Orchestrated Death by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

interviewing witnesses? What were they, night workers?’
    Her anger was at least easier to deal with than hurt or worry. He felt guiltily grateful.
    ‘They were musicians and they were giving a concert and we had to wait until they’d finished. Then Atherton and I went over
     some of the statements. We had a couple of drinks and – well, I didn’t think I’d better drive.’
    ‘Why the hell didn’t you
phone?
I didn’t know what had happened to you. You might have been dead.’
    ‘Oh, darling – it got late, and we hadn’t noticed the time. I thought you’d have gone to bed. I didn’t want to wake you up
     –’
    ‘I wasn’t asleep. How do you think I could sleep, not knowing where you were? I don’t care what time it was, you should have
     phoned!’
    ‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to disturb you. I’ll know another time,’ Slider said unhappily.
    ‘You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? Anything might have happened to you, with your job. I just sit at home wondering
     if I’m ever going to see you again, if some madman hasn’t gone for you with a knife –’
    ‘They’d have got in touch with you if anything had happened to me.’
    ‘Don’t joke about it, you bastard!’ He said nothing. After a moment she went on in a lower voice, ‘I know what it was – you
     and that bloody Atherton got drunk, didn’t you?’
    ‘We just had a couple of scotches –’ He tried not to let the relief show in his voice as the danger disappeared up a side
     track. Let her go on thinking that was it!
    ‘Don’t tell me! I hate that man – he’s always trying to set you against me. I know how you two go on when you’re together
     – telling smutty stories and giggling like stupid little boys. You don’t realise how he’s holding you back. If itwasn’t for him, you’d have been promoted long ago.’
    ‘Oh come on, darling –’
    ‘Don’t darling me,’ she said, but he could hear that the heat was going out of her voice. The new, sharp-edged grievance had
     been put aside for the old, dulled one. ‘You should be a chief inspector by now – everyone knows that. Your precious bloody
     Atherton knows that. He’s jealous of you – that’s why he tries to hold you back.’
    Slider ignored that. He made his voice as sensible and man-to-man as he could. ‘Look, darling, I’m sorry you were worried,
     and I promise I’ll phone if it ever happens again. But I’ll have to go now – I’ve got a hell of a lot to do today.’
    ‘Aren’t you coming home to change?’
    ‘I’ll make do as I am. The shirt I’ve got on isn’t too bad, and I’ll get a shave at the station.’
    The domestic details seemed to soothe her. ‘I suppose it’s no use asking you what time you’ll be home tonight?’
    ‘I’ll try not to be late, but I can’t promise. You know what it’s like.’
    ‘Yes, I know what it’s like,’ she said ironically, but she had accepted it. She had accepted it all. The boat had righted
     itself again. He rang off, and found himself sweating, despite the cold air of January.
    He felt rather sick. So this was what it was like. He thought of the thousands of men there must be to whom such lying and
     dissembling were part of normal, everyday life, and wondered how they ever got used to it. And yet he had just coped, hadn’t
     he? Coped well. Lied like an expert, and got away with it, and felt relief when she’d swallowed it. Self-disgust reached its
     peak. Perhaps all men were born with the ability, he thought. Well, he knew what they knew now.
    The peak passed. He listened and heard water splashing somewhere, and thought of Joanna, and at once the distress of the phone
     calls dropped off him cleanly, leaving no mark. He thought of making love to her, and heat ran under his skin. We can spend
     the whole day together, if she’s not working. Oh pray she’s not working! A whole day with her –!
    That was the other half of it, wasn’t it? And it was the fact that they could