The article’s final line stated that Bren would be laid to rest in Woodland Cemetery. The date was not included, nor were details regarding a service or donations.
“Accidental?” Nora spluttered.
She grabbed her phone. She needed McCabe to explain how Bren’s death could possibly be a fatal case of food poisoning in light of the book page and the break-in at her house.
When he didn’t answer, Nora hung up without leaving a message. Pushing the paper away, she ran a search for Alpha-gal on her laptop.
Thanks to a concise description provided by the Center for Disease Control, Nora learned that alpha-gal was a relatively new food allergy caused by a tick bite. She was examining an image of the Lone Star tick when her phone rang.
“Did you see the paper?” June asked in a shrill voice.
“Just now. I’m trying to wrap my head around this alpha-gal thing.”
Following a pause and an unintelligible murmur, June said, “You’re on speaker. I stopped by the Pink Lady for breakfast and ran into Estella. We’re standing in the alley, so tell us what you know, because this accidental death headline doesn’t feel right.”
“I don’t buy it either, but here’s what I do know. Alpha-gal is a sugar molecule found in most mammals. An alpha-gal allergy means that you’re allergic to these sugar molecules. If you eat meat or are exposed to products made from mammals who carry this sugar molecule, you’ll have a bad reaction.”
“So if I have alpha-gal and I eat fried chicken, I could die?” Estella asked.
Nora consulted the chart on her screen. “Fish and birds are safe. They’re not mammals, so they don’t have the sugar molecule. It’s found in red meat like beef, pork, and lamb.”
June said, “I’ve never heard of this thing. Was Bren born with it?”
“Many scientists believe that it starts with a bite from the Lone Star tick,” answered Nora. “I was looking at an image of the nasty bug when you called. Lone Star ticks are found throughout the Southeast. They have white, star-shaped spots on their backs, and their bites are painless. This is really bad because most people don’t even know that they’ve been bitten. The ticks carry alpha-gal in their saliva.”
Estella made a noise to convey her disgust. “I will never understand why God made ticks or mosquitos. Never.”
“The article says that Bren was diagnosed in Washington County. The same county as Still Waters, right?” asked June.
“Yep. Miles and miles of woods. Lots of trees mean lots of white-tailed deer. Lots of tick carriers. And the more a person with this condition is bitten by these ticks, the worse the allergy gets.”
“Bren wasn’t a little kid,” Estella said. “She knew she had this allergy. She would have been insanely careful about everything she put into her mouth.”
Nora thought so too. “That’s why I think this ruling is wrong. Someone must have given her food or a product made with red meat. The same person who ransacked her rental house.”
“But wouldn’t someone notice if her face turned bright red or her lips blew up like a balloon?” June asked. “A thousand people were milling around. If Bren ate something bad at that festival, why didn’t anyone notice her suffering?”
“Let me check the FAQ section,” said Nora. “Okay, this is how a typical food allergy works. I’m allergic to shellfish, and I eat a big bite of lobster tail. I’m going to have a reaction before I can pull off my bib. But alpha-gal doesn’t work like that. There’s a delayed reaction time of up to six hours.”
There was silence on the other end as June and Estella processed this information.
“So if someone tricked Bren into eating a bite of hamburger at seven, she might not have died until after midnight?” Estella mused aloud. “Wouldn’t she know the difference? Between a black bean and beef burger, for example? I could tell. It’s not just the flavor. It’s the texture. She would have known something was off.”
Could strong spices or especially salty condiments, combined with a beer or two, have muddled Bren’s palate? Nora didn’t think so.
“I agree with you, Estella. But right now, I have to go.” Nora closed her laptop and stood up. “I left a message for McCabe. When I hear back from him, I’ll let you know.”
“Wait!” June cried before Nora could hang up. “Don’t worry about lodge guests avoiding Miracle Books anymore. I took care of that forked-tongue concierge.”