[MaC] Interviewing Fitzroy - collected

[Mel Mason]

> 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!"

"And how do we know that *he's* not the murderer?"
Tabitha cried, clenching her fists. "It wouldn't
surprise me one bit." She glared at Marty. "Do you
have *any idea* what life is like in Germany right now
for people like me? What kind of things you have to do
just to survive?" Tears were streaming down her cheeks
now. "My husband is probably *dead* because of what
your precious Herr Hitler is doing!"

> 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.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes at him and retook her place
on the couch, where she angrily wiped her tears with
the back of her hand.

"Yes," said Marty, looking at her from behind the handkerchief.  "And you're 
no better than you should be, are you?  I 'eard about you ... and what you 
got up to in Bethnal Green."

> "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.


At this pont, the searchers entered - Hodge, Michael, Cyril and Nicola, with 
news of what they had found in the other flat.

(OOC - feel free to past details here, searchers, and others - feel free to 
respond).

Marty rose to his feet.

"So?" he said.  "I'm a member of a political organisation."

"And many of their members are in prison," said Lucinda.

Marty was looking pale, despite his bravado.

"And you also had a shortwave radio in the office - in a flat rented by 
you," continued Oswald.

Marty was taking on a greenish tinge.  Florence, startled, turned to her 
husband.

"Oh Cyril, you didn't ... "  she began - and then clapped a hand over her 
mouth.

Marty had risen.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he announced, and then moved in that direction 
at a rather rapid turn of speed.

Lucinda looked worried.

"Should someone be going with him?" she asked.

"He won't be able to force his way out of the window," said Oswald,  "and I 
can see the door from here."

As he was speaking, Marion, Anton and Richard arrived.