Peter Robinson - When the Music's Over

‘Then what?’ Banks asked.

‘I fell for it hook, line and sinker, didn’t I? He’d finished signing autographs, so he went back to his car. Just before I set off to see if I could track down Melanie in the amusement arcade, someone asked me if I’d care to talk to Mr Caxton now, that he had some free time.’

‘Who was this?’

‘I don’t know. A sort of aide or assistant or something. Famous people like Danny Caxton had other people to do things for them. He was there later, in the hotel.’

‘Did you recognise this assistant from anywhere?’

‘No. I’d never seen him before. He wasn’t someone from television or the live show. I would have recognised him then. We’d been to see the show a few days earlier with our parents, Melanie and me. An evening performance.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘I don’t really remember. Younger than Caxton. He seemed nice enough at first. There was nothing that really stood out about him.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, I didn’t think twice about it. I went over with him and hopped in the car. It was really plush. A Rolls-Royce or something. Inside it smelled all of soft leather, and when it moved it was like floating on air.’

‘That’s very brazen,’ said Winsome. ‘Whisking you off in his car in public like that. Did anyone else witness this?’

‘I don’t know. Most of the other autograph hunters had drifted away by then, or gone chasing after Jess Conrad. I know I felt special, like a princess, getting in the car.’

‘You weren’t suspicious?’

‘Why would I be? Believe me, I’ve flagellated myself time after time for not being, but how could I be, really? I was fourteen, my head full of dreams of the stage, and here was this nice, funny man from TV who everybody loved saying he could help me. He was in your living room almost every night. It was broad daylight, Blackpool in high season, there were people all around. Would you have been suspicious?’

‘Probably not,’ Winsome admitted.

Banks could see by Winsome’s expression that she wouldn’t have been, that she understood exactly where Linda Palmer was coming from. Perhaps the analogy with the pastor in Winsome’s neighbouring village, whom everyone had respected, helped make it clear to her. Like the pastor, Danny Caxton was in a position of trust and power.

Beethoven’s storm broke, starkly contrasting with the serenity of the garden and the cloudless blue of the sky.

‘I mean, back then we didn’t worry about perverts all the time,’ said Linda, ‘and I don’t think I’d ever heard of a paedophile. We were all warned not to take sweets from strangers, of course, or get into cars with strange men we didn’t know, but Danny Caxton wasn’t strange. He was... he was like someone we knew, really, a kindly uncle. He wasn’t the sort of person our parents meant.’

Annie was sweating by the time they reached the spot where Stefan’s officer waited. It was about half a mile south from the girl’s body, and despite the light breeze and some shade from the leafy trees, the heat was getting to her. She felt out of shape and realised that, despite the yoga and meditation, she hadn’t got back to working out again yet. She made a mental note to rejoin the small fitness centre in Harkside, where she lived, as she was far more likely to use that than go after work — or, God forbid, before — to the larger one in Eastvale, despite its advantage in having more fit males around. She glanced at Gerry, who didn’t seem to be showing any effects whatsoever from the walk. Well, she was in her twenties, Annie thought, a willowy redheaded thoroughbred, though she herself was only in her early forties, and willowy enough. Plenty of time to shape up. Only Banks seemed never to have to bother with all that. No matter what he ate and drank, he stayed as lean and agile as ever. Still, it would catch up with him eventually, Annie thought, with a grim sort of satisfaction.

Signs of activity was all Stefan had said when Annie had asked him what they’d found. When they finally reached the spot, she saw that another area of the roadside had been cordoned off with police tape, and there were three white-suited CSIs kneeling and swabbing the ground nearby, collecting samples in plastic or paper bags. There was also another faint skid mark on the road, as if a car or van had slowed down quickly, swerved, then speeded up again.

Even before Stefan pointed out the finer details, Annie could see that the long grass edging the ditch had been flattened and was crusted with dried mud. The dirt along the edge of the road surface was similarly disturbed, and a track continued, almost recognisable as muddy footprints, for several feet in the direction where the body lay.

‘So she was hurt before she got to the place where we found her, where she was killed?’ said Annie.

‘Be careful,’ Stefan said as Annie squatted and leaned towards the ditch. ‘We found barbed wire and a broken bottle in there. Both were submerged, so we don’t expect anything in the way of trace evidence, but they’ve gone for testing. Some of the cuts on the girl’s side might have been caused by the wire or broken glass.’ He gestured to the fencing above the drystone wall. ‘It was obviously discarded when this was added. No doubt one of the farmers had problems with kids getting in scaring his sheep or whatever.’

‘What are you saying, Stefan?’ Annie asked. ‘That she was in the ditch here?’ She was glad to see a sheen of sweat on the crime-scene manager’s handsome face. At least someone else was human, and that it was the ever-so dreamy, ever-so cool Stefan Nowak was even better.

‘If you observe the way the dirt and grass are disturbed here, I’d say it indicates that someone climbed out of this ditch on to the road and started walking north, back towards the Eastvale road. The water’s dried up, but you can see the outlines her muddy feet made. No shoes. And it seems as if she was limping. I’m saying there’s a strong likelihood it was our girl. If she was naked, she would have been covered in filthy ditchwater and mud, like the girl’s body back up the road. And she would also show evidence of barbed wire and broken glass cuts, as the body does. If you move closer, you can also see that a handful of grass been pulled out right there.’ He pointed. Annie could see it. ‘To my thinking, if someone crawled out of the ditch, they had to get in there in the first place. It’s an explanation. She went in here, and for some reason, she tried to get a hold on the grass, perhaps to prevent herself falling in or help haul herself out.’

‘So she was moving fast when she went in?’

‘Possibly. I’d say so. Rolling too fast to stop herself. And you saw the hip injury. Dr Burns says it’s probably broken. A fall could cause an injury like that, if she bumped it on the road surface, for example. You know what I’m getting at, don’t you, Annie?’

‘Someone chucked her in the ditch, most likely from a moving vehicle. You can see where it skidded on the verge close to where she came out. The grass is flattened in a direction that indicates the vehicle was travelling south. She climbed out again, after getting a mud bath and cutting herself up a bit, then started walking back the way she’d come — hence the muddy footprints — most likely hoping for a lift home. Which means she wasn’t actually beaten to death until later, further up. Unless she simply collapsed and died of her injuries.’

‘I’d say she was most likely killed by the roadside up there, where the body is, but she was already naked and injured when she got there.’

‘Well, the position and attitude of the body certainly bear that out. But the vehicle she was thrown from had already... I mean, what happened? Did he turn back for her?’