Софи Келли - A Midwinter's Tail

I knew Maggie and Roma would help me figure out how to find the money to keep the reading program going. And I also knew that Marcus would figure out what Dayna had eaten that had caused that allergic reaction. Maybe it hadn’t been the chocolate truffles. Maybe it hadn’t been something at the reception at all. Olivia had been adamant that there were no nuts in her chocolates.

I still felt unsettled, though. I couldn’t banish the image of Dayna struggling to breathe, lips rimmed with blue, wheezing and gasping and trying to tell me how much she wanted to live. I couldn’t help wondering why she’d been at the party and why she’d come back to Mayville Heights at all.

5

I had an early breakfast with Vincent Starr in the morning at the St. James Hotel. It had already been planned and I didn’t see any reason to cancel. He was already seated in the dining room at a table that looked out over the Riverwalk.

He got to his feet and pulled out a chair for me. “How are you, Kathleen?” he asked with genuine concern in his dark eyes. “I’m so sorry about what happened last night. I heard that one of the women didn’t make it.”

I nodded as I sat down. “Sadly, that’s true.”

Dayna Chapman was dead, most likely from anaphylaxis. Olivia was going to be fine. The medical examiner’s office was investigating, but so far, no one had any idea what Dayna had eaten that had triggered the allergic reaction.

“If you’d like to cancel your talk this morning and head back to Minneapolis, I understand,” I continued. “Last night was unsettling for everybody.”

Vincent shook his head and stretched his arm along the back of his chair, resting his hand on the empty one next to him.

“It wouldn’t change anything, Kathleen,” he said. “That unfortunate woman would still be dead. Maybe this morning will be a bit of a distraction for people.”

I felt a little of the tension in my shoulders ease. “Thank you,” I said. The waitress arrived then with coffee and Vincent began quizzing her about how the hotel’s eggs Benedict was made.

We talked about the exhibit Vincent was curating for the art museum over breakfast and I left him nursing his third cup of coffee and charming the waitresses.

* * *

Abigail pulled in right behind me at the library.

I turned off the alarm and the two of us went inside. She headed for the stairs and I followed. I put my things in my office and found her in the staff room, starting the coffee.

“So it’s going to be one of those days,” I said, getting the mugs down out of the cupboard.

Abigail leaned back against the counter. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” she said. “I kept seeing Dayna Chapman struggling to breathe. I couldn’t seem to stop it from playing over and over like some kind of endless movie loop.”

“I know,” I said, setting the mugs on the table. “It almost doesn’t feel real.”

“Kathleen, do you think it was the chocolates?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Olivia was pretty insistent that she didn’t use pistachios or any other kind of nuts in those truffles.”

“That’s because she’s allergic to cashews,” Abigail said. “People who are allergic to one kind of nut sometimes react to other nuts as well.”

“How did you know Olivia has a nut allergy?” I asked, turning to get the coffee cream out of the refrigerator.

“She shares the kitchen space with the Earl of Sandwich and Sweet Thing. Remember? Georgia told me that before Olivia rented space to her for her cupcakes, she told her there couldn’t be any nuts in the kitchen. If she wants to make anything with nuts, she does it at Fern’s.”

Abigail poured me a cup of coffee, got one for herself and sat down at the table.

I pulled out a chair. “So, how do you explain what happened to Olivia when she bit into that chocolate from Dana’s box? She definitely had a reaction.”

Abigail poured a little cream into her coffee. “I know, but it doesn’t make any sense. If Olivia had used nuts in the truffles, why lie about it? It’s easy enough to check. And why would she eat one and put herself at risk?”

I added sugar to my cup and stirred it slowly. “You’re right,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

None of what little information I had with respect to Dayna Chapman made any sense. Maybe that was why I couldn’t shake that unsettled feeling.

I pictured the woman, collapsing into my arms, unable to breathe, looking wide-eyed at the tiny box of chocolates in her hand before it fell to the floor. I didn’t see how it could be anything other than those chocolate truffles that had caused Dayna to go into anaphylactic shock. If Olivia hadn’t used any nuts when she made them, could someone else have accidentally contaminated them?

“Abigail, who packed the chocolates into all of the boxes?” I asked.

“Olivia did,” she said. She turned her cup in tiny circles on the table. “Nic dropped off all the boxes and Olivia packed every single one of them. And in case you’re wondering, yes, she wore gloves.”

“So the chocolates couldn’t have accidentally come in contact with any nuts while they were being packed?”

Abigail made a move as though she was going to flip her braid over her shoulder and then caught herself. She smiled sheepishly at me. “Old habits,” she said.

She took a sip of her coffee and set the cup down again. “I don’t see any way there could have been any cross contamination during the packing. The kitchen was spotless and I didn’t see any sign of any nuts. And, Kathleen, I tried all three of the truffles—Chocolate Raspberry, Dark Chocolate and Crème Maple. For what it’s worth, I didn’t taste any nuts, either.”

I nodded. “Okay, so what happened after Olivia filled the boxes?”

“I packed them back into the cartons and took them over to the theater. The boxes were locked in the front office until it was time to set them out. I can promise you that I washed my hands, and I didn’t touch anything except the outside of the cardboard boxes.”

I leaned against the back of my chair. “So there was no way the chocolates could have been contaminated during the packing. That just leaves the time they were in the office over at the Stratton.”

Abigail brushed a bit of lint off the front of her dark green sweater. “Oh, c’mon, Kathleen. Why on earth would someone sneak into that office and contaminate the chocolates? First of all, what did this mysterious person do? Take a handful of pistachio nuts and rub them all over every chocolate, or just a random selection? Why? What would that person gain? Other than ruining the fundraiser, what would be the point? And who would want to do that? Everyone thinks Reading Buddies is a good idea.”

She continued to play with her coffee cup, tracing the design on the side with a finger. “It couldn’t have been someone who wanted to hurt Dayna. How many people would have known that she was going to be at the reception last night? She just arrived in town yesterday afternoon, from what I heard.” She shook her head. “This makes no sense at all.”

“Eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth,” I said softly, more to myself than to Abigail.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

I nodded. “From the pen of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, yes.”

“So, what can we eliminate?” Abigail asked. “It’s not impossible that the chocolates were contaminated at the theater. I don’t think it’s very likely, but it’s not impossible.”

“And it’s not impossible that they came into contact with nuts in Olivia’s kitchen, no matter what she says,” I countered. “Maybe this is just the perfect storm of a series of accidents that wouldn’t have mattered except Dayna Chapman just happened to be severely allergic to pistachio nuts.”