The signal oil program. Yes, 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 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. Search for Maxine. For a long time he'd been standing in the darkened doorway across the street from the swank bachelor's club. As Ted Pomeroy struggled to make up his mind, he stared up at the second floor windows of the building and puffed nervously at a cigarette. It was the last thing he wanted to do, to go to cousin Walter for a favor. But there was nothing else he could do. Ted was a good newspaper man who'd suffered one bad break after the other through no fault of his own. But he always felt that someday the big opportunity would present itself. Now that opportunity had arrived, but he needed capital. And Walter Pomeroy was the only man he knew who had the kind of money he needed. Suddenly Ted flipped the cigarette into the street and hurried into the bachelor's club. Unnoticed by the desk clerk, he strolled across the lobby, up the stairs to the second floor, and stopped before the door of apartment 206. Come in, come in. Hello Walter. Well, well, well, Theodore, cousin Theodore. Well come in, come in. You're just in time for dinner. The boy will be up in a minute. No thanks, I haven't much time. I only stopped in for a minute. You mean you won't forget bygones to the extent of having dinner with me? Look, let's forget that stuff, shall we? We're grown up now, Walter. Sure, sure. Sit down. No, I won't be too long. Okay, sit yourself. How are things on the West's leading newspaper? Fine. You're getting paid regularly? Sure. Well then what's this visit for? Well, it's this way. A friend of mine, Dan Alvey, he's down in Portstown. Now look, here, here's a letter I got from him. He's buying a paper, their little country sheet, eight pages, twice a week. So? So he wants me to go in with him. It's just what I've been looking for, Walter. The place is growing. We can double the circulation in six months and with some of the ideas I have. What's the matter? What's so funny? You? How much, Ted? The price is ten thousand, I'll need half of it. Five thousand bucks. Walter, I'm asking you for a loan. You can have the whole plant for security. I'm not interested in newspapers. You mean you're not interested in me? Oh, I didn't say that. You're not interested in letting bygones be bygones. I didn't say that either. I thought we agreed to forget. Oh, I didn't agree to anything. Okay, Walter, okay. That answers my question. It's good for a laugh though. I thought you once said you'd never come to me even if you were starving to death. That's enough, Walter. You haven't had a couple of drinks too many. Five thousand bucks. You thought I just handed. That's enough, Walter. I'd like to. Hey, take your hands off me. Okay, Walter, you ass-bullet. I've owed you that for a long time, Walter. Sure, you're right. I was stupid. Get up, Walter. Walter. As you bend over him, you see the ugly gash in his right temple, where his head struck the edge of the fireplace. A cold wave of fear sweeps over you. You stare at him, unable to move to think. And suddenly you remember the beachhead at Salerno where you saw dead men often. You grasp Walter's pulse and feel nothing. I've killed him. The realization of what you've done overwhelms you, doesn't it? Slowly you turn, half stumble across the room to the door. Your only thought now is escape. Yes, escape. There's still a chance you can slip away unnoticed, isn't there, Ted? The desk clerk downstairs didn't see you come in. Now, if you can get out of the building without being seen, you'll be in the clear. You place your handkerchief over the knob door and turn it. Before you step out of the hall, you look back to give the room one last look, and then you see it. The telephone receiver is off the hook. Hello? Walter? Yeah, this is Walter. Look, when I want impersonations, I'll go see a floor show. Now, why don't you call your dear cousin Walter and tell him I'm getting tired of holding this telephone? Oh, I... who will I say is calling? He knows. I made that pretty clear before you barged into his apartment, Theodore. What... what makes you think I barged in? From this end, the dialogue sounded more like a brawl than a tea party. Come on, friend, put him on. Well, he... he's not here. He just stepped out. Then let me talk to Bill. Bill? Last name Putnam, Walter's business manager. You're supposed to have dinner there, or is he now administering first aid? He hasn't arrived. Listen, why don't you give me your name and number? I'll have... Walter already has it. I gave it to him a year ago at a moment of weakness. Your dinner, Mr. Pomeroy. Hello? Hello, are you still there? Listen, Walter won't be back. Call him later in the morning. Hey, what's going on? Mr. Pomeroy? You in there? Mr. Pomeroy? You tell yourself you haven't a chance. The bellboy out there pounding on the door, the girl on the phone who has heard everything, who can send you to the chair with a word. What's happened to Walter has changed your entire outlook, hasn't it, Ted? And suddenly the idea occurs to you. Walter must have her telephone number written down somewhere. You know you must get that girl to protect yourself. You search frantically for his telephone list. You find a gun in the top drawer of the desk and put it in your pocket. Then as you hear the bellboy rattling his keys outside, you find what you're looking for. A small brown leather book with some names and numbers in it. Just in time you jump for the door and slide behind it as it opens. Mr. Pomeroy? Mr. Pomeroy, what's