 The signal oil program. Yes, the signal oil program, the Whistler. 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. I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Yes, friends, it's time for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other west coast program in radio history. And signal gasoline is tops too, tops in quality. 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 independently operated signal stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story. Perfect alibi. Entering the Golden Sparrow, a cozy little cocktail lounge near the far end of Beverly Boulevard, private investigator Johnny Seltzer, 30, handsome, off duty at the moment, found business at a standstill. He went straight to the bar and ordered a drink. Scotch in water. I'll mix it. Right. Old masters, if you have it. Good. Johnny carried his drink to the nearest empty table and sat down to think. Self-centered, cynical and, in his own estimation, a smooth operator. Many things were on his mind, especially Johnny Seltzer himself. Things hadn't been going too well for him. Tom Silver, founder of the Silver Detective Agency, had threatened him with dismissal unless he changed his ways. Seized gambling and gave closer attention to his duties. Staring moodily at the voluptuous paintings lining the walls, Johnny suddenly pushed back his chair and walked over to the jukebox at the end of the bar and slid a nickel into the slot. Returning to his table, he sat back to finish his drink. Listen to the music and sympathize with himself. Ordinarily, Johnny would have welcomed the voice which abruptly shattered his mood. A low, sibilant voice that seemed to come from nowhere. I like music too. Does that make us pals? Don't seem very happy. I was. Most men would be glad to see me. Yeah, well, I'm different. I'm sure you are. That's why I came over. That was my wife's favorite line. Maybe that's why I didn't register. That could be. You didn't like her much, huh? I didn't. Divorced? I didn't kill her. Say, what are you anyway, an investigator for the World Psychology Foundation? I'm surprised you haven't asked me why I got married in the first place. Oh, I figured that out already. So. And it shows on you too. What? Your merger with the bankroll behind that mink and ice you're modeling there. No merger. Present. From a relative. That's quite a coincidence, isn't it? What is? Two people who like money meeting up in a place like Hollywood. And now that we know all about each other, let's call it a day, huh? Why? Why not? Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's still early. Maybe because it's raining outside. That's not good enough. I like to walk in the rain. Nice if you'd invite yourself over. Maybe I'll run into you again sometime. Wait a second. Yeah? Am I that hard to think? How would I know? You might find out. I'm not curious. Can I take your order? No thanks. I'm taking a potter. Waiter. Two scotches and water. We'll make sure. I said I was leaving. Don't be like that, Johnny. What was that name you called me? Your Johnny Seltzer private eye, aren't you? Okay. You know who I am. I figured that pickup pitch was a phony. Well, like you said, I'm Johnny Seltzer. And I'm Alice Collins. Who's she? She's Anise of Charles Collins. Charles Collins? Not the number one boy of lumber. That's what it says in the papers. I never saw him till two years ago. He wrote and asked me how I'd like to live out here. I said I'd like it. So here I am. Eastern talent. I was born and raised in Springfield, Springfield, Missouri. Who sent you to me? Nobody. I saw you out of Delbo's one night last week. I asked a coupier who you were. I see. The lady gambles, loses. Now she wants me to get her money back, right? Wrong. No, I don't think so. What did you do? Follow me here from the office? Mm-hmm. Am I forward? Just say easy to approach, like a department store. Pardon me. Okay, waiter. Let's have the check. Just put it on my bill, will you please? Take it out of this. Keep the change. Thank you. Well, that was nice of you, Johnny. Cigarette? Thanks. Now look, Springfield, you got an angle or you wouldn't be talking to me. What is it? You ought to get over that inferiority complex. There's no angle. I thought you'd be a nice guy to know. Later on, after I know you better, I might be able to throw a little business your way. Detective business? Terrific detective business. Maybe as much as $50,000. Well, it's nice money. Too bad I work on a straight salary. The Tom Silver Detective Agency makes the deal. Not this one. This would be a special deal, Johnny. $50,000. Just