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…”