 And now stay tuned for the program that has rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history. The Signal Oil program, The Whistler. Signal, the famous go farther gasoline. Invite you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by The Whistler. For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies the Signal Oil program, The Whistler. I am The Whistler and I know many things for I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now the Whistler strange story, The Eager Pigeon. It was neither the best side of town nor the best cocktail bar, but Danny Thorpe's pocketbook wasn't in a very choosy mood or condition. Danny's clothes suggested better things and as on other occasions he was counting on them to make things pick up. That was when he first saw her or rather her reflection in the big mirror across the back of the bar. She was sitting alone looking thoughtful and beautiful. She also looked out of place in these surroundings. Danny was curious and never one to stand on ceremony. He picked up his drink and went over. Excuse me. Is the seat taken? What? Oh, there seems to be plenty of room at the bar. Oh, sure. But why trade reflections when the real thing is only a few feet away, hm? Well, we can find the conversation to the weather. Warm night, isn't it? Yes. Yes, it is. Might even rain. It might. But that's not what you're worried about. Worry? Well, it shows. Does it? Really? Well, it's my brother. Do you come in here often? Yeah, I come in here often. Maybe... maybe you've seen my brother. He drinks too much. That's bad. Very bad. He was wearing a check coat, tall, wavy hair. The coat? My brother. Well, that's something. What's that? First time I've laughed in a week. Well, things are bad all over. I... I wonder if... No. No, I guess not. Try me. No. You certainly aren't in need of money. A man who dresses... Now, easy, lady. Don't mention that stuff and then run away. Money, you said? Yes. Well, I'm always interested. Your brother really isn't there, is it? No. It's nothing very much. I just need help, that's all. There's... $50 for the right party. Have tucks, we'll travel. Outline the job, sweetheart. Are you serious? If you are. All right. But first I'll have to make a phone call. Excuse me a moment. As she moves away, you look after her, telling yourself that it's the fastest deal you've ever managed. But suddenly you begin to wonder, don't you, Danny? Consider. Then you ask yourself if it might not be too easy. A moment later, you slip out from the booth you're sitting in, make your way quietly to a booth further back, and just outside the little hallway where she went to make a phone call. You sit down, lean back, and find that you can even hear the sound of the dialing. A pause. And then she gets her party. You crane your head to listen carefully. Hello, Otto. Monica. It's all set, Otto. I've found someone. Yes, in the bar. You'd better get ready. I'm bringing home a very eager pigeon. You get up quickly, walk back to where she left, and sit down to wait. The interest change fast, hasn't it, Danny? And you had good reason to wonder about this girl. To use her words, she's bringing home an eager pigeon. You deliberate for a moment, almost decide to walk out, but you don't. You never do. Instead, you finish your drink, sit back, and wait. But not for long, Danny. Sorry to keep you waiting. You said 50 bucks, didn't you? 50. Oh, I don't mind waiting. You'll be pleased then. It's all set. It's all right. What's all set? All right. Well, I'd rather not talk here. We can go to my apartment. I don't tell me it's right around the corner, not in this neighborhood. Hardly. I have my car. I have my hat. Let's go. You walk out with her, help her into a convertible car that matches the clothes. She smiles again and swings the car out into the traffic stream. You study her face as she watches ahead. A strange setup, isn't it, Dan? Interesting. And with what you already know about her, there might be considerably more than $50 in this evening for you. Yes. If you're careful, watchful, you might turn her plan, whatever it is, into something for yourself. You've handled fast deals before, haven't you? Yes, and you've always come out ahead. Twenty minutes later, she turns into the garage of a smart apartment building. Together, you ride up in an automatic elevator. You decide that it's time to switch the balance of power. What apartment? 502. You, uh, haven't told me your name, either. Oh, sorry. It's... Monica. Yeah, I heard. You... Uh, no, you don't. Give me that purse. Don't... keep your hand... Well, well, fancy finding a gun in your purse. Is there anything wrong with a girl carrying something to defend herself? No, no, no. There's nothing wrong with a boy doing the same thing, especially when it's your gun and I'm the boy who's got it. It's a big, bad, wicked city, sweetheart. Boys and girls can get hurt. I don't know what you're talking about. Here we are, fifth floor. After you, Monica, I'm interested in what you got in apartment 502. Very interested. Mrs. Ottobuel of Oregon City is the whistler fan to whom we are sending a $20 signal gasoline book this week as a token of our appreciation for writing this limerick. Our car was anemic and slow till we gave it the gas with more go. On signal effle diet, when we park it, we tie it. It doesn't run fast, it flies low. Signal, signal, signal gasoline Your car, the gopher, the gopher gasoline Oh, Mrs. Buell's limerick certainly hit the nail on the