for you. Interesting. Uh-uh. If it was legit, you wouldn't be putting out that kind of dope. You're jumping to conclusions, aren't you? Maybe. But if I'm wrong, you can always take it up with the agency. You know where the office is. Okay, Johnny. But if you ever change your mind and want to talk it over, call me up. I will. It's all right, Springfield. You can get me almost any afternoon at Melrose. Five, four, three, two, one. That's easy to remember, Johnny. All you have to do is count five backwards. When you leave the Golden Sparrow, you're sure you've seen the last of Alice Collins, aren't you, Johnny? Yet a few days later, you're not so sure. Your boss, Mr. Silver, has you on the carpet again, and you have an unpleasant feeling. You'll soon be out of a job. $50,000 is a lot of money, and Alice herself says something to ponder over. She's really beautiful, isn't she, Johnny? You can't forget her lovely features, her low musical voice. The things she said keep repeating themselves. $50,000. Just for... A few afternoons later, you enter a drugstore, cross to the phone booth, lift the receiver, deposit a coin, and reach for the dial. You can get me at Melrose. Five, four... With the prologue of Perfect Alibi, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story... by The Whistler. Have you been putting off buying new tires? You're going to be glad you waited, because now you can save real money at Signal Service Station. But hold on. Don't get the idea that Signal Dealers are offering cut price merchandise. Signal Dealers feature nationally advertised first-line Lee tires, built to top quality standards. In fact, for 47 years, Lee has built only one quality, the finest first-line tires. And today's Lee's wear much, much longer, because Lee toughens cold rubber with patented high abrasive fill-black O. That's why Lee can back every tire with a double guarantee. Well, since such quality obviously can't be sold at cut prices, how can Signal Dealers save you money? By giving you today's biggest allowance for your old tires. That's right. That sign outside Signal Station means just what it says. Biggest allowance for your old tires on top quality Lee tires. I can't tell you exactly how much your old tires are worth, but they're worth plenty. And you can easily find out by driving into any Signal Station. So before you buy any tire, see a Signal Dealer. You'll be glad you did. Well, Johnny, a few days ago when you left the Golden Sparrow after your pick-up tater-tate with Alice Collins, niece of the multi-millionaire lumberman Charles Collins, you didn't expect to see her again, did you? You're a licensed private detective and she sounds like trouble. But with things piling up on you as they have, you decide you were a little hasty. An hour after phoning her, you arrive to a modest little apartment building on Mountain Avenue near Collanger. Curious but still cautious, you knock likely on the door. Hello, Springfield. Hello, Johnny. Come in. You still like music, don't you? Mm-hmm. I've got a good memory, too. You haven't that? Here, let me take your hat. Then we'll go in the sunroom. Okay. Sit here, Johnny, and help yourself. Cigarette, scotch, and ice water. This is cozy. Real cozy. Give me a very nice allowance. I spend every weekend with him out of his home near the ocean. That's quite a home from what I hear. Swimming pool, badminton court. Mm-hmm. But I'm young and like to go places. Uncle Charles didn't want me to drive out there alone late at night all the time, and so he suggested I take an apartment in town. You see, I'm his only blood relative. You want to have quite a future? Mm-hmm. If I'm not an old lady before... before anything happens to him. I wouldn't dwell on it. Nobody lives forever. Excuse me, Johnny. Sure. Hello, beautiful. Here. How about a drink? In the sunroom. You can mix me one while I put these in the icebox. I've been talking with a man for Uncle... Oh, Johnny... Hello, Snoop. Well, you two know each other? For years. Hiya, Frankie. What are you doing here? I'm here a lot. How gorgeous. Yes. You see, Johnny... What I can't figure out is what a Snoop's doing here. Business? Strictly business, Frankie. You see, Uncle Charles has been sick, but he heard rumors that the mill weren't on the up and up and asked me to make some inquiries. Why didn't you ask me about it, baby? I'd have gotten you the best of the business. You don't think Johnny's good? He's all right. Oh, forget it, Snoop. I'm sorry I acted like I was sore. But when you're nuts about a game, bad you know how it is. Sure, Frankie, that's