The flight attendant stopped at row 12 and picked up the interphone mounted beside the galley.
She spoke quietly for a few seconds, listening before giving a short nod.
Then she looked directly at the woman.
“Ma’am, I’ve just spoken with the captain.”
You bend down and pick something up.
The color drained from the woman’s face.
“If you refuse, airport police will be asked to meet the aircraft after landing while the report is investigated.”
The attendant held her gaze.
“Your pocket, please.”
“Excuse me? Why on earth would I do that?”
“Several passengers saw you bend down and pick something up before takeoff.”
“You definitely put something in your pocket.”
The man across the aisle cleared his throat, the same thoughtful frown he’d worn earlier deepening now into certainty.
“I kept turning it over in my head. I thought you were just adjusting your bag, but the more I pictured it, the more I was sure you slipped something into your coat.”
