Thirteen Diamonds

nodded and said, “You too, eh? She asked me if I knew about Gerald's allergy to shellfish. How could I?  We played bridge together but we weren't close friends.”
    I hit my ball through the wicket. “Same here. I take it that you weren't the one who put the shellfish in the casserole.”
    “Of course not. Why would I do a sneaky thing like that?”
    I knocked my ball toward the center wicket. Before following it I said, “Do you think the shellfish was put in at Harriet's apartment?”
    “It could have been. Harriet stayed behind for a few minutes after we left, then brought the casserole. Maybe she knew about Gerald's...problem.” She asked, breathlessly, “Do you think Harriet had it in for him?”
    Ellen's partner walked toward us, following her ball, so I went to mine. I wasn't learning much.
    Ellen languished at the first wicket as we all used her ball for target practice to gain extra shots and then went on. I didn't get another chance to talk to her since I continued to hold the lead. I finished first, but instead of hitting the stake I stayed in the game to help my partner, who didn't really need my help; he was well ahead of Ellen.
    She was dying at the far end of the court, all alone. I was surprised, but everybody had bad days once in a while, even me. I knocked my ball in her direction so I could have another word with her.
    “I hope you're here to help me,” she said with a little smile, “because this ball doesn't like me.” Her words were light, but her body language showed stress. Her poor performance was getting to her. I suspected that she was not a good loser.
    “Of course,” I lied. After a pause I continued, “One thing that is ironic is that Gerald should get the best hand of his life just as it ended.”
    “Yes. Thirteen diamonds. A dream hand. But everybody gets lucky once in a while.”
    “But not usually that lucky.”
    “No. But I saw a hand like that once before.”
    “No kidding. Was it legitimate?” That slipped out.
    “Yes, I'm sure it was. But it was a long time ago.”
     
                       *    *    *
     
    “All right, Tess, I'm going to tell you what I've found out and you're going to tell me whether Gerald was murdered or not.” I paced the floor of my living room while Tess sat comfortably on the couch, saving her feet. I can't sit still for long periods of time like old people are supposed to. I still have too much nervous energy.
    “I'm ready,” Tess said. “I even brought a pad so I could write all this stuff down.” She flourished a yellow pad. “But I hope we end up proving that a murder wasn't committed.”
    Good old Tess. She was very organized, unlike me. I had everything in my head, and my head was starting to betray me. I said, “Let's start with Gerald.”
    “That's a good place to start.” She wrote the word Gerald and underlined it.
    “Gerald had a deadly allergy to shellfish so he was very careful about what he ate. He also had a mild heart condition, but probably no worse than half the residents here.”
    Tess made a couple of notes.
    “Before the lunch was served, Gerald asked Harriet what the casserole contained and she told him, to the best of her knowledge—or what she claims was the best of her knowledge.”
    “Harriet is such a nice lady; I don't see how she could have killed anybody.”
    “We're not making judgments now; we're just stating the facts as we know them.”  I spoke somewhat irritably because I agreed with Tess and knew that my feelings also clouded my objectivity. I decided not to tell her that Ida had accused Harriet. “Gerald ate some of the casserole. Immediately afterward, the first bridge hand was dealt. Do we know who dealt the hand?”
    “Why is that important?”
    I hadn't told Tess what I had found out about the cards, hoping to keep that information confined to as few people as possible, but if she was going to help me she needed to know. “Because it was a phony deal.”
    “What? How can you say that?”
    I told her.
    “The one time I ever see a perfect hand and it's not real. That means I'll never get one.”
    “Probably not. So we come back to the question of who dealt the hand. That may be important. I should have asked the people I talked to.”
    “It's not too late to find out,” Tess said, reaching for my phone. She punched in a number.
    “Who are you calling?”
    “Harriet.”
    “Ask her where everybody was sitting. I don't remember.”
    Tess had a short