Phi Beta Murder

by C. S. Challinor

  “No alcohol,” Rex warned as they trooped inside.

  A hostess showed them to a booth and supplied them with menus.

  “How’s Moira doing?” Campbell inquired.

  “I suppose the answer to that is, ‘As well as can be expected.’”

  “So this chick just followed you out to the States?” Justin asked in apparent admiration. Campbell must have filled him in on the details. “And she slit her wrists to get your attention?”

  “She’s wacko,” Campbell said. “Did the motel charge you for the mirror?”

  “Aye, and for a new mattress.”

  “Gross.”

  “She’s been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Rex offered in her defense.

  His son slowly shook his head. “It’s all that charity work and religion. I think she’s repressed.”

  The server brought the beer and two Cokes. Rex ordered baby back ribs with baked sweet potato and apple sauce.

  “We’re still going to the Keys, aren’t we?” Campbell asked when the waiter left.

  “I hope so. Moira’s being discharged the day after tomorrow. I’m praying she’ll be well enough to travel home.”

  “Have you found anything out yet about Dix’s suicide?” Justin asked.

  “I spoke to Al Cormack. He looks surprising young to be a mathematics professor. Anyway, Dixon doesn’t appear to have been one of his favourite students. Unlike a certain R.J. Wylie, whom he seems to think was the bee’s knees.”

  Campbell and Justin stared at the table.

  “All right, lads. There’s something you’re not telling me. I sensed it last night when we were discussing roommates.”

  “What did Mr. Cormack say?” Campbell asked.

  “That Dixon snitched on R.J., who proved to be innocent of the drug-dealing charge. So why are you two not talking?”

  “R.J. was my roommate last year,” Justin admitted. “We all knew he was using. He was arrested and suspended in October of last year and acquitted at the beginning of this month.”

  Rex whistled in surprise. “That was a speedy trial.”

  “His dad hired a top lawyer who moved for a fast trial so there would be minimum disruption to R.J.’s studies. R.J. was a good student.”

  “So I hear.”

  “But he was never reinstated. The college felt where there’s smoke, there’s fire. They decided to make an example of him. There’s a zero tolerance drug policy on campus. Using is grounds for immediate expulsion. There was a lot of controversy,” Justin went on to explain as the server set a plate of barbecue ribs in front of him. “Students were divided into two camps: those that supported Dix and those that supported R.J. It was debated back and forth on StudentSpace.com. You wouldn’t believe the mud-slinging on both sides.” He took up his fork. “Boy, am I going to demolish this.”

  “And which side are you on? Or were you on?—since one of the candidates is no longer in the running.”

  Justin sighed thoughtfully. “R.J. was my roommate again this year. He wasn’t a pusher, but, yeah, I knew he was doing drugs. It was beginning to affect him.”

  “And you?” Rex asked his son, who had kept quiet and was now attacking his steak and fries as though he had not eaten in a week.

  “I never knew R.J. that well. Dix was okay. But if he gave the cops the video of the drug transaction knowing it wasn’t R.J. all along, then that’s just plain unethical.”

  “That’s the word Cormack used. And Dixon took the video on his cell phone?”

  “Yeah, he gave it to campus security, who passed it on to the police.”

  “Was he the first person to report R.J.?”

  Campbell shrugged. “It was his job as RA.”

  “And yet Cormack is adamant that Dixon was in the wrong,” Rex pondered aloud.

  Justin mopped sauce off his mouth with a paper napkin. “He’s sore about his girlfriend showing up nude on SS.com.”

  “What has that to do with Dixon?”

  “He thinks Dix posted it in retaliation for the bad grades he was getting in math,” Campbell said. “After R.J. was acquitted, bloggers began accusing Dix of starting the rumor about Ms. Johnson being a porn star. It all sort of snowballed.”

  “Is this Ms. Johnson your marine science professor?” Rex asked his son, remembering what Campbell had told him about her.

