Orchestrated Death

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘Yes,’ Slider said, looking at his plate. ‘And did O’Flaherty phone you back? It must have been hell for you.’

  ‘Not that time, but later. He called back in about ten minutes to tell me what they were doing to find you. But then I had to go on to work, and that was the longest evening of my life. God knows what I played like. It wasn’t until I got home that I was able to find out what had happened. That was when Atherton phoned to tell me you were in hospital with shock and minor burns.’

  That had been the beginning of the long wait and the slow decline of hope. She could not go and visit, in case Irene was there. She had tried ringing, but the hospital wouldn’t give out information except to relatives. And then she had decided that if he wanted her, he would get in contact with her, and that if he didn’t, she mustn’t make it hard for him. So she had done nothing, and the silence had extended itself, and she had thought that that was her answer.

  Now he said, ‘They weren’t pleased with me, you know. With Hildyard dead, they had to have some sort of investigation into him, and he turned out to be a pretty unsatisfactory customer. He was German by birth – his real name was Hildebrand. He studied veterinary surgery at Nuremburg until the outbreak of the war, and then he joined the Luftwaffe – Intelligence Corps.’

  ‘So that’s where he got the “Captain”, was it?’

  ‘I suppose so. Anyway, when the German army occupied Italy, he was seconded and given a sort of undercover job liaising with the pro-Nazi Italians, trying to crack the Italian Resistance. And apparently it was at that time that he made contact with the Mafia, and did himself quite a lot of good with under-the-counter deals. At all events, he got very rich, and when the Allies took over he was rich and powerful enough to disappear completely, even though he was a very wanted man.’

  ‘Yes, I should think he was. Everybody would have been after his blood.’

  ‘His only friends were the Mafia, and it looks as though they helped him to escape to England and establish himself. At all events, he disappeared for a while and when he resurfaced, there he was in Stourton-on-Fosse as respectable as you like, following his old trade of veterinary surgeon and digging himself into the local community.’

  ‘And all that time being a sleeper? Or active? Or what?’

  ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. There’s so much we don’t know – like who killed Brenner, or Mrs Gostyn. Hildyard more or less admitted killing Thompson, or at least he didn’t deny it. And Anne-Marie.’ He was silent a moment, and then said, ‘Anyway, they aren’t going to follow it up. The shop in Tutman Street’s closed, and the man I saw there has disappeared. We’ve evidently disturbed them enough to close down that particular network, and that means I’m not exactly flavour of the month up at the Yard. We’ll be watching Saloman from now on, but I don’t suppose they’ll ever use him again.’

  One thing I’ve been wondering is how Anne-Marie actually passed the money on.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that, too, and I think it must have been something idiotically simple. I think it was the olive oil tins. I can’t account for ’em otherwise. She had two in each of her flats, and Atherton noticed they were quite clean and dry inside, as if they’d never been used. I think maybe she just shoved rolls of bank notes into them and carried them along to the shop, and was given another empty tin in exchange.’

  ‘Surely it can’t have been as simple as that?’

  ‘Sometimes the simplest ideas work the best,’ he said, and lapsed into silence.

  ‘Well, at least Anne-Marie’s murderer got his just deserts,’ she said at last, trying to comfort him.

  ‘You sound like Dickson. But it isn’t a matter of that. That’s just revenge.’ He looked at her carefully. ‘I want you to understand.’ Then he changed his emphasis. ‘I want you to understand.’

  ‘Go on then. I’m listening.’

  It took him a while to begin. ‘It’s not the way it is in books, you see, where the detective solves the problem and then goes home to tea. In real life, even if you solve the problem, that’s only the beginning. You have to assemble all the evidence, construct the case, take it to court, and even then the villain might not go down. He might get off entirely, or he might get a suspended sentence and be straight back out on the street. It’s a gamble. And all the time you’re constructing the case against him, there’s all the other crime going on, and you can’t be in two places at once. You never win. You can’t win. You never even finish anything. It’s like grandmother’s steps, only the villains keep just a nose ahead of you, always. And if you get one sent down, there’s all the others still in business, you can’t stop them all, and in a couple of years the one you got sent down comes out again and picks up where he left off. You never seem to get anywhere, and in the end it drives you crazy. If you let it.’

  He looked to see if she was following, and she nodded.

  ‘People have different ways of coping with the frustration. Of course there are some lucky enough or stupid enough not to feel it – like Hunt. And Beevers, too, in a way. Atherton copes by just switching off as soon as he leaves his desk, and concentrating on his social life, food and books and music and so on.’

  ‘Playing the dilettante bachelor.’

  ‘Yes. And it is an act, to an extent. He watches himself doing it, you know, polishes up his performance. Norma’s a bit like that, too, only her act is being a tough guy. And there are some who drink, or take drugs, and some who just get brutalised.’

  ‘And then there’s you,’ she suggested.

