The rings were a gold wedding band with an attached diamond engagement ring, possibly a karat, and a decorative number with a diamond-centered ruby rose. The rings weren't cheap, but they probably weren't from Tiffany's, either.
Likewise, Vivian's gold cross necklace was a nice mid-range piece that looked like she'd had awhile, but had taken good care of it, as with her rings. The watch was a Bulova that looked to be about ten years old; it seemed as well-maintained as the other pieces, and the band was a replacement one, fairly recent.
Nothing terribly significant-a woman with enough money to have nice if not lavish things, which she took care of and (as in the case of the Bulova) made last.
The cell phone was what really interested Catherine-cells often held a wealth of information just waiting to be tapped.
She jotted down the numbers from the speed dial-only three, but one might be the mystery woman who had visited Vivian right before her death. Next, Catherine checked the call log, which gave her the last ten numbers Vivian had dialed, the last ten calls she'd received, the calls she'd missed, and the in-box for text messages, though the latter was empty. Several of the numbers turned up again and again, most likely Vivian's closest friends. Women Vivian's age often rivaled teenage girls for phone time with their gal pals….
In fact, one of the numbers showed up on the speed dial, the missed calls, the received calls (three times), and the dialed calls (four times). That would be where Catherine would start, figuring that number (keeping in mind the late woman's lack of family) probably belonged to Vivian's best friend.
Catherine was going through this list of cell phone numbers when she realized neither she nor Warrick had gotten a log of the calls to and from Vivian's room at Sunny Day. She made a mental note to ask Warrick about it, then picked up her own cell phone and dialed Vega.
"It's Catherine, Sam-got time for a question?"
"From you, always."
"Did you and Doctor Whiting discuss the telephone in Mrs. Elliot's room?"
She could hear the smile in Vega's voice as he said, "I was wondering when the most diligent CSI in Vegas would get around to asking about that."
Sighing her own smile, Catherine said, "Oh-kay, smart guy-don't gloat. You may pull a double shift someday."
"How about last week?…Anyway, there's only two numbers on the list, and frankly I haven't had time to run 'em yet."
"Got a pen or pencil?"
"Shoot."
Catherine gave him the number she figured belonged to Vivian's best friend.
"What are you, Catherine-psychic? That's one of the two!"
"The number comes up on her cell phone a buncha times. Give me the other one, would you, Sam?"
He did and said, "If we have the best friend, we may have the mystery guest at Vivian's room."
"Did that mystery guest sign in, Sam? At the guard shack?"
Vega sounded a little embarrassed as he admitted, "When I went back to check, the shift had changed. I need to go back and talk to the guard who'd've been on duty. Sorry."
"Hey, even the most diligent detective can get overworked, and tired…."
Vega laughed. "Okay, Cath. We're even."
And they broke the connection.
Catherine set the phone numbers aside to run later. No point in getting too deep into this, until she knew what, if anything, they were into…and that she wouldn't know until after the autopsy.
The final item before her was Vivian's wallet.
A black nylon tri-fold number, the wallet had one zipper pocket on the outside. Catherine opened it, finding nothing. She undid the snap and laid open the wallet on the desk. The first section was the fold-over outside, the next a coin purse with what Catherine assumed was Vivian's spare car key and a dollar-and-a-half in change. The front of the coin purse was a four-pocket credit card holder with a cardboard educator's discount card from a bookstore chain, an insurance card, a Visa card, and an ID from a cost club superstore.
Not much help.
The final section held Vivian's driver's license and a clear plastic credit-card holder with four more credit cards-a department store, a house-and-garden store, a women's clothing store, and a MasterCard. Behind the three sections was a wider one with seventy-two dollars. Absently, Catherine wondered where Vivian Elliot's checkbook was. Other than that, everything seemed pretty normal with this woman-exceedingly normal.
Over the next two hours, Catherine cataloged the evidence and sent the biohazard materials off to the lab. She'd already spent the better part of a day on the Elliot case and still didn't even know if it was a crime.
Time to go to the morgue….
There, she found David, Warrick, and Dr. Al Robbins hard at work. Robbins was performing the Vivian Elliot autopsy with David's help while Warrick looked on.
She slipped on a lab coat, gloves, and a paper mask, now matching her outfit to the others; they might have been a team of surgeons saving a life, not investigators probing a death.
Stepping up next to Warrick, across the table from David and Robbins, she asked, "Anything?"
Robbins said, "How about cause of death?"
"How about it?"
"Myocardial infarction."
"Heart attack." Catherine frowned in thought, looking at the exposed organ in question. "Caused by?"
With a facial shrug, Robbins admitted, "I think David's probably right…about the air embolism."
Warrick said, "Shared that theory, did he?"
This was the first Catherine had heard about it.
Robbins nodded, his eyes on his work. "I had gone through the autopsy already, and could find no good reason why this woman was dead. Her heart seized and stopped…but there was no real damage apparent before the event. She wasn't overweight, didn't have high cholesterol, minimal artery blockage-nothing, really, for a more or less healthy woman of her age."
"Natural causes maybe?" Warrick said with a silent chuckle. "A euphemism for 'who knows what killed her?' "
"A woman of her age could have a heart attack," Robbins said, "in the 'natural' course of events…but that doesn't really happen much. Something went very wrong with this woman's heart…and I can't find any reason for it."
David stepped forward. "Doc-I, uh…took X-rays of her when we brought her in."
Robbins looked surprised. "You did?"
David swallowed. "I thought, you know…you might want them."
The medical examiner gave David a sideways look. "Good idea."
David's relief was palpable.
"David," Robbins said patiently, his eyes on his assistant. "What do they say in Missouri?"
David thought about that. Then he asked, tentatively, "Show me?"
"Right. Why don't you?"
Spring in his step, David stepped out of the room, then came back in a flash carrying a large manila envelope. He handed it to Robbins, who grabbed his crutch and limped over to the light box on the wall.
Warrick flipped the switch and Robbins slapped the film up and began to study it. Moments later, he shook his head and moved on, taking that X-ray down and putting up another. On the second film, he found what he was looking for.
"There," he said, pointing to a dark spot near the center of a chest X-ray.
"What are we looking at, Doc?" Warrick asked.
"The dark spot in the pulmonary artery, Warrick. That's an air bubble."
Catherine drew in a breath, then asked, "And just how did that air bubble get there?"
Robbins gave her a grave glance. "I found no needle sites other than the IV catheter…. My guess is that's where it went in."