Gone Too Far : DCI Miller 4: Britain's Most Hated Celebrity Has Disappeared

by Steven Suttie

  “No. Neither am I. That’s why I came to you. I knew that you’d be able to help me.” Janet’s eyes looked as though they were filling up with moisture.

  “Go on, get yourself off home. I’ll buzz you tomorrow. Okay?” Kathy stood up and hugged Janet’s frail little frame. Janet turned and left, and cut a tragic figure as she did so. Kathy could feel the hot swell of tears fill up in her own eyes.

  “Shit. This can only end badly!” she said as she flicked the tears away, trying to protect her mascara.

  * * *

  Even though Kathy had promised not to say anything about Janet’s incredible announcement, she just couldn’t keep it to herself. Her husband of twenty two years, Jack Greenwood sensed that something was troubling Kathy, as she prepared the couple’s dinner ready for tea time.

  “Why the long face?”

  “Jack, stop calling me horse-face!” Kathy threw a mock look of anger before smiling coyly.

  “Come on, out with it. We had a deal, remember. If something is playing on our minds, we speak out about it before it becomes an issue.”

  “Oh, I’ve got into something… something that’s troubling me.”

  “Should I prepare for a shock?” Jack looked worried.

  “What… oh, no, nothing bad. About us, I mean.” Kathy blushed, as she realised that her “fling” which had been covered by every newspaper in the land was once again the elephant-in-the-room, completely by accident. As the burning in her cheeks got hotter, Kathy decided to swerve this unfortunate scenario by asking Jack for his opinion on what Janet had disclosed earlier that day, at Sally King’s office.

  “Open a bottle… I’ll throw this in the oven and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Half an hour later, Kathy had shared much of Janet’s tragic tale with Jack. As the last of the bottle of wine was shared between the couple’s glasses, Kathy announced that she was about to break a promise that she’d made to Janet earlier.

  Jack was saddened, and shocked by the circle of tragedy that this poor woman had endured all of her adult life. But that shock and sadness didn’t put him off wanting to hear the rest of the tale.

  “Listen, I’m being really, really horrible for repeating this. I promised her that I wouldn’t tell anybody. She told me that I am the only person that she has ever trusted enough to say this to, you know.”

  “Well its safe with me, I’m not exactly going to announce it to London’s drive-time audience tomorrow evening, am I?”

  “I don’t know Jack… perhaps once you’ve heard what Janet told me, you might be tempted!”

  Jack let the silence hang, and allowed his wife the opportunity to think about what she was about to say.

  After a big slurp of the wine, Kathy blurted it out.

  “The worst offender at London TV was one of Britain’s best loved national treasures.”

  “Who, Ed Balls?”

  “No. Stop being stupid. Who instantly pops into your mind?”

  “Well… national treasures, let’s see… Bob Francis…”

  “BINGO!” shouted Kathy, making Jack jump with fright. His face turned from panic to shock as the idea of Bob Francis being a sex offender struggled to form in Jack’s mind.

  “Bob Francis was one of this woman’s abusers?”

  “Girl, Jack. She was fifteen years old.”

  “Still, it’s … I can’t believe… Bob Francis?”

  “Good, well, I’m glad you said that Jack, because that was exactly my reaction when she told me.

  “It just doesn’t ring true. It’s too shocking to imagine. I mean, it wasn’t a shock when it all came out about Savile.”

  “What do you mean, it wasn’t a shock?”

  “Well, in exactly the same way that it wasn’t a shock when Amy Winehouse died. We all knew that Amy was playing a dangerous game, and it ended in the most tragic way. It was sad, it was heart-breaking… but it wasn’t exactly a shock was it? Same goes for Savile. Everyone knew he was a deviant, every BBC employee from lighting to accounts had heard the rumours. It was an open-secret that he was a child abuser. When it all started to come out, a few days after his funeral, there were a hell of a lot of people who were genuinely surprised that it was a big announcement. Do you know, he asked the BBC bosses every year if he could help out with the Children In Need appeals, and every year he was told no, and he was ordered to stay away from Television Centre when it was transmitted. That says it all for me. Its like an admission that they all knew what was happening, but they were all too deeply implicated in looking the other way, that they had to continue looking the other way for the rest of time.”

