Suddenly all four of them felt the ghost of Gil Grissom haunting the room.
"Yeah," Warrick said, "and if we don't investigate it now…no telling what evidence'd be lost forever."
"If it's natural causes, though," Catherine said, "think of the time we're wasting in the middle of this murder spike…."
"I wish I had more for you, right now-" David said, "but until the autopsy, there's no way to know for sure."
Catherine thought for a few seconds, then said firmly, "We've got to treat it as a crime scene…and if we're wrong? We're wrong."
"Won't be the first time," Warrick said.
"I'll interview Whiting," Vega said. "If the Elliot woman was killed, that makes the entire staff suspects."
"Not just them," Catherine warned. "It could be any resident with reasonable mobility. But the staff is where to start."
"What can I do to help?" David asked.
Catherine gave him a supportive smile. "You can wait in the hall. If you are right-and you've discovered a string of homicides-you're standing in our crime scene."
By the time Catherine and Warrick returned with their kits, a small crowd of onlookers in the hall had gathered outside the closed door. A few were in robes and slippers, and two used walkers; but most were fully dressed and looked suspiciously chipper, for this particular ward. Some had already started to question David, really pressing him as he stood there, looking extremely ill at ease.
Noting this tableau up ahead, Warrick said, "Man, those gals are pretty aggressive."
"They've seen David here before," she said. "And always in the context of accompanying one of their own to a morgue wagon."
"Yeah. See what you mean. Not very often you get to turn the tables on the angel of death."
Striding into the middle of the group of seniors, most of whom were women, Catherine said, "I'm very sorry, but this is an official investigation, and we can't tell you anything right now."
"It's Vivian, isn't it?" asked a woman to Catherine's right.
Just under five feet tall, her gray hair short and straight, the woman wore a bulky gray sweater-the temperature outside may have been over one hundred, but it was, after all, chilly in here. Tri-focals peered up at Catherine, one bird studying another, new one.
"Vivian passed away this morning," Catherine said, "yes."
"Shame," another, more heavyset woman said. "She was a sweetie pie."
"You knew her?" Catherine asked. "I understood Mrs. Elliot didn't live here."
"She didn't," the first woman said, with a shrug. "It's just that…we're the Gossip Club, don't you know. We know everybody. And everything."
"That could come in handy," Warrick said under his breath.
Catherine said, "Gossip Club?"
"We visit the sick and dying," the heavyset woman said, matter of factly. "We considered 'Visitor's Club,' but it just sort of lacked pizzazz."
One of the few males in the crowd, from the back said, "I think Gossip Club is perfect!"
"You be quiet, Clarence," the heavyset woman said, good-naturedly, and general laughter followed.
Catherine focused on the bird-like woman, who appeared to be the leader. "And you are?"
"Alice Deams-I'm the president of G.C., and this is my vice president, Willestra McFee." She nodded toward the heavyset woman nearby. "And that's our treasurer, Lucille-"
Catherine interrupted the Mouseketeer Roll Call. "You're all residents here, I take it?"
Alice nodded. "Most of us live in the partial care building-next door? Dora and Helen…" Two women next to David waved. "…they live in the independent apartments down at the other end."
"You all come here every day?"
"Most of us," Willestra said. "Unless we've got doctor's appointments or Margie's arthritis is kicking up, in which case she'll spend the day in her room, watching her stories."
"And you've taken it upon yourself to visit the sick?"
"Oh my, yes. It's the Christian thing to do, and besides, someday we'll be in this wing, won't we? Wishing for a little company. These people are our friends and neighbors, you know."
Catherine raised her voice. "Did any of you know Vivian Elliot well?"
"I probably spent the most time with her," Alice said. "She was really a great gal."
Warrick asked, "Vivian have any family?"
Alice shook her head. "No, and that's tragic. Her husband just passed away a year ago and they only had one child, a daughter who was killed when she was just seventeen by a hit-and-run driver. Viv still mourned the girl."
Catherine asked, "No brothers or sisters?"
"No."
Warrick said, "You seem sure of that. You didn't know her that long, really. How is it-"
"Oh, well, she was like me, don't you know-an only child. It was sort of a more rare thing, back then, being an only child. Bigger families were the thing-everybody had brothers and sisters. So Viv and me, we made kind of a bond out of being only children. We decided we could be sisters-never too late, we said!"
"So, she had no family that you know of?" Catherine asked, just making sure.
"Not a soul-not even very many friends. I only saw one other person visit her the whole time she was here-another woman."
Warrick asked, "This woman, her name-did you get it?"
"No, no, I'm sorry. I never actually met her, you see. When the patients have visitors, we make a policy of not bothering them. The job of the Gossip Club is to lend support when no family and friends are around."
"Do visitors have to sign in here?"
Alice shook her head again. "No, this wing is like a hospital that way. During visitor's hours, people just sort of come and go."
Catherine made a mental note to tell Vega to alert the staff should the unidentified woman come back to visit Vivian Elliot in the next twenty-four hours. After that, the obituary would have run in the newspaper, and Catherine doubted that they'd have any chance of locating the mystery woman…unless she showed up at Vivian's funeral or someone on staff actually knew the visitor.
"When was the last time you saw this woman?" Catherine asked.
"Why, just this morning," Alice said. "In fact, she left just a few minutes before we heard the alarm coming from Vivian's room."
"Can you describe her?"
"Fairly young."
Warrick asked, "How young?"
"Oh-sixty-five or so."
That stopped Warrick for a moment; then he asked, "Description…?"
"She had gray hair and glasses."
Catherine and Warrick looked at the group of women in the hall, and then at each other, confirming a shared thought: Alice had just described all of them.
"We don't usually have a fuss this big when one of us passes," Alice said, eyes making slits in her much-lived-in face. "Why now? Was she murdered?"
Trying to keep her voice and expression neutral, Catherine asked the woman, "Why would you think that, Alice?"
The heavyset woman, Willie, glowered at Alice, then turned to Catherine, "Never mind her-she watches way too much TV!"
"I do not," Alice argued back. "I swear there was a case just like this on Murder, She Wrote."
Everyone in the hall stopped and eyeballed Alice for a long moment.
Behind her tri-focals, Alice's eyes widened and her chin rose defensively. "Well, there was.…Of course, it could've been Barnaby Jones…or maybe Rockford Files. Isn't that James Garner just adorable?"
As the woman prattled on about television, Catherine watched as the other members of the Gossip Club slowly eased away into real life, each suddenly needing to visit someone in a nearby room.
Taking the hint, Catherine and Warrick slipped back into Vivian Elliot's room, leaving poor David alone in the hall with Alice theorizing on what had happened to an old woman on some detective show she'd seen either last week or perhaps twenty-five years ago.