Nuts!

Jack Handy was speaking in his usual business-like manner. His methodical pace was all the more exacerbated by his listener's seeming indifference to the whole conversation.

"Audrey Stapleton was the queen of Boston's social elite. Old money, mid-50's, three daughters all married into the right families, a body that had aged very well, a sharp mind, and a willingness to do what was necessary -- these qualities made her very popular among the city's upper echelon - and feared as well."

"There was little that occurred in the Boston social scene that didn't first have Audrey's approval. Who hosted what events, whose daughters were debutantes that year, even what charities were fashionable -- these were issues Audrey determined and then ruled over with fierce resolve. It was even rumored that more than one marriage had been decided based on Mrs. Stapleton's wishes."

"Audrey's presence was felt even when she wasn't there. In fact, she rarely went to social events herself, but would grill people before and after them to learn all that she could. If Mrs. Stapleton did decide to attend a function, that was a sure sign that the hosts were now firmly established in Boston's nearly impermeable high society."

"Naturally, such a woman was bound to have made a few enemies along the way."

Sylvia Thickett shrugged her shoulders. "That's all fine and good, Jack. But certainly there's nothing in what you say to indicate a murder. Anyone in high circles these days is bound to have an enemy or two floating around somewhere. This case seems pretty clear-cut to me. Why are you stirring it up?"

Jack paused. His chief at the Massachusetts State Bureau of Investigation had asked him the same question before pulling Jack off the case. That's why he was in Connecticut visiting Sylvia. He was hoping that she would look into the case for him.

Sylvia was, of course, the last person one would suspect of being a crime solver. She was very slight, elderly and a retired English professor. Not quite the Sherlock Holmes material. And yet, Sylvia had a knack for seeing things that others often missed. Jack hoped that knack would be of help to him now.

The special agent sighed, "Mrs. Stapleton died at a party held at the Country Club in Brookline. The hostess of the party was my cousin's wife, Gigi. She's overwrought with concern that this spells the end of my family's social position in Boston. We've told her that none of us care about that, but she will have none of it."

"So you want me to help you out so that your third cousin can get into the right school three years from now?" Sylvia replied sarcastically as she glanced up from her paper.

"No." Jack answered. "It certainly is a factor and I want to honest with you about it, but there's something else. I've been in this line of work for several years now and there's just something about this case that troubles me. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something that's just nagging at me and I can't let it go."

Sylvia set the paper down and gave Jack her full attention. "Now, that's what I was waiting for!" she exclaimed.

"You'll help me, then?"

"Of course."

"Thank you! I really hope you can solve this for me."

Sylvia laughed. "I think you have already solved the case yourself. That's why it troubles you so much. The problem is that you don't yet know that you've solved it."

Jack looked at Sylvia with some confusion. "So you will come to Boston with me?"

"There's no need," Sylvia laughed again. "Since you already know the answer, I think you have all of the information I need to help you see it. Now, let me get some tea. Then you can tell me the story."

A few minutes later, the spinster sat back in her favorite chair - the one with the best view of the bird feeder - and focused her attention on Jack.

"Now, tell me the whole story."

The agent took a breath. "Audrey Stapleton had selected Gigi to host a reception for the ambassador from Ireland at the Country Club. As you may imagine, such an honor immediately caused Gigi's social star to rise. Then, when Audrey let it be known that she, herself, would be in attendance, it was the social coup of the year for Gigi."

Sylvia sighed. "Can we get to the murder, please?"

"Um. Well, the first thing to know is that Mrs. Stapleton had an extreme peanut allergy. She'd had it since she was a child."

"That was in the obituary."

"Yes. And that's why none of the elite restaurants in Boston serve anything with peanuts in it - certainly not the Country Club. In fact, being peanut-free was a mark of honor for most establishments and some in Boston society would only eat in those restaurants."

"So?"

"So that's what makes Mrs. Stapleton's death so mysterious. She certainly died of cardiac arrest caused by anaphylactic shock which was itself caused by exposure to peanuts or peanut products. There's no question about that. The problem is that no one can figure out how she came into contact with enough peanuts to kill her. The Country Club was peanut-free. All of the vendors were peanut-free. We've tested every bit of food in the whole place and can find nothing. Besides, all that she ate was a small salad, a glass of wine and some water. That's it."

"Tell me about those three. What do you know?"

"The salad was prepared by the chef of the Country Club for all of the guests as part of dinner. It was a cranberry salad with no nuts, several kinds of greens and a raspberry vinaigrette dressing. We checked all of the food in the entire club and there were no peanuts."

"The wine was a domestic red, a bit below the Country Club's usual standards. The sommelier was very embarrassed and begged us not to let anyone know about his choice of wine for the evening. Apparently, he's got a friend who refills their old bottles and sells them back to the club, making a tidy profit for both gentlemen. Illegal, sure, but nothing murderous in it. We had the wine analyzed in the lab and there was nothing there."

