The Whistler. And now the Whistler's strange story. Murder in Paradise. High in the Sierras, a lone hawk circled over Mirror Lake. Its beady eyes fixed on a white patch, moving slowly through the blue waters below. From the narrow road that ran along the lake's edge, another pair of eyes followed the patch of white. Watched the girl emerge from the water and remove the white bathing cap. Saw the mass of red hair fall on tan shoulders, now glistening in the bright sunlight. The eyes belonged to Danny Williams, who stood there looking at the girl in the yellow bathing suit. Then as she sat down at the edge of the long wooden pier, he shifted the heavy suitcase from one hand to the other, and darted through the trees toward her. As he emerged at the edge of the lake, he walked into the range of another pair of eyes, looking through field glasses, trained on the scene from a point a quarter of a mile away. Hello. I'm looking for Paradise Inn. You know where it is? Uh-huh. You a salesman? Do I look like one? Oh, in a way. Are you? In a way. I don't think they'll be interested in buying any brushes. Thanks for the tip, but I'm still looking for the inn. Got a cigarette? Sure. I'm smoking it. How'd you ever get to be so charming? Locred, they told me in the village the inn was a mile up the road. So you know. Why come to the lake to ask me? It was a bathing suit. On the road, I couldn't believe it. Like it? I've seen more material in a pen wiper. The inn's over there. Take the side road. Thanks. See it? Nothing wrong with my eyes. From the way you've been staring at me, I thought you might have strained them. A quarter of an hour later, you arrive at the roadhouse, a low, white frame building sitting back silently in the shadows of the giant redwood. This is it, isn't it, Danny? Paradise Inn, where you're going to spend the next three months pounding the piano for Johnny Hedges. Your first job, Danny, since the prison gates closed behind you. Gave you back your freedom. And you've made up your mind that it will never happen again. You're going to stay out of trouble. That's all you can think about as you cross the parking area, mount the wooden stairs, and walk along the veranda. There's a musty odor in the air. You set your suitcase down by the front door. The entrance hall is empty, silent except for the buzz of flies against the sun-drenched window. You make your way across the deserted dining room, past the battered upright piano, and push open the swinging doors at the far end of the room. The short gray-haired man at the sink turns, peers at you over his glasses, and then begins to wipe his hands on the soiled apron. I am sorry, Danny. Hi, where'll I find the boss? Oh, he'll be around. You must be the new piano player. That's right, Danny Williams. Williams. Danny Williams. You've never heard of me before. I'm Gus Peters. I do the cooking. Sit down, sit down. Thanks. He didn't meet you at the bus stop, huh? Who's he? Mr. Hedges? Hedges? No. How about a cold beer? You look like a good drinker. Got any milk? Milk? Say, you sure you're the piano player? I said I was. Ulcers? No ulcers. The cows need publicity. Yeah, I'll see if that's what you want. Why didn't somebody meet me at the bus stop? It's a long hike out in this heat. Well, I can't drive for one thing. Never could learn how. Slade is still sleeping, I guess. He wouldn't go after you anyway. And the boss had other things to do. Must have outside interests. Ain't business so much that keeps Mr. Hedges busy. It's keeping up with his wife that's got him going. His wife? Yep. Don't let her out of your sight much. Hey, you want a sandwich or something? No, not I. He doesn't trust you. Real jealous, you know. Thinks every man he talks to is going to take her away from him. How about a piece of pie? No, no, no. This will do. Yeah? We sure have been having a fast turnover of piano players around here. They couldn't stay away from her. It's the, uh, the perfume, huh? Uh-huh. Yeah. There's only two men around here who ain't ever been bothered by Mr. Hedges. Me and Andy Slade. You'll meet him. He works here in the back. How does he manage to resist? Ain't never been able to figure it out. Me strictly business in the natural cold fish. Uh, you leave your stuff on the verandah, Danny? Yeah. I'll take it up. Your room's in the attic next to mine. Don't bother. No bother. Just going upstairs in a few minutes anyway. Take a little snooze. Any objection if I try the piano on for size? No, go ahead. Yeah. Thanks. Uh, August? Uh, Danny? Yeah? Stay away from her, son. Just stand to your piano and you'll be all right. Yeah. Yeah, sure. Hello. So this is what you sell? Yep. Strictly music. You, uh, you play very well. Much better than the