And now stay tuned for the program that has rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history. The Signal Oil Program, The Whistler. Signal, the famous go-farther gasoline, invites you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by The Whistler. For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies 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. And now The Whistler's strange story, Death in 16 millimeter. The buzz of conversation in the little seaside cafe was low enough to permit the nearby sound of the surf to be heard. Paul Benton looked past the girl sitting across from him. Watch the water for a moment, quietly and thoughtfully, remembering the first time he told her that he loved her. It was two years ago, Cynthia. Two years, Paul? Mm-hmm, the first time we came here. After your uncle died and I began to manage the estate. Oh, yes. You did so much more, Paul. I don't know what I would have done. I have tried, Cynthia. It can't just end. After these weeks of not seeing you, I know I couldn't stand it. It must end. You know that, too. Why, if Edith ever found out that, well, that things have gone beyond a mere attorney and client relationship, she... But she hasn't found out, Paul. She doesn't have to, ever. I'm sorry, dear, but I think too much of you to just go on and on this way. You really mean that, Paul? Can you question it? No. No, oh, Paul, I can't give you up. But, darling, there's just nothing else to do, nothing else for either of us. That is, as long as Edith is my wife. Oh, Paul, darling, there must be a way out. We've got to find that way. There must be a way out. Yes, Paul. You have her thinking in the right direction, haven't you? The way the tears mounted quickly to her eyes. Then that odd little look of determination, of hate, almost. The plan you've figured out is beginning to work, isn't it, Paul? It's like those waves outside the Cove Cafe. Almost ready to break out into the open, smash against the rocks, wash everything clear. Your unhappy marriage, your confused, disinterested relationship with Cynthia, a relationship that would have remained strictly attorney and client, if it hadn't been for Cynthia's money, wouldn't it, Paul? Yes. But money is all important to you, and some of Cynthia's is almost within your grasp, as you carefully urge things further along, increase the tide of Cynthia's emotions, urge her to the brink of murder. I've thought and thought about this, Cynthia. You know how much I want you. Last night I begged Edith her divorce. Paul, you risked letting her know about us. Oh, I didn't mention you. I just said I was in love with someone else. Oh, darling. Oh, I'd have risked anything if I thought it would do any good, but it won't. She refused me. She'll always refuse me as long as she lives. I wish I'd dared talk to her. No, Cynthia. Don't ever let her know it's you, Cynthia, because talking to her won't do any good, I'm certain of it. Edith and I have become fairly good friends, Paul. If I could get her out someplace where just the two of us... It's useless, I tell you. There's no way, Cynthia, no way in this world. I'm not so sure, Paul. I'm not so sure. Cynthia, what do you mean? Nothing. Nothing, Paul. It's late. You'd better take me home. It's going well, isn't it, Paul? Smoothly. And you know exactly what's in Cynthia's mind. You're certain of it the way she kisses you goodnight. No, Paul, she hasn't any intention of giving you up. If you had any doubts, they'd dispel the following day when you overhear a telephone conversation from the extension in your den. A very interesting conversation between Cynthia and your wife, Edith. Hello? Edith, darling, it's Cynthia. Cynthia, I haven't heard from you in weeks. I've been wondering if anything was wrong. I've been busy, that's all. I wondered, dear, could you go sailing with me tomorrow out off the point? Oh, I'd like to, Cynthia, but you know I'm not a good sailor. Being such a poor swimmer, I... Darling, you'll be with me, an expert skipper. Could we do something else? Maybe go for a drive? Edith, we must talk someplace where we won't be interrupted. What? I wasn't going to say this until I saw you, but it's important. Why don't you tell me now? Please don't question me over the phone. Meet me at the boat tomorrow at ten. All right. Edith? Yes? I wouldn't say anything about this meeting. Don't let anyone see you. I won't, Cynthia. I'll be there tomorrow at ten o'clock. I'll be waiting, darling. I'll be glad to get this off my mind. MUSIC Dorothy Elliott of South Pasadena is the Whistler fan who sent in tonight's limerick. There once was a man from Portland Old whose car was sluggish and mighty slow till he tried his first tankful of Signal Ethel. And is he thankful? Now that old car has real