  ‘I don’t know really how I coped with it. I think, by believing that it was all worthwhile. But somehow from the beginning of this case it didn’t work. I minded too much, and I don’t know why, unless maybe it was just the last straw. But then I met you.’

  She became very still, watching his face.

  ‘You said once that I didn’t see you as part of real life, and I think in a way you were right.’

  She heard the words with a sense of foreknowledge and despair. He had asked her here to tell her it was over, too much a gentleman to do it other than face to face.

  ‘You were my place to hide,’ he went on. ‘I see it now. I think I half knew it at the time, and it was very wrong of me to use you like that, but I can only say in my defence that my need was very great. I was right on the edge of a precipice and you were all I was holding on to.’

  She nodded again, unable to speak. She couldn’t believe that he was going to let her go, now that they had found each other against all the odds; but she knew, and she had always known, that nothing was more likely.

  ‘I’ve had time to think while I’ve been here. It’s a thing people hardly ever have, isn’t it? Time on their own to think things out properly. Maybe that’s why people so often get really basic things wrong. I’ve never really been on my own since I got married.’

  He was coming to it now, she thought. She started to smile, and then realised that was inappropriate. He looked at her very seriously, and it made him look absurdly young, like an earnest sixth-former about to express his conclusion that what was really wanted was world peace and harmony.

  ‘But down here I’ve had complete peace and quiet, with just Dad. He’s very restful, you know – not a great talker. I’ve thought about everything – most of all about you. And I think that in spite of the way things have happened, you’re the only real thing that’s happened to me in – well, in the whole of my adult life, really.’

  He smiled at her, and reached across for her hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it – the tenderest gesture a lover can make. She thought it probably wasn’t the time to say much more than that yet, so she got up and went around the table to him so that they could get their arms round each other, which was what they both needed most just at that moment.

  Mr Slider came into the kitchen just when dusk was beginning to make it worthwhile to pull the curtains and switch on the light, and found Joanna peacefully making tea and boiling eggs while Bill
watched the toast. The table was laid and the kitchen was warm and welcoming.

  ‘Hullo, Dad. Get anything?’ Bill said over his shoulder.

  Mr Slider, who was occupied with pulling off his boots on the mat, only grunted. Joanna looked round and met his unsmiling gaze from under his eyebrows, but he nodded to her gravely and courteously.

  ‘Went up to Hampton Wood in the end,’ he said, padding over to the table in stockinged feet and sitting down. ‘Got a couple of wood pigeons. Make nice eating by the weekend.’ Joanna brought over the teapot, and he offered her the correct, modern courtesy. ‘Have a good drive down?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Ah. That you burning the toast, Bill?’

  ‘Sorry, Dad.’

  Father and son sat opposite each other, and Joanna sat between them, and looked from one to the other. They were so alike it made her feel oddly tearful. Mr Slider’s grey, close-cropped hair grew in exactly the same way as Bill’s honey-brown; his softly aged face and secret mouth must once have looked exactly like those of the man she loved. Most of all, there was in the lines of the older man’s face, in the way his mouth curved and in the bright regard of his eyes, the look of a man who has loved another human being completely and successfully, a sweetness that no subsequent loss can eradicate. She liked him, and felt she would have done even if he had not been Bill’s father.

  Bill and Joanna carried the conversation while Mr Slider made his meal with the economical movements of a man who has earned it. Eventually when they had all finished, Mr Slider pushed back his chair and said, ‘Why don’t you go and lay the fire, Bill? Joanna and me’ll do the washing up.’

  Bill gave a comical grimace and went off obediently, and Joanna began to clear the table with a sinking heart. I’m going to be warned off again, she thought; and I shall mind what this lovely old man says to me.

  ‘I’ll wash and you dry,’ Mr Slider said. ‘Don’t want you getting dishpan hands.’

  He was a slow and methodical washer, and managed to make the little there was go a long way. After the first few plates he looked up and saw her expression and gave her an amused and quirky smile.

  ‘No need to look like that, girl. I’m only his father. I got nothing to do with it.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s entirely true. Bill values your opinion.’

  ‘Told you that, did he? Ah, well, we’re a lot alike, Bill and me, except that I’m handsomer. And I’ll tell you something – I like you.’

  ‘I like you too.’

  ‘Well, that’s a start.’ He went on washing. The next time he looked up it was gravely. ‘It’s a bad business, this. Bad for everyone. There are no winners when a man’s torn between two women, and one of them’s his wife. I was lucky. I loved Bill’s mother, and I married her, and I never wanted no other. People talk a lot about why marriages break down, but there’s only one reason – people stop loving each other, or they never did in the first place. Do you love Bill?’

