 And now for the radio program that has rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program. The mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. And I'll tell you why. It's because you know who's guilty. You see his every move, you know his complete plans, even his innermost thoughts. Yet the final curtain always brings a startling surprise. In the signal oil program, the Whistler. That whistle is your signal for 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. Yes friends, it's the Whistler for the tops in entertainment. And for the tops in gasoline quality, it's signal. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And signal is the famous go farther gasoline. So look for the signal circle sign in yellow and black that identifies friendly independent signal stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler strange story. Bright future. Surveying his own reflection in the glass door entrance to the apartment house, Harry Simpson was pleased with what he saw. He flicked an imaginary speck from his lapel, straightened his bow tie, tugged lightly at the snap brim of his hat. Then slapping the folded newspaper against his leg, he entered the building. Yes, Harry Simpson had a feeling that things were beginning to break his way at last. A feeling fortified by the $137 one at last night's poker game. Nothing could stop Harry Simpson today, not even the nationwide problem of a housing shortage. Huh? You're the manager, fella? That's what it says over the buzz of your Bentley anointing. I understand you have an apartment for rent. Well, yeah. Furnished? Would that make such a difference? No, this, make any difference? Oh, Ben Franklin looks pretty good in green, doesn't he? Bonus. The other 50 goes on the first month's rent. You're, uh, not OPA. Never heard of it. Well, I guess you got yourself an apartment, mister. One thing, though, still a couple of boxes of stuff in the place belongs to the last tenant, supposed to have sent him to his wife in Kansas City. Own something else. I think you ought to know the only reason we've got a vacant apartment is... Is that the last tenant Frank Kolder was killed in a chemical fire last night? I know. That's how I got the address. I looked it up in the obituary. Is that that notice? No. Kind of slick, mister. Yeah, you got to use your head if you want to find a place to live these days, fella. Yes, sir. You got to use the noodle. A few minutes later, you're alone, Harry, in your new apartment, and you congratulate yourself as you stroll from room to room. Yes, things are looking up for Harry Simpson, aren't they? The future looks bright and deep. And then a framed picture catches your eye, an enlarged photograph in color of a man and a woman. You hardly notice the man. It's the girl in the bright yellow bathing suit who attracts your attention. Tall, slender, a mass of flaming red hair falling down over tanned shoulders. Wow. Then you notice something else. A long one edge of the picture frame, a thin line of green. Puzzles, you run a nail file down the side, and a moment later a bill flutters to the floor. A scrap of currency, Harry, but it's the amount that causes your jaw to drop. It's a thousand-dollar bill. You hold the picture up again, shake it, and another bill falls to the floor, another and another, until a neat little pile of currency forms in the center of the room, a pile amounting to $35,000. Mr. Coulter, boil investigations. Oh? Jove boil. Look, you called me a couple of weeks ago. You asked me to check on a guy named Jameson. Upstate and dead, remember? Oh, uh, uh, Jameson, yeah. Say, this is Mr. Coulter, isn't it? Coulter. Oh, Frank is not here right now. Oh, not there, huh? I read, of course, something I thought might interest him. It's about Jameson. Uh, look, uh, look, I'm a good friend of Frank's. Could you give me the message? Uh, yeah, yeah, I guess so. Well, you see, I came down from bed from this morning. I was going to do the town for a few days. You know, bright lights, dancing girls. It doesn't feel good to get away once in a while. Yeah, yeah, that's right. So I'm walking down the street when I spot this guy, Jameson, right here in town. You tell Coulter that, huh? And tell him I'll keep my eye on Jameson, just in case. All right. I'll tell him. And look, in case Mr. Coulter wants to reach me, I better give you my address. I'm at the Prentice Hotel, pal. It's in the book. Say, uh, why don't you say your name once? I didn't, Joe. Goodbye. It's all a little puzzling, isn't it, Harry? As you replace the receiver, you turn and stare at the bills on the floor. Then you wonder if the phone