  “Yeah. She and Cormack are dating. Dix posted a video of them holding hands and leaving together in Cormack’s car. Then the nude photo of Ms. Johnson appeared. Dix denied posting it. But after his videos incriminating R.J. and exposing Cormack’s relationship with Ms. Johnson, it was kinda hard to believe him.”

  So Cormack had a double grudge against Dixon, Rex reflected. And his best student had reason to have the biggest grudge of all, having Dixon to blame for his arrest and expulsion. Clearly StudentSpace.com had stirred up a hornets’ nest for all three. It was crucial he find out who was at the bottom of the malicious gossip and if StudentSpace.com was a contributing factor in Dixon’s death, as the Clarks believed, in which case they might have a chance at suing the school. Rex wanted to make sure they had the appropriate information in order to pursue any recourse that might be available to them.

  “Who runs StudentSpace.com?” he asked the boys.

  “Nobody really knows,” Justin said.

  Rex wondered if anybody really cared.

  Early the following morning, Rex was back at the college, eager to pursue his inquiries. Motives for wishing Dixon dead were beginning to emerge. If he had committed suicide, the question was why? If someone had murdered him, the question was not only why, but who? And how? The dorm room had been as good as hermetically sealed. No one had seen anyone go in or out.

  As Rex was climbing the stairwell at Keynes Hall, he ran into the Clarks, who were on their way down from the second floor.

  “I was going to check in with you today,” Rex told them. “I’ve spoken to certain members of the faculty and with the nurse practitioner at the Student Health Center, and also to several students.”

  “What can you tell us?” Mrs. Clark asked. She wore a little make-up today and looked more composed, although her eyes were red-rimmed.

  “I still have a long way to go. The information is disjointed at present. I’d prefer to give a more conclusive report at the end of the week, if I may.”

  Many facets of the case troubled Rex, and he hoped to eliminate a couple of leads so that he might never have to bring them to the Clarks’ attention.

  “We appreciate what you’re doing,” Keith Clark said.

  “I’m glad to be of help. It’s proving to be a real eye-opener and giving me insight into my own boy.”

  “We enjoyed meeting Campbell.”

  “How are things with you?” Rex asked sympathetically.

  Katherine Clark gave a weary shrug. “We’re officially excluded from Dix’s room ‘pending further investigation.’ We already took all his stuff out except for his computer. But there’s a silk tie we gave him for his high school graduation that we couldn’t find. Maybe he lent it to somebody. We really just wanted to say one final goodbye. If Dix had died in a car accident, we could have put a cross by the side of the road and left flowers.”

  “What is this ‘further investigation’ about?”

  “The school said it wanted to keep Dix’s PC for the time being and would ship it to us at a later date. Can they do that? We were going to donate it anyway as it’s old and too bulky to take back with us. Keith and I also felt Dix wouldn’t have wanted us to go on his computer and pry.”

  “Well, I don’t think we could anyway as we don’t have his password,” Mr. Clark pointed out.

  “I suppose other students will occupy his room as though nothing ever happened,” Katherine said wistfully. “Well, perhaps it’s for the best.”

  “The university probably has a computer expert who can hack in,” Rex said in response to Keith’s comment. “Although it seems like a lot of effort to go to. I wonder what
that’s all about. I think if it’s not a police investigation you could probably take the PC, since it’s your son’s personal property.”

  “I must have given Dr. Binkley a scare when I mentioned suing the school over not shutting down the website,” Katherine explained. “They are probably looking for evidence to pin Dix’s suicide on someone else’s shoulders. Oh, let them have the damn computer. I’m too tired to argue. They changed the lock on the door, so I guess they mean business.”

  “Maybe now they will shut down the site,” Keith added. He seemed as spent as his wife. “Our daughter looked up StudentSpace.com on her laptop. I can’t believe the stuff that’s posted there, and the language! I expected better from a school that charges the fees it does.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Rex said, giving Keith Clark’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.

  “The memorial service is at four o’ clock today,” Katherine reminded him.

