Page 21 - Murder on the Dirigible

Murder on the Dirigible

MATTHEWS: I’d better get back in there and see what I can do.
(returns to cockpit)

POMELLO: Hey, flatfoot: you can’t go snooping into other people’s
papers without a search warrant. I know my rights.

METCALF: Mrs. Pomello, I know all about you and Fisk.

POMELLO: Just what is that supposed to mean, may I ask?

METCALF: I’ll do the asking here. (MacAllister hands him briefcase)
Now I want you all to sit quietly until I tell you different. I’m going
up front to examine this evidence. Miss MacAllister, if anyone does
anything funny, you let me know immediately: all right?

MACALLISTER: Yes, sir. (Metcalf goes up front) Would anyone
care for a glass of orange juice?

METCALF: (in cockpit) Excuse me, Captain. I need a little space to
work in. (sits in Perkinson’s chair, pries open briefcase and looks
through papers in it)

POMELLO: I think I’ll have some of my own juice, just for
medicinal purposes. (starts to get up)

MACALLISTER: Please, madam. You must remain seated.

POMELLO: (sits) Oh, boy! It’s going to be a long night.

OGLETHORPE: I’d like some juice, please. (MacAllister goes into
galley)

PEABODY: (examining her shawl) I still don’t see how these two
shawls could be so similar. I thought mine was unique. That devil has
been up to some evil business here. (crosses herself)

VISHNANDA: Miss Peabody, I feel you should know that these old
Kashmiri shawls were made in pairs, perhaps one hundred years ago.
No one can say now what different paths these two old shawls have
taken in their travel across thousands of miles, but I am certain it is

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