Jack reached into a bag. "Here's one of the bottles from the club. This one isn't open, but the sommelier assures me that it was from the same batch as the ones used that night. he places a mark on the doctored bottles and only uses them when he's sure he'll not be discovered."

Sylvia turned the bottle over to see a small mark on the bottom. Probably magic marker, she thought. The top of the bottle was well-corked and wrapped. Sylvia thought she could tell that it had been tampered with, but was sure no casual observer would notice the wine-swap.

"And the water?"

"Here it is," declared Jack proudly as he pulled two water bottles from his bag. "The empty bottle is the one Mrs. Stapleton drank from. The other was in the same ice bucket as hers was."

"How did you get her exact water bottle? And what were they doing with plastic bottles at a country club?"

Jack nodded. "Funny, huh. It turns out that these bottles are manufactured and filled by a local company that just so happens to have ties to the ambassador's family in Ireland. See the shamrock on the label? The water was provided to the club by the planning committee as a way to ingratiate themselves with the ambassador."

"Planning committee?"

"Oh, yes," replied Jack. "Gigi may have been the hostess, but none of these events occur without a lot of planning, preparatory teas and the like. She had nine other ladder-climbing felines to both please and hold at bay for this event."

Sylvia smiled slightly and then picked up the water bottles.

"Did you know that even water bottles have an expiration date?" she asked casually.

Jack chuckled, "As if water ever goes bad. I'll bet it's just some FDA requirement."

"Do we know if the water was tampered with?"

"It couldn't have been. There are no marks to indicate tampering and when it was handed to Mrs. Stapleton it was still closed."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Glenda O'Connor was the one who gave it to her. Audrey mentioned being thirsty, so Glenda reached into the ice pail at the refreshment table and pulled out a water for her. The waiter dried it off and opened it for Mrs. Stapleton when she couldn't get the twist top to break free."

Sylvia looked at both water bottles, one after the other. After a few moments, she raised her eyebrows slightly and said, "I think I know what's been bothering you. Give me a few days to do some research and I'll email you a couple of questions. I think if you follow them, you'll find our murderer."

Three months later, Jack returned to Sylvia's house with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of red wine.

"I can't thank you enough!" he exuded. "My cousin says that they want to treat you to the finest restaurant in Boston the next time you visit!"

Sylvia smiled. "I see in the news that Mrs. O'Connor has been ordered by the grand jury to face murder charges."

"That's right! And we would never have solved the case if it weren't for you! How did you know?"

"I didn't. You did. You're the one who brought me all the evidence I needed."

Jack looked at Sylvia quizzically. "If you say so, but you're the one who put all the pieces together. How did you do it?"

"Well," Sylvia began, "The first question to answer would usually be one of motive. In this case, though, it seemed that method had the upper hand. When you showed me the two water bottles, I immediately noticed that they had different expiration dates on them. Now, a difference of a few months might be completely unimportant, but this was by two years. I knew that was significant."

"But still, the water was unopened and appeared completely untampered. So did the date difference really matter? That's when I remembered why water has an expiration date. Plastic bottles are not truly solid. They are porous and gradually absorb smells and chemicals from their environment. All it took was a quick phone call to an old colleague to confirm that the peanut protein Ara H 2 could indeed be absorbed through the type 1 plastic of standard water bottles."

"So, then, it was clear. Mrs. O'Connor had bought water from the same company a few years ago and had been soaking a bottle in peanut oil for literally months. The peanut protein had gradually been absorbed by the plastic and then leached into the water itself."

"When Mrs. Stapleton drank the water, she may have noticed a funny taste, but she was not about to embarrass the ambassador or the other guests in any way. So she drank the whole bottle without thinking about its real contents. The poor lady was, of course, too vain and too confident to carry an epi-pen with her, so by the time people realized the problem, it was too late to help."

Jack interrupted, "So why did you ask the questions you did in your email?"

"I wanted to know how old Mrs. O'Connor was so that I could determine a motive. You see, even if one hated Mrs. Stapleton, there was no reason to kill her. All one needed to do was ingratiate themselves with her. Unless, of course, your goal was to replace Audrey as the queen of society. Mrs. O'Connor was also in her fifties, so her prospects of outlasting Mrs. Stapleton were limited at best. Her only hope of taking Audrey's place was to get rid of her."

"Likewise, it was important to learn that Mrs. O'Connor had been on the planning committee for the event. It came as no surprise once I learned that fact to also learn that is was she who had proposed using the bottled water to the rest of the committee. From there it was easy for her to plant the doctored water among the others and serve it to Mrs. Stapleton sometime that night."

"What if someone else had drank the water?"

"Probably nothing would have happened. It's very unlikely that its recipient would also have a peanut allergy."

What if Audrey didn't want any water?"

"That would be very unlikely since it would be so socially appropriate to drink some. But if she didn't, I suppose our murderer would have thought of another plan and would bide her time until she could try again."

Jack sighed, "How do you figure these things out?"

"Oh, you had it figured out before me. You just didn't realize it."



(c) 2016, Kevin H. Grenier