Author's Note: Another piece that has sat for about three years, waiting for inspiration. I'm liking the darker side of Paul Temple! Please excuse the liberties I've taken with Scotland Yard and 1940s medicine.
EYE FOR AN EYE
It all happened so fast.
Steve Temple was always at a loss when her husband went away, and this time was no exception. His leaving England for a book tour coincided with her returning home from a trip to visit an ill aunt, and Paul Temple had reassured Steve that he didn't mind going to New York on his own. He knew she was worried about her aunt and if something (God forbid) went wrong, she could catch a train and be there sooner than if she had to cross an entire ocean.
So two weeks into the five without Temple, she was beginning to feel a little stir-crazy. There was only so much cleaning one could do, especially when they were paying their manservant, Charlie, to do most of it, and despite Temple's frequent jibes she didn't actually enjoy shopping that much.
She was beginning to miss the many cases her husband got caught up in, if only for the exciting action that usually followed.
It was a cheerful afternoon, late in the summer, and she'd made an appointment to have tea with Sir Graham Forbes of Scotland Yard. She liked keeping track of the current cases and breakthroughs in crime solving, a latent interest from her journalist days. Sir Graham kept Temple up to date, but he'd confessed to appreciating Steve's input and thoughts which sometimes differed from her husband's. Women's views were often overlooked, she mused.
Being married to Paul Temple meant that she was frequent visitor to Scotland Yard, and as such she was greeted by most of the officers and staff as she came in out of the sunshine and made her way past the maze of corridors. A large sweeping staircase would take her up to Sir Graham's office, and as she climbed she moved to one side to allow an officer past with a rather unruly-looking man cuffed to one wrist. The officer smiled in recognition, pausing briefly.
"Hello Mrs Temple, how are you?"
Steve had barely opened her mouth to reply when the other man stiffened and suddenly threw himself at her. She didn't have time to think or even make a sound of exclamation before she lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs, trying to gain purchase. She heard a distant commotion but it seemed too far away, and by the time she finally hit the floor she heard a crack and felt a searing pain in her arm before the world went black.
Some time later, Steve woke to a haze of pain; feeling bruises and bumps where she was sure there had been none before. A strong aroma of antiseptic and cleaning fluid assaulted her senses, and she slowly opened her eyes to be greeted with the sight of whitewashed walls. She tried to sit up but found one of her arms pinned down, and the resulting shock of pain through her system kept her lying in the same position for a while whilst she tried to fight the rising sense of nausea, dizziness and panic.
"Mrs T!" came a very familiar voice, and she turned her head to find Charlie hurrying towards her with a nurse in tow. "Mrs T, you're all right!"
"What happened?" she managed to say, if a little slurred, and she wondered why she felt so tired and out of it. Charlie seemed to understand however, as he gave her a reassuring smile.
"You fell down the stairs when that crook jumped at you. The doctors say you have a concussion and bruised ribs, and you've got a broken wrist. They gave you some sedatives for the pain. You won't be here for much longer, then you can come home."
Steve closed her eyes against the throbbing pain in her head that was starting to build up in earnest, and submitted to the doctor who was checking her over before he administered another dose of painkillers, which soon dulled the pain and made her sleepy.
"I'm just off to call Mr T, and when the doctors say, I'll take you home," Charlie added, but Steve reached out to him with her good arm.
"Charlie – don't call Paul."
"Why not?"
"I don't want him to let anyone down. Don't make him worry." Judging by the look on Charlie's face, he didn't like it but he reluctantly agreed and she allowed herself to slip back into pain-free unconsciousness.
"Higgs! You're wanted in the Commissioner's office!"
Bert Higgs looked up from the corner of the cell he'd been thrown in yesterday morning, and met the steely gaze of the officer who'd come to fetch him. He knew he'd be facing more charges now he'd pulled that scene on the stairs with Temple's wife, but as he was going away anyway it was worth the extra years. He'd considered himself a fairly mild mannered man before a particular job involving his specialism - fraud - had gone sour and a set-up from Temple ended with a shoot out between Scotland Yard and his brother. Bert himself had been captured, but his older brother, Eddie, had been caught in the crossfire and killed. The officer leading him to his cell that morning had said the word 'Temple' and Bert had seen red and a small opportunity for some well-deserved retribution.
"Get a move on, Higgs!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He stood up and moved over to the cell door so the officer could cuff him, then stepped out and allowed himself to be pulled along the corridors and up the sweeping stairs towards the plush offices of the Commissioner and his staff. The looks he received from various staff members and officers on the way would have made a lesser man quail in his boots, but Higgs just sneered in response. It appeared Mrs Temple was quite popular with them and it made his revenge seem that little more justified and effective.
The Commissioner was seated behind his desk, pen in hand as he made notes on some paperwork in front of him, and he glanced up as the officer stepped into the open doorway, Higgs behind him. "Ah, Jefferson. Bring him in and close the door behind you." Jefferson met the Commissioner's hard gaze and nodded in understanding, turning to pull Higgs further into the room. Higgs was too busy wondering why the Commissioner himself was interested in a low-grade criminal such as himself to see the look that passed between the officer and Sir Graham before the door was closed firmly, or notice the figure in the dimly lit corner of the room, his tall frame folded into an armchair.
Sir Graham Forbes waited for the firm click of the closed door before setting his pen down and regarding the man in front of him. "Sit down, Mr Higgs." He waved at the spindly chair in front of his desk; one that looked so out of place in the office that Higgs had to wonder if it had been brought in especially to add to the uncomfortable atmosphere. He'd assumed the Commissioner was a large man, with visions of a pasty-white figure, soft from years of sitting behind desks, but was faced with the reality of man who had spent years in the military and still went out with his officers on fieldwork if he could. Hardened eyes glared out at him from under groomed eyebrows, and the voice that issued from thin lips was deceptively mild. "So what do we have here, Mr Higgs?"
