Act One
"Family Feud"
Decked out as it was with forests of gaudily ornamented trees, seemingly interminable lengths of faux greenery and their accompanying tawdry bright red velvet bows and what had to be mind-numbing miles of ever-blinking holiday lights, even Desert Palm's typically sterile environs had taken up a merry mien that night. Not that Finn really noticed or actually much cared, intent as she was in locating the night duty nurse.
Kit in hand, she approached the nurse's station, held up her badge to the holiday scrub wearing, but definitely not festive feeling - if her harassed, scrunched-tight expression was any indication - nurse busily ensconced there.
"Crime Lab. Looking for Russell."
But before the harried nurse had a chance to reply, the loud retch and attendant splash reverberating from several doors down told Finn all she needed to know.
"Never mind -"
And as officious as ever, she headed down the hall, only to nearly crash into D.B. Russell as he ducked out of an exam room, the better to give the poor sufferer some modicum of privacy.
"Thought the whole family was coming into town," was all Finn gave by way of greeting.
Russell shrugged. "Already here. But the health department called. No staff and twelve cases of apparent food poisoning. Could be nothing -"
"Or a mutant strain of E. coli, listeria or any number of potential super bugs."
"And with more than three thousand people dying of food poisoning every year -"
"You can't be too careful," sighed Finn. "So here we are."
"Here we are," he agreed then indicated the door. "That was my last interview. None of them seem to have eaten anywhere but home."
"That's lucky."
"Unlucky for them in this case. Guess the whole family was really looking forward to the big traditional Christmas Eve feast."
Perplexed, Finn asked, "Since when is a Christmas Eve feast traditional?"
"Apparently since always for the Moores. They all say the same thing. They were almost done with dinner when -"
Another loud retch interrupted him.
Finn nodded in comprehension.
Holding up several biohazard bags, their attendant flowers blooming bright, he said, "Thought we'd drop these off at the lab before heading to the house. Give us an idea what to look for."
"Sounds like a plan."
The din of vomiting both escalating and ever-multiplying, the already disgruntled nurse pushed past them.
Russell, placid as ever, called after her, "We'll be taking that to go."
xxxxxxx
The two had barely stepped out of the cold and into the quiet bustle of the lab when Russell's phone let out its usual insistent peal.
Glancing down at the caller ID, Russell motioned vaguely towards his office. "I'll be right there," he murmured distractedly. "Just got to get this."
Already all too aware of who was on the other end of the line, Finn didn't even bother to ask. And not for the first time was she genuinely glad family was not something she had to deal with right now. Work was enough of a handful all on it's own.
Evidence in hand, she headed off to Trace.
"Just the two I'm looking for -" she began.
Except the sight of Henry Andrews and David Hodges hard at work inside cut short the rest of her acknowledgment. The at work part on its own wasn't unusual enough of an occurrence to leave her uncharacteristically wonderstruck. It was precisely what they were at work at that had her baffled.
A be-goggled Henry bent over a fire-belching Bunsen burner taking the temperature of a rapidly boiling colorless solution. At another counter, Hodges weighed out what looked suspiciously like butter onto a piece of aluminum foil. Both toiled with all the glee of a couple of kids at Christmas.
It was nauseating really.
"What are -" she was about to ask, but swiftly changed her mind. "You know maybe I really don't want to know."
Hodges didn't even bother to look up. "Partial thermal degradation of carbon dioxide formed saccharides with protein inclusions," he explained.
Which didn't ring a bell.
Carefully tapping a white powder into his solution, Henry, in an attempt to be helpful, translated, "We're making peanut brittle."
It was all Finn could do to keep herself from repeating Peanut brittle?
"You do realize we already have the health department breathing down our necks tonight."
"We always use fresh glassware," came his unconcerned reply.
Finn shook her head. "You're nuts."
"Technically," countered Henry, pouring peanuts into the beaker, "they're legumes."
About to protest - challenge - sigh - anything, but realizing the utter futility of doing so, Finn opted instead to steer the subject into more productive waters.
"Got something for you."
Henry gave her such a hopeful, "Presents?" she actually chuckled.
Then deciding she might as well give as good as she got, she replied with a puckish smile of her own, "If you want to think of them that way."
This got both of their attentions.
"You shouldn't have -" Hodges said as Finn began to carefully unpack her samples.
Selecting one, Henry gave the jar a wary study. "You really shouldn't have."
Unfazed, Finn offered, "Stomach contents from our dozen potential food poisoning victims."
Henry muttered, "Think I would have preferred coal."
Hodges readily agreed.
"Probably some in there somewhere," came Russell's reply from behind them. Without missing a beat, he added, "Need full tox, trace and culture."