okay. Cigarette? Yeah, thanks. I'll be back in a second. I want to put these on ice. All right, take your time. A nice cigarette. Class to F.B. Frankie Benson. Monogrammed in Old English. Everything. You, uh... you really like it? Like I said, Frankie, class. But here, take a bunch. Oh, no, I didn't mean that. Go ahead. Go on. I order them by the gross. Well, thanks. This job for Old Man Collins you're talking to the doll about. Oh, I don't know anything about it yet. I just got here two minutes before you did. No, how about a drink? Sounds fine. Come on, baby. You got to talk to Snoop here. I'll pick you up at dinner around seven, okay? Sounds fine. Good. Uh, drop around later on, Snoop. Say around five, baby. I might have an idea for you. Five-thirty it is. So long, Frankie. Well, Johnny, your golden girl seems a little tarnished, doesn't she? Not that you're surprised, but you are disappointed. And a little nettle to realize that a girl with a background of Alice Collins would waste her time on a gambler, a glorified hoodlum like Frankie Benson, operator of the notorious Dilbow's gambling club. After Frankie's departure, you make no attempt to hide your annoyance. Nice friends you got. Honestly, Johnny, it's not what you think. What do I think? You think I'm Frankie Benson's girl? Well, aren't you? No. He thinks so? I know he does. The way things are, I've had to let him think so. I owe him money, Johnny, a lot of money. Oh, so the lady did gamble and lose. Yes, she did. And if Uncle Charles found out, he'd cut off my allowance like that. Maybe send me back to Springfield, even. So you want me to get your money back? Uh-uh, Springfield. This is where I came in. Frankie Benson plays too rough for me. Way too rough. Wrong again, Johnny. I don't want you to stick out your neck from me. Do what you want me to do. Yes. Look, Springfield, that day I met you. You mentioned a piece of business you could throw my way. $50,000 worth. I said we'd talk about that after I knew you better. Now, how long is that going to take? Not very long. As you drive out to Dilbo's at the request of Frankie Benson, your imagination goes far beyond anything you've ever thought of. You decide to marry Alice Collins. She's beautiful, and someday she'll inherit the Collins Lumber Fortune, reported to amount to more than $2 million. But you're worried about her connection with Frankie Benson. Frankie usually gets what he wants in one way or another. And when he doesn't, well, accidents happen, don't they? But when you enter his office, he's more than friend. Hello, Sherlock. Sit down. Thanks. Take a handful of cigarettes. He said you like them. Like I said, they're class. I haven't seen you around lately, Johnny. What's the matter? Don't you like to play here anymore? Oh, sure, Frankie. But, well, I owe you nearly a G right now, and I figured maybe I'd better pay up before I... Oh, your credit's always good here, Johnny. As long as we're friends. Well, it's nice to know. Well, what do you want to see me about? Oh, nothing in particular. Just curious about that snoop job for old man Collins. Is it all set? I don't know. Alice or Miss Collins is going to talk to her uncle about it. I'll know in a couple of days. How come she picked you? No, she didn't. She called the office. The boss sent me out to talk to her. I'm glad you told me that, Johnny. I've always liked you. If there's anything I hate, it's being jealous of a guy I like. Well, like I told you, Miss Collins is called as a client, and the boss sent me out there. It's strictly business, Frankie. Now, I'm glad, Johnny. And I hope you keep it that way. Both of you. Frankie Benson's cordial manner doesn't fool you for a minute, does it, Johnny? It only makes his thinly veiled threats more pointed. Frankie Benson is still a gangster of the old school. And you have no intention of giving up Alice Collins, but you decide you'd better be careful. And for the next few weeks, your meetings with Alice are at out-of-the-way places, usually some distance into the country. You're determined that nothing is going to prevent you from marrying her and enjoying the fortune which will be hers after the death of her uncle. The idea of her uncle's quick departure doesn't seem to shock you at all anymore, does it, Johnny? She says nothing further about the business deal she mentioned. Finally, as you decide it's time for a showdown, she phones you late one evening and asks you to drop by her apartment. She seems tense and excited. Frankie Benson got in this afternoon, Johnny. He wasn't very pleasant. Now, look, you're playing with dynamite, leading that guy on. He always takes care of Welchers, and when he goes nuts over a game, he really goes nuts. The last game that tried to fool him had a very peculiar accident. He fell on a letter opener and cut herself bad. I know. He told me about it today while I was opening the afternoon mail. He gave me an ultimatum, Johnny. Marry him or pay up in two weeks. Can't you figure some way to get the money from your uncle? $33,000? Not while he's alive. Of course he could go any time. He's a restless sleeper. He's got asthma, high blood pressure, and a weak heart. He might even get tangled up in the bedclothes all night and smother. Do you think that might happen? It could. And if it did, there'd be $50,000 in it for me. Right? Yes. $50,000. Just for you. It's too risky. I wouldn't be around long enough to spend it. There's no risk at all. I'll take you out to Uncle Charles a couple of times. By the time you make up your mind, you'll know every foot of the place. You'll have the key to the front door in your pocket. The servants will all be deaf, huh? On Thursday nights, they're up. Except Whitcombe the butler. He's always there in case Uncle Charles needs him. Wait a minute. You'd expect me to... Whitcombe's no problem. No problem at all. He always reads in the library near the phone. You'll open the front door at 11 o'clock. At two minutes before 11, I'll phone. When he answers, I'll hold him for 10 minutes at least. That'll give you all the time you need. Uncle Charles' death will be the most natural thing in the world. Doctor says it could happen any time. You really got it figured out, haven't you? A long time ago. Well, I'm afraid you picked the wrong guy. Too many chances for a slip-up. Things could go wrong. The doc might get suspicious. Find it was murdered. What if he does? You won't be connected with it. You'll have a perfect alibi. What? You'll be with me at my place all evening. There's no reason to think that I'd wish my uncle any harm. We'll have a few drinks. You can leave your fingerprints over everywhere. Forget your cigarette case, your top coat. It'll stand up. What about it, Charlie? 50,000's not enough. After the will settles, I'll double it. No, that's not enough either. I'm not interested in the money anymore. I want you, Springfield. I want to marry you. Do you think I'd ever let you get away from me? I like that. So did I. What about next Thursday, Johnny? Maybe. I gotta figure out the other half of the problem first. The other half? Frankie Benson. As long as he's around, what happens to your uncle won't mean a thing. And you do figure it out, don't you, John? Frankie Benson's monogram cigarette. Instead of making it look like an accident, you'll make it look like murder. A murder that will send Frankie Benson to the gas chamber. The following Thursday evening, you go to Alice's apartment to double check the detail. Now look, Springfield, about Frankie Benson. He called up a couple of minutes ago, Johnny. Wanted to drop over for a while. I told him I had a headache. What'd he say? He's beginning to scare me, Johnny. He told me I'd better take a nap. Said I might get dizzy and fall down and hurt myself. Said he'd call back in a couple of hours and see how I felt. Good. That's all I needed. Let's see. It takes about 40 minutes to drive from Dilbo's to here. All right. When he calls back, tell him to come over about 11.15. But I thought you were... I'm taking care of Frankie tonight, too, with one of these. Frankie's monogram cigarette. Yeah. I worked it all out, Springfield. All I needed was a break like Frankie's phone call. Tonight's job's gonna be murder. A murder that'll send Frankie Benson to the gas chamber. No, Johnny. The other way's safer. We won't get another chance like this in a million years. Now, when I leave, I'll drop one of these monogram cigarettes for the front door. The rest is automatic. Oh, no, Johnny. It won't work. The cigarette will point to Frankie, sure, but it won't stand up when he tells the police he was framed. They'll believe him. Frankie hasn't any reason to kill Uncle Charles. I've taken care of that, too. I called the DA this afternoon, said I was your uncle, and told him to send him out tomorrow morning. The newspaper boys will be there, too. They're expecting a big story about Frankie Benson. Oh, you're out of your mind, Johnny. Uncle Charles never gambled in his life. He never even heard of Frankie Benson. The DA heard different. He thinks your uncle found out about your gambling losses to Frankie. He sent out a private eye to Dilbo's. The guy picked up a couple of pairs of dice. Loaded. Cute, huh? Yes, it is. But what about Frankie's coming here tonight? That's the clincher, baby. When he gets here, your headache will be so bad, you'll have to send him away. The cops pick him up. If he tells him he was here, he's lying. That's my alibi. I was here all of the evening. It'll work, Johnny. Oh, you're wonderful. Well, that's it, baby. With you to back me, it can't miss. Wish me luck, Springfield. All the luck in the world, darling. Hurry back. I'm not coming back tonight, baby. Our alibi is all set. The evidence will back us up. Don't forget to phone the butler just before 11. I won't. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Since this is the season when so many of the most popular radio shows go off the air for the summer, I have tonight what I trust will be good news for you Whistler fans. The Signal Oil program, The Whistler, will continue to come to you throughout the summer without interruption. This makes the sixth consecutive year that Signal Oil Company has broadcast The Whistler for 52 weeks each year. What's more, if your vacation travel should take you into other Pacific Coast states, you can still enjoy your favorite mystery because Signal Oil Company broadcasts The Whistler on 16 CBS stations throughout five Pacific Coast states. For the nearest Columbia station to wherever you happen to be, just consult the handy radio log in the new Signal Road Maps, which are yours for the asking at all at the Signal station. So this summer, when you want the tops in radio entertainment, we hope you'll continue to tune in The Whistler. And when you want the tops in gasoline quality, we hope you'll turn in to a Signal service station and fill up with Signal, the famous go farther gasoline. Taking care of Charles Collins was easy, wasn't it? Everything went exactly as you planned. And it came easy to you, didn't it, Johnny? You even slept soundly after it. The following morning, lolling back in your one comfortable chair, you read the whole story in the paper. It's all over the front page. Lumber King murdered. Police solved case in record time. Killer apprehended. Everything worked out exactly as you planned, didn't it, Johnny? And in a few months, you'll marry Alice Collins and the Collins fortune. As the doorbell rings, you decide it must be another bill collector. That amuses you, doesn't it? You stroll leisurely to the door and turn the knob. Well, it's you, Lieutenant. Hello, Jennings. Come on in, boy. No, I haven't got time, Johnny. Besides, we can talk better downtown. Get your hat. Is that official? Very. Murder, Johnny. Collins killing last night. Oh, yeah. I was just reading about that when you came in. You've been seeing a lot of his niece lately, haven't you, Johnny? Yeah, sure. She's a client of mine. I was with her last night at her apartment, as a matter of fact, from nine until, well, nearly one this morning. Is that an official statement? Of course it is. Make a note of it, Jennings. Now, as a matter of fact, we know all about that, Johnny. You left your fingerprints all over the place. You must have been pretty high. You even forgot your overcoat and cigarette case. Well, I'll admit, we had a few drinks. But what's the idea, Lieutenant? The morning paper says you've already nabbed the guy that killed Collins. Yes, we have. Frankie Benson. He was a little noisy making his exit. Got panicky and dropped his card as he opened the front door. A half-smoked cigarette. Monogrammed. His own special brand. Benson admitted it? No. But his alibi was so phony he's as good as convicted right now. Yeah, but what motive would Benson have? Plenty. Old man Collins had him cold, crooked game loaded dice. He was going to give the DA the whole story this morning. Well, you've got everything so sewed up. Why do you want to talk to me about the Charles Collins murder? We're taking you in for the murder of his niece, Alice Collins, Johnny. She got hers about 11 last night in her apartment. Stabbed with a letter opener as if you didn't know. Pretty clumsy accident, Johnny. 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 quality automotive accessories. Signal has asked me to remind you to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speeds, be courteous, and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life, possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Jack Webb, Doris Singleton, and Eddie Marr. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Ed Bloodworth, 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. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.