the matter? Holy cow! Larry! Hey, Larry! The moment he turns the corner, you race for the back stairs two steps at a time and rush out into the alley. The cold air feels good on your face and you hurry away still unseen and safe. Except for the girl. Yeah, the news will be out in a matter of hours on the radio and the papers and when the girl learns about it, the quarrel she overheard on the telephone will tip her off and you know she'll go to the police. You can't have that, can you, Ted? I've got to find that girl, find her, stop her. With the prologue of Search for Maxime, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by The Whistler. Ponce de Leon spent his lifetime looking in vain for a spring whose waters would keep him young. Had he been looking for a prescription to keep cars young, I could have told him where to go. To a signal service station. Yes, signal dealers have just what the doctor ordered. Signal premium compounded motor oil for your engine and signal double check lubrication for your car's chassis. There are good reasons why signal premium compounded motor oil keeps that new car pep in your engine longer. Its 100% pure paraffin base is fortified with scientific new compounds that do so much more than just lubricate. As a result, signal premium cleanses your motor of carbon, gum and varnish, protects bearings against corrosion and does other important jobs that regular oil alone can't do. And when it comes to chassis care, signal double check lubrication is just as superior. Signal dealers use nine specialized lubricants to give each part on your car the exact type of protection it needs for long, trouble-free service. And they check each part not just once, but twice to make sure not a single part is overlooked. So when it's time for an oil change or a lube job, remember the place that has what it takes to keep your car young. Your signal service station. She's the only thing standing between you and freedom, isn't she Ted? The girl who overheard your quarrel with Walter Pomeroy. And when she finds out what's happened at Walter's apartment, you know that she'll notify the police. And you know too that you must prevent her from going to the police. You have only little time to find her and silence her. It's going to be difficult locating this girl, isn't it Ted? You don't know who she is. All you have is a small brown leather book with some names and phone numbers in it. Walter's memo book. A dozen names in it belong to women and you wonder which one is hers. As you step into a phone booth, you try to hold the sound of the girl's voice in your mind, hoping you'll know it when you hear it again. Hello? Annalene? Yes? This is uh Tom Sherman. Sherman? I'm sorry, I don't seem to remember. Catalina, we met there last summer. Oh you must have the wrong Annalene, Mr. Sherman. I haven't been to Catalina in years. Are you sure that you... No dice. Hello? I'd like to speak with Louise. She ain't in. If you're the guy who's been bothering her, let me tell you... Here it is. Let me see. Hildale 17375. Hello? May I speak with Janice? Sorry, she's not here. She's visiting in the east. Can I help you? No thanks. I'm sorry sir, your party does not answer. You say you're making a survey? Well my little head isn't much good at figures, but I'll surely be glad... Hello? Is this Maxine? That's right. Who's this? I was talking to you on the phone a little while ago. Oh yes, Theodore. You're the fella who hangs up in people's faces. Sorry, we were cut off, Angel. Knew you were so coy about giving me your phone number. I couldn't call you back. Uh-huh. So you went out and bought yourself a crystal ball? No, no. I just called up every girl in Walter's little book. Ashby 86347 was yours. Why did you do that? Well, maybe I wanted to see if the girl was as nice as her voice. How does one blush over the telephone? Look, why don't you save us both a lot of trouble, honey? Why don't you just tell me where I can meet you? I'd rather keep it this way. I can be pretty persistent. And I can be pretty stubborn. I'm sorry, Theodore. Oh, wait a minute. What's the music? Radio? No, it isn't the radio. Now look, you're a nice boy, I suppose, but I'm really too busy to play games. Won't you at least give me your last name? Some other time, baby. Bye. Maxine, wait! A feeling of panic sweeps over you as you stand there in the telephone booth, and something inside tells you to run, to take the next plane for anywhere. But you struggle against the urge and fight it down. You've been a reporter a long time, haven't you, Ted? Certainly long enough to know what happens to a man who runs. What you must do is coldly clear. You've got to find that girl, Ted. It's the only way. Hey. Yeah? Through the phone? Yeah, go ahead. Thanks. It'd bother you, but I gotta get hold of the little woman. Or I explain to her now, the less I'll have to do when I get home. Boy, they sure going all out in that parade, ain't they? Yeah, yeah. Parade? Excuse me. Sure, what's the matter? What was that you said about a parade? Well, like I said, a big parade coming up the street. Cross town traffic's had up for two hours. Coming by here? Yeah, bands down the street now. Band? That's what I heard over the phone. What? Nothing. Thanks. Thanks a lot. What? Yes, Ted, you notice them now. The crowds lining the curbs outside and down the street coming towards you is the brass band at the head of a parade. The same brass band that you heard over her telephone, passing so close by that it almost covered her voice. So you do know something