When the Music's Over Read Free

tipped a wink toward its hippie origins. Even during the sixties and seventies he had the occasional novelty hit record, and he made a couple of dreadful swinging sixties films when he was already too old and square for such roles. He would have known Jimmy Savile, Banks realized. They were of the same generation. Caxton went from strength to strength: summer seasons, Christmas pantomimes, a successful West End musical comedy. Hehad married a pop singer at some point, Banks remembered, and there had been an acrimonious and public divorce not long after. His career had slowed down in the early nineties, but he still appeared occasionally as a guest on chat shows and had even hosted the odd Christmas variety special in the noughties.
    â€œI’m surprised to hear he’s still alive,” said Banks.
    â€œVery much so,” said McLaughlin. “At eighty-five years of age.”
    â€œAnd what does the CPS think?” Banks asked, glancing at the lawyer. He knew there had been some confusion in the Savile business as to whether the CPS hadn’t gone ahead with a prosecution because he was too old and infirm or because they thought the police had insufficient evidence. Banks knew the CPS had already been criticized for not acting sooner over Sir Cyril Smith, the Rochdale MP, who had been abusing young boys for years until his death in 2010. Now, no doubt, they were eager to show the public they were taking the lead on child sexual abuse and exploitation.
    â€œHe’s fair game as far as we’re concerned,” Janine Francis answered.
    â€œAnd when did the offense take place, sir?” Banks asked Red Ron.
    â€œSummer 1967.”
    Danny Caxton was almost at the height of his success by 1967, Banks remembered. Everyone knew who he was. He was still a handsome devil, too, or so hundreds of mums thought. Christ, even Banks’s own mother had sat fixated in front of the screen drooling over him while his father snorted and Banks disappeared upstairs to listen to his Rolling Stones and Who records.
    â€œI’ll give you a brief outline,” McLaughlin went on. “There’s a useful bio and a summary of events so far in the folder before you. Take it away and study it later. He certainly had an eventful sort of early life. Overcame a lot of adversity. He was born in Warsaw in 1930. His parents saw the writing on the wall and got Danny and his brothers and sisters out in 1933. They got split up, and he grew up with distant relatives in Heckmondwike.”
    â€œThat could have a serious effect on a person’s mental health,” said Banks. “I mean, just trying to pronounce it.”
    There was a brief ripple of laughter, then DCS Gervaise said, “Becareful, Alan. My dad came from Heckmondwike. Anyway, it wouldn’t be too hard. Just omit the vowels and it’d be perfect in Polish.”
    McLaughlin waited for the laughter to die down, then went on. “For the moment, I want you to consider the following. The complainant in this case is a woman called Linda Palmer. She was fourteen years old at the time of the alleged assault.”
    Banks had heard of Linda Palmer. She was a poet, lived locally, had been written up in the paper once or twice. Been on BBC2 and Radio 4. Won awards. “The poet?” he said.
    â€œOne and the same. She first called Childline, and they told her to get in touch with us.”
    â€œAnd why do we believe her?” asked Gervaise.
    â€œSame reason we believe any claim of historical abuse,” said McLaughlin. “Her story’s convincing, and we hope it will be even more so after you have all finished your tasks.” He glanced toward Janine Francis. “The CPS has given a green light to continue with this, even on what little we have so far. That’s why what Mr. Moss said about managing the media is so important. We don’t want to draw flack the way some other county forces have done. On the other hand, we