I thought of Judith Calder.
An elderly woman who had lost her husband and then watched her savings disappear.
I asked for her address.
Miriam suggested arranging contact carefully, without interfering with the investigation.
Two days later, after Judith agreed to speak, we visited her home.
She was seventy-nine and lived in a small brick house surrounded by rosebushes.
The living room contained photographs of a white-haired man smiling beside fishing boats.
Judith offered us tea.
Her hands shook as she poured it.
“My husband was called Arthur,” she said.
“We were married fifty-two years.”
I looked at the photographs.
“He looks happy.”
“He usually was.”
She smiled faintly.
Then she told me how Mark had entered their lives.
Arthur had suffered a serious stroke.
During his rehabilitation, a representative of Carter Medical Transport had contacted the family about specialized services.
Mark eventually visited their home personally.
“He was charming,” Judith remembered.
