 And now, stay tuned for the mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because even when you know who's guilty, you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain. In 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, for the signal oil company, the Whistler strange story, five cent call. It began simply with a telephone call, a five cent call. Private investigator Scott Howell made his report to attorney Rick Parker. It was routine enough, at least when the conversation began. And Scott had felt when he dialed Rick's number that his assignment would be complete. Mission completed. Rick seemed to agree, seemed pleased at Scott's first words into the phone. It's all taken care of, Rick. I rented a cottage about an hour ago. Good work, Scott. I'll give you the address. 942 Ryder Street. Not a house near it. Ryder Street. That sounds good, Scott. Yeah, I think there's witness you want to hide or like it. There'll be no questions. You can stay there on ice till you need it for trial. Fine. Anything else, boss man? No, no, no, yeah, yes, just this. Forget you ever worked on this. You're all paid. Yeah, very well paid. Oh, sure. Rick! Rick, can you hear me? Operator. Operator. Give me the police. Right away, it's an emergency. You can't understand it, can you, Scott? The strange, violent scene that must have taken place at Rick Parker's apartment. You thought it was a lover's quarrel, just an exchange of words. But now you're certain it was something else and you waste no time in contacting the police. Twenty minutes later, you're facing a man you've talked to before, Lieutenant Perez of homicide. He's quiet, but gently insistent, isn't he, Scott? A man you wouldn't want to go up against, but he does seem satisfied with almost everything that you tell him. Yeah, that's all, then, Scott. You found your client, Rick Parker, made your report. Yeah, that's right. Any excuse himself for a moment stepped away from the telephone. Right, and then I heard the voice, an argument. With some woman. Yeah, that's it. Well, that's all I know, Lieutenant Perez. You, uh, didn't hear any mention of the woman's name? Name? Uh, why, no. No, I didn't. Rick just kind of, well, breathed into the phone, but he didn't answer when I called him. Oh, I thank you, Scott, for the call and the cooperation. Good night. Good night, Lieutenant. You wonder why you didn't mention Anne to Lieutenant Perez. But it's a part of your trade as a private investigator, not to tell everything to anyone. Besides, you sense that you're on to something and you wonder who the name belongs to. This mysterious Anne. The answer comes the following day in the newspapers. Simple enough, Scott. Rick Parker was once married to a showgirl. Her name, Anne. The same Anne who was now married to a very prominent doctor. You smile as you read about it. Tell yourself that you and Anne must have a little talk. The next day, you find the address and go there. Yes? Oh, hello. I, uh, I suppose you're Anne. I don't believe that we've ever met. No, we haven't met. Howell's the name, Scott Howell. Private Investigator. Aaron Boyd Messenger. Sorry, Mr. Howell, I've no errands to be run today. And you can take your foot out of the door. I'll call my husband. Oh, he's not in. How did you... And please, please, you think I thoroughly schooled and practicing private eye would make that mistake? What mistake? The one I want to discuss with you. What you were doing in another man's apartment last night. Now, would I discuss such a situation in front of your husband? I happen to know Dr. Farrell's out of town. Who are you? I told you I... Never mind. Come in. Oh, that's better. That's much better. Easier on the shoes. I'll, uh, I'll take water with my scotch, if you don't mind. I'm not getting you a drink and you're not staying here long. Just long enough to tell you... To tell you exactly what I mean. Yes. You're in trouble, Anne. Because of... What happened to Rick Parker? I divorced him several years ago. I haven't seen him. I wasn't in his apartment. No? He spoke your name, baby. On the telephone. Telephone. Yeah, we were talking, Rick, and I. He put the phone aside when you walked in. I heard the quarrel, the shots. I heard him say your name. His last words. Anne. Anne. Well? I have nothing to say. Ah, suit yourself. For now, I mean. I'll give you until tomorrow to think about it. Or? Or I go to the cops. Fire, what are you mixing in for? Oh, please, Anne. Rick Parker was a client of mine, paid me well, very well, for little jobs now and then. I lose some revenue, my bread and butter. Is that what you want? Well, not exactly bread and butter, no. Now, I'll take that drink. No. Okay. You don't want to be chummy, no? All right, I'll go quietly, and stay quiet if you'll send me $5,000 by tomorrow night. Oh, you'll find me in the phone book. Now, get over, Anne. Cheap, I'd say. You certainly are. You said you'd let me think about this. I think better alone, Mr. Howell. Do you mind? No, no, I can take a hint. But I'll be waiting, and none too patiently. Not too patiently at all. You wonder about Anne all that night, don't you, Scott? Because she doesn't seem to frighten very easily. Yes, Scott, you wonder a great deal about Anne and what she will do. But you have your answer the following evening when you arrive home, and there's an envelope in your mailbox addressed in a feminine hand. You open it, check the contents, and grin broadly. $5,000. Hello, Scott. Oh. Oh, Lieutenant Perez, what's on your mind? I just wanted to check a few more points on the Parker case. I missed you at your office. Yeah, yeah, I left early. I was wondering about that telephone call, Scott. How long would you say you and Rick Parker talk? Oh, maybe a minute at the most. And up until you heard that other voice, Parker seemed normal, not upset about anything? That's right. I just wondered. All right, thank you, Scott. Not at all. Well, you got a letter. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I belong to the Lonely Hearts Club, Lieutenant. And she loves it? Oh, she's crazy about me. We'll be exchanging pictures soon. That should put an end to it. Yeah, you're cute, too. Thanks, oh, Scott. Maybe you should send her my picture. Good night. Good night. Well, Scott, the payoff has begun, hasn't it? $5,000 in cash from Anne. And in the weeks that follow, it all falls into a familiar and lucrative pattern. You call on Anne again and again. And after each visit, the envelopes arrive with additional payments. It's going beautifully, isn't it? Until one evening when the expected payment is not in the mailbox. And an hour later, someone knocks on the door of your apartment. Yeah, Anne. That's right, Mr. Howell. You shouldn't have come here. We'll talk inside if you don't mind. Mind? It's a pleasure. I'll get right to it, Mr. Howell. Scott, your little game of blackmail is all over. Oh? Have you seen tonight's papers? Well, just a funny... I hope you enjoyed them because this isn't so funny. You see, the police are on the trail of a woman, Nora Ralston. She was seen leaving Rick's apartment. They say she had something to do with the case he was working on. Really? They're certain she killed Rick and they expect to have her in custody by tomorrow. That changes my position, Scott. I'm no longer a possible suspect. Keep talking. Gladly. There isn't much to say. Just what I'll tell the police when... if they asked me. And that is? Why, I was in Rick's apartment at the time he was shot. You see, he was bothering me. Rick didn't seem to get the idea that an ex-husband is no more than that. Couldn't believe I really love the man I'm married to now. Yeah, well, I hope it's love with him, baby. He might not like the idea of where you were when he was out of town. I think you'll understand when I tell him why I did it. To protect him, his professional reputation. Like Caesar's wife. A doctor's wife must also be above suspicion. Yeah, but you're not. I told you Rick called your name into the phone. I heard him. Anne. Certainly you did. When this girl came there, I hid in the other room that's why I didn't see her. Rick was calling to me after she shot him. He was calling for help. Wait a minute. The truth, Scott. The police will believe me, especially when they've arrested her. They'll believe me. Enough, you. Yeah, well, what about your husband? That bad publicity. If you go to the police, the newspapers will have... The police will keep my name out of it, I'm sure. They'll be just as anxious to protect my husband's name as I was. And they'll be quite pleased to rid society of another blackmailer. I guess you win. Look, look, I'll give you 5,000 now and in a couple of months I'll give you some... That won't do. You only gave me one day, but I'll give you until the end of the week to return all of it. The whole 15,000... But there's no place I can... That's too bad. Now that the shoe's on the other foot, it pinches. Doesn't it, Scott? Plenty. I'm sure it does. Remember, if you don't repay ever's cent by the end of the week, I go to the police and you go to prison. Tonight's $20 signal gasoline book goes to Mrs. Esther Koch of Azalea, Oregon for this limerick. A slick chick named Cynthia O'Farrill claimed gas cost kept her in a barrel. Til to signal she turned and rapidly learned she could have both a car and a barrel. No signal, signal gasoline. No car will go far but go for the gasoline. Congratulations to Mrs. Koch for her clever way of describing the good mileage you enjoy with signal. The famous go farther gasoline. Too bad a limerick isn't long enough to include all the benefits you notice when you switch to signal. I mean signals quick cold weather starting, signals peppy pickup, signals smooth responsive power. For it's a fact, mileage and performance go hand in hand. To enjoy both, next time treat your car to the gasoline that's packed with gold. Fill up with signal and go farther. In a sudden change of events, the tables have turned, haven't they? Your hold over Anne, Rick Parker's former wife, is wiped away. And she's insisting on the return of the money you've managed to take from her. You're going to have trouble returning Anne's money because you've spent a great deal of it. And then suddenly your thoughts turned to Nora, Nora Ralston, the woman the police are looking for. And as you think about her a plan begins to take shape in your mind. Yes, but before you can make a move you've got to find her. In the days that follow you use every trick you've ever known, checking every angle carefully. Finally from Rick's former switchboard operator, you get what seems like a good lead. Late that evening you return to your office