  “So you don’t think that they looked the other way whilst Bob Francis was raping and abusing this young girl?”

  “Honestly, no. It would have been said, or at least whispered. Especially in the last few years.”

  “But I believe her. She’s telling the truth.”

  Jack exhaled loudly, and drank some more of his wine. “So, what’s the problem then?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve just got a really bad feeling about the whole thing. My instincts are telling me to stay the hell away from it.”

  “And, being Kathy Hopkirk, you always do the opposite of what your instincts advise?”

  “Yes. Aw come on Jack, help me out love. How can I say that I don’t want to help her? How can I say that I’m not interested. She has chosen me as the only person in the world to off-load this awful shit onto. I can’t just say thanks, and good luck, can I?”

  “Kathy, you’re paid handsomely to be the nastiest bitch in Britain. Of course you can tell her you’re not interested. And I advise you, that you should.”

  “Well, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  Jack laughed as he stood to grab another bottle of wine from the rack. “Well, I don’t know the answer to that, do I? But Bob Francis is a very well protected man. A lot of people have a lot of vested interests in him. He is the face of a dozen charities. He advertises more stuff than I could remember. He is mates with the Queen for God’s sake! This man is probably the worst person to have been abused by, if that is what happened. I’m strongly advising you to walk away, because if you don’t… the worst might just happen Kathy.”

  With that, Jack pulled the corkscrew up, and poured a generous helping into his glass, and then an equally large portion into his wife’s.

  “You didn’t answer me Jack. What is the worst that could happen?”

  Jack thought about the question for a few seconds. “Okay, well, your earnings at the moment are at an all time peak. If the media feel that their loyalties lie with Bob Francis, which they most definitely do, then you’ll be looking at one thing in your diary for the next twelve months. Celebrity Cash In The Attic, for seven hundred and fifty quid. You’ll be finished love. Game over.”

  “Well, I’m nearly ready for the big finish anyway… I’m only looking at a few months more work and I’ll have three million in the bank, plus my assets. So it doesn’t matter, in fact, if anything Jack – this could make for a better way out than the disappearance!”

  “Well, I’ve said my piece Kathy. I think you would be better advised to stay well away, this is another league altogether, and the cynics will just think that this is a stunt, the most unpopular British person versus the most popular one.”

  Kathy opened her mouth to speak but Jack got in first.

  “But, all that said…I wouldn’t want to try and convince you, it’s just my opinion. I know that you do your own thing, and it’s what I admire about you the most.”

  “But?”

  “Well, I think you should talk it over with Sally first. And whatever she says… that’s probably going to be the best advice.”

  “Oh shit!” Kathy jumped up from the seat.

  “What? What’s wrong.”

  “I’ve burnt the dinner!”

  * * *

  “Hi Sal,

  Just wondered if
you had a thirty minute window at some point today? I need some advice.

  Let me know, I can be there with thirty minutes notice.

  Chow for now

  K x”

  Kathy clicked send on the e-mail, and felt relieved that it had sent, and there was no turning back now. A problem shared is a problem halved she reminded herself, as she looked in her handbag for some pain killers. That third bottle of wine with Jack had been a stupid idea. Still, the take-away was nice enough – probably a lot nicer than the meal that had been cremated.

  The laptop dinged with a new e-mail notification.

  “Hi K,

  I’m not too busy between three and four, so I’ll see you later. I’m quite perturbed that you need my advice! But I’ll wait it out, with baited breath.

