Dylan dropped into a chair next to Mari, Yousef and Wade, just in time to hear Thomas say, “This will make national news.”
“Where’s Alyson?” Wade sat up, then slumped back as he saw his daughter wending her way from the bar with a tray of water bottles.
She arrived and set the tray down. “Garrett says to hydrate because we still have an hour of clean-up to go.”
Mari groaned.
Wade asked, “Mari, can you stay the night here with Bea? I’d rather someone was here.”
“I can,” Mari was quick to agree. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure she has a T-shirt and some sweatpants I can borrow.”
Dylan said, “You might want to ask Bea about that.” Mari and Wade looked at him. “There’s a . . . possibility . . . that Einar stays over occasionally.”
Mari laughed. “You’re right. I’ll check with Bea.”
“How you holding up, short stuff?” Wade asked Alyson, who was working open the lid to a water bottle.
“Really tired, but okay. I want to stay for the cleanup.” Alyson forced the lid to turn. She smiled up at her father. “I’ll hydrate and be ready to go some more.”
“Okay, but stay where I can see you,” her father said. “We need to go back together. Dylan, that’s you too, please.”
“Makes sense.” Dylan finished his water and inhaled. “I’m hungry, but I’m too tired to walk around back to the sandwich table.”
Mari snorted. “Sandwich stuff has been packed up, but I saw extra desserts a minute ago. Hang on.”
She spoke to one of the wait staff who was collecting tea mugs. A moment later a waiter came back with a tray of chocolate cheesecake slices.
“End of the reserve,” the waiter said. “The late crowd has cleaned us out.”
Yousef started to wave away the offering, then changed his mind. He accepted a slice and handed it to Dylan.
“Thanks, boss.” Dylan wolfed two slices of cheesecake and felt better.
Peter Ackler came from the direction of the portrait area. He slid into a chair next to Yousef.
“Long night,” Ackler said. His eyes were dancing. He was smiling.
Yousef nodded at him. “You were a blessing to have. I could tell your eye for spacing and light helped Einar.”
“It was intense,” Ackler admitted. “And the most fun I’ve had in years.” He flushed, and added, “It is terrible, of course, about that ugly incident.”
People were departing quickly. It was almost eleven, far beyond the expected ending of the fundraiser.
Judging by Thomas’s tired smile as he rolled the barn door closed, all the art had been dispersed correctly. The group’s treasurer was beaming too as she shared the evening’s total take.
Bea was also still smiling as she said her good nights, moving steadily from table to table, but when she reached the back table, she looked worried. “Have you seen Einar?”
The tired group exchanged glances. Ackler said, “He told me he’d had his annual quota of people and would be back in a million moons. Then he went off into the woods.” Ackler waved in the general direction of the Witecki place, but it was such a broad wave, it encompassed a lot of territory.
Bea frowned and turned away.
Mari looked at Dylan and whispered, “I think I’m staying the night.”
When a myxomycetes enters mitosis (the type of cell division that replicates the parent cell), every nucleus within the slime mold’s outer membrane will synchronize so that all the nuclei are dividing at the exact same pace.
Chapter Thirty-one
Dylan could feel the double serving of chocolate cheesecake delivering the fat and sugar content his system needed to revive. He said as much to the group at the table. “Man, I’m feeling like a lichen after a cloudburst. I am alive!” He raised his arms up and shouted, “Let’s do this!”
“Let’s do what?” Yousef asked. “When you’re in this mood, I’m wary I will find myself driving to L.A. for breakfast omelets.”
“Let’s do what Bea needs us to do,” Dylan answered. “To break things down and get stuff put away.”
Dylan found his mouth spreading into a wide smile. “Like a slime mold! Let’s meld together in community and move in a unified direction! A blob of magnificence!”
“My contribution,” Yousef told him, “Will be to thank our mammologist musicians profusely and insist it’s time to close down the stage.”
“They’d keep playing?” Wade asked.
“Those two?” Yousef snorted. “You haven’t lived until you’ve greeted the dawn with mandolins and banjos after a long night of radio-collaring porcupines.”
