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Anna Ayala: suspected con artist, bane to Wendy’s restaurants, and inspiration to others.

When publicity broke over her claim that she bit into a finger in her bowl of chili, a dim bulb soon glowed over the heads of some of the nation’s potential copycat scammers.

Wendy’s received about 20 complaints in the last month–more than usual–from diners about foreign objects in their chow.

“I can’t tell you if they’re real or not,” said Wendy’s spokesman Denny Lynch, “but some of them, I guarantee you, are not.”

He said each would be investigated, case by case. Just like Ayala’s, which ultimately ended in her arrest last week–one that Wendy’s and other restaurateurs hope will have would-be copycats thinking twice.

Two copycat complaints, Lynch said, were too “grotesque” to describe. But one diner supposedly found a piece of wood in his food. Another found a fingernail, which turned out to be a fake, acrylic nail. Another found a chicken bone.

One person, he said, was clearly drunk when he called to complain. So far, none of the complainants have sued. Nor have the police been called in.

Sometimes there’s no need to. A funny thing can happen when investigators working for the fast-food chain’s insurance company show up and start asking questions. In one case, Lynch said, the investigator “discussed the seriousness of the issue, and it kind of went away real fast.”

The chili-finger case certainly follows a long-standing pattern. Copycats surface after the media creates a large wave of publicity.

After the Columbine shootings, copycat threats were phoned to schools. In 1993, everyone seemed to be finding syringes in their cans of Diet Pepsi. The Tylenol poisonings in Chicago in 1982 also spawned a slew of copycats, who would put their toxins in their products of choice.

Joseph McNamara, a former San Jose, Calif., police chief and now a fellow at the Hoover Institution, said a lot of times scammers–copycats or not–get away with product liability claims.

It’s simply easier for companies to hush someone up with a few thousand dollars, avoiding the damaging publicity and not risking a runaway jury awarding millions. And police rarely become involved, he said. It’s usually left to the corporation to figure out how to deal with the claims.

Wendy’s, however, seemingly didn’t have much choice. The charge was visceral, resonating with diners. And stirring it up were almost daily news reports, radio shows and late night comedians.

The chain now says it feels “vindicated.”