  S x”

  * * *

  It had taken fifteen minutes, by which time, Kathy was nearing the end of Janet Croft’s story. Sally had listened to it all, from beginning to end. She’d also had the benefit of meeting Janet, briefly, during one of Kathy’s meetings with her, so she also had a face in mind, which gave greater depth to the harrowing story. And it was a harrowing story – Kathy didn’t try to play any of it down, she didn’t try to gloss anything over. She was worried that it could be seen as just another hard-luck story. It was so much more than that, and Kathy had been determined to present it in a passionate manner.

  Janet’s life story was a tragedy, and it was this aspect of it that had affected Kathy the most. It was the sheer misery that most of Janet’s life-time had been wasted, completely and utterly lost, because of the abuse that she had suffered, abuse which had been mixed with such indignity and degradation which ultimately ended with the sudden rejection from her apprenticeship. The sheer audacity of Janet’s abusers really made Kathy angry.

  Sally King was shocked to see Kathy so worked up. Kathy was not known for showing her human side. It was a big surprise, and Sally found it very endearing.

  But the big shock was still to come. The headline of this story was the real jaw-dropper, and Kathy had expertly explained Janet’s life-story as an epic tragedy. Now the stage was all set to reveal the name of the sexual deviant responsible. Kathy sat back in her chair and took a deep breath.

  “So, here’s the reason I’m stressed. This is the reason that I wanted your advice…”

  “Oooh… not sure I like the sound of this!”

  “The man who abused Janet Croft at London TV, the man who instigated much of the sexual abuse, who made her do the most unspeakable things for his pleasure, his colleague’s pleasure and, basically just for his own twisted amusement was a big star at the time, a very big star.”

  “Go on, stop teasing Kathy. Do I know him?”

  “I don’t know. Do you? He’s called Bob Francis.”

  Revealing the name had the same jaw-juddering effect that it had had on Kathy. Sally King, the well respected media-mogul, the woman who managed more than fifty-percent of the UK’s top forty A-List celebrities looked stunned, and winded as though she’d just been kicked in the stomach.

  A few seconds passed-by before she spoke. When she did, Sally’s voice had an unmistakable wobble to it. “Bob, Francis?” she asked, as though she’d imagined it.

  “The very same,” said Kathy, her voice completely flat and emotionless.

  “I can’t believe that. Seriously… I just can’t take that in.”

  “That’s exactly how I felt. But I believe her. I can tell that it’s true. I’ve looked at Bob Francis’ career, he definitely worked at London TV for nine years. Britain’s cuddliest old man is a fucking sex monster Sal.”

  “But how, I mean, how can we possibly. Shit, I don’t know what I’m saying. This is unreal!”

  “I want to out him. Out the sadistic old bastard in an unforgettable, unforgiving way. I’ve got an idea, listen to me Sal, I’ve got this idea where we set up a kind of an awards thing, all his cronies and fans are sat around in a big TV studio, and we have all these video clips of the great and the good talking about what a wonderful old boy Bob Francis is. And then, from nowhere, we say, ‘here’s a clip of somebody you’ve not spoken to for a very long time!’ And then a video of Janet comes on, describing what he did to her, she is describing all the things that he made her do, all the mates he made her do things to. She can describe the way she felt, and describe the way that her life became one long, lonely, hazy bender by herself.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure about this Kathy…”

  “Just to have a camera on his smug face while his horrible, slimy past comes out, and he’s revealed as the disgusting little cunt that he is. That will be a great antidote for Janet. Then the police come in and cart him off, and he dies in prison. It’ll be amazing.”

  “No, I’m… listen I’m having seriously bad feelings about this.”

  “Why?”

  “Well… look, I know this is your kind of thing, I get that. But seriously, Bob Francis is a very powerful man in the media world. He might be ancient, but he’s still the royalty of this business. He’s untouchable, Kathy.”

  “Nobody is untouchable.” Kathy looked as though she was getting annoyed with her manager.

  “Bob Francis is. He’ll have more secrets on more people than anybody else in the industry. That’s how this business works Kathy, you know that. If this is true, what Janet has told you,”

  “It is true. I know it is.”