others. Thanks. I knew you would. I could tell by your hands. You're different. I bet you were a child prodigy. I was born a poor but honest peasant in the Bronx. My mother scrubbed floors so I could have piano lessons. She thought I'd become a concert pianist, but didn't work out. Don't cry. I just made that up. Who kicked you while you were down, music man? Look, Red, the story of Danny Williams is sort of dull. You wouldn't be interested. Now why don't you go back to the lake? You're very rude. Business is business, Mrs. Hedges. Oh. Oh. You know who I am? Yeah, the boss' wife. Period. What does that mean? It means I need the job and I don't like wives that are on the prowl. You ought to fast with your mitts, aren't you, baby? You're off to a great start, Flan. Who are you? I'm not Johnny Hedges, if that's what you're worried about. Relax, Flan. I'm Andy Slade. Andy Slade. I got the gambling concession off that. Welcome to Paradise. It's an unusual job, isn't it, Danny? One of the strangest you've ever had. You never bargained for this sort of thing when you first accepted it. Johnny Hedges' roadhouse at Mirror Lake didn't seem to suggest the danger and intrigue that suddenly presents themselves. Lucille and the way you met her on the boat dock, the warning from Gus, and now the coldly calculating gambler Andy Slade stands at your side with the strangest greeting you've ever received. Like I said, Williams, you're off to a great start. But here only are now and the boss' wife slaps your face. Political discussion, wasn't it? Yeah, you might call it that. Some dames get mad if you don't whistle at them. Anything else on your mind? No, nothing, except the boss wants to see you. We've been up there in the office listening to you. He thinks you're good. And you don't? Well, I keep telling him he'd be better off with a jukebox. Nobody ever heard of a jukebox making a play for a dame. You know what I mean? I know what you mean. Just let me give you a tip. Save it. It's all I've been getting ever since I come here. Okay, okay, it's your funeral. But Hedges is getting a little sick and tired of hearing the wolf call. He said he wanted to see me. Yeah, up the stairs there on your right. Thanks. Oh, William. Yes? It's nice to have you with us. I think you'll get to like it here. That is, if you stay long enough. Come in, William. Come in. Your gambling concession said you wanted words. That's right. I just want to iron out a few things before you start. Now, you're an ex-con on parole. That's been ironed out the past three years, Ticker, but I'm here to play the piano and that's all. Yeah. Yeah, that's all you're here for. Just remember that. Some of the others didn't. Oh, I love music. I'm glad to hear it, William. I'm glad to hear it. It'll save us both a lot of headaches. All right. Now, you'll play in the dining room from eight till closing time. You take the breaks to suit yourself. Won't be a lot of people in the dining room. Sometimes there may not be any at all. I'm not fussy. And another thing you might as well know from the start. I don't make my money from the dining room. Not much on the bar either. I didn't think you did. I got a place fixed up on the back. Dice table, roulette wheel. Andy Slade runs that end of it. Not going to affect you one way or the other. Sure. Well, at all. Yeah. Yeah, you met everyone, have you? Yeah, Slade and Gustaf Cook. And my wife. We were talking to her down there in the pier a couple hours ago. Yeah. No one picked me up at the bus stop, so I had to walk. I was asking directions. Uh-huh. All right, William, just remember what I said. You stick to your piano play and we're going to get along fine. If you get bored, let me know. I'll buy you a book. That night you play for a half a dozen couples in the dining room. And more than once during the evening, your thoughts turn to Lucille. She means trouble, doesn't she, Danny? And you don't intend to have any. You're going to stay clear of her. You're going to play it safe with Johnny Hedges, her husband. You have no intention of winding up in the lake with a bullet in your head or back in a prison cell. In the nights that follow, you become accustomed to the habits of the Paradise customers. Learn when to be on hand, when you can slip away for a quiet smoke or a chat with Gus. And then one night in the middle of the second week, you go out on the veranda and light up a cigarette. Hello, Danny. Oh, hello. You've done a good job these past ten days. Thanks. Of staying away from me, I mean. I catch on quick. You don't know what it is to feel out of place. Over drives all by yourself. And it walks along the beach. You do that? Almost every night after the customers leave. The cove on the North Shore. Why? Oh, I