website, then navigated to the English Department. “OK…undergrad degree in English from the University of Pennsylvania. Hmm…PhD from Manchester University in the UK.”

  “Manchester United,” Wes chimed-in.

  She smiled. “Then, a position at New York University.” She read quietly, then, “Up through the ranks from assistant to associate to full professor…looks like he moved up fairly quickly. He left NYU and came to ASU as chair three years ago.”

  “Moved down to move up,” Wes said. When Jillian looked confused, he added, “I assume because it’s in New York City, NYU is more prestigious than ASU. So, he got a chair’s position, but had to come here to get that sort of a promotion. So, he moved down to move up.”

  “Oh, like me,” Jillian laughed.

  Wes tilted his head and made a face. “In a way, I guess. Still…and don’t forget my PhD plan for you.”

  She shook her head, and then said, “OK, on to Google. Let’s see if he has a Wiki entry.” She made a few key strokes, “And yes, of course he does.” She scrolled quickly through the initial paragraphs. “This is pretty much the same info as on ASU’s webpage.” She scrolled more.

  “OK, here we go. His specialization is literary theory…mostly interested in identities. He wrote a book critical of Raymond Williams. Don’t know who that is…OK, I see, Williams is a Marxist literary scholar. The rest is a lot of academic name-dropping. I’ll print this and look-up some of them later.” Jillian made a mental to check with Ian Naremore or maybe Professor Szabo—ZZ—to find out more about Raymond Williams.

  They were interrupted by the loud scrapping of a chair in the office on Wes’ right. Detective Doc Halliday walked by Wes’ office, clutching a handful of files, and, with an audible sigh, left the Homicide area. Doc was a nickname…his real name was Donald, but Halliday was close enough to Holliday, and after all, it was Arizona.

  Jillian, who had always been somewhat neutral on Halliday, made
a “what’s with him” expression to Wes. He shrugged a “don’t know” response.

  Jillian and Wes discussed how they would approach the interview as they walked onto the campus. Wes again lamented not having Jillian’s “Batmobile’ during the long walk to Ross-Blakey Hall.

  When they approached the front desk, Jillian said, “Detective Sergeants Warne and Webb…we have an 11 o’clock appointment with Professor Keefer.”

  The work-study student, a young woman with several visible tattoos, including an elaborate green and pink one that resembled a permanent, lacey necklace, quickly nodded and pointed to her right and then arched her wrist to indicate another right. Her nervous reaction—she didn’t speak—confirmed Grace Wilson’s assessment about everyone in the English Department being on edge…even the work-study undergrads.

  Grace Wilson was around the corner at her desk. She gave Wes and Jillian a slight smile as they knocked on Professor Jonathan Keefer’s closed door. They heard a curt “come in.”

  Wes and Jillian entered and displayed their IDs, which Keefer acknowledged with a dismissive wave. “May I ask why you’ve returned? I told you everything I know the other day.” These comments were directed to Wes.

  “It’s a follow-up, professor,” Wes responded.

  “Well, let’s hurry then. I have a Zoom meeting in 15 minutes. And it’s important...a conference call. So, if you please…”

  “OK, let’s get to it then,” Wes said. “Were you romantically involved with Professor Siemens?”

  Because Wes handled the interview the other day, this was Jillian’s first time in Professor Keefer’s office. She noticed that even though he was the Chair of English, Professor Keefer’s office was basically the same size as the others she’d seen in the building…and without Professor Siemens’ upgrades.

  He wore a rumpled green linen suit and a loosened tie featuring red and green Rorschach-like patterns. He had a three-day growth of beard and his hair, which was shaved, was also at about the three-day mark, as well. Jillian could see that he was balding. His beard and hair and suit gave him a disheveled look.

  “I fail to see how my personal life could be any of your business,” he said, and folded his arms across his chest.

  Jillian said, “We’re investigating a murder, Professor Keefer. It’s for us to decide what information is relevant.”

  He glanced at Jillian as if he’d only just now realized she was in the room. “You’re a campus cop, for Christ sakes.”

  “And the murder occurred on campus…we’re on campus now,” Jillian responded. “So, back to Detective Sergeant Webb’s question…were you, Professor Keefer, involved romantically with Professor Siemens?”

  Keefer sighed an exasperated sigh. “Yes, we got together. What can I say?”

  Wes asked the follow-up question. “Why didn’t you tell me when I interviewed you before?”

  “Because it was none of your ‘godamed’ business,” he said, losing one of the “Ds” and running the two words together. His ran his right hand across his head. “OK, so now you know. Look, these things happen. Now, as I mentioned at the outset, I have to go to the conference room for a Zoom meeting.” He started to rise, but froze midway up when he saw that Wes and Jillian had not moved. “Very well, let me tell Grace to notify the others to proceed without me.” He finished standing and walked out from behind his desk and out into the hall, obviously annoyed, but he also seemed to Jillian to be shaken.

  As Keefer stepped out of the room, Jillian smiled at Wes who shook his head in disbelief. She glanced to her right—his bookcases covered the side of the office where she sat—and made a mental note of five or six authors’ names. It was easy because his books were in alphabetical order, by author. She’d Google them later. She also snapped a quick photo with her IPAD.