  ‘Yes. But I would never -’ She stopped, embarrassed.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ He fished out an egg spoon and rubbed it minutely. ‘Terrible stuff for sticking, egg yolk. No, you’d never try to make up his mind for him. I never would either. I don’t think you can make other people’s decisions for them, or you shouldn’t. The trouble with Bill is he’s too sensitive.’ He smiled suddenly, and his eyes seemed very blue. ‘I know all parents say that. But Bill always was a worrier. Conscientious. He always tried to see both sides of everything, and be fair to everyone, and it gets in his way, see? His conscience runs ahead of his feelings and muddles him up. There, I think that’s clean. Haven’t got my close-up glasses on, so you’ll have to keep an eye on me.’

  She took the spoon and dried it without looking at it. ‘What do you think he’ll do?’ It was foolish to ask, but everyone wants reassurance from time to time.

  ‘I don’t know. I wish I could tell you, because, to be honest about it, I like you, and I never liked Irene. She was never right for him – too sharp and go-ahead and looking at the prices of things. His mother though she’d sharpen him up, but I said to her, he’s sharp enough in his own way. He sees more than most people, that’s all. I’ll tell you this much -whatever he does decide, it won’t be easy for him. He’ll take a long time deciding, and it’ll hurt him. It’ll hurt you, too,’ he said, looking at her appraisingly, ‘but I reckon you can take it. And you wouldn’t want him, would you, if he was the kind of man that could decide a thing like that easily?’

  ‘No. I suppose I wouldn’t.’ It wasn’t much comfort.

  They worked in silence for a while until Mr Slider said, ‘There, last spoon, and that’s the lot. You’re a good little worker. And I tell you what.’ She met his eyes and he smiled. ‘I reckon Bill’s got his head screwed on the right way. It may take a while, but I reckon he’ll get it right in the end. And now I’m going to take my bath. Will you still be here when I get back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, uncertain how long her visit was meant to last.

  ‘Ah, go on, you don’t want to be rushing off to London when you’ve just got here. Why don’t you stay the night? We’ll have a bit of supper later, and play a hand of cards. Do you play cribbage?’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘That’s all right. I’m past the age of being shocked. You stay and welcome. Fair enough?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Joanna.

  She had to leave the next morning, early. She and Slider walked back down the lane together in silence.

  ‘What’s going to happen to us?’ she asked at last. ‘Have we got a future?’

  ‘I hope so. I want us to have. Is that what you want?’

  ‘I thought you knew that by now.’

  He frowned. ‘I want to be honest with you. It’s going to be hard for me. I’ve been married a long time – I can hardly imagine not being married, now. And then there’s the children – most of all, there’s the children. They don’t deserve to be made unhappy. Well, Irene doesn’t either. It’s not her fault.’

  She listened to the hackneyed, deadly words, and all the arguments she might have raised passed unuttered through her mind. If he could not see them for himself, there was no point in her saying them.

  ‘But on the other hand, I just don’t think I could bear to go on without you now. You’re too important to me. And if I want you, I shall have to do something about it, shan’t I?’

  She nodded, grateful for a man too honest to suggest he might have it both ways.

  ‘What I want to ask you, and I know it will be hard for you, is to give me time. It will take me a while to work my way through this. Can you be patient? I’ve no right to ask you really, but –’

  ‘I’ll be patient. I’m thirty-six years old, and I’ve never been in love with anyone before. Just be as quick as you can,’ she said.

  He stopped and faced her and took her hands between his bandaged ones and could find nothing to say.

  Looking down at their joined hands she said, Tell me something?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘What on earth were you doing, trying to rescue a dead bogus vet from the flames?’

  He began very slowly to smile. ‘I never even thought about it. It was a purely instinctive reaction.’

  ‘You idiot! I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he said. They resumed their walk towards her car. ‘Did you know they’re promoting me?’ he said a little further on. ‘Now that Raisbrook isn’t coming back, they’re making me Detective Chief Inspector.’

  She looked at him quizzically. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? You must be pleased. But I thought you said they weren’t very happy with you?’

  ‘They aren’t promoting me because they’re happy with me. It’s a kind of consolation prize, because they aren’t going to follow up the Austen case. No, not even that, less than that – it’s a kind of booby prize. I’ve been a bloody nuisance, so they hand me a month’s leave and a promotion to keep me
quiet.’

  She didn’t know what to say. ‘At least Irene must be glad,’ she said at last.

  ‘Irene always said they didn’t value me. She was right about that, at least. Even when I get promoted, it’s a kind of failure.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, but he stopped her and gripped her hands.

  ‘Oh Joanna, I’m so afraid I’m going to fail you.’

  She tried to smile. ‘That isn’t your fault. It’s me. I’ve been a stray so long, it’s hard for anyone to see me as anything else. A stray is no-one’s responsibility, you see. You might play with it when it comes up to you in the park, but you don’t take it home.’

  He looked distressed. ‘Don’t talk like that. Listen, it’s going to be all right. It’ll take time, that’s all. Be patient with me.’

  He took her to the car and watched her get in and fasten the seatbelt, and then he kissed her goodbye through the window, and she drove away. She waved to him before she turned the corner: jaunty and afraid, essentially no-one’s dog.