head. In describing the extra driving pleasure you enjoy with signal effle gasoline. And speaking of pleasure, if you'd like the fun of having a limerick of yours read on the whistler, the address to which to send it is Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles, California. You'll receive a $20 signal gasoline book if your limerick is read on the whistler. And all limericks become the property of Signal Oil Company. Selection is made by our advertising representatives on the basis of humor, suitability, and originality. So, of course, your limerick must be your own composition. Remember the address to which to send your limerick is Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles, California. Well, Danny, you've walked into something, haven't you? From the cocktail bar to this fancy apartment. And as you follow Monica down the hall toward apartment 502, you keep watching her, waiting for her to break, to stop and tell you what it's all about. Why she picked you up and lied to you about some sort of innocent job she wanted done. Finally, when you're only a few feet away from the door of the apartment, you decide it's time to stop her. You touch her gently between the shoulder blades with the little revolver you took from her purse. We'll hold it right here, baby. Conference time. I want you to tell me who you talked to on the phone. Who's Otto? Otto? That's what you tagged him. I also heard you say you'd bring the pigeon right up. I don't know what you're talking about. Is Otto the boyfriend? The jealous husband? What is this, a shakedown? No, no, nothing like that. Don't let the clothes fool you. Look, lady, you could turn me upside down and not shake out a nickel. Please get out of here. Let me alone. Come on, move, honey. I'll follow. I'm just busting to meet Otto. I may even bust Otto. All right, open up. What? Go on inside and then call him. No warning, understand? After you, sweetheart. Come on, call the guy. Otto? Otto? Right there. I'm wondering what you've been doing. What's this? It's a gun, Otto, and it wants some fast answers. Well, who is he, Monica? I'm the pigeon, Otto, but Squab's out of season for you. Look, you better get out of here. This is all a mistake. It's a mistake, all right, but I like mistakes when other people make them. Now, come on, move over to the wall. I want to have a look in that room. What? Move, Otto. Come on, move. How do you like that? Nobody. Nobody? Oh, yeah. This is a real switch. There's somebody in there. Okay, you'll have to brief me. What's it all about? All right, so I got all evening. I'll wait. It presents an almost humorous picture, doesn't it, Dan? The two of them standing there. Otto's eyes blinking. Monica's snapping angrily. And then you notice something else. Otto. He's looking at his watch. Otto is nervous. For some reason, which you're certain he's about to tell you, Otto doesn't want to wait much longer. All right. All right, he might as well know, Monica. That's better. I'll fix myself a drink, fat boy. You just talk, huh? We're expecting someone. Oh, that's fine. We can play canasta. I'll tell him, Otto. A woman wants something from us. Some letters. She's going to pay... I know it. That green stuff, huh? Where was the pigeon supposed to figure? Oh, I shouldn't have called you that. You really weren't going to have to do much. If I could tell him, he seems like a nice guy. He might still help us. We just don't want our caller to get a look at us. That's all. Oh, that's all, huh? You want me to meet your caller, hand over the letter, take the money. Yes, yes, that's it. Will you do it? We'll make it $100 since we've upset your soul. Oh, you haven't upset me, Otto. Not a bit, boy. Nice liquor, nice company. Monica here, I mean. Then you'll do it, Mr.... Thorpe. Danny Thorpe. I like that. It's cute. So are you. So is he. Now, Otto, you can't be that worried over my indecision. It must be something else. I don't know what you mean. Oh, yes, you do. You're both afraid that this dame might pull something. And she'll show up with a 45, pay for her letters with bullets instead of dope. Now, who do you suppose that is? Your caller, maybe? We'll answer it, Otto. Don't be nervous. No, no, no, please. You don't think I'm going? Or this lovely little girl who works so hard getting me up? Monica, please tell him to forget it. I'll answer it, now go on, move. No, no, please, please. Out of the way, Monica, out of sight. Go on, fat boy. Look, Danny, why... I said open the door. Rough games, Otto plays. What excitable playmates. Stop it. Can't you see? He's dead. Otto is dead. You can see that at a glance, can't you, Danny? Quickly, you step over him. Look down the hall. It's deserted. Whoever shot Otto made a clean getaway. Then you turn, drag the dead man into the room and close the door. Monica, a few feet away, stands motionless, staring at you. Dan, wait. I... I didn't know this would happen. Didn't you, sweetheart? Please, you've got to believe me. That could be me, baby. Spalled out there looking up at the ceiling. I ought to slam you all around this room. Don't, I... We've got to get out of here. The whole apartment house will be on our necks. Come on, sister. Snap out of it. What? I said, let's go. There's a back way out of here, isn't there? Yes. He's got a call to police. Come on, baby. Out, out. You're very quiet, sweetheart. Otto's still on your mind. I'm not in the mood for conversation, sorry. Okay. Where can I drop you off? Oh, the night's