 The signal oil program, the Whistler at Whistle, is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. From 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 time for the Whistler. And remember, let every traffic signal remind you, with new signal gasoline, you do go farther than ever. Look for the familiar big yellow and black circle sign that identifies those popular signal service stations throughout the west from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story, custom-built blonde. It was past midnight when Jerry Coonan left the cocktail bar with a tall blonde in the mink coat. On the way out, he gave the high sign to Red Stafford and Shorty Burton, sitting idly at the bar waiting for the tip-off. And as he guided her out the front door, he could see them quietly get off their stools and prepare to leave. Jerry chuckled softly to himself. The blonde was dumb and rich. The diamond pendant around her neck ought to bring 10,000 at least. And he'd mentally appraise the square cut emerald on her right hand at 5,000 more. Yes, the blonde was custom-built, made to order. She wouldn't talk after they'd relieved her of the jewelry. She'd be afraid her husband might find out what she's been doing while he was out of town. He helped her into the car and fumbled with the keys until he was sure Red and Shorty had reached the other car and were ready to follow. The blonde, meanwhile, was having herself a great time. Jerry, I can't get over that character in the bar. Really? I've got a million of them. They come out of the cracks when I whistle. You're precious, darling. I'll never get along without you. You better be careful, you'll have her to give me the fat head. Underneath it all, you know, I'm really a modest guy. Let's see here. Oh, yeah, here's where we turn. Take it easy. Where are we going? The black cat. Isn't that where you want to go? Yes, but... What's the matter, honey? Oh, I thought the black cat was back the other way. You're a little twisted, sweetheart. This is a shortcut. But Jerry, are you sure? Of course I'm sure. Now over to the left. Look back there. You suppose that other car is following us? Oh, no. Well, they just turned, too. Jerry, this is a blind alley. All right, I guess you're right. You must have made a mistake. Jerry's got a gun. Hey, wait a minute. Shut up. Get right there. Okay, okay. Come on, lady. Come on. Give this to the stick up. All right, mister, you asked for it. Down that gun, you stupid... Give me that. Red did she... Yeah. She got shorty, too. She pulled that gun out of a bag and started shooting before I could get clear of the wheel and the soccer. Shorty. Shorty, it's Jerry. It's j... What about him? He's dead. Better check the dame. Hurry up. There's shots. Oh, yeah. Wait a minute. She's still breathing. Pull out of the car and leave her on the pavement. We've got to get out of here. I can't leave her. She knows me. All right, let her have it. Go on. You've got to shut her up. No. No, I can't. Oh, God. I'm not going to kill her, I tell you, Red. Listen. Can you get out of here by yourself? Can you drive okay? Yeah, I can get as far as the valley, I think. You take care of me at Mendoza's. Okay. Get in the other car and get going. What about the dame? I'm taking her with me. That's where you're a little different from the others, Jerry. The blonde is a problem, and Red had the easiest answer, but you can't kill. You've always known it, that you had the quickest, sharpest head in the mall. But when the chips were down, you couldn't kill. So you take the blonde with you, watching her out of the corner of your eyes you drive towards your home in the suburbs. She lies back against the seat, relaxed as if she were sleeping, and there's an ugly gash in her forehead where you hit her. Ten minutes later, still cursing the woman's stupidity, you pull the car up the driveway and into the garage of your house. As usual, your wife mages left the doors open for you. You get out and race up the stairs to the inside door. Madge? Jerry, I just heard you come in. Don't turn on the lights. Get something on quick. Your bathrobe. Anything. Hurry. What's the matter? Plenty. Everything went wrong. The blonde. What happened? Red and Shorty tailed us down the alley, but when they walked up to the car, she pulled a gun, started shooting. I had to hit her. Where is she? In the car, still out. Oh, where's your role? Right here. Come on, we gotta hurry. Wait a minute. Jerry, is she... No, no. She's still