He yawned. “I will take responsibility for ushering the musicians into their final set, then I will take myself home. And, you, Peter? Can I drop you off?”
“Yes. Thank you,” Ackler said, “This has been a fabulous evening. I am grateful to you for bringing me along.”
“You are most welcome.” Yousef raised an eyebrow at Dylan. “You shall sally forth in a burst of enthusiasm?”
“Like a spurt of sporangia springing forth, as if by magic!” Dylan beamed. “Which species? Stemonitis fusca! Tall and handsome, I shall join with my band of brothers,” he said, waving at the wait staff who were starting to divest tablecloths from tables.
“You are definitely on a dessert-high,” Yousef murmured. He stood up and spoke to Wade, “If you need anything done, like get your entire house painted, Dylan will be good for about ninety-five minutes. This will be followed by a profound sleep resembling hibernation. A raging fire alarm will not suffice to waken him.”
With a warm ‘Good night’, Yousef and Peter Ackler departed.
“Ackler was different,” Mari observed. “Pleasant and happy.”
Dylan nodded. “He came to life tonight, like a slime mold exiting a sclerotia phase.
“The who phase?” Wade asked.
“Sclerotia. A dormant phase that can last for years. Dried up and hard, then suddenly changing when conditions are right for growth.” Dylan shrugged. “Ackler seems to do well at formal parties.” He grinned. “Yousef not so much, but he manages.”
“He was a little rude,” Alyson said. “To talk about your energy levels that way.”
“Nope. It was biologically accurate,” Dylan told her. “I, like a good myxogastria, am ready to meld with my community and move to new frontiers.”
Mari giggled. “Perhaps fat and sugar are producing alcohol in your innards.” She stood up, “I’ll see if Garrett needs any help packing glasses. That’s the level of energy I have left. Alyson, do you want to come?”
“Sure!”
After one more scraping for chocolate on the plate, Dylan launched into action. He carried chairs. He folded and stacked tables. He wheeled carts and wound electric cords.
Forty minutes later, he was pushing a high-wheeled cart loaded with instrument cases out to the community parking area, accompanying the two mammologists who were keen to chat and re-visit the actions of the evening.
Two deputies stood next to a departmental sedan and nodded as Dylan and the cart went by. Dylan unloaded the instruments into the owner’s parked minivan, then steered the cart to the deputies.
“Hey,” he said. “Catch the cross lighters?”
“Nah,” One deputy shook his head. “They were long gone by the time we got there.”
“No footprints or anything?” Dylan asked.
“Nope. And don’t you go playing detective.” The deputy’s tone was firm. “We’ll have some people out in the morning to go over the site carefully.”
“The Commissioner is truly pissed off,” the second deputy shook a finger, gently. “Don’t go up there tonight. You might collect a load of buckshot.”
“He’s got firearms?” Dylan found that both unsurprising and interesting.
“An arsenal,” the deputy confirmed. “Please. Don’t go wandering up there.”
“No plans to!” Dylan pointed towards the beach. “Anyone check out
the beach?”
“No need. If there’s movement out there, it’s probably just a deer.” The larger of the two deputies folded his arms across his significant chest. “We’ll take a look if we hear anything.”
Dylan didn’t think the deputy had any interest in hearing about the non-beach going ways of the Columbian black-tailed deer, Odocoileus hemionus columbianus, who were far more likely to be found grazing on Bea’s back yard of grass at midnight instead of roaming food-free sandy shores.
There was also the possibility that a person lurking on the sands was Einar.
Although Dylan felt a keen need to move, he decided to stay off the beach.
A pod of waitstaff in their black and white outfits came out to the parking lot and dispersed to several vehicles. Garrett was with the group, and he made a wave to Dylan before climbing into a station wagon with a trio of young women.
“Much more coming out?” one of the deputies asked.
“No,” Dylan answered, after a wave back. “I think the tables, chairs and Porta-Potties get picked up tomorrow.”
