Page 14 - Murder on the Dirigible
P. 14
Murder on the Dirigible
passengers) No objections? Fine. (nods at Matthews, who returns to
cockpit and works on radio while Perkinson looks on; Pomello sits,
sighing loudly) Okay, we’re going to play this by the book. Miss
MacAllister. I want you to put all this stuff I took out of his pockets
and lock it up in the galley until I need it. Oh, and take the briefcase,
too. (MacAllister gathers up items and goes into galley) Fine. Now I
need a volunteer. You, there: you look fairly healthy.
OGLETHORPE: Me?
METCALF: Yeah, you. Come on and give me a hand. Let’s get this
guy out of the way so I can get to work. Miss MacAllister!
MACALLISTER: (from galley) Yes?
METCALF: Can you unlock the door to the baggage compartment?
MACALLISTER: Yes. Right away.
METCALF: Okay. Lift his legs, buddy. I want everybody else to
remain seated until I get back. (they carry Fisk back to galley and exit
right, after MacAllister unlocks door)
PEABODY: (to Vishnanda) You thief! Give that back to me!
VISHNANDA: I beg your pardon, Madam?
PEABODY: My shawl. You took my shawl!
VISHNANDA: This? (points to own shoulders) This is mine. You
are mistaken, a victim of sensory delusion.
PEABODY: (peers closely at him) Don’t you try any more of that
Devil’s talk on me, Swami whoever-you-are! That’s my Kashmir
shawl. It’s been in my family for three generations.
VISHNANDA: Madam, I assure you that this meagre covering was
the gift of a disciple. I have very few possessions, but this is
unequivocally mine.
PEABODY: Liar! If you don’t hand it over immediately, I’ll—
13