[MaC] Interviewing Fitzroy - collected

[Mel Mason]

OOC - We have overlapping threads here, and two people asking the same 
question (who was the father of Nola's baby).  The question had been 
answered once, although in the new order the second time the question was 
answered appears first, if you follow.  So ... I've tried to tidy up.  It 
means Pamela is ignoring her wet uniform (do feel free to dab at it with a 
napking) as she accepts her second cup of tea.

Anyway, here it is:


"Did you get her the morphine, Mr. Fitzroy?" Pamela asked, not looking up 
from the open bag in her lap. "From where?" Military material did go missing 
in wartime. Pamela didn't grudge poor Nola Diamond some relief from her 
pain -- but if there was a leak, she had a duty to report it.

"No I didn't!" said Marty.  "Filthy stuff - I don't hold with it.  Women 
should keep themselves pure for their menfolk, not mess up their insides 
with a load of junk.  That's the trouble with women today ... messing 
themselves up, thinking they can act like men, instead of concentrating on 
being womanly women."

"Like they do in Germany?" asked Oswald drily.  "Kinder, Kuche und Kirche 
and all that, eh?"

This turned Warrren's head, so that he stared at Marty. His attention went 
from him to Oswald.

"I'll have you know this," said Marty Fitzroy, clearly incensed.  "Herr 
Hitler has done a lot of good for the Reich, and if we'd had the sense to 
listen to men like Moseley, we'd be allied with him now against our true 
enemy, those filthy Communists in Russia."

He seemed prepared to expand on this theme at length.

Marjorie, sitting near the door, almost came off her chair with clenched 
fists.  "You better not be helping them Germans, mister," she said angrily. 
"I got a fiance on the front, and so help me I find out you been helping the 
enemy, your life ain't worth a penny, you hear me!"

Tabitha, although she had been trying to calm herself while Marjorie spoke, 
could no longer contain herself.  "You evil little..." she growled, and 
launched herself at Marty with an angry cry, kicking and clawing at him.

Marty was a big man, and he should have been more than a match for the 
slighter figure of the nurse.  But the ferocity and unexpectedness of the 
attack clearly took him by surprise, and he toppled from his chair, with 
Tabitha on top of him, still kicking and clawing.

Philip seemed rather surprised by Tabitha's attack, but showed no 
inclination to stop it; indeed, his face wore an expression of grim 
satisfaction. Instead, he merely moved casually around the combatants, 
gathering up any dangerously positioned teacups or other items that seemed 
likely to break and/or spill in the melee.

Pamela had made a grab for Tabitha as she left the couch, but missed badly; 
her teacup had overturned and spilt its contents over her dress, the couch, 
and the floor. She felt the insistent tingle on her leg that meant a minor 
burn from the hot liquid, but there were more important matters to attend 
to.

If she restrained Tabitha, that would only give Fitzroy opportunity to hurt 
her, and hurt her he no doubt would, having as he did all the gentlemanly 
feeling of Mrs. Evans's horrid orange cat. So she stood just outside the 
orbit of the fight, waiting for someone else to haul Fitzroy out of it and 
speaking urgently to the nurse. "Tabitha, listen to me. Tabitha, the 
constables will be coming. If you hurt him, you'll be in trouble yourself. 
Tabitha, please -- come out of it!"

Marjorie's jaw dropped when Tabitha tackled Fitzroy.  "Uh...  wait!  Don't 
kill him!  Someone break it up!"

Oswald and Lucinda exchanged glances, and then Lucinda moved forward, 
hauling Tabitha off, while Oswald moved to grab Marty, holding him back with 
surprising strength.

"Enough!" said Oswald,  "Enough  No matter what you think of his political 
opinions, Mrs Rosen, it's the murder we need to concern ourselves with 
here!"

Marty sank in top a chair, dabbing at his nose with a large white 
handkerchief.

"Just keep that woman away from me," he said thickly.

"I'll get something for the blood," Philip said coldly, setting course for 
the bathroom where he kept his bandages. Shortly, he returned with several 
small squares of gauze, which he handed wordlessly to Fitzroy (and, if 
necessary, Tabitha).

"Maybe it'd've been better for Miss Diamond if -she'd- stayed away from you, 
Mr. Fitzroy," Marjorie countered.  She glared at Fitzroy.  "Was she pregnant 
by you?  Was it yours?" she asked bluntly.

Marty ignored her.

"I need my tea, he said, grabbing his cup and guzzling the remainder.

Florence returned with another tray of tea at this point.  She did seem able 
to lay her hands on an inexhaustible supply of tea ... and sugar.  Marty 
shoved his cup forward for a refill.

"Thank you, Mrs. Beaman," Pamela said as she accepted a cup in perfectly 
steady hands. Then she spoke again to Marty Fitzroy, as sedately as ever. 
"By all appearances, Mr. Fitzroy, if the gentlemen and ladies present will 
forgive me the impropriety, it's =you= who messed up poor Miss Diamond's 
insides with a load of junk."

At this comment, Philip seemed to come out of his introspective state. 
"Whose was it, Marty?" he asked, with an unmistakable undertone of menace in 
his voice.

"'Ow should I know?" countered Marty.  "She was the original good time girl 
'ad by all, she was.  Running mad after men in uniform.  I told h'er ... she 
'ad to give 'em up, or I'd give 'er up, and she could go back to dancing in 
chorus lines.

"So it could 'ave been mine.  But it could 'ave been ... anyone's.  Only 
she'd be able to tell you for certain."

He shrugged dismissively.