call had anything to do with the $35,000 you found hidden in the picture frame. You wonder, too, about this man, Jameson. And why Coulter was having him watch. Quickly, you cross the room, scoop up the bill. You can run for it now, or you can sit tight and wait. Yes, wait. That's it, isn't it, Harry? Perhaps there's more where this came from. You slip the bills into your wallet, seal the picture again, and place it on the mantel. As you step back to admire the girl in the bathing suit. Oh, is it? Yes, what can I... Well, well, hello. How lucky can a guy get? Mr. DeSempson? That's right, honey. I hate to intrude like this. I'm Rosanna Robbins. I was frank. And that is real. Oh, sure. I remember you. What? The photograph. You're the girl in the photograph. And never forget her face. When and? The manager can thank you in mind. I just came by to pick up some things that were left. Oh, some things, huh? For sure. Oh, no, honey. I'm sorry, Mr. Simpson. I didn't mean to. Well, it's just that coming back here to Frank's apartment, the memory is not... Oh, sure, sure, I understand. Frank and I were very much in love. It doesn't seem part of what he's called. Now all I have left is the memory of our love, and that. Oh, that picture on the mantel, huh? Yes. The only one I have of him had to come back for it. I wouldn't want her to see it. Her? Frank's wife, they've been separated for years. I wouldn't want her to know about us. I think it's best this way, now that he's gone. Yes, sure. Well, she wouldn't understand. No, no, no, she wouldn't. Uh, may I look at that picture again? I'm afraid I didn't get a very close look at him the first time. Well, it was taken on the beach last summer. Looks like a great A guy. Oh, he was, Mr. Simpson, he was. I miss him so very much. I just don't know what I'll do now. Well, nothing rash, I hope. Well, perhaps I... Oh, I am boring you, Mr. Simpson. I think I'd better go. Why, what's the hurry? I do hope you'll forgive me for intruding. Anytime, honey. I want that picture wrapped. No, I'll take it just like it is. Oh, and Mr. Simpson. Yeah. Before I go, would you mind terribly buying it? Walk through the apartment just once? For the last time? You watch her as she strolls around the apartment, stopping now on them to dab the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. And then she's gone. An interesting performance, wasn't it, Harry? And you wonder just how much of a threat she's going to be. But you're not worried, are you? No, because you've already planned your next move. Half an hour later, you register at a large downtown hotel, hand an envelope containing the money to the desk clerk, ask him to keep it in the office safe. Then you saunter back out into the street, take a taxi up to the strip to celebrate your good fortune and a bright future. It's almost four in the morning when you decide to return. You can pick up the money at the hotel tomorrow. You climb the stairs to your apartment. And then as you reach the first floor, you stop, leap back into an alcove. As a man comes out of your apartment and hurries down the hall toward the back stairs, you get only a glimpse of his face as he hurries past you. But it's enough. Colder. That guy was Frank Colder. Alive. With the prologue of bright future, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by the Whistler. In as much as what I want to talk with you about now is completely free, you might think that Signal wouldn't want me to take valuable radio time for it. But even when Signal Oil Company gives away something, such as their new road maps, they insist that it be the very finest obtainable. For you radio fans, for instance, Signal road maps contain a radio log which shows where you can tune in your favorite network programs while you're traveling. In addition, each Signal road map contains a mileage chart, plus a guide to interesting places to visit. And while the maps themselves are large size for easy reading, they're accordion folded for convenient handling. So whether it's the tops in gasoline, lubricants, and automotive accessories that you're looking for, or just a free road map, remember this. You'll find them all at their best at those 2,000 friendly independent dealers throughout the Pacific Coast states who display the familiar circle sign in yellow and black that identifies Signal service stations. And now back to the Whistler. It happened fast, didn't it, Harry? One swift, sudden moment of recognition and you discover a startling truth. That Frank Coulter, the man who's a bituary in the newspaper, led you to finding an apartment. It's actually a lie. You're a little stunned