Peter Robinson - When the Music's Over

‘I’m surprised to hear he’s still alive,’ said Banks.

‘Very much so,’ said McLaughlin. ‘At eighty-five years of age.’

‘And 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 criticised 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.

‘He’s fair game as far as we’re concerned,’ Janine Francis answered.

‘And when did the offence take place, sir?’ Banks asked Red Ron.

‘Summer 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.

‘I’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.’

‘That 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, ‘Be careful, 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.

‘One and the same. She first called Childline, and they told her to get in touch with us.’

‘And why do we believe her?’ asked Gervaise.

‘Same 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 towards 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 flak the way some other county forces have done. On the other hand, we don’t want to appear to be operating in secret. And we know how difficult it is to keep a low profile in a case of this magnitude. You’ll just have to do your best for as long as you can.’

‘What are the facts?’ Banks asked. ‘Briefly.’

‘That’s what we want you to find out, Alan. You’ll be conducting the initial interview with Linda Palmer. You’ll also be interviewing Danny Caxton. Mr Burgess here will be monitoring the case nationwide.’

‘Surely it would be protocol to send a female officer to interview Linda Palmer?’ said Banks.

‘Not necessarily,’ said McLaughlin. ‘The detective she talked to when she first called in is a female, a DI MacDonald, and she asked the same question, but Ms Palmer said she didn’t care as long as it was someone who would believe her. She doesn’t want any special treatment. That having been said, you have three extremely competent female officers on your team.’

‘What did Linda Palmer accuse Caxton of doing, exactly?’ Banks asked.

‘According to Ms Palmer, Danny Caxton raped her.’

‘And she’s just come out with this story?’

McLaughlin sighed and glanced at the police and crime commissioner.

‘That’s irrelevant,’ Margaret Bingham said. ‘The reasons women have for coming forward so many years after a traumatic event are complex. It’s not, at the moment, your job to question these motives, merely to ascertain their veracity.’

‘And how do we do that?’ Banks asked.

‘The way you usually do it,’ McLaughlin answered. ‘Use your detective skills. We also have trained child protection officers who specialise in knowing the sort of details true victims are likely to remember, and whether they are telling the truth. If you have any doubts after you’ve talked to her, you’re welcome to go over her statement with one of them, if you wish. And if it makes you feel any better, Ms Palmer did report the incident shortly after it occurred in 1967.’

‘And what happened to that investigation?’ Banks asked.

‘That will be another aspect of the case for you to determine,’ said McLaughlin. ‘Clearly it was derailed at some point, for some reason, as Mr Caxton wasn’t brought to justice at the time, and he’s never been charged with raping Linda Palmer or anything else since.’

‘Don’t you think that might be because he never did anything?’ said Banks. ‘I mean... nearly fifty years ago... It’s about as cold a case as you can get.’

‘I know,’ said McLaughlin, ‘and I sympathise, Alan. But some of Jimmy Savile’s crimes went back further than that. We’ve got historical abuse going back to the early sixties and before.’

‘I get that you don’t like it,’ Margaret Bingham interrupted. ‘But you’d better get used to it. All of you. We might have dropped the ball in the past, but not again. Not on my watch. There’s going to be more and more cases of historical abuse coming up over the next few years. People who think they’ve got away with something for ever. Men who think they’ve got away with something for ever because of their fame or their wealth or their power. Or just because they’re men. This was the brutal rape of an underage girl by a man of thirty-seven, and I expect you to go about it investigating it as you would if it had happened yesterday.’

‘That’s not possible,’ said Banks.

‘Oh? And why not, Superintendent Banks?’

‘No physical evidence. Dodgy memories. Missing statements. With all due respect, ma’am,’ Banks went on, ‘you’re a civilian. So is Mr Moss. Most of the people you’re talking to here are veterans of many investigations, and the fact of the matter is that you simply can’t investigate a crime that happened almost fifty years ago in the same manner as you can investigate one that happened yesterday. All you have to go on is the accuser’s statement. I understand all about cold cases solved by new DNA evidence. They’re the ones that make the news, and I’ve seen New Tricks , but those are the exceptions. Do we even have any DNA in this case, for example?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Margaret Bingham, clearly irritated by Banks’s objections. ‘That’s for you to determine. And I may be a civilian, as you say, but I am the police and crime commissioner, and I have every right to ask my officers for their best efforts. That’s what I’m asking. You put as much time, effort, intelligence and investigative skills into this as you would into a sexual assault that happened yesterday. Believe me, you’ll have all the resources you need at your disposal.’

That was a good opening move on his part, Banks thought. Piss off the bosses and the crime commissioner at the first big meeting of the new job. But he’d never had much time for Margaret Bingham and her agendas. She and Adrian Moss would make a fine team. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he muttered.