The Slime Mold Murder

by Ellen King Rice

  Chapter Eleven

  Dylan and Mari followed Alyson to the back of Bea’s house. As Alyson ran ahead to the trail opening in the underbrush, Dylan touched Mari’s arm.

  “Slow down,” he hissed.

  “What?”

  “Any chance we may find a Bower of Bliss that your aunty and Einar are using?”

  Mari came to a stop. “Don’t put that thought in my head.”

  “Sorry. It’s in mine.”

  With a puff of irritation, Mari shook her shoulders like a dog shedding water. “Pot-bellied nudist sex. Auntie sex. Old geezer sex. Everybody gets a turn but me! What else is happening today? I’m afraid to think about it.”

  She sighed. “But thanks for the warning. I’m ready now. I’ll manage if we find flattened grass.”

  They followed Alyson, eyes scanning the woods. There were a few interesting side trails, but Alyson’s charge forward and Dylan’s rumbling stomach had them at the Witecki house with no special discoveries made on the way.

  “We can do a more thorough look later,” Dylan said.

  “Only if we make a ton of noise,” Mari said. “I do not want to surprise anybody doing anything. My retinas can’t tolerate the input.”

  Wade was out on a side patio, setting down a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of plastic glasses. “I thought we’d eat out,” he called. “Might as well enjoy as much of the sunshine as we can.”

  “That’s the problem,” Mari muttered. “Everyone is out getting some sunshine – on their private bits.”

  Dylan and Mari fetched chairs as Alyson helped her father bring out plates and foodstuffs.

  A small green car came rolling down the driveway. Nazeem parked in front of the house with a cheery wave to Dylan. She came huffing up the steps to the patio just as Wade emerged with a platter full of sandwiches.

  “Oh, my,” he said, eyeing Nazeem’s front. He blushed and looked away.

  “No worries,” Nazeem said. “I am huge, but the due date is a week away. I’m Nazeem.”

  “Wade. Nice to meet you. Come take a load off.” He blanched. “I mean, come have a seat.” He set the tray down and pulled a chair out for Nazeem. She seated herself, blessing him with a smile.

  “Alyson arrived three weeks early,” Wade said. “I remember that.”

  “I was early?” Alyson set down a bowl of chips.

  “Yes. Scared us to death. I was terrified you weren’t fully baked. The first few days were rough, but we had a great medical team. The nurses were all over you.”

  Wade smiled. “I thought you were going to be named Penelope, after my grandmother. But your mother was reading The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer. She said you were a lass on an adventure, and you had to be Alyson.”

  “I remember Mom telling me about choosing Alyson. I’m glad you agreed.” Alyson’s nose wrinkled. “Penelope? Yuck.”

  Dylan joined in the laughter. He leaned back in the patio chair, soaking up the sunshine and the joy of sitting with a circle of friends. The pandemic had been hell. He had no idea what he’d do after this gig. At this moment, it didn’t matter. He had sunshine, friends and sandwiches.

  “What’s your baby’s name?” Alyson asked Nazeem.

  Nazeem made a face. “That is under discussion.” She picked up a sandwich and asked, “Dylan, will you tell me again, about what you found? The photo wasn’t that great.”

  “Just a short, tan-colored tube on a log.” Dylan spoke around a mouthful of melted cheese. “Not much.”

  “How much do you need to identify it?” Wade asked. “Can you do, like a DNA analysis on a teeny bit?”

  Nazeem nodded. “We could. I doubt that will be necessary. It’s probably a distorted insect egg case.”

  She took a dainty bite of sandwich, swallowed and began to lecture. “Slime molds all have a plasmodial stage. We call it acellular, which means many cells have fused together. There may be millions of nuclei swimming about together, all surrounded by a membrane.”

  She said, “We expect the slime mold in this plasmodial stage to be feeding and moving.” She set her sandwich down and splayed out her hand.

  “There are three main shapes for plasmodia. The first is fan-shaped, and it can be big. We call this a phaneroplasmodium, from the Greek word phaneros, which mean visible.”