Both tech's faces fell, but only Hodges had the gumption to ask, "Tonight?"
"More like yesterday," Russell returned. "If we've got some sort of outbreak on our hands we need to know right away."
Then request, or rather orders, imparted, he indicated that he and Finn should head back out.
Halfway on their way to the door, Henry called them back with a practically panicked, "Wait, did you say dozen victims?"
Russell nodded nonchalantly. "There are blood samples in there too. Should keep you two out of trouble for a little while."
And with a knowing sort of smile, he went.
Finn loitered long enough to wish them an almost too cheery, "Merry Christmas."
The two lab rats simply stood there stunned.
"Uh, guys -" She gestured towards their now smoking experiment. "Your -"
This time Hodges' didn't even finish his far less enthusiastic: "Partial thermal degradation..."
Going, Finn waved it away anyway. "Whatever. It's burning."
When from behind her erupted a loud crash, sharp shatter and several resultant curses, Finn found she had a hard time containing her smirk.
xxxxxxx
Stepping into the Moore's split level ranch out in Winchester, there was no doubting the day. The place reeked of Christmas. The rosemary and sage hints of roast turkey, the almost burnt caramel sweetness of baked ham, the warm yeasty smell of fresh rolls, the piquant cinnamon of apple pie, the nutmeg richness of pumpkin, it was enough to make your mouth water if you didn't know poison potentially lurked somewhere amongst all that bounty.
Even Finn was impressed. "Wow, you weren't kidding. That's some spread."
"All that's missing is the figgy pudding."
"What is figgy pudding anyway?"
"No clue," admitted Russell, continuing his examination. His phone buzzed. "You got some news for us, Henry?"
Over the speaker, Henry's slightly tinny voice replied, "Whatever you're looking for it's not bacterial."
"So no superbug then?" asked Finn.
"Not this time. Drug screen came up clean, too. Hodges is still working on trace. He should be able to tell you more soon."
Russell thanked him before clicking off.
"So if it's not drug or bacterial - environmental?" proposed Finn.
Her gaze settled on the myriad of potted poinsettias lining the living room fireplace. Going in for a closer look, she asked, "Aren't poinsettias poisonous?"
Joining her, Russell gave the cream and crimson plants an appreciative once-over.
"Euphorbia pulcherrima." He considered this for a moment. "Stomach and skin irritant. Can cause vomiting and diarrhea when eaten. But only mildly toxic at best," he concluded. "A fifty pound kid would have to consume about five hundred leaves before you'd reach any serious level of toxicity. Not that you could tell Barb's family that. Had to put the plants away when they visited.
"Silly really. The bracts are almost painfully bitter. No one would voluntarily eat more than one."
"So no way to accidentally ingest them?"
"Probably not."
Returning to their inspection of the house, Russell almost absently observed, "Poinsettias aren't even all that traditional. Didn't become popular in the U.S. until the mid 20th Century.
"Did you know that until the 90's, nearly every holiday poinsettia came from a single farm in California owned by Albert Ecke and his family? The guy pioneered a way to graft two varieties together to produce fuller, prettier plants since poinsettias are naturally weedy looking and not very attractive. Then in a fit of genius, he sent cuttings to The Tonight Show and all of Bob Hope's Christmas specials causing the plants to became an instant sensation."
"The miracles of modern marketing," Finn opined. "What happened after the nineties? Family go out of business?"
"Nope. Same family still grows most of them. It's just a whole lot cheaper to grow them somewhere else."
"Wow, even poinsettias get outsourced these days."
Russell's phone let out another peal. Without bothering with a greeting, he said, "What's the verdict, Hodges?"
"Just an ordinary case of food poisoning."
"I thought Henry said there was no sign of bacterial contamination," Finn protested.
"Not that kind of food poisoning. Actual poisoning," Hodges corrected. "As in literally poisoned."
Russell asked, "Intentional you mean?"
"Unless you know of a holiday recipe which employs mistletoe berries."
Neither could keep the surprise from their chorus of "Mistletoe berries?"
"Found traces of phoratoxin, a plant-based poison produced by mistletoe, specifically by Phoradendron serontinum, American Mistletoe. It's distinguishable from European or Californian varieties as its protein chain contains the amino acid tryptophan."
Finn asked. "The stuff in turkey that makes you sleepy, tryptophan?"
"The very same."
"Explains all the drowsiness the victims presented," nodded Russell. "You got a list of the other known symptoms for phoratoxin toxicity?"
"Can cause blurred vision, stomach pain, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting and weakness."
"That definitely tallies with the health histories. Thanks, Hodges."