  “See you there.” Rex continued up the stairs, puzzled by the university’s reaction, which to his mind seemed like an admission of guilt, not to mention an unnecessary additional upset to Keith and Katherine Clark.

  Campbell answered the door in his boxers, his unruly blond hair sticking up in tufts. He let his father in the room and collapsed back into bed.

  “No class this morning?” Rex asked.

  “Not until eleven. I was studying for a bio test until two this morning. I had 270 questions to answer and memorize.”

  Campbell had always been a last-minute crammer, in spite of Rex’s best efforts to promote the benefits of advance planning and preparation. Somehow, Campbell always managed to pass, but it infuriated Rex that the Bs his son typically received could be As if only he tried a bit harder. The biology textbook lay open on the desk, the other tomes neatly stacked to one side.

  “Where would I get a plan of the residence hall?” Rex asked.

  “What for? I can tell you where everything is.”

  “Do you realize your room is directly above Dixon Clark’s?”

  “So?”

  “Did you lend anyone your key while you were away?”

  “Justin.”

  “Were those books on your desk in a messy pile when you left for Miami, or were they neat and tidy like now?”

  “Dad, give over. I want to sleep for another half hour.”

  “This may be important. You said you wanted to help.”

  Sighing, Campbell flopped over in bed to face him. “I noticed my books were dislodged when I got back Sunday night. I figured I had bumped into my desk when I was packing to leave for Miami. Try the housing office at Student Affairs for the plan,” he added. “And bring me a bagel. Please.”

  Rex knew he would get nothing further out of his son for the time being. In any case, it was still early and he reasoned that the office that dealt with accommodation would not be busy with students yet, if they were all late risers like Campbell. This might be a good time to get what he needed. He left the residence hall and crossed the campus to the main administrative building, looking forward to a cup of coffee and a bagel after he had run his errand.

  Almost an hour later, he was making his way back to the dorms with Campbell’s bagel and a set of mechanical plans for the second and third floors of Keynes Hall. Over breakfast at the coffee shop, he had studied the trunk and duct layout. Wall and ceiling spaces were drawn in with detailed dimensions, the supply and return air grills in the ceiling of each room clearly marked.

  He had also discovered from the housing office that Campbell’s predecessor had been none other than R.J. Wylie, who had occupied #316 his entire freshman year. It had been a productive morning so far. The next step required Campbell’s cooperation.

  “Thank you!” his son enthused on receiving his breakfast. He sat in bed in his boxers to eat it. “Are those HVAC plans?”

  “Aye. I struck gold. All while you were sleeping.”

  “Congratulations, Dad. How did you get them?”

  “I used my Scottish charm.”

  Campbell choked on his coffee. “Yeah, right. I suppose the real question is why did you get them?”

  Rex plunked himself down on the computer chair.

  “Think, lad. Wake up.”

  “Someone escaped in the ducts? Ha! That’s what happens in corny movies.”

  “Not exactly. My theory is someone used the ducts to get into the room below.”

  “Why did no one think of that before?”

  “Everyone assumed Dixon killed himself. Suicide is not so very uncommon in colleges. His door and window were locked, and he had the key. The doors aren’t self-locking. Suicide instructions were found on his desk. His friends knew he had reason to be depressed over being labeled a snitch on the student website.”

  Campbell absently scratched his crotch. “You’re saying he didn’t kill himself after all?”

  “I’m saying it’s a possibility that needs to be explored. Dixon had a few enemies.”

  Campbell pondered this for a few seconds. “True, and the cops were probably only too happy to write his death off as a suicide and leave the college to deal with it. They have their fair share of homicides in Jax. Seems like every day there’s a knifing or shooting in the rougher neighbourhoods. So, how come you thought of the ducts?”

  “I didn’t, at least not consciously, until I started thinking about how there might be good reason for someone to have murdered Dixon. When I found out that R.J. Wylie had this room in his first year, I felt I might be onto something.”

  “I never knew that. But I never hung out with him.”