  Nazeem smiled at Wade as she wiggled her fingers and slid her hand forward on the patio table. “These slime molds can grow quickly. They tend to be bright in color.” She flexed her fingers. “And they can pulsate as they move. Very creepy.”

  Dylan grinned. Nazeem was a good instructor.

  “Then,” she said, “We have a-phanoplasmodium, which means ‘not seen.’ This group of slime molds has a very fine network of veins that we really have to look for to notice.”

  “And to finish up, we have the proto-plasmodiums, which are very simple and very small. We’ll only find an occasional fruiting body in this group.”

  She smiled. “The species I would like to find is called the pretzel slime mold, and it belongs to the first group. It should be rapidly growing and spreading out. It shouldn’t be just a short tube.”

  Nazeem sat back into the patio chair. “I said this first group had a fan shape, but keep in mind that slime molds are highly variable. The pretzel slime mold really does look like a plate of pretzels when it’s spread out on a log.”

  “Slime molds are elusive,” she said. “The pretzel slime mold has been found in the east and down in southern California. I don’t think we’ll find it here, but we never know what is in the woods where no one has been looking.”

  Wade leaned forward, impressed. “This is fascinating. I had no idea there was so much going on.”

  “Do we have any of the fairy goblet slime molds?” Alyson asked. “Einar said there were some that looked like little goblets covered with jewels.”

  “Ah!” Nazeem beamed a big smile. “With some luck, we should be able to find a fairy goblet or two. Those come after the feeding stage. Some of the slime molds will send up small stalks that end up in a spore-producing globe.”

  “But not the dog-vomit slime mold,” Alyson said. “Because it’s going to turn to peanut butter and cement.”

  Nazeem’s eyebrows came down in a moment of confusion.

  “Those are my words,” Dylan said. “We found a yellow Fuligo septica. I told Alyson it would change colors, but would not grow sporangia spires.”

  “Ah. Yes,” Nazeem nodded. “That slime mold makes more of a door mat of itself that is pulled back when all the spores are ready for release.”

  Nazeem raised a finger, “But, our pretzel slime mold? It’s cautious. Its spores are embedded in the fuzzy edges of each vein. It only releases a few spores at a time.”

  “This is like investing,” Wade said. “There’s long-term and short-term funds. Small cap, mid-cap and blended funds.”

  “If there is a path to success, biology will find it,” Dylan agreed.

  Mari teased, “Dylan’s going to be on the path to success. He’s working Bea’s fundraiser tomorrow night. He’ll be meeting and greeting the movers and shakers.”

  “I think you mean I’ll be moving,” Dylan said. “Stuff from here to there. Dylan, move this. Dylan, move that. And I’ll be shaking in my boots when I screw up, and Bea yells at me.”

  “She doesn’t yell,” Mari laughed. “She just eats you for dinner.”

  “But you’re going to be there, too,” Dylan said. “Red dress with cleavage, that’s what Aunt Bea ordered.”

  Mari shook her head. “I won’t do cleavage promotion. Not even to sell Aunt Bea’s art. I’ve got a red T-shirt that says Biological Surveying Hiking Society. We may never get there. I could wear that.”

  Wade snickered, putting his hand over his mouth to cover his laugh.

  “I’m supposed to get a black outfit for tomorrow night,” Dylan said. “How late is Goodwill open?”

  “Harris has some black pants in the back of his closet. His brother left them,” Nazeem off
ered. “It’s his skinny brother. I think they could fit.”

  “That’d be great,” Dylan leaned back in the patio chair. “If I have the pants, maybe the shirt doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, I think I have a shirt for you,” Wade said. “I’ll look. It may be big, but you could give it a try.”

  “Everyone helps Dylan,” Mari complained. “What about me?”

  Nazeem cocked her head, looking at Mari. “Would you wear a shalwar kameez? That’s a woman’s long tunic with trousers. I have that in red.”

  “No cleavage?” Mari asked, warily.

  “Definitely not,” Nazeem laughed.

  Mari smiled. “Great! I’d love to borrow it. Thanks!”