with a sudden turn of events, aren't you? And you struggle to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. $35,000 in a picture frame, hidden in the apartment of a man who has come back from the grave. Why did he hire an out-of-town private detective to check on the movements of a man named Jameson? Then there's Rosanna Robin, Coulter's girlfriend. She fits in here somewhere, doesn't she? But as far as she's concerned, you find out where you stand the following evening as you're about to go out. Yes, what the... Oh. Here I am again, Mr. Simpson. That's all I see. I hope you're not annoyed. There was something I wanted of Frank's beside the picture. A cigarette lighter. Have you seen it? No. No, I haven't. Oh, well, it might have dropped on the floor behind a chair or something. May I come in? Well, sure. Help yourself, honey. Place is yours. Thank you, all right. Why are you looking at me like that, Mr. Simpson? Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that my gleam was showing. Mr. Simpson. You will... You don't think I'm going to find it, do you? The lighter, I mean. I'll bet you think I just need it all up just to have an excuse to come back. Well, honey, I... I don't know. I think you do. It's all right, Mr. Simpson. Harry... You see, I'm a terrible person. Really sent me off. I didn't love Frank. Well, I sort of know this, that your grief didn't last very long. No, it didn't. Actually, thank God, I meant very little to me. I suppose I loved only the idea of all that money. You wouldn't know about that, would you, Harry? No. No, I wouldn't, I mean. You know, I think we should talk things over. Oh, you are talking. We're not really good. Well, relax. I'm sure of one another. We could be, Harry, and... aren't you going to offer me a drink? Because, I think... Well, about the drink. Sorry I just moved in. I haven't... Oh, God. Why don't we go to my place then? Quiet and cozy. I have everything we need. Well, how can I refuse? I suppose I run on ahead and meet you there in an hour. Half an hour. All right. I'll sit down there and dress for you, Harry. So you'll be sure to get there. So there'll be no mistakes. A few minutes after she's gone, you hurry down the corridor. As you reach the head of the stairs, you hear someone dialing the telephone down in the lobby. Slowly, you ease down the stairs, and then you hear Rosanna's voice. Hello. This is Miss Robin. I'd like to speak with Mr. Janeiton. Don Janeiton. What? Oh, yes, I'm certain he's registered there. Yes? Oh, I see. No. Well, I'll try again later. You're certain you can't be mistaken. You heard the name clearly enough, didn't you, Harry? Jameson. Calder's ex-girlfriend phoned on Jameson. The man Calder was having watched by Detective Boyle. A few minutes later, after you hear the front door slam, you hurry to the phone book. Find the address of the hotel where Boyle is staying. Half an hour later, you're facing him across his cramped hotel room. You see, Frank had to go out of town, Mr. Boyle. Joe? Huh? But he's still interested in his fellow Jameson. I had a hunch he would be. Yes, sir, always follow my hunches. A fellow of my line has to keep on his toes, you know. Oh, sure. Frank told me he did a nice job for him. A very sweet job. Well, all part of the racket. You know nothing to it, really. Yeah. From my experience, nothing to it. This guy, Jameson, you've been telling me. Yeah. You know, Frank was wondering about a girl. Toa? Yeah. Her name's Rosanna Roberts. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. That dog would make a woman hate a tear up his union card. Oh, yeah. She, uh... Has she been up there to see Jameson? Oh, lots of times. Lots of times. What is this Jameson like? Oh, pretty ordinary citizen. Good reputation. Fairly well-known around... Is she even buying a house? Oh, yeah. You think he intends to marry Rosanna? Well, I'd say they had a very genuine interest in him. Genuine interest in each other? You know what I mean? Oh, yeah. Oh, sure. See, tell me something. This cult, he got sort of a gen for this dish, too, huh? That's why he was telling Jameson? Oh, yeah, yeah. It's sort of a jealousy. Oh, I had a hunch that was it. Every time. I remember a case I had last summer. Well, her name's Jeff Bellamy. He's the local druggist up at Denton. Well, he got mixed up with a lady sax player from Chicago. I'm awfully sorry to break this up, fella. Oh, you have to go. Oh, yeah. Well, look, I'm meeting a little doll downstairs in just a little while, you see. I thought, well, she might have afraid to meet you. Oh, no, thanks. No, no, no. No, I, uh... I got something unhappy about her. Yes, you