about her, don't you, Ted? That she's someplace not far from the street, and the band had passed her at exactly one minute to nine. You remember looking at your watch. It's a chance, isn't it, Ted? A wild one, perhaps, but one that you must take. Excuse me, would you mind looking me through? Oh, goodness. If you're going to walk along with the parade, young man, why don't you get out there? You weren't listening, were you, Ted? You were threading your way along that sidewalk through the crowds for a very definite purpose, and you kept it up for a full block and then looked at your watch again. It took the parade a minute and 20 seconds to cover one block. Figuring it back, that meant they'd covered 13 blocks since passing the girl's telephone. Alvarado Street, Ted, that's where she was, probably in that big apartment house opposite the Signal Oil Station on the corner. Apartment 20, Jones. 21, Leibes. Apartment 20. What are you looking for, young man? Why, um, I was looking for Maxine. Maxine who? Why? There's no Maxine living here. I'd know. I'm the manager. It's all right. Thanks. Oh, there's a Maxine in the next apartment house. Oh, what number? Kind of funny the way you're snooping around here trying to find names and apartment numbers. What's this all about? What? You know, honey, is we just met an awfully nice kid, but I didn't get around to last names. Ah, girlfriend, huh? I'd like her to be. Ah, in that case, I wouldn't waste my time next door. The Maxine I'm talking about is 72. Your heart sinks, Ted, and you walk away. And the nameplates in the apartments on the rest of the block reveal no more Maxines. You're left with only one more possibility. A residence hotel in the middle of the block. You enter the place and decide to try to call her again. Walk past the cigarette counter in the lobby toward a row of phone booths in the rear. Just a minute, mister. What's the matter? There you go. Just want to use the phone. Oh, go ahead, but make it fast. This here's woman's hotel, house rule against men in the building after 11 on weeknights. Oh, I'll hurry it up. Thanks. The janitor doesn't notice, does he, Ted? But you're trembling as you fumble for a coin. Dial the girl's number again. Ashby, eight, six, three, four, seven. Hello? Hello, Maxine. Here we go again. What is it this time, Theodore? I'm still trying to wear you down. Because you like my voice? Right. I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm the only one. Because you like my voice? Right. And another thing. I think you live in the Grayson Arms. You're a remarkable detective. Give up? Why should I? I don't live at the Grayson Arms. I live on the other side of town. Wait now. Be honest with me, Maxine. I wish I knew why you're going to all this trouble. I told you I like your voice. Oh, sure. Hold it a minute, will you? Yeah, yeah, I'll be here. Yes, Ted, you'll be there, anxiously waiting and wondering too, won't you, Ted? Wondering if Maxine is lying, playing with you, knowing all the time what it was all about. Feeling of panic returns, doesn't it? You look out of the glass doors of the telephone booth across the marble floor to the cigarette stand by the entrance. Notice a man buying cigarettes from the girl at the counter. He leaves and another man comes in and you freeze, your heart standing still. It's the distributor with the early editions of the morning papers. You know what must be in those papers, but you can only stare as you wait for Maxine at the other end of the wire. Hello, Eddie. Hiya. Not ready to fold? Please, the paper's on the counter. Nice. Nice. Your mind is paralyzed, isn't it? With nothing sinking in. Not even as you see the girl at the counter some 30 feet away across the lobby. Turn and pick up a telephone receiver. Now let's see. Where were we, Theodore? You were stringing me along about living on the other side of town. Listen, Maxine, you've got to... Got to what? What's the matter, Theodore? You still there? Hello? Hello? Then it hits you, doesn't it? So hard that you almost shake, your hand grabbing the phone, your head tight. The girl you're talking to over the phone is the girl at the cigarette counter across the lobby. Maxine. Hello? Hello, Ted? A trembling, surging relief sweeps over you, all through you. You've found her, haven't you, Ted? At last you've found Maxine. You slump back in the booth, watch Maxine across the lobby. She keeps trying to talk into the phone, rouse you, and then finally she hangs up. You tell yourself that you'll wait there in the booth until she leaves and then follow her out. And then she reaches for something that makes you change your mind. You leave the booth and quickly cross the lobby. Wait, wait a minute. Yes? Uh, too late to sell me a pack of cigarettes? Afraid so, just locked up. Not even for an old friend? An old friend? You're two laps ahead of me. I've been calling you all evening. No. Yeah. So your cousin, Theodore. Disappointed? Crushed. I, I thought you'd be more like Walter. That's a compliment. Sorry now, I was so stubborn. How'd you find me? Crystal ball. Oh, you ought to get yourself a booth at the county fair. Do you really live across town? Mm-hmm. Worst looking house in the street. Good, then I, I can walk you home. My car's outside. Oh. It'll hold two. Let me get my hat and coat. Be back in a minute. Okay. As she moves off, your hand goes to the gun in your pocket. You take it out, check the clip. It's loaded. Ready. The car has a real break, isn't it Ted? It'll be much safer in the car. Hey. Yeah? Seen the girl who runs the cigarette