  “Anyway, it was just too much of a coincidence to ignore when you consider he had a compelling motive for wanting revenge. Dixon Clark was, after all, responsible for getting him expelled.”

  “Yeah, but R.J. couldn’t have murdered Dix. He’s a really laid-back sort of guy.”

  “You said you didn’t know him that well.”

  “I saw him around. He was one of the popular party kids.”

  “Who knew you were going to be absent from your room on Sunday night?”

  Campbell reached for the container of coffee on the floor. “Justin. He’s the soccer captain. I told him I couldn’t make practice because I was picking you up in Miami.”

  “He may have told his ex-roommate, Ray Junior.”

  “Is that what R.J. stands for? He never called himself Ray. I don’t even know where he is now. What makes you think Justin is still in touch with him?”

  “They were roommates this year. It’s quite possible they still talk. We need to find out if we can get into Dix’s room from here as the plan shows. But I want to see this infamous website first.”

  “Help yourself.”

  “Can you get me on?”

  “Okay, but then I need to get to class.” Campbell heaved himself off the bed and tapped around on the keyboard. “Here you go. Welcome to SS.com.”

  Rex scrolled down to the ditty, posted anonymously under The Snitch thread. Explicitly sexual versions followed, some of them quite comical. Campbell then clicked onto a photo gallery of Hilliard faculty and enlarged a naked image of a pretty blonde posing sideways with one leg raised on a stool and projecting an impossibly large bust.

  “This is your marine science professor?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  No wonder Cormack was upset. What man in his right mind would want his girlfriend’s body viewed by thousands of horny students? “Can contributors to the site be tracked?” Rex asked.

  “I suppose up to a point, but anyone could post from another student’s computer—say, when the person was out of the room. Or if you knew someone else’s 9-digit student I.D. and password, you could steal their identity.”

  Campbell then ran a short video of an individual in a gray hooded jacket exchanging a small packet of something for cash with a man in jeans and a sweater. They were too far away to show any distinct details and the video had been shot on an overcast day in the shadow of a tall building.

  “
Is this the phone video that got R.J. Wylie arrested?”

  Campbell nodded. “R.J. was allegedly the one in the hoodie, but he said he didn’t own one exactly like it and, in any case, he was signed in at a lab on the other side of campus at the time.”

  “Who’s the other person?”

  “A police informant. It was a set-up.”

  While Campbell got dressed, Rex read a blog on Dixon Clark’s suicide. Commiserations had poured in, but many of the comments prior to his death were highly inflammatory. R.J. Wylie fared better in the discussions and appeared to have a large female following.

  “R.J. We miss you!” Signed Sxylips.

  “Bring back R.J.! I love u 4ever.” Alabamagurl

  “Dixon Clark is a snitch. R.J. rules.” Lissa

  Some of the coeds had included photos of themselves or else cute cartoon representations.

  “Do you think you could get into Dixon’s computer?” Rex asked Campbell, who was in the process of tugging a comb through his hair.

  “I think so, unless he changed his password. He gave me access to his PC when we were working on a computer science assignment. I ended up doing all the work and saved his ass.”

  “I need you to see if you can find anything that might incriminate the university. And look for anything that gives clues as to why Dixon ended up dead.” Rex explained that the PC had been as good as confiscated by the university, but he hoped it was still in Dixon’s room.

  “And you want me to rappel into his dorm through the air vent? Isn’t that trespassing?”

  “We wouldn’t have to if the university was being reasonable. They closed off his room. If you stand on your desk, you can crawl into the ventilation shaft and hopefully locate the duct to his ceiling.”

  “I don’t have time now. I have to get to my test.”

  “I know, but we have to do it before the computer is hauled away. My guess is the dean will wait until after the memorial service and the Clarks have left for Nantucket.”

  “The service is at four.”

  “I’ll meet you back here before two. That’ll give me time to see Moira at the hospital.” Rex felt duty bound to see her. She did not have any visitors and must be bored to death. “Not a word to anyone about the, er, …”