A curious case of unloved utensils, a cliff hanger
When I was in seventh grade, I read “The Secret of the Old Clock” and was instantly enthralled by Nancy Drew’s efforts to find a missing will hidden inside a stolen clock. I have loved a good mystery ever since. There is something satisfying about trying to figure out whodunit before I get to the end. And there is something comforting in knowing that the mystery will be solved and order will be restored. Unfortunately, real-life mysteries aren’t always so neat and tidy.
That is why I have gathered you all here today in the drawing room as I present the crime, the suspects and the clues in an unsolved puzzle I call “The Case of the Unloved Utensils.” I know it’s not exactly a capital case, but I don’t get out much lately so the smallest things can get blown out of proportion.
Allow me to set the scene: A Labor Day dinner at our camp two summers ago. It wasn’t a large gathering — just family members — and everyone brought a dish to share. It was a pleasant evening, which is why I was surprised to discover, after everyone had gone home, a lifeless serving spoon sprawled across our kitchen counter.
I texted everyone to see who was responsible, but they all denied knowing the spoon. And, looking at it, it wasn’t hard to see why. The spoon was, to put it delicately, ugly. It was a dull silver color and of a size that made it too big to eat with comfortably and too small to dish out anything more than a few peas. But its most troubling feature was the handle that came to a significant point. I’m assuming the person who designed this crime against cutlery thought this feature would come in handy when spearing olives, settling old scores or prying the back off a clock while searching for a missing will. More troubling, though, was the knowledge that one of my guests owned such a spoon. It really made me question how well I knew these people I call family.
So I interrogated everyone about the spoon a second time. Again, they all insisted I didn’t have enough to pin it on them. Now I was forced to face an uncomfortable truth: one of them was lying. But who was it?
I immediately ruled out my mother as the possible culprit. I was well acquainted with all of her silverware as she’s had the same set since the Eisenhower administration because, you know, it’s still perfectly good. Besides, such a pointy-ended spoon would have been banned by the Strategic Violent Utensil Reduction Treaty of 1958.
Next, I considered my sister-inlaw. I was much less familiar with the contents of her silverware drawer so it was possible such an aesthetic travesty could have been lurking within its depths. But she’s my husband’s sister, and my husband obviously has excellent taste. So, assuming that’s a trait that runs in their family, I could eliminate her from the list of suspects.
That left my sister. The next time I saw her, I showed her the spoon and asked if she was sure it didn’t belong to her. She looked at it with disgust and said she’s not into pointy spoons. Then, she said it was probably mine and I just forgot. There is an often-used plot device in mysteries where a promising suspect is suddenly found dead, thereby removing them from consideration as a possible perpetrator. Not only was my sister clearly unfamiliar with that particular plot convention, but she also hadn’t considered that I was, at that moment, holding a very stabby implement.
Without a solution to the mystery, I left the spoon on the counter when we closed up for the season. Some people would call that clutter. I prefer to think of it as a cliffhanger.
The following summer I decided to recreate the crime scene and invited the same people to another dinner in the hopes that one would confess. The spoon not only remained unclaimed, but after everyone had gone home I discovered a serving fork had been left behind. It was a plot twist I hadn’t seen coming. The fork wasn’t as unattractive as the spoon, but I wouldn’t use it to serve red herring. Again, everyone denied owning the fork. I can only assume they are all conspiring to gaslight me.
I need to crack this case before our next family dinner — whenever that may be — so I don’t end up with another unwanted implement. If you think you have the answer to this mystery, let me know. First prize is a serving utensil. Second prize is two serving utensils.