Page 37 - Murder on the Dirigible

Murder on the Dirigible

MATTHEWS: Yes, of course, Mr. Perkinson. I need a navigator. The
radio is working. (MacAllister wipes eyes, stands) Lucille—

MACALLISTER: I—I must get back to my post, Captain. (exits to
galley; Oglethorpe sees her distress and tries to follow; Metcalf
pushes him back down into seat)

PERKINSON: (oblivious) Gosh! I thought it was busted for good.
How did you fix it?

MATTHEWS: (distracted) I didn’t. One of the passengers found the
problem and corrected it. I think it was Gross.

PERKINSON: Uh, no, it couldn’t have been very gross, if it was
fixed that easily. Well, back to work! (puts on headset)

METCALF: Oglethorpe, you stay put. There’s one angle of this case
I haven’t figured out yet.

OGLETHORPE: Only one, Mr. G-man?

METCALF: Yeah, wise guy, just one. Somehow, Fisk was still tied up
with his past in the underworld. I can see some links, but there must
be others. Oglethorpe, you said father runs a winery; Fisk used to be
involved with interstate shipments of European wine and whiskey
when he was a bootlegger. It seems to me they might have had a run-
in back then. Maybe there was a grudge, and you decided to settle the
score.

OGLETHORPE: That’s not fair! My father never—

PEABODY: (rises) Bootleggers! Evil! I can smell it, now: Demon
rum! Away from me, Satan! (swings purse at Oglethorpe, who
ducks; Metcalf pushes her back in seat and takes purse;
MacAllister comes forward from galley)

METCALF: What do you know about demon rum, old lady? Why are
you so worked up about booze? (looks through purse)

PEABODY: Why? You fools! It’s as plain as day: drink is the
instrument by which the Devil captures man’s souls! Homes are

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