Not quite ready to be dismissed just yet, Hodges cut in, "Did you know that the term 'mistletoe' originated from the Anglo-Saxon 'mistel tan,' which roughly translates as 'bird dung on a twig'?
"Not very appetizing if you ask me."
And on that note, Russell hung up.
"So definitely not poison by poinsettia," summed up Finn.
"Mischief by mistletoe."
Absolutely not wishing to be caught underneath said plant unaware, Finn warily scanned for any low-hanging boughs. She needn't have bothered.
"Just one problem. I'm not seeing any mistletoe. Are you?" she asked.
A canvass of the rest of the house produced the same results. Nothing.
"Trash?" suggested Finn.
In the kitchen, she lifted the lid of the virtually overflowing can and peered inside. "And the Moores were thoughtful enough not to empty it yet."
Carefully, she extracted the black liner and set it down on the pristine kitchen floor before deftly slicing it open.
Unsurprisingly it was full of the usual food detritus: dirtied paper towels, tin cans, orange peels, potatoes skins, meat off cuts, the slimy remains of turkey gizzards and giblets.
Finn turned her nose up at those. "You know, I'm starting to see the appeal of becoming a vegetarian."
But Russell was too busy examining a sprig he'd unearthed from amongst a pile of coffee grounds.
"Phoradendron serontinum?" asked Finn.
He turned the stem, intently eying the bright, shiny obovate leaves. "Looks like it. But where are the berries?"
Only the table would tell. They scanned the long line of still heaping dishes.
"Could cook it into a sauce," Finn proposed, giving the gravy a cautious sniff and stir.
"Berries are pretty potent. Definitely off putting -"
" - Unless you're a bird -"
"Still you'd have to pair them with something awfully tart to mask the taste."
Finn suggested, "Hide them in the stuffing?"
Russell picked through the platter. "Just chestnuts and cranberries. No mistletoe."
"Speaking of cranberries -"
Immediately their eyes settled on a nearly empty bowl of an almost menacingly blood-red hued cranberry salad.
"Must be a family favorite."
Finn leaned in. "Hand me a fork, will you?"
At the concerned look he was giving her, she let out an exasperated sigh of "I'm not going to eat it, Russell."
Instead she dug amongst the ground cranberries, finely chopped pieces of apple, celery dices, bits of nuts and chopped pineapple for a minute before carefully extracting a tiny, perfectly round, almost translucent pearl from the mélange.
"Merry Christmas," she said, and actually sounded it.
Russell gave her an approving nod. "So we have the what -"
"All we need is the who," Finn finished.
"And the why. I mean who would attempt to poison their family at Christmas?"
Finn gave him a wry sort of smile. "You've obviously never met any of my former in-laws."
xxxxxxx
"What do you mean there's something wrong with Mamma Moore's salad?" boomed a weak, but definitely irate Walter Moore. IV drip in one arm and confined to a hospital bed apparently made little difference, he was hopping mad.
"Mama Moore?" Finn inquired gently, hoping her tone might calm him. It didn't. If anything, he went even darker.
"That's her salad. I mean it ain't world famous or nothing, but you don't mess with Mama's salad."
"She around here somewhere?" Russell asked, not recalling interviewing anyone going by that name during his initial investigation.
Walter scoffed. "Not unless this is Woodlawn Cemetery. Mama's been dead these two years now."
"So who made the salad this year?"
Surprisingly Moore softened at this. If anything, he looked rather proud. "My Susan. Mama said she wouldn't trust anyone but her with the recipe."
"I know this may sound like a weird question," Russell began, "but mistletoe isn't some sort of secret ingredient, is it?"
As if it were obvious, Walter jeered, "Mistletoe ain't for eating, man. It's for kissing."
"Right," deadpanned Finn.
xxxxxxx
"Sure, I made the salad," Susan Moore readily admitted from her bed two doors down. "But I don't know anything about any mistletoe. I followed Mama's recipe exactly. There are just some things you don't mess with."
The next several follow-up interviews went very much the same. No one admitted to adulterating it; Mama Moore's salad was sacrosanct.
This line of questioning quickly getting them no where, Finn decided to go for a different tact.
"You remember any one not eating the salad?" she asked Samuel Moore.
Walter's younger brother gave this a long thought before counting out his reply on his fingers. "Martin didn't, but then he's allergic. Nuts. And little Phillip's a picky eater. Won't eat nothin' but yogurt. Lisa didn't. She don't eat nothin' either. Says she's trying to reduce. More like if she don't make it, she don't eat it.
"Unless it was Mama's cooking. Mama could get anyone to eat anything. Didn't matter what it was. Pigs feet, chicken livers, chitlins. Didn't matter."