breathing. I don't know what to do. I can't let her die. What about the police? I don't know. You could hear those shots for two blocks. Now here. Pull the flashlight while I take a look. Yeah, yeah. Just a second. Oh, she... She's trying to steal. Something wrong. Is she... Yeah. Dead. Jerry! We can't take her in the house. You better drive out on the highway. No, no, not yet. But you can't... I can't go running around the highways tonight. I'm gonna need a first-class alibi when they get here. Oh! The police! Come on, give me a hand. I've got the locker and the turtle back. And I'm gonna call my brother. I need an alibi. Bad. Hello, Jim. This is Jerry. Yeah, you guessed it. I'm in a bad jam. I need an alibi. Oh, tonight from about 9.30 to midnight. Yeah. Yeah, now listen, kid. If anyone asks you anything about me, tell them that Madge and I were with you in Grace till 12 o'clock. Oh, anything. Playing bridge. Yeah, that's good. Playing bridge. Right. Thanks, Jim. I'll explain when I see you. With the prologue of custom-built blonde, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange tale by the Whistler. If you've been reading the new car ads and who hasn't, you've no doubt noticed the emphasis as being put on increased mileage. 25 to 30 miles per gallon from some of the new models. Why do you suppose this is? Is it because folks today are more interested in making their dollars go farther? Well, partly. But even more so, they're interested in the increased engineering efficiency which makes that greater mileage possible. And right there, friends, you have the reason why Signal Oil Company is so proud of the fact that you now go farther than ever with new Signal Gasoline. You see, Signal's improved mileage is the result of increased power. Amazing new power. The same power that gives new Signal Gasoline quicker starting, faster pickup, and quieter, higher anti-knock. That's why we say look to your speedometer for the real proof of gasoline quality. You'll find that the gasoline that gets peak performance from your motor is the same new gasoline that now helps you go farther than ever. New Signal Gasoline. And now, back to the quistler. So it didn't work out quite as you'd planned. Did it, Jerry? You got the jewelry all right. And with it, the body of the tall, stupid, blond woman who pulled a gun out of her purse at exactly the wrong time. Yes, it was a wrong guess, wasn't it? She wasn't made to order after all. And now she's in a position to embarrass you with the police. Should one of your good friends down at headquarters get too curious and pry into the turtle back of your coupé down in the garage. Yes, Jerry. You know the police are coming sooner or later. All you can do now is wait and hope the alibi you arrange with your brother, Jim, will satisfy them. I tell you, I couldn't help it, Madge. When Red and Shorty stuck us up, she pulled that silly little pearl handle 22 out of a bag and started shooting. Well, I don't want to say I told you so, baby. It's a good thing you get sent. Oh? I can't think of a worse time for you to open your mouth than now. My big, strong, brilliant husband. Now, wait a minute. You wait a minute. Why don't you go down to headquarters right now? Sure, walk right in. Lock me up, fellas. I just killed the blonde. It was all an accident. Will you shut up? I won't shut up. If I want to say I told you so, I'll say it because I did. I told you a thousand times you haven't got the right kind of a brain for this. But you knew it all, didn't you? Ah. No, you never get around. You always take time and think it out. So now we've got the blonde in the turtle back and we sit here and wait for the boys to come around and pick you up. Let me handle it, will you? Why? Tell me that, Jerry. Why? Tin horn alibi. Do you think they'll fall for that? Had any sense you'd drive out on the highway somewhere like now? I told you I'm not driving out on any highways. She stays right here. Do you understand that? And if you don't like it, you can go, Madge. Yeah, that's the trouble. It's what it always comes to when we have an argument. I can go if I want to. But I never want to. Okay. What's that? Wait a minute. It's a police car. I knew it. Two cops. One of them looks like burg of homicide. Listen, get back into bed. Hurry, let me handle this. All right, Jerry. You handle it. Who is it? Police. Open up. Okay, just a minute. Turn on the lights. Oh. Hello, Lieutenant. Hello, Conan. Sergeant Adams. Hello. Sergeant. I'd