young. Look, I'm not going to drive you around all night. Oh, relax, relax. Don't let this thing get you. It's just that I'm old-fashioned. I always get nervous when I'm mixed up in a murder. Anybody know you were with Otto tonight? No. About you and Otto? It was just a business deal, that's all. Sure. Anything else? You should have picked a smarter boy. It was pretty stupid of Otto to set up that kind of a payoff. We won't make the same mistake, will we? We? We just formed a new partnership, didn't you know? Dan, listen. I don't think I want to go on with it. Oh, sure you do. You'll feel better after you have a drink. There's a place up ahead. I'll buy it. I thought you were broke. Oh, no, not anymore, sweetheart. You owe me 50 bucks, remember? You in the mood for conversation now, Monica? Yeah. I guess so, Danny. How about this steam you had in the pressure cooker? Who is she? Mrs. Granger, Stanley Granger. Of the Nob Hill Grangers? Yes. Husband Stanley is pretty well-heeled, isn't he? That's why she married him for his money. He knew that, but Granger was crazy about it and he didn't care. What do you have on, Mrs. Granger? Nothing. Come on, come on. That's the truth. We don't have a thing. You mean all this was just a bluff? What made you think you could get by with it? Before she was married, Mrs. Granger was a nightclub singer. She had a lot of friends. Otto knew that some of them were mixed up in the racket. So you took a shot in the dark, figuring she might have something to hide, huh? That's right. She did have something to hide, didn't she? Too bad Otto had to find it out the hard way. Yes, it's too bad. Now what do we do? We go right on with it. Only this time we're going to shake Mrs. Granger down for murder. Either she did it, or her husband did it, or they hired someone to do it. We in business? We're in business. It's almost two in the morning when Monica drops you off at a fashionable hotel downtown with a promise to call you later in the morning. The future looks bright, doesn't it, Danny? Yes. And for the first time in weeks, you enjoy a comfortable night's rest. It's almost noon of the following day when you wake up. Have breakfast, send up to your room, and the morning paper. It's all there, isn't it? On the front page. The killing at apartment 502. You're not going to make the mistake Otto made, are you? No. You have it all planned, don't you? Know exactly what you're going to do. But first, you've got to be sure of Mrs. Granger that you're dealing with the right person. That afternoon, you leave the hotel and slip into a phone booth. Mrs. Granger, please. Whom shall I say is calling? Just tell her it's about apartment 502. She'll talk to me. Uh, sir? Yeah. Go on, Junior. Mrs. Granger? Yes. Listen carefully, sweetheart. I have some information to sell. It's about Otto feeling and why he was knocked off. You can buy it for $10,000 or I'll hand it over to the DA for free. You follow me? Yes. That's fine. I'll be out at the Blue Pelican bar tonight. It's usually pretty crowded, so don't get any ideas. Be there at nine o'clock. Have the dough in a white envelope and carry it in your right hand. It's done, isn't it, Danny? And you feel confident Mrs. Granger will keep her appointment with you. Now there are other arrangements to be made. And you stroll casually down to the produce district near the waterfront. Step into the large warehouse of Gus Dorelli and company. Hey, Gus. Huh? Oh, Danny, how are you? Hi. What's the magi-o batting these days? 335. Not bad for an old man, huh? Hey, Gus, can you do me a favor? Uh, look, if it's a dog... No, no, no. You got a truck pulling out of here tonight? Sure. Ernie's taking a ten-wheeler out. How about a ride? He's going north where you're going. By a stranger coincidence, north. Okay, he's going out for a load of cabbage, Danny. What? Cabbage. Ernie's going out for a load of cabbage. That's funny, Gus. I'll be carrying mine with me. I don't get it. This is a joke? Good develop along those lines. Gus stands there shaking his head as you walk away. Everything is falling neatly into place, isn't it, Danny? The appointment with Mrs. Granger. And now your quiet exit out of town has been arranged. Yes, you're confident everything is going well. That is, until you return to your hotel. You're a little surprised when the clerk tells you there haven't been any phone calls for you. You look at your watch after five. Quickly you cross the lobby, step into a phone booth and call Monica's hotel. I'm sorry, sir. There's no one registered here by that name. Scott. Monica Scott. I'm sorry, sir. All right, never mind. Something's wrong, Danny. Monica lied to you, didn't she? And you wonder what she's up to? Then is you're about to step out of the booth. Something you see in the hotel entrance causes you to jump back. Two uniformed policemen walk briskly across the lobby. Stop for a moment at the desk and then disappear into the elevator. Hey, boy. Yes, sir? What's all the law for it, you know? Oh, that. Yeah, the guy in 801 had too much to drink. The house stick couldn't handle him. Oh. Now he's going to have to tell it to the cops. Drinking can become a horrible thing, son. Let that be a lesson to you. Yeah. Huh? You breathe a sigh of relief and smile as you step out into the street. You dismiss the incident and turn your thoughts back to Monica. Your puzzle, why she lied to you. And then as you're about to cross the street, a car slides in along the curb. Hello, Dan. Well, I was beginning