Samuel suddenly got an almost misty eyed look to him. "Man could she cook. But it was her cranberry salad we could never get enough of. Even Lisa. But not this year. Or the last. Just plain old spite if you ask me."
"Why is that?" came Russell's quietly curious query.
"Cause Mamma gave Susan the recipe and not her."
xxxxxxx
From his bed, James Moore let out a low groan. "Probably serves me right," he muttered. "Lisa told me to leave that salad alone. But I couldn't resist. Been eating Mama's salad since before I could talk. It just ain't Christmas without it - Or her."
"Your wife told you not to? Why?" asked Finn.
"She's been badmouthing the stuff ever since Mama gave the recipe to Susan, you know, Walter's wife."
Finn and Russell exchanged looks. "Where's Lisa now, Mr. Moore?"
The youngest Moore brother shrugged. "Said something about getting coffee in the cafeteria downstairs."
xxxxxxx
At a secluded table in the far corner they found Lisa Moore nervously sipping at a steaming cup.
They didn't even have to read her her rights.
"Yeah, I did it," she readily admitted. "Just wanted them to see Susan's cooking wasn't all that."
As a uniform led her away, Russell sighed, "So much for peace on earth, goodwill towards men."
Finn was still aghast. "All this over a recipe?"
Russell shook his head. "More than that. Over a mother-in-law's love."
xxxxxxx
A/N: As for Hodges and Henry's partial thermal degradation of carbon dioxide formed saccharides with protein inclusion experiment, I can recall with a great deal of fondness doing this precise lab in AP chemistry more years ago than I want to admit to. Mind you my results turned out a lot better than theirs. But then I didn't have a bevy of body fluids to distract me.
Curious to try it out on your own? You'll find the scientific protocols below. Lab instructions courtesy of R.C. Adams, Journal of Chemical Education (1972). Reproduced for educational purposes only.
Attempt at your own risk.
Chemicals:
Sucrose
3 M Glucose Solution
Mixed Esters (solidified)
NaCl
Protein Pellets
NaHCO3
4-hydroxy-3 methoxybenzaldehyde
Distilled water
Equipment:
Hotplate
1 - 250 mL Beaker (sterilized)
1 - 400 mL Beaker (sterilized)
Glass Stirring Rod (sterilized)
Balance
Aluminum Foil
Wax Paper
Temperature probe and laptop
All equipment coming in contact with reagents must be washed with soap and water and rinsed completely with distilled water prior to lab activity using standard laboratory practice. All labware used in this experiment must be clean and free from laboratory chemicals.
Procedure:
1. Weigh 75.0 grams of sucrose into the 260 ml beaker. Transfer sucrose to the 400 ml beaker.
2. Weigh 62.0 grams of 3 M glucose solution into the 250 ml beaker.
3. Pour the glucose into the 400 ml beaker. Use a total of 19.0 mL of
newly opened distilled water in two batches to rinse the small receptacle and add rinsing to the large receptacle.
4. Heat mixture slowly, hotplate on low setting. Stir constantly. Bring to a boil. Boil continuously for 5-7 minutes.
5. Weigh out 9.5 grams of solidified mixed esters on waxed paper
6. Add the mixed esters to the boiling glucose-sucrose solution
7. Continue to heat and stir.
8. Weigh 0.3 grams of NaCl and 55.0 grams of protein pellets onto waxed paper.
9. Prepare the temperature probe by wrapping it in plastic wrap so that the metal probe is never directly in contact with the solution.
9. When solution temperature reaches 138 °C, add the NaCl and protein pellets.
(If you do not have a device which is able to register a temperature this high, you must take a small drop of the sample of your hot solution, drop it into a beaker of cold water and make sure that the drop solidifies to a hard crystalline consistency.)
10. Continue to stir.
11. Weigh out 3.7 grams of NaHCO3 on waxed paper, and obtain 1.3mL of
4-hydroxy-3 methoxybenzaldehyde. Prepare a pad of folded paper towels.
12. Lightly coat a 0.30 m square of Al foil with solidified mixed esters
13. When temperature reaches 154°C, remove the flame, place receptacle on pad.
14. While one person holds the receptacle and is prepared to stir, have the other partner add the benzaldehyde and NaHCO3. Stir vigorously. As the mixture nears the top of the receptacle, pour evenly and thinly on the Al foil
15. Allow to cool slowly and observe.
16. While the mixture cools, thoroughly clean the stirring rod and beaker with lots of detergent.
17. If you followed all the precautions, you may eat the product once it has cooled. Be careful not to chip any teeth.
