Page 11 - Murder on the Dirigible

Murder on the Dirigible

MATTHEWS: Well, you know best how to handle these situations. If
it were up to me, I’d just strap them all in and tell them to shut up
and be grateful they don’t have to take the train.

MACALLISTER: (laughs) Then it’s a good thing it’s not up to you.
This isn’t the Army Air Corps, you know.

MATTHEWS: (looks at her sharply) No, it’s not. Thanks again for
the coffee. (leaves; MacAllister shakes head, resumes sitting and
reading)

PERKINSON: (after Matthews returns) Captain, I’m having trouble
with the radio. We should be able to pick up Oxnard by now,
according to my calculations, but I’m getting nothing. Not even
Inglewood.

MATTHEWS: Eh? Let me try. (takes headset and adjusts radio,
Now, that’s odd. It was working when we left L.A. Show me your
entries in the log book. (Perkinson opens book)

PEABODY: (walks into Fisk, leaning out of seat into aisle) Oof!
What are you doing! Don’t touch me! Get back! Are you drunk?
(pushes at Fisk, who falls out of seat into aisle) Eeek!

MACALLISTER: (jumps up, turns on lights, runs into passenger
compartment) What’s happened? Miss Peabody, are you all right?

PEABODY: This—this man attacked me!

METCALF: (examining Fisk) Lady, if this man attacked you, it was
the worst mistake he ever made. He’s dead. (all passengers on feet;
Pomello screams, sobs; Peabody faints, is caught by Oglethorpe;
other men gather around scene)

MACALLISTER: (regains composure) I’ve got to tell the captain!
(runs into cockpit) Captain! You’d better come out here: one of the
passengers is unconscious, maybe even dead.

MATTHEWS: Perkinson, take the helm. (follows MacAllister into
passenger compartment) All right, everybody! Return to your seats,

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