don't know. Get away, I guess. And your husband? For myself, maybe. I don't know, Danny. I'm just confused sometimes. Yeah, I'd say so, too. Excuse me, William. I've got to go confuse some customers. You leave her, Danny. Go back to your keyboard and the cocktail concerto. But somehow through the evening, the haze of music, the laughter in the smoke-filled room, there's something that haunts you, keeps drifting back like broken parts of an old refrain. Almost every night after the customers leave. The cove on the North Shore. It stays with you, Danny. That night and into the next until after you've finished playing, unable to fight down the urge, you find yourself slipping away, taking a rowboat and crossing the lower tip of the lake in the half darkness. At the cove, you look around and there's no sign of her. You call yourself a fool and wonder why you came out here when you promised yourself to stay out of trouble. You're about to turn back when... Danny, over here. Oh, oh, yeah. We can set that out here. Yeah. I'll pull the boat up, boys. That's better. I really don't know why I came. I'm glad you did, Danny. Glad to have somebody talk to me. But I don't want to get you into trouble. Any harm in just talking? You wouldn't think we were just talking. I've heard about it for a while now. I see. Sounds nice the way you think. Does it? You know, Danny, you're not as hard as you pretend. No? If you were, you wouldn't have rowed way out here to meet me. Danny. Yeah? Don't do it again. You'll lose your job. No, it's a job and with a piano needs trouble. But it can cause you trouble. Danny, you've got to ignore me after this. I didn't exist. If it's any other way, you won't last here. Not at all. Is that why Slade lasted? Slade and I hated each other from the first. Johnny knows that. That's why I give Slade anything he wants. Nice guy, your husband. Charming as a meat-axe. Please, Danny, I want you to understand because... because I'm going to avoid you. You sound like a magazine ad. Oh, Danny. Danny, why did you come here? Why? Oh, I don't know. Voice scouting stuff, maybe. There's nothing we can do. Who can't lead and he'd follow me. Bring me back. What if he doesn't want to come back? You don't know him. He'd kill me, Danny. I know. Believe me, I know. Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, Lucille, give me a little time to think about it. You're in a tough spot. Maybe I can help you. I got a merit badge once for pathfinding. When you leave her, Danny, and start the long road back across the lake, you remember a promise. One that you made to yourself about staying out of trouble. And you ask yourself if this is the way. When you arrive at the boat dock, you're convinced that it must end right here. As you're going up the path toward the roadhouse, you pass a small cottage in back of the inn. And suddenly you're aware of voices arguing, and you stop to listen. You go for all the light. You must come back. I don't sleep. I just go. Easy, son. Where are you going? Gus. I've been waiting to warn you. I just know she met somebody. Good thing you didn't ride back with her in the car. Come on, Danny. Let's go back to the inn. Look, Gus, I got... Come on, Danny. Yeah. I've been in Vegas for a minute. I had the crazy idea I should be butting in. You'd better stay clear of that setup, Danny. She's his wife. Not yours, you know. I'll just play the piano here, sure. That's what you get paid for. Okay, okay. Just forget everything else, son. Forget everything. Except that you're the guy who wants to stay out of trouble. If old Gus expected the passage of hours to make any difference, he was wrong, wasn't he, Danny? Even without seeing Lucille all that next day, you can't get her off your mind. The struggle within you goes on, and the following night as your hands move across the keyboard when you entertain the late dinner crowd. And then shortly after 1 in the morning, she comes in, moves quickly across the room, and as she goes past you at the piano, there's a quickly whispered message. I've got to see you, Danny. I'll be back. Come as quickly as you can. You continue playing as if nothing happened. You're not going to be able to play the piano. You're not going to be able to play the piano. You're not going to be able to play the piano. You're not going to be able to play the piano. You continue playing as if nothing happened. You've made up your mind, haven't you, Danny? You know it was a mistake meeting her at the cove, and you're not going to repeat that mistake, are you? Danny. Lucille. Danny, I had to see you. Sure. Danny, I can't stand it any longer. Danny, someone's coming. Wow. Hello. Easy. I thought I told you to stick to your piano playing, music man. Leave us