  “Okay, so there, that kind of helps me to prove my point. If it is true, that will explain why Bob Francis’ name has never come up. Look at all the legends that were accused and acquitted after the Savile story broke. People like Jimmy Tarbuck, Paul Gambaccini, Bill Roach, Cliff bloody Richard! These are some of the biggest stars in the land. There were dozens upon dozens of big names being accused, but not once did Bob Francis’ name come up.”

  “So…”

  “So, I’m telling you Kathy… he’s untouchable. Completely and utterly untouchable.”

  “Not to me. Nobody is above-the-law as far as I’m concerned, or as far as Janet Croft is concerned either, for that matter.”

  “Well, listen to me Kathy. I’m strongly advising you to steer clear of this. If it is true, then I agree that Bob Francis is a despicable man. But you’ll never get to him. He’s too far up the chain. Please, just leave it.” Sally leant across her desk and grabbed hold of Kathy’s hands. “You need to walk away from this. It will end badly.”

  Kathy looked straight into her manager’s eyes.

  “The only person that this is going to end badly for is Bob Francis. And my mind’s set.”

  Sally blew out a gust of air, a little too loudly. “Kathy, I thought you told me that you wanted some advice.”

  “I did.”

  “Well I’m advising you, strongly advising you to leave well alone. This is my professional, and personal advice.”

  “So I’m on my own?”

  “As far as this thing is concerned – it has absolutely nothing at all to do with Sally King Associates, either.”

  Kathy looked annoyed, and hurt. “So you are sacking me?” She pulled her hands out of her manager’s embrace.

  “Wait… hey – I didn’t say that Kathy.”

  “Well I take it to mean that Sally. I’m really disappointed with you. This is the biggest issue of our time, and you want to do what everybody else in show business has done for the past fifty years – pretend its not happening. I thought you had a bit more about you Sally. I really did.”

  Kathy stood and walked out of Sally’s office. Sally remained seated, her mouth was open as though she wanted to speak – but no words came out. Kathy closed the all-glass door behind her and walked off briskly towards the reception, and the way out of Sally’s, and the place that she thought of as her own, office.”

  Sally sat there a moment, mulling over what Kathy had just said. It was terrible, sure, no-two ways about it. What had happened to Janet Croft was despicable. But as Sa
lly thought it over, she reasoned that it wasn’t her fight to get involved with. There was far too much at stake, far too many professional relationships that would be damaged irreparably if Britain’s best-loved entertainer was outed as another sordid, creepy sex-case. And in his ninetieth year too. This really was better swept under the carpet, as far as Sally King was concerned.

  Sally had one loyalty, and that was to her company, Sally King Associates. With that in mind, she lifted the phone and rang her old friend and colleague Piers Marshall, the managing director of London TV, the television station from where these alleged activities took place forty years earlier.

  “Piers, hey you! It’s Sally!”

  “Sally King! The woman I should have married! Why didn’t I?” Piers was chuckling.

  “Because I wanted to marry a much less successful man with a far smaller… erm, personality!”

  Piers laughed very loudly, forcing Sally to hold the phone away from her ear. She was nervous, and stressed, but Piers couldn’t tell as the two former work colleagues talked shit for a couple of minutes.

  “So, anyway Sally King, why have you phoned me today? Have you found me a fresh new face to host Britain’s Worst Restaurants?”

  “No, actually, I’m not pitching anything…”

  “Oh? Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, I’m just a little stressed out about something.”

  “Stress is no good for a woman of your vintage. What’s the matter?” Piers sounded genuine, the silly flirting had stopped, and it sounded as though there was real concern in his voice.

  “Well, its Kathy… she’s just been in and told me something. Something about Bob Francis.”

  The line went quiet. Silent. Sally wondered if the connection had dropped.

  “Piers?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. So, what exactly did Kathy say about Bob?” Now it was Piers’ turn to sound stressed.

  “Well, a lady called Janet Croft, she was an apprentice at your place forty years ago. She’s approached Kathy. She has said some things that don’t paint Bob Francis in the usual light.”