Banks could imagine how much it must have hurt and confused the young man. Perhaps if anyone were looking for a trigger to Caxton’s later behavior, that might have been it, though from what Carol Canning had said, he was already a man used to getting his way sexually, even if it meant being a bit rough. Still, something like that could rip your soul in two.

“What happened to him? The father?”

“Nobody knows. He might have died in the war or ended up living to a ripe old age in Germany—east or west—after it was all over. One thing’s for certain, he’ll be dead by now. Danny never talked about him again in my presence. I remember his expression when he was told the news. Face set like stone. Pale as a ghost. And he didn’t argue, didn’t contest it. He just left the room. When he came back, hours later, he acted normal, as if nothing had happened. Cracked a joke or two. That was Danny.”

Banks reconsidered his direction. “Let’s go back a bit,” he said. “You didn’t sound surprised at the accusation when I first mentioned it.”

“Am I surprised Danny shagged a fourteen-year-old? Not at all. He always liked them young. Am I surprised he was a bit rough with her? No. He never was a patient or considerate lover. Am I surprised you’re making such a fuss about it after all this time? Yes. Those were different times.”

“And stars like Danny Caxton were subject to different laws?”

“In a way. Yes. They were gods. And you know what the gods got up to.” She drank some more gin. “Have you asked her why she took so long to report this . . . incident . . . or whatever it was?”

“She didn’t. She reported it at the time and nothing was done.”

A triumphant and unpleasant grin split her features. “Seems like it’s down to you lot, then, doesn’t it, ducky?”

“I’m not saying the police weren’t at fault. We’ll be checking out that aspect of the case, too.”

“I’ll bet you will. You could probably save yourself the trouble, you know.”

“Oh, yes? How?”

“Well, think about it. Danny was a big star. People liked to be around him. Bask in his glory. He had charisma, you know. Tons of it. People came under his spell. Important people, like senior coppers, judges, politicians, royalty, for all I know. Or people who relied on him for their jobs, to keep raking in the money. You don’t kill the cash cow just for a quick slice of beef, do you? And the others, the coppers and their like, they liked to be seen with him, liked to be able to impress their mates by saying they’d been down to Danny’s for the weekend, rubbed shoulders with Mick and Keith, and, by heck, you should have seen the crumpet. He played golf with the chief constables. Gave generously to the Police Widows and Orphans Fund and a few others. Someone always owed him a favor, belonged to the same club, was a mate, depended on him for their livelihood or status. He was clever with people like that.”