and make a phone call. Hello? Hello Nora? I'm sorry. Hold it sweetheart. This is Scott Howell. Still there? Yes. Guess you read about it in the papers, huh? I was talking to Rick when he was killed. Overheard him quarreling with his killer. I read about it. I didn't tell the police what I overheard. That is not all of it. Well, we talk it over. Where are you now? At the office. I'll meet you whatever you say. Golden Gate Park in an hour back at the museum. Okay. I'll be driving a green convertible. It's a break isn't it Scott? After days of searching for Nora Ralston you finally found her. And now you have an appointment to meet her. It's the chance that you've been waiting for. As you drive your convertible up Gary Street, you tell yourself you'll have to move with caution and dealing with Nora Ralston. A dangerous woman isn't she Scott? She's already killed one man. And now hounded by the police there's no telling what she'll do. A few minutes before eight you drive into the park and find Nora waiting for you back at the museum alone. As she slides into the seat next to you, a gun suddenly appears in her hand. Just keep driving Scott. What's the idea? The idea is I don't trust you. Oh now look baby. You wanted to talk didn't you? All right. Drive out to the beach. We'll talk. How about putting that gun away sweetheart? All right. But first drop yours on the floor. Oh sure sure. There you are. But let me warn you if you have any ideas about leaving me face down in a ditch along the road you better forget them. I took certain precautions. Such as? A letter for one thing. If anything happens to me it'll wind up in the hands of the police. It'll be a cinch for the gas chamber baby. When you reported the murder to the police why didn't you tell them then what you'd overheard? Well I figured it was a little too choice to pass on. Maybe I could use some of it at a later date. Like now. A shakedown. That's what I thought. Call it anything you like. But I've got to have ten thousand bucks or I'll talk to the DA. Ten thousand? It's worth every cent of it. Listen sweetheart the cops don't have a thing on you. Sure you were seen living Rick's apartment. But that doesn't prove you killed him. That's right it doesn't. Well then why did you run? Obvious isn't it? Yeah. Because you didn't know what I'd do. You didn't know whether I'd open up or not. See how important I am to you baby? I could cinch this case against you. You are very important to me Scott. But I don't even have enough cash to get me out of town as far as I want to go. How about your jewelry? I know you've got quite a bit. Rick was generous. Real generous. Yes Rick was generous. I still have every piece of jewelry he gave me. It's worth at least... Fifteen grand. I know I got the stuff for him. It was hot wasn't it? Well not exactly. No it was just sort of simmering. So you won't have much trouble getting rid of him? No trouble at all. Should bring around ten thousand? Ten thousand? Mm-hmm. Good. I'm coming on your help. That's why I agreed to meet you. Help? What do you mean? I've got news for you Scott. You're not going to blackmail me. But I'm willing to make a deal. Convert my jewelry into cash and I'll... Split it with you. Split it? Oh no. I need the whole ten thousand. Don't be silly. I'll need at least five to get as far away from here as possible. You... You don't want the police to catch up to me do you? Why should I care if they do? Look pal. I happen to know a lot about you. Those deals with Rick? So what? For a smart lawyer, Rick talked too much. He told me about the deal. The two of you pulled on some of his clients. That old man in Mill Valley, for instance, the willy left. Fifty thousand dollars to Rick. A fortress, Scott. You had it done. You got a nice cut out of it. Now wait a minute. Wait. There were other deals too. I could tell the DA all about them. An investigation to send you to San Quentin for, uh, thirty years. So you say you just can't afford to have me picked up by the police, not can you? No, I guess I can't. I'm being very generous, you know, giving you half the money, but then I need your help. And I'm willing to pay for it. Now look, I've got to have ten thousand dollars. No, Scott. Five. That's all. So that you help me get out of town and you'll keep your mouth shut. All right. Where's the jewelry? Drive me back to town. I'll pick it up and call you at your office, say, uh, on ten. You have an unexpected visitor. Hello, Scott. Oh, Lieutenant Perez. Mind if I come in? Well, I was just about ready to close up shop. What can I do for you? What do you know about Nora Ralston? What makes you think I know anything about her? No, just wondering. You were working for Rick Parker. Sure. He knew Nora Ralston quite well, I understand. Yeah, so I read in the papers. Rick ever talked to you about it? No. We never discussed his private life. And Nora was his private life. Oh, excuse me. Hello. Scott? Yeah. Uh, oh, it's Mrs. Ansley. Nora. Yeah, I know. You are not alone? No. Police? That's right. Uh, nothing you get alarmed about. Everything's going swell. Can you meet me? Of course, Mrs. Ansley. I'll be at the corner of Devisadero and Jackson in half an hour. Right. I'll be sure you're not followed. Don't worry, Mrs. Ansley. I won't be. Bye. It was a client, Lieutenant. Nice old lady from Philly. Well, as I was saying... Sure, sure, sure. I'll be running along. Yeah, walk out with you, Lieutenant. In the street you watch Lieutenant Perez until he's out of sight. Then quickly you get into your car and drive into the mission district. From time to time you glance at your rear view mirror. And finally swing across Market Street and up Fillmore. And then certain you're not being followed you turn into Jackson Street. Pull up at the corner of Devisadero. Get in, Nora. You're late. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't being tailed. What's the suitcase for? I'm moving. You found me, didn't you? I thought it would be a smart idea to get out before the police did. Well, your troubles are over. What do you mean? That little hideout Rick asked me to find. 942 Rider Street. Rent's paid for a couple of months. Nice, quiet neighborhood. You'll be quite safe there, baby. Until I can sell your jewelry. We'll drive over there now. Oh, by the way, got the jewelry with him? In the suitcase. Oh, fine. You're not going to try anything, are you, Scott? You're going to play it smart. Oh, very smart. You bet it. Or I'll make an awful lot of trouble for you. Yeah, I know, sweetheart. I know. Yes, you're well aware of that fact, aren't you, Scott? And as you drive up the road to 942 Rider Street, you realize there's one thing you could do to pay back the money you owe Anne Farrell and prevent Nora from falling into the hands of the police and telling them all that she knows about you. Finally, you reach your destination. Bring the key out of your pocket. Open the back door of the cottage you'd rented for Rick Parker. Suddenly, as Nora walks past you, you'll reach out and grab her purse. Give me that. I want that gun of yours, baby. There we are. Yeah, that's better. What's the idea? Obvious, isn't it? No, you wouldn't kill me, Scott. Of course not. You're going to commit suicide with your own gun. No, Scott, you wouldn't do that. I know you wouldn't. That just goes to show how wrong a dame can be, sweetheart. You've heard me tell how Signal Oil Company has grown from a few stations in Southern California into a coast-wide organization serving six western states from Canada to Mexico. That growth has in large measure been due to one policy which Signal has consistently followed for 19 years to make every product that bears the name Signal ever better and better. Take Signal's new deluxe battery, for instance. Unlike ordinary batteries, which may be guaranteed for only 12 or 18 months, Signal deluxe batteries are guaranteed a full 30 months on a service basis, and they deliver up to 35% more power because Signal's improved type micro-porus all-rubber separators hold twice as much acid solution between the plates. So whether it's tops in performance you're interested in or economical long life, you'll be wise to see your Signal dealer before you buy any battery. Ask about his trade in allowance for your old battery, convenient credit terms. You'll see why from any angle today's best battery buy is the Signal deluxe battery sold only at Signal service station. It's over, isn't it, Scott? Nora Ralston is dead. The police will find her body in the cottage in the remote little hideout, a suicide. The murder weapon, the same gun she used to kill Rick, will be in her hand and the case will be closed. In a few days you'll dispose of her jewelry quietly through your contacts and you'll have enough money to pay Anne Farrell every cent you owe her. Keep her from going to the police telling them that you were blackmailing her. Now you pick up Nora's body, place it in a chair, and then as you're about to put the gun in her hand you hear the door open behind you. Suddenly the lights go on. Hello, Scott. Lieutenant. Yeah, drop the gun. Nora Ralston. Now look, Lieutenant Perez, I can tell you... Say, Mr. Scott. You know, we've been waiting for a long time for someone to show up here. Didn't expect you, though. What do you mean, waiting over? We've had this place watched since the night Rick Parker was killed. You've been watching this? Wait a minute, that can't be. How did you...? How did we know about it? Simple. The night Rick was murdered we found a dress on his telephone pad. This address is your own fault, Scott. You realize when you give an address to someone over the phone they usually write it down on the phone pad. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler, each Sunday night at this same time. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine automotive accessories. Remember, if you would like the fun of having your friends hear a limerick of yours on the Whistler, the address to which to send it is the Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles 55, California. All limericks become the property of the Signal Oil Company. Those selected for use on the Whistler will be chosen by our advertising representatives on the basis of humor, suitability, and originality. So, of course, they must be your own compositions. Featured in tonight's story were Gerald Moore, Virginia Gregg, and Betty Lou Gerson. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Adrian Jondo, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is entirely fictional, and 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 this same time next Sunday, another strange tale by the Whistler.