like to ask you a few questions, Conan. Mind if we come in? Not at all. Thanks. Nice little place you got here. Yeah, we like it. Sorry to disturb you so late. Oh, that's okay. I was just going to bed. Yeah, I was going to say you were up a little late tonight. Just get home? Yeah. I'm in a little bridge over at my brother's place. Jerry, who is... Oh, come in, badge. This is Lieutenant Berg. My wife. How are you doing? Sergeant Adams. How are you? So you were over to your brother's, huh? Yeah. You won't mind if we check that. Why not? Shall I call him, Chief? There's a phone over there. In a minute. Conan, it looks like you might need an alibi. Alibi? What am I going to do with an alibi? Have you seen your pals, Red Stafford and Shorty Burton lately? Not for a couple of days. Why? Oh, they weren't at the bridge party, huh? Any idea where they are now? I wouldn't know. Well, I'll tell you. Burton's in the morgue. Huh? And Stafford's at the emergency hospital getting blood transfusions. What do you mean? A car jumped the curb and crashed through a single oil billboard about an hour ago. Stafford was crumpled over the wheel with a couple of bullets in him. Burton was sitting next to him, dead from a couple of slaps. Oh, that's awful. Gee, I'm sorry to hear that, Lieutenant. Yeah, tough in them. I wonder what happened. Do you? Yeah. Like I said. Yeah, yeah. Like you said, you were playing bridge when it happened. You've been pals with those two birds for a long time, Conan. What does that mean? Doesn't prove anything, of course, but when we found Stafford, he was still conscious, muttering to himself. He was calling your name. That's funny, isn't it? Not so funny? Well, maybe not. Maybe he wasn't talking about you. After all, there's lots of guys in this town named Jerry. Where's your gun, Conan? I don't own one. Not even a little 22? Not even a 22. Well, I'll admit it sounds scruy asking a big he-man like you if he packs a 22, but that's what they were shot with. How about you, Mrs. Conan? I never owned a gun in my life. You can search a place if you want it. You don't even need a warrant. I got nothing to hide. Thanks, thanks very much. So you just got back from your brother's, huh? That's right. A few minutes ago. Where's your car? In the garage. Adams, go and have a look. Something wrong, Conan? No, nothing wrong. Go ahead, Adams. Right. We've been watching you three birds pretty closely since that banker was knocked off three weeks ago. Red and I were in Chicago when that happened, okay? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. That's what you said. You're going to have to prove that. Oh, excuse me a minute, will you? What's your brother's phone number? Atlantic 2204. Thanks. Now I'll look it up. I just want to be sure I'm talking to him at his home, wherever that is. Conan James F. Well, you're telling the truth so far. That's the number. Mr. Conan, this is Lieutenant Berg of Homicide Speaking. I'm calling you about your brother, Jerry. Have you seen him tonight? No, no, he's all right. There's nothing wrong. All I want to know is if you've seen him. He was there with his wife until 12. Okay, thanks. That's all I wanted to know. Good night. See? Just like I told you. Uh-huh, maybe. But you had plenty of time to put him wise. I just checked the car, Chief. What about it? Your hunch was wrong. Motor's still warm. Huh? Is that what you were checking? I told you I just got home. Sure, from the bridge party. But I found something else interesting. What are you talking about? Easy, Conan. Go ahead, Adams. The ownership certificate's got Red Stafford's name on it. Well, well, well. Now, isn't that interesting? Sure. I just bought the car from him last week. You can check with the Motor Vehicle Department. They get the papers. Don't worry. We'll check. Really? Anything else, Lieutenant? Yeah, a lot of things. But we'll get the answers somewhere else. So far, you seem to be in the clear from shooting your pals, Conan. You were playing bridge at your brother's. You bought the car from Stafford last week. You don't own a gun. And also, you and Stafford were in Chicago three weeks ago when that banker was knocked on. That's it? I hope so, for your sake. Come on, Adams. Good night, Conan. Mrs. Conan. You're free to come and go, as you please, but I'd suggest that you don't leave town. OK, Lieutenant. All right. I better sit down. Yeah. Well, you still think you were right and leaving her there? Oh, that would have looked