 That whistle is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. The mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. 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. I'm 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 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. Before you hear the Whistler strange story, here is an important announcement for Whistler fans everywhere. New broadcast time for the Whistler. After this broadcast, the Whistler will be heard every Sunday evening, beginning next Sunday, October 3rd. Now please listen carefully. In California and Arizona, the Whistler will be heard each Sunday evening at 9.30. In other states at 8.30. And don't forget, California and Arizona, 9.30 Sunday evening. In other states, 8.30 Sunday evening. Beginning next Sunday, October 3rd. And now the Whistler strange story. Conspiracy. The lunch room was deserted except for a young man who sat perched on a stool at the end of the counter. From time to time he looked up, stared out the window into the driving rainstorm and then his eyes wandered back to the newspaper spread out before him. Here's your melted cheese, Joe. Anything in the paper about the storm? Who's that guy's picture there? Alvin Pettis, local citizen, shoe clerk and murderer. Coffee or milk, Joe? Coffee. Who'd he kill? His wife. His wife, huh? On account of another guy? No. He had a name? No. Oh, he did it for the insurance? No. He just didn't like her. Let me see what he looks like, Joe. So this is Alvin Pettis, huh? I don't like his looks. So he's a murderer, so people look at his picture and they shudder. I wonder how many of them are entitled to do that. I wonder how many of them might not be murderous too if the circumstances were right and there wasn't any law. Salt and pepper, Hazel. Ah, you newspaper guys. What about people being murderers under the right circumstances? Haven't you ever hated somebody enough to kill him if you knew you could get away with it? Well, I don't know. Still, there was a guy in St. Louis once. Yeah. You take a city, a city full of people, the innocent and the guilty, with their loves and hates, their pride and greed and jealousies. And in that city a pronouncement is made that on this date between this hour and that one, there is no law, no retribution, that the crime of murder will go unpunished. Don't you think there'd be quite a few people killed? Don't you, Hazel? Take it over, baby, take it over. Never mind, probably for me. I'm expecting a call from Flourney. Hello. Is this you, Joe? Yeah, what's the latest report on Old Man River? Just got a call from the sheriff at Greendale. They'll have to start looking for that town somewhere off the coast of Cuba. Greendale? What, the army's out there. I thought that... There wasn't ground, she'll maybe more, but she's going tonight and I want you to be there when it happens. You'll able to pick me up off the coast of Cuba, Flourney? Send a boat after you, sweetheart. But phone that story in first. You know, color stuff. I was there, I saw it happen. Hot coffee, sweating soldiers, man versus nature. Okay, I'll give my all for the dear old Baton Rouge times. I'm on my way, Flourney. A half hour later, you swing off the main highway, drive into Greendale, a low, flat, flimsy town with nothing between Ipt and the Mississippi but a levee. Your editor was right, wasn't he, Joe? If the levee gives way, Greendale will go down the drain like wet cornflakes. As you plow through the downpour and approach Williams Avenue, you fight to keep thoughts of Marilyn out of your mind. Marilyn. She lives on Williams Avenue, doesn't she? The beautiful Marilyn. The vicious, cruel Marilyn with a soft mocking voice. The woman who ruined things between you and Alice who took you for every cent you had and then laughed at you. Who's still laughing at you? You turn into the familiar rain-soaked street. Slow down for a moment as you pass the small wooden frame building. The two-story apartment house where she lives. Marilyn, the one human being on this earth, you'd almost enjoy killing. And then you slam your foot down on the accelerator and race off in the direction of the levee. Joe Kanagat's the name major and with a Baton Rouge time. I'll report her, eh? Okay, okay. How's it look? As you can see for yourself, look at it boil down there. Yeah. Levee's like a hunk of Swiss cheese. Hey! It's a weird scene, isn't it, Joe? Men, trucks, equipment. Fighting the Mississippi in the glare of the giant searchlights. Peaving sandbags, pouring gravel. Trying to save a town they know is doomed. Your eyes take it all in. Your pencil is busy making notes. But your mind is on Marilyn. You wonder if she's back in that apartment on Williams Avenue. You hope that she's asleep. That somehow she'll get washed out into the river with the rest of the rubbish. And then suddenly everything stands still. The pencil slips from your hand. Your eyes shut out the scene on the levee as the realization hits you. It would be so simple, wouldn't it, Joe? Yes! You could kill Marilyn and get away with it. The river would cover for you. If you're punching any longer, we're licked. Come on, pull the equipment out. Evacuate! How much longer before the river breaks through, major? Ten, fifteen minutes, of course. Send a man to warn him down at Greendale. Hey, look, major, you'll need every man you've got here. I'll go. Don't be a fool, Kenny Carter, if a flood hits before you get to Greendale. I'll take my chances, major. That's where my story is