  Keefer was more subdued when he returned. “OK, here it is…we were at a conference toward the end of July…in Montreal. We had drinks at a publisher’s reception, wine with dinner, and ended-up in my room. These things happen sometimes…I’m sure you understand.” He again directed his comments to Wes.

  Jillian noticed that several times as he spoke, Professor Keefer closed his eyes…as if he was disappearing into his own thoughts, or maybe he was focusing…anyway, he did this for as much as a sentence or two at the time.

  Wes nodded. “Was this affair ongoing?”

  “Yesss.”

  Jillian was up next. “And, to your knowledge, was Professor Siemens seeing anyone else…in addition to you?”

  “What,” he answered, clearly flummoxed. “No. I don’t know…I don’t think so. What sort of question is that?” He glared at Jillian.

  She followed-up. “Was your affair with Professor Siemens related, in any way, to your promotion to an associate dean’s position?”

  “Of course not,” he answered, eyes closed again. “And I resent the innuendo.”

  Jillian nodded, and Wes asked the next question. They had agreed on the order of questions and also this back and forth of questioners on the walk over. “Well then, was your relationship with the victim related to you losing the dean’s position?”

  Keefer looked first at Wes, then at Jillian. He was so angry he could barely contain himself. He reminded Jillian of Rumpelstiltskin, when he had the tantrum after the miller’s daughter says his secret name. Then, almost immediately, Keefer’s demeanor morphed into a ‘trapped animal’ look.

  He got it together enough to answer. “Once again, certainly not. I don’t see why our relationship would have any bearing on a promotion, either (he pronounced it ‘ither’) for or against.”

  Jillian nodded, then asked, “So, were you…are you seeing anyone else?”

  “Look, I’m married…but it’s not what you think,” he all but sneered at Jillian. “We’re separated. Still, I really don’t want this to get out…the affair, I mean. I’d like a little consideration on this matter. We have a child…my wife and I.”

  Wes said, “It’s not our job to publicize any of this, professor. We’re just conducting a murder investigation…you know, following the evidence.”

  Jillian asked, “When did you last see Professor Siemens?”

  “That would have been last Friday. We grabbed a cupa and actually talked about my promotion.”

  “Where was this?”

  “At the MU.”

  “And when was the last time that you saw Professor Siemens romantically?”

  Keefer was quiet for a time, and then said, ”That would have been Saturday evening.”

  Jillian followed-up, “I don’t understand…you said the last time you saw her was Friday, but now it’s Saturday night. Which is it?”

  He answered, eyes closed again, “OK, I misunderstood. I though you meant professionally, which was Friday, as I said.” He said this with emphasis, as if correcting Jillian’s error. “And we had a date Saturday night.”

  Wes asked, “Where did the two of you go on the date?”

  “Ah, we had dinner in the Arizona Center in Phoenix, and then went to the Arizona Symphony.”

  Wes continued, “And did you stay over at Professor Siemens’ condo afterward?”

  “Yes.” He was obviously exasperated, but also increasingly nervous. He rubbed his hand across his head again.

  Jillian followed-up, “What time did you leave her condo?”

  “I don’t know…exactly…I didn’t check my watch.” He glared at Jillian, as if daring her to challenge him. When she said nothing, he added, “We arose Sunday morning, had a leisurely cupa, and I left…and didn’t see her again until...” As he said this, his mood changed from combative to withdrawn. Jillian assumed that he was remembering Professor Siemens in her office…dead.

  As the interview wound down, Keefer tried to reconnect on a friendly basis, saying he hoped that he’d answered their questions, and apologizing to Wes for not having be
en forthcoming before. It seemed to make him nervous that Wes and Jillian remained professionally non-committal. His eyes darted nervously from one to the other.

  When they left Professor Keefer’s office, Jillian glanced over to Grace’s desk…she wasn’t there. But, as they exited the building, she was standing maybe twenty yards from the door…obviously waiting for them.

  She smiled and said, “I hope my information helped.”

  “Wes said, “Yes, mam, it did. Thank you.”

  Jillian added, “Yes, Grace, thanks so much. By the way, on the phone you said that Professor Keefer might even be ‘out’ as chair. Is he…out? And, if he is, do you know who’ll the new chair will be?”

  Grace ran her hand down her gold necklace and turned round a brooch to reveal an antique watch. She glanced at the time and said, “The senior faculty are meeting with the Dean in two hours.”

  She looked over toward the former law school building, then refocused on Jillian. “Yes, Jonathan will no longer be the Chair of English…and yes, I have an idea of who’ll replace him…or maybe it’s just who I hope it’ll be,” she laughed.

  When Jillian tilted her head, Grace answered her implied question, “But, let’s wait till it is official…if that’s OK.”

  Jillian nodded, then asked, “Would you let me know…when it’s official?”

  “Yes, certainly.”

  Jillian said, “Thank you,” and then as an afterthought, asked, “By the way, do you know if Professor Keefer was seeing anyone…else?”

  Grace shook her head “no.” “He is separated, but it’s my understanding that he and his wife have been trying to reconcile,” she paused, then added, “they’ve been in counseling.” She seemed to be disgusted.

  “Thank you, Grace…very much.”

  “Food truck OK,” Jillian asked.

  Earlier, when Jillian was at ASU PD and before Grace Wilson called with her bombshell about Professor Keefer losing out on his promotion, Jillian had seen an email notice that food trucks would be on campus today.