great, wouldn't it? You alone here, me out in the highway, getting rid of a blonde and the cops come around to check? There's one thing, though. I'd like to know it. They don't know anything about the blonde. They're worrying about Red and Shorty and that banker, whoever he is. Wait a minute. I know it. Berg had still another guy with him. They were free. He's left them outside to watch the house. We'll be followed every minute from now on. Night and day. The rub isn't a jerry. You got around one problem by coming directly home with a blonde in your car. But there's a tougher one now, isn't there? How can you get rid of her under the noses of the police with a special officer following you night and day? You lie awake all night thinking about it. How, jerry? How can you do it? Then at 10 o'clock the next morning it comes to you. I've got it. I've got it, Maj. Joe Mendes. Who? He runs a repair garage, deals on hot cars on the side. He'll do anything for money. Sure. If he can get another car just like mine. 39 green Chevrolet deluxe master coupe. What are you talking about? Excuse me, honey. I've got a phone call to make. Oh, uh, don't make any plans for this afternoon, baby. We're going bye-bye. Don't be ridiculous, jerry. You know we'll be followed. Sure we'll be followed. A friend will follow us right downtown and into Joe Mendes' garage where we're going to park the car while we go shopping. Then what? Then we'll let Joe take over. Like I said, baby, you'll do anything for money. So you called Joe Mendes. And just as you predicted, the minute you mentioned money he was your boy, wasn't he, jerry? Yes. He'll arrange to have a green coupe in his garage exactly like yours for a fee, of course. And best of all, you'll have it there this afternoon. It's three o'clock when you start out with Maj on the shopping trip and you smile to yourself as you see the police car pull out from the curb and follow you downtown. Joe is all ready for you when you arrive. My name is Kunan. I called Mr. Mendes about having my car tuned up. Oh, yes, Mr. Kunan. I am Mendes. You can leave it here. I'll have one of the men pocket for you. Can you have it ready in a couple of hours? Oh, I think so. Perhaps we better go into the office. I will write up the order. Oh, sure. Oh, Maj. Yeah, jerry. Stick around. I'll be right back. Yes, yes. Right now. Take it easy. I couldn't tell him apart myself. Where? Where's the two grand? Oh, here. Don't flash it. Your friend's out at the front door watching us. Oh, yeah. Now listen, after we leave, switch the license plates. Switch the stuff in the dash compartment. Everything. Here. Here's the ignition key. What about the turtle bag? Never mind the turtle bag. It's locked and don't try to open it. Leave the key to the new car and the dash. We'll drive it home. It's mine here. How long? My brother will come for it later. Just leave it here and forget about it. Okay? Okay. See you later, Joe. We're going to take our friend out there on a shopping tour. I'm awfully sorry, madam. I've shown you everything we have in suede handbags. Perhaps something in reptile. Oh, yes. That's an idea. Let's see what you have in reptile. Just a moment. I'll get them for you. Is he still there? Yeah, over by that pillar. What about Jim? I'll call him tonight. Have him pick up our car tomorrow. We can get rid of the blind in a couple of days after this blows over. I got a hunch Lieutenant Berg will be around tonight to really give us the once over again. This seems to be the only thing we have in reptile. Would you like to look at it? Oh, yes. I'll look at it. So you watch the quiet man in plain clothes follow you and Madge from store to store. And finally back to Joe Mendez garage at the appointed time. You both walk in the door and then stand to one side waiting. Just a second, Madge. What are you? Hello, officer. You enjoy the shopping trip? Almost lost you a couple of times. Where to now, sonny? Home. Oh, that's my green coupe over there. Come on, Madge. Oh, Mr. Kuna. Oh, hello, Mendez. Did you get her tuned up all right? Yes. Good. You want to ride out with us, officer? Got room for one more. No, thanks. I got my own car. Okay. Now there we are, Madge. Get in. Oh, how much do I owe you, Mendez? Oh, uh, nine, nine eighty-five. Okay. There you are. Thanks, Stanley. Keep the change. You're out of the woods now. The license plate's been changed. The contents of the dash compartment, everything. Yes, Mendez did a good job. An hour later, you're home