have a date of your own, haven't you, Harry? A very important date with Rosanna at her apartment. As you had expected, it turns out to be quite an enjoyable evening. And strangely enough, not once does the $35,000 enter the conversation. Colger seems to be forgotten. And you're beginning to think she's forgotten about Jameson, too. Uh, what'll do? You know, uh, baby... I've been thinking. I saw her turning things over in my mind. Harry, you sound too serious. Here's your drink. Oh, thanks. No, it's nothing serious. Just a crazy notion I ran into. Oh? Mmm. I like his drink. Well, try it. Uh, let me get this out first. Uh, like I said, it's just the notion. There's, uh, there's a man and a woman. Uh, well, now that is a good notion. Move over, will it? Uh, well, there's, uh, there's a romantic interest between these two, but they're not quite happy. You see, the guy doesn't like his work. It's sort of dull. Maybe like he's a nauteter and a chemical plant. How very, very dull. Yeah, and it doesn't pay off very well. Drink your drink, Harry. Yeah, so he gets an idea. He does a little puzzling. He gets together a nice hunk of cash. He hides it and knocks himself off. You fascinate me, Harry. Go on. Well, it's an accident, you see. Fire, maybe. There isn't a trace of the guy left to the world he's dead. Isn't he? No, no. He's as alive as either of us. Now he's free of his wife and he... Oh, he's been married all along? Yeah, yeah. But they've been separated for years. Let's say the wife is out west. Won't give him a divorce. Now he doesn't have to worry about that anymore. He can marry the girl, take the doll and skip. And they live happily ever after. Drink your drink, Harry. Oh, the story isn't over. The guy... Miss places the duffel. Poor girl. I don't know. Maybe she didn't care much for the guy anyway. Maybe she was running around with another fella. Upstate, somewhere. Oh, really? Well, maybe this man had more dogs. Maybe. Only the way I look at the picture. And you do like to look at pictures. But you know something, baby. I figured that this doll would throw both of these boys over for someone else. Oh. Who does she like now? Now or anytime she likes whoever has the most to offer. Her dream boy is the gent with the folding stuff. You know, Harry, I think you're right. But with so much happening to all girl, how can she be sure she's getting the right man? That's for her to figure out. But she's smart enough. After she has time to think it over, it'll come to her. Good night, baby. I got a show. Soon, Harry, what? Yeah, that's only a sample. Give me a call when you wake up your mind. You know when I'm at. All right, Harry. Oh, uh, Rosanna. Yeah? That last drink of mine. You better pour it down the sink. You might take it by mistake. I wouldn't want that to happen. You figured it all out, haven't you, Harry? The picture that was once vague in your mind has now been brought into focus. The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. And the waiting game is over. It's time for action now. And you're not worried about Rosanna anymore. You're sure you know what the next move is going to be. And later that night in your apartment, you're ready for it. As the door buzzer rings, and you open the door. Hello, Frank. That is the name, isn't it, Frank Colder? Mind if I come in, Frank? No, no, no. Come ahead. I've been expecting you. Yeah? Look, Simpson. I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it breaks down right here, understand? You came for the dough, huh? Rosanna is wonderful, isn't she? I figured... We can skip Rosanna. No, Colder. One of us will be a big man when we get through talking, but not quite big enough to skip Rosanna. She goes along with the deal. When it take off. She doesn't really care who wins, either. Have it all figured out, huh? Including the fact that you probably brought a gun along. Ah, don't try that, pal. I'm not just keeping my hand warm. Looks like you've gotten warm. So what happens now? You don't know? For a guy with a big, fat imagination, you disappoint me, Colder. So I'll tell you what happens. You let yourself wide open, pal, the way you destroyed yourself in that fire. You're dead, Colder. You haven't any identity at all. Who's gonna miss you? Wait a minute. Makes it all very easy for me and Rosanna. I'm gonna kill you, Frankie. I'm gonna take you out of town somewhere and shoot you and get rid of the body. And I repeat, who's gonna miss you? Now look, look, Simpson. Can't we make a deal? A deal? What do I look like? The leader of the bold haircut crowd? I'm sorry. I'll take baby and the 35 grand. Come on, Colder. Let's go. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. If you Whistler fans who play Contract Bridge would like to have some fun with your friends, here's a suggestion. Ask them how they would bid each of the 75 examination hands which are part of the six lessons in Contract Bridge that signal dealers are now giving free. Of course, to make sure that you know all the answers, you probably want to brush up on the lessons themselves, which are written by that outstanding bridge authority, Robert Lee Johnson, of whom Ely Culbertson says, no one is better qualified to prepare a series of lessons on Contract Bridge than Robert Lee Johnson. One feature makes these lessons especially valuable. While they are complete enough to offer an excellent review for the average player who would like to improve his game, they are at the same time so understandable that even those of you who have never played Bridge before can learn the game in six lessons. Each week for the past several weeks signal dealers have been receiving a different lesson in the series of six, and of course they're free, no purchase required. So that you won't miss a single one of the set, I'd suggest that you hurry down to your nearest signal dealer tonight or tomorrow, sure, and ask for six lessons in Contract Bridge. And now, back to the Whistler. It doesn't take long, does it, Harry? You watch Colder's body sink slowly in the mire of a swamp with the outskirts of town. You drop the gun you use in after him. Hurry back to your car for the drive to your apartment. A few hours later, going up the stairs, the whole thing runs through your mind again. Finding the apartment through the obituaries, the money, Rosanna, her devotion to men with money. She'll be yours now, won't she, Harry? Because you have the money and you're in the clear. Colder is gone, a victim of his own plan, and no one will be searching for a dead man. You're smiling as you open the door and let yourself in. Hello, Harry. How are you, baby? I've been waiting for one of you to come back. I'm glad it's you, Harry. Yeah, it'll probably set the same thing to Colder if he to come back. Well, he isn't coming back. Poor Frank. Look, baby, we're gonna have to take you off this town isn't for us anymore. So? So, most important, what about Jameson? Jameson? You... You expecting someone? Relax, baby, I'll take care of it. Hiya, pal. Boyle. That's right, Joe Boyle. Boyle Investigation. This is Lieutenant Hanson. We come in, Simpson. The police? I don't understand. A lot of things we don't understand. Like why you let Boyle here believe that Frank Colder was alive. Yeah, I just found out different. And another thing, about this guy I've been following. What about him? Well, since you asked me to stay with it, I never let him out of my sight for a minute. Not for a minute. So what? Look, Lieutenant, you're not mixing me up in that part of it. Take it easy, Rosanna. Look who's giving advice. Don't you know what they're trying to tell you, Sap? Frank Colder had to be somebody after he died in that fire. He's been living a double life for over a year. That's why Hard Boyle here to see if his new identity would stick. And it has. Look, lady, I don't get that double talk about a double life. All I know is I saw Simpson shoot this guy a couple of hours ago. What guy? This guy. I've been carrying his picture around ever since I started tailing him. But that's a picture of Frank Colder. How could I shoot Colder? He died four days ago. Who's talking about Colder? I'm talking about this guy in the picture, Don Jameson. Don Jameson? Like you asked me, pal. I've been following Jameson for you. That's all. That's how I happen to see you shoot him and toss him into the swamp. But that's Frank Colder's picture. Doesn't make any difference what he called himself. Colder or Jameson. They're the same guy. You killed him, so come on. Let's go. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Each Wednesday night at this same time, brought to you by the signal oil company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine quality automotive accessories. Signal has asked me to remind you to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speed, be courteous, and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life, possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Frank Lovejoy and Betty Lou Gerson. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Robert Eisenbach and Jackson Gillis, and music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. Remember at this same time next Wednesday another strange tale by the Whistler. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.