  “Speaking of thanks,” Nazeem said, “Thank you, Dylan, for helping me move this morning. Angus called me and said the liverwort professor was not happy with the space. I’m glad we were out of there.”

  “What’s a liverwort?” Alyson asked.

  Dylan shifted in his seat. “A whole ‘nuther topic. We’ll find some this afternoon and show you.”

  “Great! I can still come with you?” Alyson’s face lit up.

  “Sure. It will be slow going. Now that we’ve got an idea of the landscape, we’ll be getting down to making a species list.”

  “Alyson’s not a problem?” Wade asked. “Because there’s things she can be doing here. You’ve got one more math packet to finish. And you’re supposed to choose an epic poem for language arts. If you don’t choose one, then you get assigned something. You might not like it.”

  Alyson’s face fell.

  Dylan felt for her. After a year of pandemic home-schooling, another afternoon in isolation would make any student crazy, and this was a particularly splendid September day. He said, “Alyson’s a big help. If she has the time, she’s welcome to accompany us.”

  Alyson shot a questioning look to her father, who looked back at her, steadily. Finally, Wade relented. “All right, but be careful. I don’t need you tangling with more naked brawlers.”

  “If we find one, I won’t look,” Alyson said. “I promise!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dylan helped himself to a second grilled cheese sandwich as his brain handled its usual incoming tide of thoughts. Wade was an accountant. He ought to know about mortgages and property taxes and even something of home maintenance. He should ask Wade about pre-foreclosures.

  As the flavor of the melted cheese hit the taste papillae of his tongue, the ‘should’ thought began to go skittering off into the shadows as his ‘shoulds’ usually did. He parked “talk to Wade” in the ‘Later’ section of his brain, keenly aware of how easily his ‘Later’ list often provided the introductory drumroll to his next disaster.

  Regrets and anxiety were core components of his ADHD life. He couldn’t recall one other ‘should’ on his current list, even as he knew there were dozens.

  The black shirt! Wade had said he might have a black shirt to lend. Dylan leaned back in the patio chair and smiled while chewing as he made a mental visualization. When he talked to Wade about the shirt, he’d also bring up the mortgage. The party was in approximately thirty-five hours, which was a workable timeline just so long as he didn’t leave the shirt question until the thirty-fourth and three-quarters hour.

  Dylan brought his focus to the present.

  Mari was speaking. “How far back does this property go?”

  “Beyond the back lawn, there’s another fifty yards are so,” Wade said. “There’s a seep that goes down to the Sound, but it’s mostly buried under a tangle of logs from the 1995 windstorm. It’s messy.”

  “We might find some interesting slime molds there,” Nazeem said. “Old, damp logs are an excellent habitat for Badhamia utricularis. That one looks like small hanging grapes. It starts yellow, then becomes a rich purple.”

  “Why does it change color?” Alyson asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nazeem said. “There must be a benefit, but I can’t see what it might be.”

  “Let’s stick with the front of the property for now,” Wade suggested. “Einar told me there’s one place near the fence line where the logs are precarious. We all need to stay away from that pile.”

  Wade continued, with a somber tone. “At the very edge of the property, there’s a stout hog wire fence that keeps in the neighbor’s Rottweiler. We need to keep everybody on this side of that fence.”

  “Signage,” Mari said. “You’re going to need signage and barriers to keep the Halloween crowd from going into the woods in the wrong place.”

  “Right,” Wade sighed. “Those are on the list.” He exhaled, “I should get on with things.” He looked at Alyson. “I’m not sure about this surveying afternoon for you. You really do have some more schoolwork before the in-person classes start.”

  Alyson’s face went into full mutiny. “Noooooo. No take backs! I’m helping Dylan and Mari with the biological survey.” She looked at Dylan. “Right?”

  “I don’t want you in their way,” Wade said.

  “I’ll do the packet later. I promise!” Her hands clenched into fists. “Please!”

  Wade looked at Dylan and Mari, taking a moment to formulate a response.

  Dylan rushed in with, “Alyson can be a help to us. We’ve got some gear to carry as we move into the documentation.”

  “Absolutely,” Mari said. “There’s a lot of gear.”