“Here comes da Judge.” One of the deputies spoke with a lilt, but he also straightened up and stood, at the ready, as the tall blonde emerged from Bea’s drive.
Victoria acknowledged the deputies with a friendly waggle of her fingers. She stopped next to Bea’s mailbox and retrieved a small sports duffle from behind a rhododendron.
Dylan watched, fascinated, as Victoria stepped out of silver stilettos with crimson soles. She opened the duffle bag and pulled out a pair of tennis shoes. She moved into a graceful lunge to don and lace one shoe, then switched her pose to do the other, each action completed with a yoga master’s grace. There would be no tear in the knee of her nylons.
The deputies looked at each other. “We should give her an escort,” one said, only to halt as a happy whistling came from the Witecki drive.
Einar appeared. He joined Victoria and waited as she slipped her party shoes into the sports bag.
Then Einar reached for her, enfolding her into a hug. She kissed him, snuggling close.
Dylan watched as the two joined hands, then turned to walk up the road towards Victoria’s hillside home.
“Looks like she already has an escort,” the deputy deadpanned.
Dylan left the deputies, pushing the high-wheeled cart down Bea’s long drive, moving quickly and thinking furiously. Einar was with Victoria. Not with Bea. What did that mean?
Thomas emerged from the shadows part way down the drive, leading a small cluster of tired volunteers.
“Wade and Alyson are waiting for you,” Thomas said. “We’re done for tonight – and thanks. You were marvelous.”
Dylan nodded and moved on to the work barn. He simply shoved the cart toward the closed barn door. The stars were out. It wouldn’t rain.
He found Wade and Alyson sitting on Bea’s front steps with Mari and the sculptor.
“Great party, Bea,” Dylan said. “A big success.” He deliberately chose to boot Einar out of his brain space. He’d think about relationships later, but not right now.
Bea stretched and sighed. “It was a nice party. Thank you. Your high energy was a godsend.”
“It was fun.” Dylan grinned. “Yousef was right. I’m about to crash.”
Wade stood up. “Let’s go home. Bea loaned us a headlamp. We should get home without scaring ourselves to death. Come on, short stuff. Up.”
Alyson got to her feet. “I’m sleeping until noon tomorrow. Or later.”
“Nope,” her father smiled. “Dylan has an appointment mid-morning, and I think we should go with him to make sure it goes well.”
“I have an appointment?” Dylan’s eyes were drooping.
“You do. Remember? We’re getting a watch dog.” Wade switched on the headlamp. “And I sure hope he’s a good one.”
A slime mold can “remember” where food has been. When an extension of a plasmodium reaches food, that extension will secrete a chemical that softens the tubes of the plasmodium in the region near the food. A network is built that combines thin and thick tubes. This architecture is read like a menu when the plasmodium ventures forth again.
Chapter Thirty-two
Dylan crawled into the luxurious queen bed in the Witeki guest room and easily dropped into sleep. Two hours later he roused after dreaming of a barking dog who chased moving slime molds and a whistling man. The cells of the slime mold stacked into a tower, then melted into a dark goo.
He blinked wearily as he tried to make sense of the dream. Cells reproduced and died.
Sacrifice. Altruism. Or just too much chocolate cheesecake?
He punched the pillow and went back to sleep.
Hours later there was a thunderous round of rapping on the bedroom door. Dylan ignored it. The rapping continued with Wade’s voice yelling, “Dylan!” Get up!”
Dylan pulled the pillow over his head.
Wade came into the bedroom and yanked the toasty duvet off. He tickled Dylan’s bare feet, saying, “Come on, buddy. You have a dog to fetch.”
“Oh. Crikey.” Dylan managed to bring himself to wakefulness. He sat up and scrubbed at his eyes.
Wade’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Yousef called this morning. He suggested we drag you outside and turn on the garden hose, but that seems a bit rough on everyone. Can you get to the shower?”
Dylan swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I can if I don’t lay down again. Be out in a bit.”
Fifteen minutes of standing under gloriously hot water helped. He dressed, took his meds, and went down the stairs with a feeling of discombobulation. With his poor levels of executive function, he needed his routines. Sensory input was on high in this new space, and routines had not yet been established.
Even things like deciding which towel rack to use after the shower took brain effort, for which he needed fuel, time and fresh focus.
Wade and Alyson were eating at the kitchen island. A small flatscreen television was nestled high in one corner of the room. It was on, but silenced.
“There’s cereal and toast.” Wade pointed. “And some sausage and egg breakfast bowls in the freezer. Milk in the fridge”
Dylan went for the protein and microwaved a breakfast bowl. He was carrying the steaming bowl to the kitchen island when Wade picked up a remote and turned up the sound.
Two national talk show hosts discussed the cross burning in Olympia as cell phone video footage from the event played on the split screen.
“You’ll be on in a second,” Wade said.
“Me?”
“There’s tons of footage.” Wade smiled. “And it’s a slow news day.”
The talk show hosts complemented the fundraising crowd for their sangfroid and continued partying. The hosts marveled over the costumed mammologists and their banjo playing. Einar’s insta-portrait studio also garnered praise. But the talk show hosts’ final and most effusive complements were for the lean young man in black who was everywhere, helping the fundraiser be a success.
Dylan watched in amazement as his body dashed around the screen. The brown belt and knife sheath against his black clothes made him an easy figure to follow.
“Look at him go!” One anchor marveled. “A handsome hero in action.”
“That was near disaster adrenaline. And they spliced in the clean-up time that came after two pieces of chocolate cheesecake,” Dylan complained.
“Yousef pointed out that you are slightly more photogenic than most,” Wade said. The news story changed, and Wade silenced the television.
“That is so weird.” Dylan forked in scrambled egg and sausage.
“It’s also so very dangerous,” Wade replied. “This may shut us down.”
“No!” Alyson put down her cereal spoon. “Why?”
“Nutcases draw in other nutcases. And we have an unsolved murder. Most of the time the authorities have an idea of who the culprit is right away. Angry neighbor, brutal spouse, somebody with a grudge.” Wade sighed. “They’ve got
nothing, so far.”
“We have the poison oak on Killer,” Dylan pointed out.
“That’s not much,” Wade said. “The cross burning? It’s dangerous. It means nasty people are right here. As if we didn’t know that already after Mitchell’s death. Alyson, I really, really need you to be with me or Dylan at all times. No wandering off by yourself. Not even for a minute.”
“Okay.” Alyson nodded. “Got it.”
“I’m glad we’re going to get Killer,” Wade continued. “I’m no fan of home firearms or harsh security measures, but I’m wishing Killer was as big as our neighbor’s Rottweiler.” He turned to Dylan. “Alyson and I should go with you this morning, just in case there’s a hassle about picking up Killer.”
“That would be super,” Dylan agreed. He looked up at the wall clock, which showed half past eight. “I’d like to run next door and check on Mari and Bea. I want to make sure Bea is alright.”
He didn’t mention seeing Einar going home with Victoria. He didn’t know, for sure, that Einar had been spending time with Bea.
Which was kinda bull-shit. He knew, and he knew he knew, but he’d hold back on the public verbalization for now.
“Mari’s car is here,” he said. “If she’s ready to drive home, it’d be best if she didn’t walk over alone.”
“Right. You could take back Bea’s headlamp, if you don’t mind. But, do me a favor, and run through the woods,” Wade said. “No surveying there and back.”
“Got it.” Dylan flashed a smile and finished his breakfast.
A few minutes later he was on his way, headlamp in hand. The morning was cool with low, gray skies. The South Sound cloud layer would burn off by late morning, leading to another clear day.
He ran through the woods, emerging at Bea’s backyard. He quartered to the front where he was surprised to see Garrett sitting with Mari on the house steps.
The ground in front of the house was rutted and grassy swaths were smashed. The landscaping looked rumpled and frowsy, like a good party had left a headache.
The Slime Mold Murder Page 19