going to be, Greendale. Besides, I can spread the warning myself. As you walk along the ground floor hallway of the two-story building on Williams Avenue where Marilyn lives, a door opens suddenly at the end of the dingy corridor. And you hear the petulant voice of Angela Dickerson, the woman who lives in the apartment across from Marilyn. Quickly, you step into the alcove and wait. You don't want to run into the inquisitive Miss Angela Dickerson at this moment, do you, Joe? Moments later, you hear the door close and the hall is silent, and you hurry on to Marilyn's apartment. Marilyn. It's you. Yeah, me. I thought it was seven minutes. And no boyfriend? Off a wet out tonight, he probably crawled under a rock. What do you want, Joe? There's a flood on the way, baby. Yeah, I know. I heard about it over the radio. I was just throwing a few things together to take with me. You're wasting your time. You aren't going anywhere, baby. Oh, no, look, don't be silly. I'm not going to take that lamp with me. I know. Wait a minute. Stand there in the center of the room staring down at her. Then as you set the lamp back on the table, you hear it, a distant rumbling, and the floor seems to be swaying beneath your feet. The door behind you bangs shut, and you wheel around and watch it open again and then close. It's not your imagination, is it? The building is actually swaying. The flood has come. Quickly you run into the hall and right into a thin-faced little building. You hadn't counted on a witness had you. Wait a minute, buddy. Come here. Get out of my way. I gotta get out of here. No, you don't. You can't stop me. What's your hurry? Let me go. Now you're struggling, pal. You're not going to get away from me. No, you don't. Can't let him get away, can you, Joe? You're sure he saw what happened in Marilyn's apartment, and you've got to kill him, too. You reach him just at the entrance of the apartment building, and the two of you go crashing down into the flooded streets. No, don't. Please let me go. Murder's a solo job, pal. Strictly solo. Why you? Don't think you can get away from me. You scramble to your feet. Stagger after the little man. You're gaining on him. 30, 20 feet, and then a telephone pole crashes down in front of you. There's a crackle of flame and the main force of the flood hits at that moment. Everything is water. You remember reaching for something solid, finding it, and then nothing. You'll be all right. All right. What's going to be... Where am I? In the hospital. You're a lucky man. They picked you up right in the middle of it. And quite a time, they can let go of that telephone pole. Oh, yeah, yeah, the pole. The telephone pole. What's that? Oh, no, no. It's just the man in the other bed. They picked the two of you up at the same time. Brought you in here together. Nurse? Nurse, will you give me a hand with this patient? Oh, yes, doctor. What do you make of it, doctor? I don't know. Man's had a terrible shock, of course. Amazing it wasn't cute. Well done. He's been going on like that for over an hour. The same thing over and over again. About a murder. Murder? Yes. Something about the flood, covering it up. Then about a fight. Might be the result of shock, but... Well, I think we'd better pass it on to the police. You know who the man in the other bed is, don't you, Joe? Even though you can't see him behind the screen. The man you're certain saw you commit murder. And they put the two of you in the same room. A thousand crazy thoughts hit you all at once. You want to kill him, jump out of the window, run. Anything but face him when he comes to. You wait till the doctor and the nurse will snap off the lights and leave the room. Quickly you fumble around for your clothes, throw them on and step falteringly into the hall. Where do you think you're going? Oh, Floreny, I... I got a little tired of this place. I thought you might need some help. Thought I might need some help, huh? Look, just leave it to me, Joe. So you're a hero. So you're war in the town and get caught in the flood. Well, fine. Don't overdo it. Listen, Floreny... I'm not going to lose my best reporter because he's too dumb to know when he ought to stay in bed. That sweetheart is where you are going right now. Don't butt in. You've been through a lot tonight. You're lucky to be alive. Now back into that room and get to bed. The doc's ordered a hypo to make you sleep. Just to make sure you don't get any more ideas about leaving, I'm taking your clothes. Morning, Mr. Kaniakut. Good morning, nurse. About time you woke up. It's almost 10 o'clock. How about some breakfast? Oh, breakfast? No, no. Nurse. Nurse. Mr. Willis is coming to the party. You better have a look. Nurse, wait. Yes, Mr. Willis? Well, good morning, Mr. Willis. How are we feeling this morning? Better, thanks. Here. I'll move the screen out of the way. There now. How about some breakfast? Well, I don't know. Of course you do. I'll find something. Oh, Mr. Kaniakut. Yeah? This is Mr. Willis. Hello, Mr. Willis. How do you do? Now, about some breakfast, Mr. Kaniakut. Nurse. Nurse. Those bandages on his head, what? He's had a terrible electric shock. He's blind. With the prologue of conspiracy, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by The Whistler. Remember, beginning next Sunday, The Whistler will be heard Sunday evenings at 9.30 in California and Arizona at 8.30 in other states. Friends, you know, I was thinking the other day if automobile motors were made of glass, a lot more drivers would switch to Signal Premium Compounded Motor Oil because through the glass, you could actually see how those compounds in Signal Premium Compounded Motor Oil go to work inside your motor to make it run better and last longer. For instance, you would see one compound busy washing out old carbon, gum and varnish, while another compound guards expensive bearings from corrosion. And still other compounds do the important jobs of keeping the oil from thinning and preventing excessive foaming. Yes, this improved type Signal Oil that combines scientific new compounds with 100% pure paraffin base does a lot more than just lubricate. So if you really want a sweeter running motor, be sure you make your next oil change a change for the better. Switch to Signal Premium Compounded Motor Oil at Signal Service Stations. And now, back to The Whistler. Relieved, aren't you? Relieved to learn that the one person who could point you out is a murderer, the man who lies in the same hospital room with you can't see. No, Mr. Willis won't be able to identify you as the man he saw standing over Marilyn's body at the apartment house on Williams Avenue just before it collapsed from the force of the flood. You can lean back now and relax. Take your time. Wait for your strength to return. The following afternoon, you're released from the hospital. Florney, your editor, is waiting for you in the lobby, but he isn't alone. This is Lieutenant Belchor, Joe. Homicide. Yeah, I heard a lot about you, Joe. Nice work. Thanks. Um, Homicide? Oh, that's right. We have a murder on our hands. Or rather, the Lieutenant here has. It's a great story, Joe. What? What's that? Conspiracy. Conspiracy? To commit murder. A partnership. And we know who one of the partners is already. Yeah, who? The Mississippi River. The cover-up. The accessory after the fact. I don't get it. Well, Florney is trying to say we picked up a woman's body this morning, knocked around pretty badly and no identification yet. Your boss thinks she was murdered, Joe. You still think that little guy, Willis, is talking through his hat, huh? Oh, now, look. He took a lot of voltage with water up to his knees. His head's still spinning. He's not responsible for what he says. Willis? The guy in your room upstairs, Joe. Um, you hear him say anything in his sleep last night? No. No, I, uh... I don't remember. Well, come on. Let's go up and have a talk with him. No? Sure. Why not? Yeah. Why not? Please, gentlemen, I can't remember now. I don't know what happened. You've got to try, Willis. Oh, look, Florney, the guy's sick. Leave him alone. Willis, uh... I know you've had a tough go of it. I want to be as easy on you as I can. Then please, please go away. Sure, sure, after you level with us. Now, ten minutes ago, I was willing to write this thing off as a flood death. Now, I'm not so sure. Listen, Lieutenant, I told you I... If it's murder, one thing can lick us. Fine. We've got to move now. So, let's go over it again, huh? I told you, I must have been dreaming. You don't dream the same thing over and over again without a reason. We picked up a woman's body out of the wreckage this morning. She could have been murdered. And she could have lived in that apartment on Williams Avenue you mentioned. Who was she? We don't know. There's nothing to identify. Now, look, I asked you for a straight story when I got here and I haven't got it yet. Well... You're scared, aren't you? No. Why should I be? Come on, Willis, come on. We'll take care of you. Just give me the story. Well, I... I ran into the building because I thought I heard someone shout. A woman. And the water must have hit just about then because the building started to sway. The door flew open and I saw him standing there. Who was he? I don't know. I never saw him before. Then he came after me. We rolled down the stairs into the water. I managed to get away. I ran out in the street and I... I don't remember anything after that. Mr. Willis, think now. What did this man look like? Oh, uh... Dark hair, about six feet, I guess. Medium build. About your size, Joe. Do you think you could identify him? Uh, I mean if... If... if I could see, yes. How about his voice? Sound something like the lieutenants, uh, mine? Or maybe Joe's here? I don't know, really. Please, I'm very tired. I'd like to rest. Sure, sure. Okay, Willis, take it easy. Come on, Floney, Joe. We'll be back to see you, Willis. When you feel better. Uh, Lieutenant. Yeah? What about his eyes? I mean, is he, uh... Well, the doctor says it's just temporary due to shock. He might regain his sight any time. Oh, any time, huh? Well, Joe, how's that for a story? Oh, it's great, Floney. Now, here's the angle. Conspiracy with the Mississippi River. You know, playing up as a hunk of human drama. Here's a law-abiding citizen. Maybe a bookkeeper or a salesman. He was to the line, cuts the law on every Saturday, turns the paycheck over to the little woman, obeys traffic signals. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know. The flood comes. The big cover-up. No law, no nothing, see? Mr. X turns into something else. A lifetime of frustration suddenly breaks loose. He turns into a murderer with no fear of the consequences. Bingo, he kills. Sure. It figures, Joe, don't you think? Oh, yes. It figures, all right. Yes, it figures. If you run out now, they'll add it up in a minute, won't they, Joe? Somehow you've got to stop Willis from talking. You've got to get to him before he can see again. And that isn't going to be easy. A material witness. The police are probably watching him every second, waiting for those bandages to come off so they can hustle him down the police headquarters to put the finger on you. You've got to think of something, some way to silence Mr. Willis. And that evening as you sit in your office, trying to find a way out, the door bursts open and Floreny enters. Joe, Joe, get your coat. What's the matter? Get your coat, man. We're meeting Lieutenant Belchow at the hospital. It's about Willis. He's being released. Willis? Yeah. He finally came out of it, Joe. He can see. Ah, come on, Joe. There's Belchow waiting for us. Look, Floreny. Come on, come on. Oh, hello, Floreny. Joe, you got here in a hurry. Yeah. Let's go up, huh? I'm anxious to see. No, no, no way. Better wait here. They're bringing him down. We'll take him down to headquarters. No, wait. Here he comes now. I swear. Let's go over. Floreny, wait a minute. I, uh... Yeah? What is it, Joe? About... about this guy, Willis. I... I... Lieutenant! Huh? Yeah? What is it, Madsen? Main levee's starting to go. What? Whole department started over there immediately. The main levee. That'll take the whole north end of town. All right, Madsen. Floreny, I'll go with the lieutenant. No, no. I'm about this time, kid. Here. My car keys. Take care of Mr. Willis. Yeah, better drive him home. We'll get around to him later. Yeah, take good care of him, Joe. I'll take care of Mr. Willis. It's the sort of a break you get once in a lifetime, isn't it, Joe? Just a split second before Willis had a chance to identify you, the river saved you. The police are gone now, Floreny, with him. And you stand alone in the rain and watch Mr. Willis approach. He won't get away this time, will he, Joe? You turn up the collar of your overcoat. Keep your face away from him and hustle him into the car, the back seat where he can't see you. Minutes later, you're racing across town. Then, as you head a deserted section not far from the Red River Bridge. Mr. Kennecott. Yeah? Would, uh, you stop the car? I stop the car? Sure. This looks like as good a place as any. I'd like to talk to you. I'm sure, Mr. Willis. And I'd like to talk to you. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, for the benefit of any contract bridge players who missed last week's Whistler, I want to repeat some news of a special importance. The first changes in the rules of contract bridge since 1941 were made this month at the Culbertson Teachers Convention. You probably already know that. The news is that all of these new bridge rules have been boiled down into compact, easy-to-understand form by Signals' own bridge expert Robert Lee Johnson. And a copy of them is already waiting for you at your nearest signal service station. Now, understand these new bridge rules are completely separate from the six lessons in contract bridge, now being distributed by signal dealers. So whether you're collecting Signals' bridge lessons or not, if you play contract bridge at all, you'll want this handy summary of all the new rules in contract bridge. It's free, of course, at all of those friendly yellow and black service stations throughout the West, from Canada to Mexico, who feature Signals, the famous Go Farther gasoline. And now back to the Whistler. The morning broke bright and clear. The storm had passed, and some 20 miles out of Greendale, a police car was parked on the highway by the washed-out Red River Bridge. Two men stood there, looking down into the ravine. There's your car, Floney, down there. Yeah. I guess the river had washed the bridge out before it happened. Willis didn't know that. I can't get over it, Belchor. Joe was the greatest guy ever lived. He was already dead when the car crashed, Floney. Dead? Joe was dead before the... Yes, come on. Willis is over here at the bank. He's cracked up pretty bad. All right, Kelly, I'll take over. I think he's ready to do some talking, Lieutenant. Well, Willis. Willis. You... you must be Lieutenant Belchor. I remember your voice. Yes, yes, look. You're not going to last much longer. We found the wrench you used in Joe Kennecott. Why did you kill him? I had to, Lieutenant, at the hospital. I knew he was in another bed at the hospital all the time. That's... Yes, yes, go on, go on. That's why I faked blindness. I had to find some way to cover my face before he woke up. But why? So he wouldn't recognize me. Then last night when he picked me up in front of the hospital, I knew I had to get rid of him so he could never identify me. Identify you? What did you...? That woman you found yesterday morning. Her name is Dickerson. Angela Dickerson. She was my wife. Ran away years ago. I killed her the night the levee broke. There at the apartment at Williams Avenue. I killed her. Joe Kennecott was in an apartment right across the hall. He must have seen me. That's why he chased me. I see. But there's one thing I'll never understand. He wasn't just trying to catch me. He was trying to kill me. I can't figure out why. At Whistler will be your signal for the signal oil program, The Whistler. Don't forget friends, beginning next Sunday, The Whistler will be heard every Sunday evening at 9.30 in California and Arizona and at 8.30 in other states. The Whistler is brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine quality automotive accessories. Featured in tonight's story were Frank Lovejoy and Wilms Herbert. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Harold Swanton and music by Wilbur Hatch and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.