to think a lot of nasty things about you. Get in. Yeah. I called your hotel. They never heard of you. No, of course not. I have an apartment on Jackson Street. Just a little hideaway, my very own. Oh, that's fine. Dan, I'm sorry. It's just that last night, well, I wasn't sure I wanted to go on with this. Now you are? Yes. Well, I'm curious about our business deal, our partnership. Well, we got plenty of time to talk about that. How about some dinner? Let's have it in my place. Well, that's what I had in mind. All right. But I ought to warn you, I'm not much of a cook. Neither was Cleopatra. Here you are, Monica. We're out of soda. Wine, water, okay? Fine, just fine, Danny. Sit down. Well, it's pretty good stuff. Nothing's too good for little Monica. And from now on, it'll be champagne. Sure. Uh, I hate to bring up business again, Danny. What's on your mind? What? I said, what's on your mind? Oh, I was thinking about Mrs. Granger. You figured out a way. You said you would. No, not yet, baby. You have it? It takes time. I want to case this setup pretty well before I make a move. I'm beginning to understand you, Danny. You know something? I'm getting awfully sleepy. You have a hard day at the mango? Maybe I need something to eat. Come on, help me fix dinner. Oh, look, let's hold it off for a while yet, huh? I have to run out to meet a guy. I'm late now. Oh, Danny. Oh, I'll be back, sweetheart. This is very important. Well, you hurry. Sure. You'll stay right here and wait for Danny, huh? I won't budge an inch. What are you saying, Sergeant Regal? Sergeant, write this down. 1331B Jackson Street, apartment 411. The name was with Otto Felding when he was knocked off last night is there now. Her name is Scott, Monica Scott. Wait a minute, who is this? You might have a little trouble waking her up, Sergeant. Some louse gave her a sleeping tablet. It just goes to show, pal. You can't trust anybody these days. Next weekend, when you start off on your Labor Day trip, wouldn't it add a lot to your peace of mind to know that no matter how high the thermometer may soar, the expensive parts inside your engine are safe, protected by an oil that stands up under heat? Then this week, be sure to have a signal dealer drain out your tired old motor oil and refill with fresh, clean signal premium-compounded motor oil. Because scientific compounds have been combined with signal premium's 100% pure paraffin base, this improved type signal lubricant does things for your motor which oil alone cannot do. One of signal premium's compound was especially developed to prevent the formation of motor-clogging gum and varnish. Another compound in signal premium guards against destructive corrosion. And if there's any carbon already in your engine, there's even a special compound to wash that out. So you see, signal premium-compounded motor oil does a lot more than just lubricate. Obviously, this means longer life for your motor and, of course, more enjoyable performance for you. Two good reasons to change oil before your Labor Day trip and change to signal premium-compounded motor oil. You congratulate yourself, don't you, Danny, as you sit in the blue pelican bar waiting for Mrs. Granger. Yes, you've handled the whole affair with your usual finesse. Monica Scott is in the hands of the police now and you're not sorry. You owed her that, didn't you, from the beginning? From the night she picked you up and took you to Otto Felding's apartment. You were going to be the fall guard, the pigeon. But it didn't turn out that way. Instead, you took over their blackmail scheme. Otto was then eliminated by Mrs. Granger or someone she'd hired. And now you're sure you've gotten Monica out of the way, too. And the blackmail money will be all yours. You're not worried in the least as you look up at the clock behind the bar. Note that Mrs. Granger is already half an hour late. Then a few minutes before 10, as you finish your third drink, someone sits down beside you. Hello, Danny. You know mine. What's yours? Allow me. Police department. So? Waiting for Mrs. Granger? Never heard of her. And let me tell you about her. Mrs. Granger was being blackmailed. She had no money of her own. So her husband had to pay off a guy called Otto Felding. And he did, but with bullets. So? So you picked it up from there, tried to go on shaking down Mrs. Granger. Where'd you get that idea? Too bad you didn't know that Mrs. Granger was a party to the blackmail setup. She and friend Otto thought it up to get some extra dough out of her husband. What? A girlfriend of yours told us the whole thing. Monica Scott. She also told us you'd be here waiting for a pay off. That's crazy. How would she... How would she know? Simple. You told her when you made that appointment over the phone to Mrs. Granger. Get it? Mrs. Granger. Monica Scott. Same person. I'm going to go to my phone. Okay. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. B. It may save a life. Possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Jack Webb and Kay Brinker. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen, directed by Sterling Tracy, with story by Joel Malone and Adrian John Doe, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is entirely fictional. All characters portrayed on the Whistler are also fictional. Any similarity of names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember, at the same time next Sunday, another strange tale by the Whistler. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS.