 I don't know any things while I walk by night. I don't know any strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless tales of which they dare not speak. My friend's blood, it's the whistler's strange story, right boy. So inwardly he was waving at her, outside Steve Carson, the core of the piece of ice. Ten years of the private detective and woman of mass, the manchalance outside in spite of the burn-ups underneath. Yes, Steve was a top-notch detective, a bright boy, smart enough to see when Werner came along five years ago that investigation fees were chicken fees, but with her beauty and his ability, there was real money on the other side of the line in blackmail. It turned out to be a great point, an unbeatable combination, and as he left the automatic elevator at the end of the corridor and walked down to her apartment, he felt what a shame it was that Werner could be so naive as to think she could change it with a simple phone call. Well, that is easy. We've been expecting you. I could tell by your attitude on the telephone that you were unhappy, dear. You know Randy Summers, of course. Lord Mr. Carson, nice to be to drop in. Then I want to talk to you alone. Good morning, Uncle. Well, my darling, good to see you. Of course. Looks like you can use one. Are you going to get that guy out of here? No. I like having him around. Do you think it'll be a whole still for this? I think so. Well, that's a bad guess. If he stays, I go. Are we going through all that again? I'm not playing second horn, baby. You want to lose students, that's your business. If I'm going to quit, that's mine. I'm a private eye, not an airboy. Would you rather I put it down and writing? And writing? Dear fellow, surely we should know by now whether to put on anything and writing with two friends or not. Yeah, that is, Summers. I'm afraid I'll miss the class and it won't be the least of the class that it's not easy, darling. What do you think, old man? No, see here, Carson. I can take so much of your back. Hey, stop it! God, let's see him! Now, look. I told you once before how things stand, man and I are running the show from now on and we'll let you know what we need you. Is that clear? Okay, Grunner. This is you around. Meaning there might be others? Good boy. What about our dear friend Charles W. Ralston? Who's ever to tell him about the letters? What? Well, you wouldn't stoop to that and I'll leave you. I suppose Ralston, of course, he found out he'd been paying for letters a few months ago. What? What children? What if it is? What happened? A little fire, son. It's an accident that there was cannon. Well, she kept the letters there. Oh, the place at the Glade Tower. Wasn't it the one Ralston built for you as a contribution to the cause? Yes. Well, nice, darling, wasn't it to you? Oh, you love it, Landy. No. Niles from anywhere. It was nothing to do with the time, so it wasn't a total loss. You know, Steve, I think I'll have that O-Sauce and Ceiling wrap removed. It's too dangerous. It's only going to happen again. What about the place, Grunner? What about the letters? Well, since you've grown it up with some nasty little insinuations that you might possibly tell Mr. Ralston. What makes you think I won't? Well, let's see. There's a hell of a code plate. We know how death was an accidental, don't we, Steve? And then there's that swindler on the falcon woman. And there's a few other indicators you wouldn't want to be able to know about. A skeleton in the father and just the other scarlet, huh? You know, they could put you over years and years, Steve. And I know how you feel about short hair cuts. No, darling. I don't think you're going to tell Mr. Ralston anything. You're going to go right under him with a favor for me without the usual percentage. You do it best for him. There you go. All the time, Steve. You knew me. Well, that's it. Go ahead, then. You knew me. It's very touching, darling. I have no idea, Mr. Castleman, so sentimental. What do you think, Grunner? Come on, let's have a drink, Grunner. Oh, I mean, at this time, old man, shall we try not to spill it? It's also a good scarlet. Please. Oh, now, Steve, there's a few other things I'd like to discuss with you. I'll be flying down to Los Angeles tonight when it gets back to your drawing with the carbon. The cannon? Going up alone in my afternoon. Why don't you drop by a good coxing, Grunner? Well, I don't know, Grunner. You think you're out of good? Not me, Grunner. Well, I could let you know in the morning. Good. You do like to stand, don't you? That land, Grunner. Everything's going to work out all right. All right, boy. Minding us to know there's only one way to handle Grunner now. Leave him in an apartment. You drive across town and finally pull up in front of another apartment building and throw it up to the penthouse. I don't think you know me, Mr. Rolston. I'm afraid I do. Steve Carson's probably investigated. I came to see you about a misplaced shelterman. I'm sorry, I don't... I have a composition, Mr. Rolston. Nasty, huh? Yes, we do. You know all about the letters, of course. Mr. Rolston, you're a pretty influential businessman in this city. And shall we say, not without enemies. You know, let's suppose this shelterman's letters would have fallen into the hands of the wrong people. She's assured me they will if you don't know her. Suppose she would have sold those letters to a group of individuals who are so much quoted that you could afford to pay. She wouldn't fold, but she would and is. They haven't been able to find out that much in a little more. Shall I go on? She's going to a cabin tomorrow. Over the weekend, someone will contact her there to meet the transaction. They ought to work fast if you want those letters. I see. What's your proposition? I think I can break up that little meeting before it ever takes place. You could get the letters for me? Yes. But my fee is one little high for this sort of thing. And how much, Carson? $25,000. I can't possibly get it. You don't think it's worth it? No, I couldn't, Carson. $25,000. Think it over. And do make up your mind soon, Lawson. I'll call you sometime tomorrow morning. You're quite certain she's planning to sell those letters? So quite certain. How do I know that this isn't another one of her tricks? And how do I know you're not in weaver? That's just a chance you have to take, Mr. Lawson. Good night. The next move is a big one, isn't it, Steve? There's a matter of the defective kerosene lamp in Burnett's cabin at Lake Tahoe. It's the same lamp that caused the fire that burned Mr. Lawson's letters. A few nights later, it's liable to happen again, isn't it? Especially since you arrived at the cabin five hours later, equipped with five gallons of high-test gasoline, and pretend to change the possibility. Either with certainty. You can see Burnett now arriving at the cabin, pulling the lamp down. There's a flash of a match, an explosion, and a fire to remove any trace of your visit. By eight o'clock the following morning, we're back in town to call on Burnett, your promise, to regress that you can't accompany her, and to make sure her visit to the cabin is coming off on schedule. He said, isn't it bright, boy? Oh, yes. I'm standing by. The lieutenant's just left on an errand. Oh, yeah? What are you? Come on, Sergeant. What's the pitch? What are the police doing here? I was just going to ask you what you're doing here. Of course you'll tell me first, huh? I was calling in Burnett. Business. Mm-hmm. There, if you want it. Who's there? Under the blanket. He's dead. In this case of homicide, a blunt instrument to corner free. Surprise, please? In just a minute, the workflow will continue tonight's story. All of us are part of our hometowns and rightly so. In this brief moment before we continue with our program, we'd like to offer a link to one of our hometowns in America, Indianapolis, Indiana. Top of the state and the Great Transportation Center, Indianapolis extensive trade is based on the rich territory that surrounds it, large coal fields, tremendous deposits of building stone, and one of the richest sections of corn and wheat in the world. But perhaps one of the best known features of the city to the world at large is the Indianapolis Speedway. It was built in 1909 as a proving ground for automobiles, and each memorial day, the famous 500-mile race is held there. From the experience gained in this annual event, have come many improvements in automobiles. Every time you use your rear-view mirror, every time you trade your tank with F-O-F-E, every time you appreciated the comfort of your improved tires, you were given credit to something that was first used on that Speedway. Indianapolis has its famous citizens, too. Benjamin Harrison, the 23rd president of the United States, called it his hometown. So did James Hickson Riley, the great leisure poet, and it was the birthplace of General Walter Beiber Smith, chief of staff of the American forces in Europe during World War II. Nearly half a million people live in Indianapolis today, and no charge of the parts of home town is played in the building of America. And now back to the thriftler. Stop too cold, isn't it, Steve? The news of Werner's murder. Alibi, alibi, alibi, flashing on and off in your brain like a moulin sign. Everything was figured out, planned for us, like a stone trap. Everything's gone. Werner's dead, yes. You're the number one suspect. And you're driving on a lonely mountain road, and I'm telling you, can't explain that the moment she was killed. That'll sound great, of course, isn't it? But there's one thing you assure us. Waltzden killed her. There's no question about it. We talked last night. The deadline you crossed up to him. It was Walston, all right. It takes you just 15 minutes to get across town for a showdown, but we'll get right to the point, Walston. I'm here for two reasons. The first is that I'm sure you'll not go to Werner's showings if I've been there watching you. What? No, don't look surprised, Walston. I had nothing to do with it. Don't give me that. I didn't get in front of any of the junk in the entrance hall, and I could see them going over with a fine-tooth comb. Maybe some are looking for those letters, eh? Somebody figured, tomorrow, I might be too late. Why are you so interested? My good friend, Sergeant LaHara, seems to think I killed it. Unfortunately, it looks like my only defense is to prove you did it. Letters unless... Uh, unless what? Unless I can deal with an alibi. I'm with Caleb, Walston. I've been in the business long enough to know what all I've got to do to hand you is to crush those letters in the DA's office. You have them? I know where to get them. I've got them, Walston. I'll do anything. I'll do anything. First, there are a few things I'd like to know. When did we see you at Turner's apartment last night? I didn't go to her apartment last night. Okay. I'm gonna dig up those letters. You are, Walston. Wait a minute. I did it. Yes. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it better. Now, you wouldn't have just hopped a cab and gone over there to Macaroon, Walston. No, no, you're smarter than that. You must have been moved somewhere else at the time. Mm-hmm. First time. I went down to the Yacht Harbor. I have a boat back. What time? Ten fifty. No one saw me first for a short time after I went overboard the boat. We came by and called off the base of the dock. We had seen the life of the boat. What time? Ten thirty. We talked to it? Yes. So as far as he was concerned, we were on the boat between ten sixty and eighteen. We didn't see the gale until I'd come back the second time. Not until I had asked him when he saw it burning. What time? Eleven thirty. No. I couldn't have done much better myself, Walston. I was lucky. I spoke to the watchman at eleven thirty when I was leaving for the night. Anyway, that's a new... Yes. Several men, a few yards away. I don't know. I think they came from the club. Okay. And the watchman was a caller. I don't know. I spoke to him. I suppose so. You have a dog, but I... I think you must have noticed. Oh, that's good enough for me. I'm sure the police will accept your word. What are you doing there? You're my other eye. I was with you in that boat all the time. Remember? Whoa! That alibi was a lot to me, Walston. Might even be willing to forget about the twenty-five thousand. The watchman didn't see me when I was in the boat in New Orleans. He didn't see me when I went to find his apartment. Me when he came back. And when I finally checked with him, just before going home, there were others around. That makes a lot of sense for the both of us. What about the others? You know I'm fine, Walston. There were almost 20 pieces and you couldn't find them. I could have told you they weren't there. You're going to go on believing me, aren't you? Yes? The same way that she did. Don't trust me, do you? Listen, Tom. Bring the roses. And I'll give you the cash tonight. I'll wait until the investigation's over. It's safer that way. For Stevie? See, it looks like she's been on a poker game. You're looking back now, watching each of them throw their trump cards. Knowing all the time you have to topple up your fleet. One day summer, the beautiful will be on a rollback to my family. And you know in a few seconds after he finishes his story of what happened between you and Werner on the evening of the motor, the duo will be on the phone, asking for the answers. There's nothing to do now, but wait. Third day. Friday. And then Saturday morning you should enter your office. Hello, guys, boy. I've been waiting for you. It's on your mind, though, Anna. It's like I had a little talk with you, that's all. You and my shouting band are good friends, aren't you? Particularly good friends. For what? A little shower. Oh, a little pigeon flaring from her eyes. Look at that to you. Did you know I slept in there because she dropped you for the summer's guy? You ought to start disagreeing. That's all. The first floor was a wicked door to her apartment. The second was the next door in a downtown bar, and don't say you didn't because summer's so cold, so does the bartender. The third one was on the night she was killed, just after she called you on the phone and told you it was all off. What was the beef about? Well, you wouldn't be interested. Summer's was her too, incidentally. He was still holding on to her. He caught the man 40 times playing at the airport. We checked him. Now you were there at 7.30. Yes, the first time. What do you mean, the first time? You didn't go back around 10.30? What are you talking about, O'Haz? Things to shout and go and let a phone call at me in 15 was the first thing he was left. It was from you? Uh, well, the minute you are wrong. You made an appointment to see her at 10.30. That's all right. Summer's been giving her eyes. Summer's was there when the call came in. She told him it was you. But you were coming back. Summer's wanted to stick around in case he got rough, but she told him she could handle you. So he took his plane. The guy trying to have it. I believe him, Constance. That's how I tend to have this warrant. In the great debate of 1787 and 88, as to whether the Constitution should be voted for or against, the framers of our Constitution had a hard fight on their hands. They also had many allies. And one of them was James Sullivan, who wrote the following words to the Massachusetts Gazette in November of 1787. Let us view the characters who composed the late Constitutional Convention. Are they not men who, from their infancy, have been nurtured in the principles of liberty and taught to pay a sacred regard to the rights of human nature? Are they not honest, upright, and just men who fear God and hate evil? Gredlin and citizens listen to the voice of men who have thought only of you and your posterity is good. The Constitution was voted for, of course, because it was understood that the men who framed it did so not only for themselves, but for the future. We today are that future. And now back to the whistlers. It's quite a poker hand, isn't it? O'Hara and Summers have played their cards, but you still have the copper up your sleeve. However, the phone call Verna supposedly received from you was puzzling, isn't it? You tried to figure it out as you sit in the atty room, waiting to see District Attorney Skellig. Summers must have been telling the truth. For some reason or other, Verna didn't want him to know who called and told him it was you. It was Ralston, of course, pleading for his letters again. And when she turned him down, he decided to kill her. Ralston, you knew you'd need that top car, didn't you, Steve? But you had no idea you'd need it this badly. Well, cousin? Hello, dear. Doesn't look so good, does it? Yeah, got it all figured out, huh? Just about. Oh, good. Now if you'll stop figuring long enough to ask me where I was at the time of the murder, maybe we'll all have a great big laugh. Okay. For sure. I was on a boat at Yacht Harbor talking over some confidential business with a client of mine. Yeah? Who? He's a pretty important guy, Skellig. Big shot in the savings alone business. I suppose his name's confidential, too. No, no, not at all. Charles W. Ralston. Is that good enough? Ralston? If you don't believe me, get on the phone. Call him. You're, uh, serious about this? Sure. Can you call him up? You better brace yourself. Ralston was killed in a cabin at Lake Tahoe last night. Seems a coal oil lamp exploded or something. A couple rangers saw the flames. Something wrong, cousin? Now a question. Do you know when the naval rank of Commodore was first recognized as such? During the Revolutionary War, the Navy used the rank of Commodore simply as an honorary title. Until 1861, all Navy captains who had at any time commanded a squadron were considered Commodore, though they were never actually given that commission. In 1862, however, Commodore was established as a fixed rank, and in July of that year, 18 were commissioned on the active list and 17 on the retired list. This is but one of many interesting facts which can be found in the history of your United States Navy. Oh, boy! He did it in tonight's transplant story. We'll build four minutes of this list. The Whistler, Jack Moyle, Betty Lou Derson, Jack Edward, Victor Rodman, Vic Tarran, and Olin Soule. The Whistler, directed by Gordon T. Hughes with music by Wilbur Hatch, is produced by Joel Malone and transmitted overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This evening's story was by Adrian John Doe. The Whistler was entirely fictional and all characters portrayed on the Whistler are also fictional. Any similarities of names or resemblances to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is George Walsh speaking, reminding you to listen again next week for another spring tale by The Whistler. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.