The Slime Mold Murder

by Ellen King Rice

  “Chokeholds are not illegal here.” Detective Moubrey crossed her arms, as if she had given a final ruling.

  “I still may go to jail,” Randall said. “There’ll be an investigation. It’ll help that we were able to take Littlesmith down, but even if I don’t go to jail, I may lose my badge.”

  Dylan’s ADHD brain provided the irreverent thought that there were openings setting up Porta-Potties at party events, but he managed not to say this aloud.

  Randall wasn’t finished. “I may end up being charged with reckless homicide.” He sighed. “We put a piece of rope around his neck as a misdirection for when the death made the news. Stupid. It wasn’t premeditated.”

  “Or it could be ruled an accidental death,” Detective Moubrey said. “Let’s finish here.” She spoke with a firmness that had Dylan thinking of a Border Collie driving sheep into a pen.

  Randall said, “Richie really did kick the dog. I was the one who put him in the leaf bag. I’m glad the little guy survived.”

  Killer was curled up on the kitchen floor next to an empty dog dish. He looked very much at peace.

  “I’m also wanting to apologize for taking you, Alyson,” Randall said. “Littlesmith was wary. He figured if we were up for grabbing a girl, then we couldn’t be law enforcement.”

  “We’re learning that many who join the white supremacist groups are simply looking to belong. If they have can get a decent job and a community connection going, they can turn into solid citizens. But a few of them, like Littlesmith, are determined to spill blood.”

  Randall sighed. “And the charismatic leadership can be smart. They are tech savvy and paranoid. It’s hard to get to them, and they won’t stop. They love the rush that comes with directing others to kill.”

  He shook his head. “Your dad has every right to be furious with us. If things had gone sideways, you could have been injured or killed.” He looked up at the sunshine streaming through the windows. “We get myopia doing this work. We had been through so much, living like animals, that getting you up to Victoria Cunningham’s didn’t seem like too much, but it was.”

  “Damn straight,” Wade growled. “Kids as bait?”

  Alyson held up her hand. “Except that I knew I was bait.”

  Dylan blinked. “Come again?” He shifted gingerly on the kitchen stool. “I’m feeling guilty as hell that we weren’t watching you close enough.”

  “I was trying to be girl detective,” Alyson admitted. “I could have yelled or even just made a big noise with scooting out my chair. You guys were close enough. I just wanted to see what I could figure out on my own.”

  Wade’s eyes sought the ceiling. “On one hand,” he said, slowly, “I get that. And I’m proud that you own it.” His eyes came down like a pair of laser beams to drill into Alyson’s eyes. “On the other hand, that was bone-headed stupid and very, very dangerous.”

  Alyson nodded. “Sorry, Dad.”

  “We got lucky,” Randall set down his water glass. “Dylan, I do have a couple of questions.”

  “Okay.”

  “What was that Mix-o-motion stuff?”

  Dylan laughed. “The Myxogastria are slime molds. At one stage in their life cycle, all these individual cells come together and live in a community behind one cell membrane. When the blob of individuals needs to do something, there is a special movement called ‘chemotaxis.’ The blob checks out a chemical gradient and moves toward it or away from it, depending on whether it’s a good signal or a bad one. Spreading out is important, but it has to be done right.”

  “Group decision making?” Randall asked.

  “Kinda, only slime molds don’t have brain cells.” Dylan smiled. “I was really calling for everybody to be spread out and ready all at once when there was an opportunity. It wasn’t an exact analogy.”

  “You’re a natural leader.” Randall’s voice was confident and intense. “I could feel the change. Your side went from a bunch of tense individuals to a unified team. It was impressive.”

  “Thanks.” Dylan looked at Wade. “I still feel guilty about losing track of Alyson. If you’ve had enough of me, I can move on.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Wade laughed. “I watched you take on a man with a shotgun while you were armed with a West Highland terrier in a rainbow-striped canvas bag. I need you here. I really do. You’ve got a roof over your head, meals, and snacks for as long as you bring your brains and hustle to the table.”

  Dylan felt better.

  In fact, he felt great.

  Turning back to Randall, he asked, “What else do you want to know?”

  “You told Richie you were a spore in a capillary?”

  It took Dylan a moment to recall what he’d said when entwined in the huckleberry bush. “Capillitium! Again, it has to do with slime molds, and specifically with the slime mold we found on Killer.”

  Randall lifted an eyebrow signaling confusion, but Alyson’s face broke into a grin. “This should be good,” she said. “He makes the strangest connections.”

  “Slime molds reproduce by spores,” Dylan moved into his lecture mode, feeling light and happy. “Many slime molds send up these stalks that have a head where the spores are made. Being pushed up into a tower helps the wind carry spores to new places.”

  “But the tower top is special,” he continued. “There may be a tangled net of threads that are very elastic. They can nestle and protect the spores, or they can sling the spores out into the air.”

  He smiled. “There’re worlds within worlds when you start looking. Some of the threads have spiral twists. Others have projections like cogs on a gear wheel. There are multiple ways threads can do the double duty of protection and launching.”

  Dylan shrugged. “There was the blessed elasticity of that bush. I’m really glad I landed in it instead of on a stump.”

  Detective Moubrey said, “We reviewed the footage on Judge Cunningham’s security system. She has a camera on the terrace, and there’s a good segment that shows you tackling the Commissioner and going over the wall. It’s impressive.”

  “Can we get a copy?” Alyson asked. “I’d like to watch it.”

  “I’ll see what we can do,” the detective smiled. “We’re glad it ended without any shooting.”

  “Amen.” Wade’s voice was sober. “Do we know how Commissioner Kenyon is doing?”

  Detective Moubrey shrugged. “Last I heard, he was in surgery. We’ll know more later this evening.”

  After the officers left, Dylan went back upstairs to put his wallet away, Killer trotting along at his heels. The pair were in the bedroom when Dylan’s cell phone rang.

  It was Yousef.

  “Mixed news,” Yousef said. “The great news is that Nazeem had her baby. His name is Ruhan Dylan.”

  “Ruhan Dylan? Seriously?” Dylan laughed. “I did not see that coming.”

  “Harris wanted a traditional name, Nazeem wanted something more modern, so this was their compromise.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “The not so good news is that I put in a call to my business prof buddy to tell him that you’d had your bell rung this afternoon and your proposal might be late.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Well, it didn’t work out. We’re way past the deadline. He’s not feeling comfortable putting his name on the project.” Yousef sighed. “I don’t want you to worry. We’ll figure out something.”

  “I think,” Dylan spoke slowly, “This might be a good thing. Wade says I’ve got a roof and meals here. I can work for him this fall and save up some bucks. I’ve only got one term left. I could do the winter term and not be so crazy.”

  “I agonize when a student takes a term off,” Yousef complained. “So many times, they don’t come back. But I could make a promise that I’ll come find your skinny rear and drag it back to campus come January.”

  Dylan grinned. “Got to catch me first, boss.” Then he sobered, because he knew Yousef would worry. “You have my word on this. I’ll come back soon
to finish the degree.”

  He looked down at Killer, who was looking up with his head cocked, sizing up where Dylan would move to next.

  “In fact, I have an idea,” Dylan told his professor. “I think I have one hell of a good idea.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  “Don’t let party planning take you over the edge,” Dylan’s voice narrated. By the twenty-seventh of September, the YouTube clip had been viewed eight million times, with other social media platforms having similar counts.

  The security footage of a lean lad carrying a West Highland terrier in a rainbow-striped Peek-a-Paw pack while shoving an armed white supremacist into a pinwheeling fall was a terrific hit in a world weary of hatred.

  Dylan had Mari and Garrett help him create the second half of the clip. He wore a navy-blue polo shirt with the now famous “Northwest Party Essentials” embroidered in teal green on the left front. With Killer tucked under his arm, he looked into the camera and said, “We can help you with all your party needs. We can bring you tables, chairs, sun awnings and so much more. After a crazy, hard year, we are so ready to party! Killer and I can deliver! Just call and place your order. . .”

  Yousef complained about “the best brain of my teaching career is now shilling napkins and swizzle sticks,” but he relented when Dylan reported the bonus check he’d picked up from Garrett’s smiling uncle.

  The check was enough to get the vintage Civic out of the mechanic’s shop, bill paid in full. And a week later a second check made winter term tuition look manageable.

  He tried to get his driver’s license upgraded so he could drive the party supplies truck on weekends. This drained away two days’ worth of executive function. After a hair-raising Saturday afternoon of misjudging a road edge and sticking the truck in a muddy trench, he and Garrett agreed that Garrett would drive, and Dylan would provide unloading and set up help.

  “Enjoy being a celebrity,” Garrett said. “You’re bringing in money.”

  They made a good trio with Garrett at the wheel and Dylan and Killer as colorful assistants. Killer wore a front-facing bandana triangle embroidered with “Party Hearty with Northwest Party Essentials” that was now trending on Instagram. Dylan did switch to a backpack carrier so his hands could be free for set up work. This carrier was a subdued navy blue.

  Meanwhile, Dylan also worked weekdays for Wade, preparing the Witecki place for the Halloween season.

  This day, a Tuesday, was a rare day off. Dylan took his smoothly-running old Civic along Evergreen Parkway, down Harrison Avenue, then left on Kaiser and right on Fourteenth, pulling up to the Marshall Middle School, only ten minutes later than he’d promised.

  Alyson was waiting with a cluster of seventh grade friends, one of whom shrieked when she realized it was Dylan and Killer pulling up.

  “It’s them! It’s really them!”

  Dylan was not comfortable with the effect he was having on middle school girls, but he did his best. He leaned over to the passenger side and rolled down the window, calling to one of the girls he recognized. “Hey, Harriet. How’s it going?”

  The girl flushed beet red with pleasure as she managed a croaking, “Umm. Good!”

  Alyson opened the car door, picked up Killer and plopped herself into the bucket seat.

  “You are so popular,” she told the dog, stroking his ears. “You too,” she said to Dylan. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Not a problem. Garrett says if I get cocky, he’ll drag me through a Class C license and hazmat training, and then I’ll be handling the Porta-Potty pumper truck.”

  Alyson laughed.

  “How’d your proposal go?” Dylan asked. “Did the class like the Chaucer Pilgrimage idea?”

  “Nope.” Alyson shrugged. “Too Eurocentric and religious, but that’s okay. We’re going to do some Salish Sea stuff that gets us the Washington State History credit.”

  “That’s not too shabby.”

  “We’re going to a First Nation Salmon feast. For art, we’re learning to sew buttons like the ones on button blankets. It’ll be great.”

  “Plus practical.” Dylan shifted the gears on the Civic. “Local social connections, food preparation and you will even be able to sew on a button. Nice.”

  They arrived at the Mud Bay Pet Supplies store. Dylan put Killer on a ribbon leash and followed Alyson as she loaded a basket with deluxe dog chews and a tennis ball collection.

  “Shopping for Dad’s birthday is easy this year,” she said. “Anything for Chaucer makes him happy.” She did pass on an organic shampoo and conditioner. “Dad says that swimming at the beach plus a rinse with the hose is good enough.”

  After loading purchases in the tiny back seat of the car, Dylan drove Alyson back to the Witecki home, now known as “The Halloween House.”

  “Yousef heard from Peter Ackler,” Dylan said. “Peter likes Vancouver. Besides the art sales, he’s lecturing about botanical art to retirement communities as part of a museum outreach program. He’s dating a cellist from the symphony.”

  “Wow. That’s nice.”

  As he guided the Civic down the Witecki’s long drive, he could see a zip line training taking place. Dylan asked, “Think we’ll have a good opening day?”

  “Tickets are sold out.” Alyson wiggled in the bucket seat. “We’re good!”

  “Did you invite your class to the soft opening?”

  “Yep. I took your advice and waited until after the project vote. Nobody can accuse me of being a sore loser.” She grinned. “I think we’ll have plenty of takers for Thursday night.”

  It was nice of you to give the Maisie Wilen T-shirt to Mari.”

  “It has a butterfly on it. Seems right for a ‘Mariposa.’ I’m glad the stains came out.” Alyson rolled down the window of the Civic and put her head out so the wind lifted her hair. “I’m glad Victoria is moving too.”

  “Have you spoken with her?”

  Alyson nodded. “I forgot to tell you. She stopped by last night when you were out on the party pick-up run.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She told my Dad she wasn’t running for re-election. She’s moving to Mexico.”

  “Einar too?”

  Alyson pulled her head in from the window. Her smile was rueful. “I wanted to ask, but I chickened out. I don’t think I really want to know.”

  She exhaled. “I still feel bad about Bea. I think she really, really liked Einar.”

  “This world is naught but a thoroughfare, full of woe.” Dylan quoted as he parked the car. “And we be pilgrims, passing to and fro.”

  “The Knight’s Tale.” Alyson wrinkled her nose. “Awfully pessimistic.”

  “How about this one: Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of new bureaucracy.” Dylan turned off the car, enjoying the smooth action of the new ignition system. “That’s Franz Kafka.”

  “Extremely pessimistic and a human-centric evaluation of slime,” Alyson sniffed. “We know slime to be gorgeous, complicated and totally cool.”

  “What would you tell Bea to make her feel better?” Dylan found himself genuinely curious. Alyson was growing and changing by the day. Wade had commented that hanging out with Mari, Dylan, Garrett and Yousef had significantly improved Alyson’s vocabulary and confidence.

  Alyson tilted her head, looking up at the blue autumn sky. “I could tell her that we’ve got this. We can go through those dry, hard periods and come to life again.”

  “Post-sclerotia living?”

  “Yeah.” Alyson grinned. “Let’s do it.”

  Want to know more about slime molds?

  The Curious Observer’s Guide to Slime Mold by Carrie Niblett

  A breezy but well done look at slime molds found near the University of California Santa Cruz campus. Niblett combines abundant photographs and clear illustrations with easy-to-read descriptions.

  A Companion to Cosmopolitan Slime Molds by Angle Mele

  A scientific illustrator, Mele deliv
ers stunningly beautiful looks at some of the common slime mold species. Additionally, there are descriptions of the species by Dr. Steven L. Stephenson

  Myxomycetes, A Handbook of Slime Molds

  by Steven L. Stephenson and Henry Stempen

  A more technical look at the biology of slime molds, with abundant descriptions, illustrations and photographs.

  Where the Slime Mould Creeps by Sarah Lloyd

  Lloyd documents the slime molds in her region of Tasmania. This riveting read shows the stunning array of slime molds that can be found when there is consistent surveying and documentation.

  The Cellular Slime Molds by J.T. Bonner

  Published in 1967, this is a classic reference for mycologists. The language is lyrical and the illustrations are charming, although the biology can be challenging to follow. This one is enjoyed best after some grounding reads in the above books.

  Keep turning the pages now. . . There’s more to discover!

  How to help an author

  In these times of online algorithms, authors sink or swim by online reviews. Reviews let an author know what worked and tells other readers what is worth their time and money.

  Please talk about what you read, whether it is online or in person. Your words shape the market and help an author grow or retrench. Your opinion matters.

  Find out more about Ellen’s books at:

  www.ellenkingrice.com

  Turn the page to enjoy an excerpt from of another of Ellen’s books.

  From The EvoAngel

  “Once the mushroom has sprouted from the earth, there is no turning back.”

  Luo proverb from Kenya

  Chapter One

  Tuesday morning, September 15

  Kamilche Peninsula, Shelton, Washington

  She could poison the doctor.