alone, Lucille. Go back inside. Danny, I'm afraid... Go on. Yeah, beat it, Lucille. Because right now I'm going to go to work on him. As Johnny Hedges comes out of the darkness after you, there's a flash of a knife blade. You lunge for it. It's like a nightmare, isn't it, Danny? All out of focus, unreal. A strange, struggling sensation. There's the fleeting memory of the knife falling on the path, and then movement over which you have no control. Blows falling, exchanging, a dull thud, and then... Danny. Danny, are you all right? I hate him because he's so stupid. I hate him because he came at me and I hit him with this... I know. Drop it, Danny. Drop it. Come on, son. You've got to get out of here. No, wait. He's... He's still alive, Danny. You've got to get away before... No, it was self-defense. I can tell him that. They won't believe you. You're an ex-car... It doesn't make any difference. I can't leave him like this no matter what happens to me. I'm going to get him to a hospital. Come on, help me get him to his car. I've got to try to keep him that way. Somehow you manage to get him into his car, and through it all you know that Gus is right. The trouble you wanted to escape, you're now inviting, asking for. But as you back the car onto the road with hedges in the seats beside you, all you can think of is saving him, and then suddenly you're aware of Lucille at the window of the car. Danny. Danny, what are you doing? I've got to get him to a hospital. He'll die if I don't. No, Danny, they'll arrest you. They'll say you killed him. It was self-defense. They won't believe you. I can't let you do it. Please, Danny, if you love me, you'll leave him here and get away. You do love me, don't you, Danny? I'm taking him to the hospital, Lucille. Danny! Danny, no! He leaps back as the car moves forward. You catch a fleeting glimpse of her face, white, drawn, concerned, and then it's gone, and you're aware of hedges beside you, breathing softly but steadily. And as your foot presses down on the accelerator, you realize that your own strength is fading fast. The struggle, Danny, the pounding you took, it's telling now as you fight to hold the car on the road. Moments later, a flash of light caught in the rearview mirror, it blurs your vision. In the haze, the fog that envelops your brain, you think you hear Lucille's voice. Her face seems to float close to you out of the darkness. Danny! Danny, listen to me. Stop the car! No, no, Lucille. Danny, the car's a-go! Is he coming around, Doc? Yes. He's going to be all right. I'd better call the lieutenant. Lieutenant? Police? Take it easy, son. Oh, gosh. That's where I'm at. The hospital, Danny. You've been unconscious for over 12 hours. Hedges. Look, what about Hedges? Hedges is dead. Trouble, Danny. You were headed for it the day you walked up the road to Paradise Inn. No matter how hard you struggled and tried to avoid it, it was there all around you closing in. Because you couldn't stay with your music and leave Lucille alone. He couldn't help it either, could she, Danny? You're sure of that. But it doesn't matter now. Because instead of helping her, you've ruined everything. Her husband is dead, and you'll be blamed, won't you, Danny? They'll never believe it was self-defense, not with your past record. You lie back on the white hospital bed. Listen, Danny. The doc will be bringing the police back in a minute. Yeah, I know. Hedges. Well, this is it. I have to tell him, cousin. You don't have to tell him anything. You didn't kill him. You only knocked him out, Danny. He broke his neck in that car crash. You were crowded off the road, son. What? Lucille Hedges. She was trying to stop you. Lucille? Is she all right? No. She was killed, too. Oh. It was my fault, because she was in love with me. No, she wasn't. You played it straight. She didn't. She framed you, Danny. Set that meeting there behind the roadhouse with you, knowing her husband would find you together. What? She wanted you to kill him. Didn't care what happened to you. I don't believe it. That's why she didn't want you to make it to the hospital. She wanted him dead. My gosh. It was so she could be free for the guy who was driving the car after you last night. He was killed with her. Who? The one guy nobody figured. Slade. Andy Slade. The only guy she was ever crazy about. The Whistler has been a presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education. Like many teachers, she would not give you the money to go with onde revenge so it was to keep your good will. That's poor you. A plasticard guy in this class. You'd love to do this. That's what you'd do if you did? Mm hmm. Forgive her. But she seems sick. Your breed. You couldn't honestly have it. You wouldn't be doing that.
