Twenty-Seven
Monica Webb led Carl and Harry into the front room of her seaside apartment, located on the Esplanade at Bayside.
‘I certainly wasn’t expecting this, Inspector. The poor man had only just retired.’
‘Yes, so his wife told us.’
‘How is she? Not too distraught, I hope.’
‘It’s never easy for a wife in these circumstances, Miss Webb. Her mother was with her.’
‘That’s good. At least she’s not on her own. Now, what do you want to know? I assume you haven’t called to simply pass on your condolences, Inspector.’
Carl looked at her. She must be at least sixty, he thought, if she had been wife number one. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘At that horrible board meeting we had in December, when he announced he’d sold out to bloody Mario and that he was retiring.’
‘I take it
