Page 43 - Murder on the Dirigible

Murder on the Dirigible

folks: we are not lost anymore. In fact, we’ll be in San Francisco
about ten a.m.

PEABODY: Oh, what a relief! It’s an act of God.

VISHNANDA: Madam, the gods may play, but they do not act.

METCALF: Oglethorpe, why don’t you go tell the guys in the
cockpit what’s happening? I don’t want to let this dangerous doll out
of my sight. (motions her into Fisk’s chair and stands behind it)

OGLETHORPE: (enters cockpit) Hey! Wait ‘til you get a load of
this: the case is closed. Metcalf got his Lucretia Borgia!

PERKINSON: His what?

OGLETHORPE: The stewardess confessed! And Metcalf said we
were back on course.

MATTHEWS: Miss MacAllister! No! (gets up) Perkinson: take the
helm. (rushes past Oglethorpe, who shrugs and follows; Perkinson
moves to pilot’s seat) Metcalf! What are you doing?

METCALF: What’s the matter, Captain? Didn’t you hear the news?
The FBI has got its man—or woman, in this case.

MATTHEWS: She actually said she did it?

METCALF: That’s right. In the presence of witnesses.

MATTHEWS: Lucille! What are you doing? You didn’t kill that man!

MACALLISTER: I—

METCALF: Now calm down, Captain. She may be one of your
crew, but I’ve got her under arrest. You weren’t so upset when I
was putting Perkinson on the spot.

MATTHEWS: But she couldn’t have done it.

METCALF: Oh? Why not?

MATTHEWS: Because I did it.
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