Higgs remained silent, a moment of intelligence alerting him to the fact it was a rhetorical question. Sir Graham opened a file and scanned the documents within. "An early life of petty theft, graduation into fraud, assault on some of my officers, and an unprovoked attack on a member of the public." He raised his eyes to meet Higgs, who shrugged it off, wisely saying nothing. "A member of the public whom is also very dear to me and my staff. Do you have anything to say?"
Higgs shook his head, suddenly noticing movement out of the corner of his eye and seeing Paul Temple unfold himself from the armchair and stand. "Well, in that case," Sir Graham continued, "I'm sure Mr Temple has some questions for you."
Higgs twitched. Sir Graham ignored him, addressing Temple as the other man approached the desk and leant against the edge. "My secretary requires my attention, Temple. I'm sure I will be away from my office for approximately five minutes." Temple's mouth turned up in a wry grin, nodding at Sir Graham as the older man rose from his chair and moved towards the door.
"I'm sure that will be plenty of time for Higgs to answer my questions, Sir Graham."
"If you require...assistance...I'm sure Jefferson is nearby."
"Oh, I doubt I will, Sir Graham, but I will hold that in mind." Temple turned his attention to Higgs who sat on his chair feeling for all the world like a naughty school child, and subsequently missed the soft sound of the key locking the door behind Sir Graham. "This is an unusual situation for me, Higgs," Temple started, shrugging off his jacket. "You see, usually I am on the receiving end of threats against my wife, and I in return make threats against them if they dare harm a hair on her head. But you seem to have skipped that altogether, and my wife is currently in hospital with broken and bruised bones."
Higgs hadn't known the amount of damage he'd inflicted as he'd been hauled off immediately, but a small part of him was gratified he'd caused even a fraction of the pain he could imagine his brother had gone through before he died. "You killed my brother!" he forced out, starting to rise to his feet, but was stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder and pushing him back down. Temple started rolling his sleeves up, slowly and deliberately.
"Your brother killed a police officer and injured two more in the midst of a fight - a fight instigated by the rest of the gang you were involved in during your little fraud operation." Temple's voice lowered dangerously and Higgs suddenly realised he wasn't getting out of the office without bodily damage. Another assumption he'd made was that Temple was as mild mannered as he appeared but Higgs was now learning the problem with assumptions. Temple stood before him looking like a jaguar eyeing its prey. "You attacked my wife for no reason except a misguided attempt at revenge, which, by the way, only makes things worse for you. No one hurts my wife."
Higgs tried to let out a shout for help but was cut short.
Sir Graham was leaning against his secretary's desk, perusing through some paperwork, when she lifted her head and looked towards his office. "Did you hear that, Sir Graham?"
"Hear what, Doris?" He questioned, not taking his attention off the papers.
"That..." A loud crash interrupted her, followed by a short sharp yelp, and she indicated with her hand. "That, Sir."
"That? That's nothing to worry about, Doris. But you might want to call the doctor and have him make his way up to my office. In his own time."
Steve sat on the comfy chair in the study, trying to read one of her husband's books as she fought the drowsiness and waves of pain from her broken wrist and bruised ribs. She'd been released from the hospital complete with cast, swathes of bandages and what seemed to be a mountain of painkillers. At her request, Charlie had installed her in the study with a warm fire, blanket, drinks and the required dosage of medication, and she tried to fight the urge to just sleep when she wanted to get back into a routine otherwise she knew she'd be awake all night. As her head nodded and she struggled to keep her eyes open, Charlie stuck his head round the door and smiled at her.
"All right, Mrs T? I'm just popping out to get some groceries; did you need anything?"
"No thank you, Charlie. I'm debating whether or not to take a quick nap - these pills make me feel so tired."
He shook his head, waving his hand towards them. "But at least they're helping you heal."
"True," she acceded, glancing at the window to see what the weather was doing. The sky was beginning to darken, rain clouds heavy with moisture looming over the previous cloudless expanse. "Take care, Charlie, it looks like it may rain."
"Don't worry, Mrs T, I'll take the umbrella. See you in a bit!" He disappeared from the doorway and she heard the door shut as he went off on his errands. Or so she thought, until the telling rattle of keys in the door sounded and she laughed.
"Forgot your umbrella after all, Charlie?"
"I didn't have one in the first place," came the deep response, and she looked up as her husband came through the door.
"Paul!" She tried to get up but in two strides he was in front of her and pressing his lips gently against her own, as if afraid his kiss would hurt her. "You're supposed to be in New York...I told Charlie not to call you..."
"No, darling, it wasn't Charlie," he crouched in front of her, taking her good hand in his own and squeezing lightly. "Sir Graham rang me, told me what happened. I flew back immediately - my schedule has been rearranged so I have the rest of the week free, and I go back at the weekend. I want to take you with me if you feel up to it; I want to know you're safe."
Steve smiled tiredly at him, relieved he was there. "I'm sure I'll be up to it; they sent me home with enough medication to down an elephant." Her joke fell on deaf ears, however, as she found herself under the scrutiny of her husband's sharp gaze, checking her over and taking in her bruised appearance.
"Darling Steve, you look terrible." He stroked her cheek gently and pressed another kiss to her lips.
"Why thank you, Mr Temple, you certainly know how to make a lady feel beautiful!" As he smiled wryly at her and lifted his other hand, she caught sight of the knuckles and caught it in her grasp, taking in the bruises and scrapes. "What did you do?"
His gaze darkened slightly, but he shrugged it off, kissing her forehead as he stood. "Just bumped into some rubbish, nothing to worry about."
Author's Note: It sounded better in my head...