Page 13 - Murder on the Dirigible

Murder on the Dirigible

Ocean. You may as well be an agent of the Gestapo, for all your
authority is worth out here.

GROSS: (coughs loudly, and pulls out handkerchief to cover face)
Ach!

POMELLO: (stands) Wait a minute! Our route doesn’t take us this
far away from the coast! What the hell are you doing, Oscar?

MATTHEWS: All right. I would have had to tell you all sooner or
later, anyway. Our radio is on the blink. We’re off course and my
navigator is trying to figure out where we are. I don’t think we’re in
any real danger unless it gets very foggy. If we can’t get the radio
fixed by morning, I’ll be able to head for the nearest landing field by
visual landmarks.

METCALF: Hmm. This does complicate matters.

MATTHEWS: You’re damn right it does. Where this dirigible puts
down tomorrow is my decision.

METCALF: Okay, Captain, don’t get hot under the collar. You’ve
made your point, and you’ve got to do your job. I’ve got to do mine,
too; evidence for a very important case may be lost if I don’t make a
thorough investigation right here and now, before we land.

MATTHEWS: Well, all I care about is that none of you interfere
with the crew while we are trying to get our bearings straight. It
doesn’t do the aircraft any good to have everybody running up and
down the aisles. If you and Miss MacAllister will take charge of
maintaining order out here, I’ll get back to the cockpit.

METCALF: Fine with me. Okay by you, sister?

MACALLISTER: Well, if Captain Matthews says it is—

POMELLO: Hey, slow down, Mister G-man. What’s all this about
following Fisk around? This ain’t Russia: who do you think you are?

METCALF: (sweetly) Now, just relax, Mrs. Pomello. I think the
captain has done the right thing, don’t you, folks? (looks around at

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