Phi Beta Murder by C.S. Challinor

available for all affected students.”
    “What sort of concessions would those be?”
    “A passing grade for the semester if needed. We don’t want to add to a student’s duress and have to deal with another tragedy.”
    At that moment, a young man in pressed jeans and a blue striped shirt entered the office.
    “Al, this is Mr. Graves. I have an errand to run down the hall. Take my chair, hon.”
    Mr. Cormack sat opposite Rex and smiled pleasantly. “How can I be of help?”
    “I’m here at the request of Dixon Clark’s parents who, understandably, are trying to comprehend the reason or reasons behind their son’s suicide.”
    “And you think it might be because he was failing in math?” Cormack asked with a raised eyebrow.
    “I want to determine what sort of pressure he might have been under in general. Studies, girlfriend, peers, finances, anything at all.”
    “Well, I don’t think blame can be put on me. I try to be fair. If I see a kid struggling but coming to class and turning in his work, I bend over backward to give him or her a passing grade, or at least a bit of latitude with regard to retaking a test.”
    “Did Dixon try?”
    “Yeah, he did.”
    “And yet he was a borderline F.”
    Cormack’s face reddened. “Okay, but he got the grades he deserved.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Where are you going with this?”
    “I’m simply trying to get at the truth.”
    “The truth is Dixon Clark got another student in trouble for something he didn’t do, and he wasn’t man enough to own up to it. I don’t reward bad ethics.”
    “Would you care to elaborate?”
    Cormack fidgeted with a cube container of paper clips on Astra Knowles’ desk. “Another student of mine got busted for dealing drugs and was suspended. There was no proof beyond Clark’s camera phone video. Turned out it could not have been R.J. on it. But he was expelled anyway, mainly on Clark’s say-so. And because he was unable to explain why he couldn’t get his hands on the hoodie he owned, supposedly the one on the video.”
    “But wasn’t it Dixon’s job as a resident assistant to report drug activity?”
    “It’s part of his job, sure, but R.J. was acquitted by a jury, and I felt the university should’ve gone with the verdict. Instead they sided with Clark. R.J. Wylie was an A student in math, although he was actually a chemistry major. I strongly opposed the university’s decision and almost got fired.”
    Cormack was practically hyperventilating now. He looked at his watch and excused himself. “I’m meeting my girlfriend. Good luck.”
    After he left, Rex sat in his chair pondering the professor’s reaction while he waited for Astra Knowles to return. The Nantucket ditty began to make more sense as he mentally recited it.
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his stash in a bucket,
A student named Ray
Got framed one day
And the man from Nantucket said fuck-it.
    Cormack had said Dixon got R.J. in trouble for something he didn’t do, and wasn’t man enough to come forward.
    If one went with the facts, as one must, there could be no doubt that Dixon had taken his own life, since the door and window were locked and instructions on how to commit suicide were found on his desk. There was no sign of a struggle in the room or on the body, and no one in the corridor had seen or heard anything suspicious, except that the RA was playing his music louder than usual.
    So what had driven Dixon to end his life? Remorse for getting another student in trouble?
    After getting nothing further out of Astra Knowles, Rex crossed the campus and returned to Keynes Hall to meet Campbell. He did not have a key to the building, but a student who was entering the main entrance let him in without hesitation when he explained he was a parent. Despite his size, Rex did not present a threatening figure. Helen had described him as cuddly. This reminded him of his resolution to exercise each day that week, regardless of how busy he was. He