with the officer following just behind you. As you expected, Lieutenant Berg is waiting for you when you arrive. Waiting for me, Lieutenant? Yeah. Been on for a little ride? You ought to know. We've been tailed everywhere we went. Okay, Colonel. I'll call off the bloodhounds. Just brought by to tell you that Red Stafford died an hour ago. Oh, that's too bad. He regained consciousness just before he went. He said you weren't mixed up in that shooting last night. Anything else? Yeah, some about a scrape with a woman they tried to stick up. Said she pulled a gun and then drove off after the shooting. I see. Can't understand why she didn't report it, though. It is funny, isn't it? Another thing, the business about that banker, you really were in Chicago with Stafford. Wow. So now you believe me? I'd know better than to believe you, Conan. But Stafford had the proof, or I think he had. Huh? Let's go inside. I'll tell you about it. Is it important? It's your neck. It's important. Come on inside. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, with reconversion still much in the spotlight, here are some facts I think you'll be interested in. You know, of course, the vital role that independent businessmen played in the building of America. And you know that today more and more men are expressing a desire to get into business for themselves. But did you know that our sponsor, Signal Oil Company, has for over 15 years sold its products only through independent businessmen, substantial responsible men who are so earnest about their business of serving the motoring public that they're willing to invest their own money in it? Naturally, Signal Dealers are carefully chosen for their ability and integrity, which explains why so many dealers have been with Signal Oil Company ever since the beginning, 15 years ago. So you see, there's a good reason why you find more conscientious experienced men operating Signal Stations. And why Signal Dealers, with an incentive to build their own business, naturally give your car more thorough service that does help it run better and last longer. And now, back to the Whistler. Well, you're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you, Jerry? Joe Mendes was a real inspiration. The blonde is resting quietly now in the turtleback of your car, back in Mendes' garage. And the substitute car outside is all ready for Lieutenant Byrd, if he happens to get curious. You glance slyly at Madge, wink at her as you escort the lieutenant into your living room. He starts to sit down and then decides to stand. You had us going for a while, Conan. Oh, yeah, I guess I better do my checkin' first. Checkin'? Yeah, I'm a kind of a cynic, so I don't believe anything anymore. Not two of you were in Chicago. He signed some kind of a legal paper before a notary. Oh, yeah, I remember I witnessed it for him. Yeah, well, that's the proof I was talkin' about. For some reason, Stafford suckered in a little valise. What's wrong with that? Nothing, except he tossed the valise in the turtleback of his car and forgot about it. Turtleback? Yeah, says it's still there. Oh, no, that is that. I don't think it's there. I never noticed it. But you wouldn't mind if I check. No, Berg. I wouldn't mind if you checked. Here. One of these two keys. Help yourself. Thanks. I will. Gary, this is Joe Mendez. Mendez, listen, I can't talk now. But this is important. It'll keep. I got things to do. But listen, I'm trying to tell you. There was a cop hanging around the place all the time you were shopping. I didn't get a chance to change the license plate. You do... Wait a minute. What are you gettin' that? I'm saying I didn't make the switch. You still got your own car. At nine o'clock, the Whistler will bring you another strange tale. The Whistler is broadcast for your entertainment by the marketers of signal, gasoline, and motor oil, and fine-quality automotive accessories, and by your neighborhood signal dealer. Featured in tonight's program were Jack Moyles and Bill Conrad. This program, directed by George W. Allen with the night story by Will Pryor, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the armed forces radio service. That whistle is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. This is Marvin Miller speaking, reminding you to look for those familiar yellow and black circle signs that identify those popular signal oil stations throughout the west from Canada to Mexico. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.