Read Online When the Music's Over by Peter Robinson - Free Book Online Page B

than saying ‘he or she.’ But now that you mention it, I find it harder to see a woman than a man doing what was done to her.”
    â€œAnd what are the odds of some stranger just happening along this road, seeing a naked woman walking and turning out to be a passing psychopath, deciding to beat her to death?”
    â€œThat’s just the problem, isn’t it?” Stefan said. “Probably close to zero.”
    â€œ DID ANYTHING happen in the car?” Banks asked.
    â€œNo. Caxton went on being the perfect gentleman, chatting, solicitous of my comfort, anxious to help me with my dreams. Giving advice about how to behave onstage, how to deal with stage fright.Stuff like that. He even gave me a cigarette and a glass of champagne. It was the first time I’d ever tasted it.”
    â€œIn the car? Was there a driver?”
    â€œOh, yes.”
    â€œAnd was the other man with you?”
    â€œYes, but he was in the front with the driver. He didn’t say anything the whole way.”
    â€œWas either of them ever questioned?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t think anyone was.”
    â€œAnd the hotel staff saw you when you arrived?”
    â€œNo. We went into a sort of underground car park at the back and got straight in a lift. I don’t remember going through reception or anything, or seeing anyone else. Not then. I suppose maybe because he was a celebrity he had a discreet way in. To be honest, I didn’t really notice. I was on cloud nine. I was with Danny Caxton and he was going to help me get into show business. I could already see my name in lights.”
    â€œDid the driver and the other man go in with you?”
    â€œNot the driver. Just the other man . . . he . . . yes.”
    â€œOK. Then what happened?”
    â€œWe went up in a tiny lift to the fourth floor, a big suite of rooms, all wood paneling and old-world elegance. Gilt-framed pictures on the walls. Constable prints, Turner, stuff like that. I remember one of a horse standing by a tree. A Stubbs, maybe. It was a sad horse.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œWe drank more champagne. I had never really drunk alcohol before, except a sip of my dad’s beer once when he was out, and it went straight to my head. I suppose I was giggly, a bit silly. I think I even sang him a song or something.”
    â€œWhat did Caxton do then?”
    â€œHe changed. Just like that. I asked him what I should do next, you know, to get started in the business, and he led me towards the bedroom and said something about passing the audition, that people have to pay for what they get, and they should be grateful. I don’t remember it all exactly. I was feeling a bit dizzy. He said the first thing was to take some photos.”
    â€œWith your clothes off?”
    â€œNo. There was still no suggestion of funny business. He said they were to show agents and whatever. A portfolio. Anyway, the other man, the assistant, took some. He had a Polaroid camera and it was the first time I’d seen one. It was like magic the way the photos came out. I think he took some more later, too, you know, while . . . I thought I could hear the sound of the camera.”
    â€œHow were you feeling by the time he took the photos?”
    â€œI was feeling nervous. Danny Caxton was scaring me a bit, saying things, and the way he looked at me. I felt my heart beating fast. I didn’t know what he meant. And the smile had gone. I suppose I was a bit tipsy, too. Like I said, I wasn’t used to drinking. I asked him where Helen Shapiro was, and he laughed and said he didn’t know. I think he said something rude about her, but I didn’t really understand it. Then he sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him. I sat down. I think I told him I wanted to go home.”
    Banks could tell that despite Linda’s calm veneer she was getting upset the more she spoke. It was hardly surprising, given what was to