Death in an Ivory Tower

"Oh, how awful," Victor Shilling, president of Montbank College was saying as I entered the chemistry lab that day.

I could certainly understand his concern. Students were difficult enough to attract to our small, rural college without something like this on our hands. Still, I thought his concerns somewhat callous. With Gordon Fillejump lying dead on the floor, perhaps thoughts of this death's impact on student enrollments might best be postponed.

I crossed the room to the body. Gordon was stretched out, arms askew, one leg bent under him as though he had toppled when he no longer had the strength to stand. There was blood everywhere from his slashed wrists. He looked an apparent suicide victim, but I knelt closer, studying his lifeless form in detail.

Then I stood, assessing the room. With my arrival, I made the fifth person in the lab. In one corner, the young, slender Vicki Venus was sobbing. Secretary in the science department, she had been widely known to have had a crush on the dead man. Next to her stood Tommy Aspirton, who was new to the college and was the former assistant to the deceased. I wondered if he'd now move up into the chemistry chair formerly occupied by his dead boss. In the far corner was Jerome Paterman, in his early forties with finely chiseled features and just a hint of gray showing in his dark hair at the temples. He was the college's biology professor and was busily engaged in discussing the situation with Shilling in low, muffled tones.

"We must clean this place up," Shilling suddenly said from behind me.

"Oh, I don't think so," I answered. "We must leave everything as it is for the police."

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