counter here? Yeah, she's gone home. You sure? I saw her leave. How long ago? Five minutes, maybe. Hmm. That's funny. Okay. Thanks. Sure. A plain clothes detective. He has that look, hasn't he Ted? And you move after him. Quietly glance through the glass door to see him looking at a car parked out front and then... All set, Theodore. The car's right outside. Stay right there. What? What are you? That's right, it's a gun. Don't open your mouth. I'll kill you. I wonder. He's coming back. You'll find out in two seconds. All right. All right. Hey, what do you mean she's left? I checked outside and never go. Where'd that guy go? Hey, anybody here? Yeah. What's the matter? Where's the girl who takes care of the cigarette counter? She's still around here somewhere. The guy just told me she went home. Car's still outside. Oh, she ain't gone home. Ain't given me the keys yet for the morning girl. I take a look in the back room. Maybe she's getting her hat and coat. They're gone. Come on. That's Bill Putnam, Walter's business manager. Shut up or I'll kill you right here. Now get going. Where? Across the street. We're going to take a walk, a nice quiet walk in the park. We can be alone. No one will see what's going to happen. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Since Thursday will be St. Patrick's Day, you've no doubt been getting your Sheriff Killarney on today's radio programs. I had thought of describing how your friends would turn green with envy when you power your car with signal gasoline because today's signal drives the pings and sluggishness out of a motor like St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. Or I thought of reminding you that your wallet would feel lucky as a four-leaf clover because of signals good mileage. But sure and de gore when you buy gasoline, there's really just one thing that matters. You want to be sure that you're getting the tops in quality, the gasoline that helps your motor operate at top efficiency. And that's something you can determine with your own speedometer. After all, when your motor runs more efficiently, you not only enjoy quicker starting, faster pickup, and smoother knock-free power, but also more mileage. Good reason why we're so proud of signals famous mileage. And why we say to be sure of the tops in gasoline quality, there are just two things to remember. One, it takes extra quality to go farther. And two, signal is the famous go farther gasoline. You tell yourself that this is the way it's got to be, don't you Ted? Yes, from the moment you realized that Maxine could send you to the chair because of the quarrel she heard over the telephone. You quarrel with Walter. You knew you had to find her and silence her. Now as you follow her into the park, your hand grips the gun in your pocket. It'll be over quickly, won't it? Simply, coldly, and you'll be away and free. As you reach the protective shadowy darkness of the park, Maxine stops, turns calmly to face you. There's a look on her face, a look that could haunt you for the rest of your life. And then suddenly you know, you know that lover or hater, you simply cannot kill her. Get away Maxine. I'm not gonna do what I can. Oh Ted. Come on get away. Do what I said, get away now before I change my mind. No Ted, come on. Let's sit down here. I think you'd better tell me everything. It's all over, isn't it Ted? You know that whatever it is that's in a murderer isn't in you. And you can't bring yourself to kill Maxine. Now you sit with her on a park bench. You've told her the whole story. I didn't mean to do it Maxine. I could never hate Walter that much or anyone. I know. Cigarettes? Thanks. And now what Ted? I'll have to take my medicine, turn myself in. I'll just find an officer. You won't have to Ted. Look, coming down the path. Bill Putnam. There's a policeman with him. Maxine, Maxine, where the devil have you been? The officer on the beaten knife and looking all over. Bill, this is Ted Pomeroy, Walter's cousin. Well that's a break. I've been trying to locate you too Ted. It's about Walter. They've got him down at City Hospital. Hospital? Then he isn't. Some lug busted into his apartment tonight and hit him over the head. Walter says he never saw the guy before. Funny thing, nothing stolen, no sign of him. Maxine, Maxine, did you hear? Yes, I heard. Everything's all right now. Well, how about coming down to the hospital with me Ted? Walter wants to see you. He keeps asking about you. Something about investing in a newspaper. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Each Sunday, the Whistler will be on the road to the hospital. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Each Sunday night at the same time. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil and fine quality automotive accessories. During the current Red Cross drive, Signal Oil Company has asked me to remind you, it's the little contributions each one of us make which enable the Red Cross to be of such big help in time of need. Featured in tonight's story were Rye Billsbury, Doris Singleton and Joseph Kearns. The Whistler was produced by George W Allen and directed by Gordon T Hughes with story by Harold Swanton and music by Wilbur Hatch and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. All characters portrayed on the Whistler program are fictional. Any similarity of names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember at the same time next Sunday another strange tale by the Whistler. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS the Columbia Broadcasting System.
