She bowed her head slightly and said, “Thank you.”
“Don't praise Mother too much,” Albert said. “She taught at Duke, you know, not UNC.”
Maria laughed. “I think we can forgive her that-especially since she mothered a UNC professor and grandmothered a UNC graduate. And I assume Winston will attend UNC.”
I didn't want to get into that discussion. Albert was a professor of history at the University of North Carolina. Duke and UNC, located in adjoining cities, are big rivals, especially on the basketball court. I said, “Both are great universities.”
“Yes,” Maria said. “With distinguished professors. Helping to improve the world.”
“Another center of great universities is Boston,” I said, “with Harvard and MIT, among others. And yet, with all their brains they haven't been able to make the roads of Boston driveable.”
I saw Albert frown, a signal that I was being too free with my opinions, so I shut up. We sat down to eat, three blonds, a brunette and a bluehead.
I had kept my promise to myself not to talk about Silver Acres, when Albert said to me, “I understand there was some excitement at your bridge club last week. I heard a man choked to death.”
Sandra and Maria gasped. Where had Albert heard that? Once a bomb has been dropped people don't go quietly on about their business so I had to explain about poor Gerald Weiss. After they calmed down I gave a short lecture on what I had learned about food allergies.
“My girlfriend gets hives from eating peanuts,” Sandra said, but I've never heard of anybody dying from a food allergy.”
“The human body-in fact, all animal bodies-are marvelous things,” Maria said, “but sometimes the body's defense mechanisms go overboard in defending against perceived predators and destroy what they are trying to protect.”
I couldn't have said it better myself. I mentioned that Gerald had been holding a bridge hand of 13 diamonds when he died.
“That's like winning the lottery,” Sandra said, “except that it doesn't pay as well.”
“In fact,” I said, “the odds against being dealt 13 diamonds are much greater than the odds against winning a lottery, where you have to pick, say, six numbers out of 51. With the bridge hand you have to pick 13 correctly out of 52.”
“No wonder I've never been dealt more than eight cards of one suit,” Albert said. “Of course I've never played the lottery because a professor friend of mine wrote a book showing that the expected return from playing the lottery is much worse than what you get in Las Vegas.”
“If the odds against being dealt 13 of one suit are prohibitive,” I said, “what do you think the odds are against being dealt a perfect hand and then promptly dying?”
“Maybe not so great because of the shock factor,” Albert joked.
“I'm serious. Everybody seems to have dismissed this, but I think it bears looking into.”
“Looking into for what reason?” Maria asked.
“Leave it alone, Mother,” Albert said, showing alarm. “The reason you're in a retirement community is because you're retired. When you're retired you're supposed to have fun: play bridge, play croquet, chat with your friends…”
“All that is boring, boring, boring. I need some mental stimulation.”
“What do you think may have happened, Mrs. Morgan?” Maria asked.
“Don't egg her on,” Albert said.
“Daaad,” Sandra said. “I'd like to hear, too.”
Winston added a series of dadas from his highchair.
“Well, of course I don't know what happened,” I said, “but I think there may be more to this than meets the eye. Suppose somebody at Silver Acres did know about Gerald's allergy to shellfish. Suppose that person had it in for Gerald…”
“What motive could there be?” Sandra asked.
“Well, as you know, single men are at a premium at Silver Acres. Gerald did have his groupies, and as nearly as I could tell he played the field, not settling on just one. Perhaps Susie Smith decided he wasn't paying enough attention to her, and if she couldn't have him no one else could either. The shellfish was well disguised. Maybe it was made that way on purpose.”
“Sounds weak,” Albert said.
“Jealousy weak?” Maria said, her eyes wide. “Jealousy is one of the most violent emotions. In Mexico many people have been murdered by men-and women, in jealous rages.” She looked meaningfully at Albert, but he busily speared a scallop with his fork.
“What about the 13 diamonds?” Sandra asked.
“Well…” I hesitated.
At that moment the microwave timer sounded and Winston, who was very microwave-oriented, pointed to it. This distraction gave me a few seconds to think while Sandra pulled my rolls out and served them. Then she asked me about the 13 diamonds again.
“Maybe the deal was fixed. Maybe they were a signal of some kind,” is all I could come up with.
“Then there would have to be at least two people involved,” Albert said. “Besides, it was too late. He had already eaten the shellfish.”
“I'll have to think about it.”
“I admit, the idea of murder intrigues me,” Albert continued. “Historically, poisoning has been a favorite way of killing rulers. And feeding a person something they're allergic to is a sophisticated form of poisoning. In Italy, the Borgias were always poisoning people. But you keep out of it. Remember your high blood pressure.”
“My blood pressure is under control. And what if I'm right?”
“Then tell the proper authorities.”
“I have nothing concrete to tell them.”
“Then forget about it.”
After dinner, everybody pitched in to wash the dishes. Albert called me into the living room while this activity proceeded and said, “Mother, I wanted to let you know that I'm going to the modern dance recital with Carol Grant next Saturday night.”
I raised my eyebrows. “When did you ask her?”
“Friday afternoon.”
That's how Albert had heard about Gerald. He had talked to Carol after Tess and I did. Albert had first met Carol when we were looking at retirement communities a number of years before. She had been married then but her husband had died of some rare disease. Recently, Albert had come to a reception at Silver Acres and I remembered he had chatted with Carol briefly. But he hadn't indicated any interest in her, at least not to me. And of course there was Maria.
Before I could say what I was thinking, Albert said, “Maria is just a friend-a tennis partner.”
I wondered if Maria knew that. But I liked Carol and felt that she and Albert would be a good match. It wasn't politically expedient to actually say that, so I said, “I hope you two have fun together.”
CHAPTER 4
Having suspicions that Gerald had been murdered was one thing. Being able to confirm them with some tangible evidence was another. And I didn't know where to start looking. Silver Acres was like a small village, where everybody took an interest in everybody else's business. If I nosed around there would be repercussions.
Some people picture retirement communities as accumulations of hearing aids, false teeth, inch-thick glasses, wigs, canes, walkers, wheelchairs and electric carts. All this is true, but many of the residents were as alert and mentally active as any teenager, and they had accumulated a heck of a lot more knowledge. And they lived a long time because of the good care they received.
Resident committees gave advice on running Silver Acres. Some residents did volunteer work for local organizations; a few still had paying jobs. I tutored math pupils; there were plenty who needed tutoring.
