“But your staff did not prepare the lunch,” Tess said.

The bridge club had its own lunch committee.

“At least you won't be sued,” I said.

“Probably not, but it's just so frustrating,” Carol said, showing emotion for the first time by snapping the pencil she always played with. “It could have been prevented. And I feel guilty that this happened in my territory.”

“It's not your fault, Carol,” Tess said, soothingly. “Don't take it personally.”

“So, have you found anybody who knew about Gerald's allergy to shellfish?” I asked.

“You're the first people I've asked. But I intend to question all the members of the lunch committee. In fact, I'm going to talk to everybody who knew him. We're convinced it was an accident, but I just want to make sure there aren't any loose ends.”

“It's just rotten bad luck,” Tess said. “An act of God.” She considered. “But I would think that Gerald would certainly have asked what the dish contained.”

“He probably didn't even think about it, since it looked like a tuna casserole,” Carol said. “I saw the leftovers and it sure would have fooled me.”

“But you don't have a life-threatening allergy,” I said. “In a case like Gerald's, even a probability of one in a thousand isn't good enough. You have to eliminate all risk to be safe.”

“Lillian was a professor of mathematics at Duke,” Tess said.

“I know,” Carol said, and I was sure she did. “By the way, Gerald was also a college professor.”

“Where did he teach?” I asked.

“The University of California at San Diego. It's in La Jolla, right on the beach. He was a professor of economics. In fact, he won a Nobel Prize.”