  They were leaving out the obvious that it was only a hundred yards from the house to the front of the property and gear could easily be retrieved from the vehicles at any time.

  “Alright,” Wade agreed. “Beast of burden this afternoon. Math whiz before long.”

  “Thanks!” Alyson stood up, ready to move before her father changed her mind.

  “You can start with hauling plates into the kitchen,” Wade suggested.

  “Okay!” Alyson picked up her lunch plate. She dashed off for the house, crumbs flying off the plate as she went.

  “She’s a great kid,” Mari stood up to help. “Reminds me of me.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you letting her tag along. She needs to be around more people than just me.”

  “My Aunt Bea invited Alyson to help with her fundraiser,” Mari said. “Tonight, there’s some set up, and tomorrow afternoon Alyson could alphabetize name tags.”

  “That’s just like Bea,” Wade smiled. “To give a kid a real job. Alyson will be thrilled.”

  “Bea also invited Alyson to stay for the evening events if you came to the auction,” Mari said, carefully.

  Wade gave a hoot of laughter. “Smart woman! Alyson will be dying to be there. Bea wants me to go home with a truckload of art.” He jerked a thumb at the stately chateau-style home behind him. “Like a ten-foot metal warthog will fit the décor.”

  Dylan grinned. “Bea did say you could be a help by bidding things up.”

  “Now there’s a thought. Although Einar wants me to keep a low profile. He says that the more the world knows I have money, then the more the world will be on my doorstep.”

  Wade shrugged and reached for the bowl of chips. “But sitting on piles of money when so many people are struggling and grieving is wrong too.”

  His long fingers picked up a few chips as he came to a decision. “What the heck. We’ll go. Alyson will have fun, and if we get stuck with the warthog, it’ll be, I don’t know, a conversation piece.”

  “What a nice father you are,” Nazeem said. She set her napkin down on a plate and said, “I should get moving. I have about an hour of energy left before my nap time.”

  “Right.” Dylan stood up, collecting plates to hand to Alyson, who had returned from her first trip to the kitchen. “Why don’t we walk up to the front of the drive. Alyson can show you the cemetery. Mari and I can start identifying the forbs and ferns.”

  Moments later, they were walking down the drive, Alyson keeping her pace to Nazeem’s by hopping on one foot and then the other.

  “I’m not always so slow,” Nazeem huffed.
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  “No worries,” Mari said. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  Dylan tilted his head back, taking in the blue skies showing beyond the giant leaves of the maples. “We’re going to have to key out mosses,” he said. “That will be a bear.”

  “Are we going to find the liver warts?” Alyson asked.

  “Liverwort,” Dylan answered. “Yep. Patience.” To Nazeem, he said, “Is the visiting professor looking for a specific liverwort? Maybe we could find it and make him a little happier.”

  “Not likely,” Nazeem puffed, then stopped to say more. “According to Angus, Dr. Peter Ackler specializes in documenting disappearing ecosystems. He’s here to see if he can find Frullania californica, which only grows on Garry oaks. It’s been found in British Columbia and in California, so he does have a chance in finding his desire. More so than I to find my pretzel slime mold, but we won’t find his liverwort here.”

  “Why not?” Alyson asked, pausing in a hop.

  “No Garry oaks,” Nazeem said. “The Garry oaks are out in flat prairie areas, like the base of the Steamboat Island peninsula. Here we’re in Douglas fir mixed woods.”

  She began walking again. “Yousef is driving the good doctor around today to a couple likely spots. Angus called the guy, Dr. Petty-Actions, which doesn’t sound like fun for Yousef.”

  “What’s Dr. Ackler’s funding source?” Mari asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Nazeem kept going, placing a hand on one side of her bulging front.

  Dylan stooped to move a lichen-encrusted branch off the drive. “Maybe governmental? Agency stuff to do with global warming?”

  “Maybe the liverwort makes you skinny or beautiful,” Alyson suggested. “You can put it in face cream or something. People spend a lot on makeup.”

  “Or you just say that it’s a rare plant that makes you beautiful,” Dylan said. “But you don’t need a real organism to market face cream.”