get up and go. Signal, signal, signal gasoline. Your car will go far, will go far the gasoline. Tonight's limerick really doesn't exaggerate the wonderful things that happen to most cars' performance when they switch to Signal Ethel. For whether your car is a new high compression beauty or a bit on the tired side, this Signal Super Fuel is scientifically engineered to help you enjoy the very maximum in pick up, power and ping free smoothness. In fact, many drivers never realize what a sweet automobile they own until they try their first tankful of Signal Ethel. That's why I'd like to suggest this little experiment. Wait until your gas tank is almost empty, then fill up and see if you don't agree that your car is a better car with Signal Ethel. Music Well, Paul, so Cynthia is planning a sailing trip with Edith, a secret one, with a promise of telling you something about you. You're certain that it can have all but one meaning, and it can't happen soon enough to fit in with your own plans for some of Cynthia's wealth. At least $100,000, Paul. Perhaps even more later on. But there's still one more move, isn't there? That evening takes you downtown to an out of the way studio apartment, which serves as a base of operations for a client and friend of yours, a commercial motion picture producer, Fred Mason. I'm afraid I don't get this, Benton. I don't get it at all. What's the matter, Fred? You've never questioned any other deal that's been offered you? This isn't nearly as unusual as most. Sure, I take pictures of lots of things. But this doesn't sound so good. $10,000 sounds good, doesn't it? Yeah, but sometimes it depends on how you earn it. Music You could afford to move away from all that racket. Oh, it doesn't bother me. Dust the milk train, let the guy know what time it is. Quit stalling, Fred. Business hasn't been good and you know it. All you have to do is take a half a reel or so of movies for a client of mine. Yeah, movies of what? Not commercial, I'll bet. Not exactly. You see, my client believes the wife of a friend of his is going to meet with an unfortunate accident. Wait a minute. If this is murder, I don't want any part of it. Who said anything about murder? Besides, you wouldn't be involved. I just want your pictures for proof in case it should happen. Why doesn't your client's friend save himself a lot of trouble and just get himself a divorce? He thought of that. His wife won't give him one. Now, it seems that he has a girlfriend who's the jealous type and she's taking the wife sailing tomorrow. Where? Off Fisherman's Point, you know the spot. Tomorrow morning, sometime after 10. My friend has a feeling something will go wrong. So I want you around in another boat with a movie camera to get pictures of the whole thing. What for? Well, like I said, for proof. Sounds more like blackmail. Look, suppose I did go along and nothing happened. There's still a thousand in a toil. But if there is an accident, your client will pay me 10,000 for the picture. And for keeping your mouth shut. Why don't you do it yourself? I've seen some pretty good stuff you've shot. I want a professional job. It's safer. Then there's the developing of the film. Look, I'll do a lot for dough, but like I said, you can handle it. I don't think you're getting mixed up in any murder. You're forgetting something, aren't you, friend? What? That little hit-and-run accident you were involved in last week. The one you came to see me about. You told me to keep quiet unless something came up. Yes, yes. At the time, silence seemed like the best defense. But since the victim died, I'm not sure it isn't my duty to report it to the authorities. You can still count me out, Paul. There's not enough money in the world to mix me up in a deal like that. But I'll forget you were here tonight, if that'll help any. All right, friend. If that's the way you feel about it, just forget it. Forget the whole thing. Well, Paul, Fred Mason wasn't as easy as you thought he'd be. You're surprised and disappointed that he wouldn't go through with the deal. For it leaves just one answer, doesn't it? You'll have to use your own movie camera, develop your own film. Do the whole job yourself. In a rented fishing boat, you follow Edith and Cynthia's course. A mile down from the point, there's a vast formation of rocks. And Cynthia skillfully sails amidst them to gain protection from anyone watching from shore, approaching the area behind them. You cut the motor, allow the current to carry you along quietly until you drift into a commanding but protected position. A telescopic lens does the rest as the whole scene appears in the camera finder. Cynthia pointing suddenly to divert Edith's attention and quickly shifting the sail. Edith is hit squarely and topples overboard. Cynthia dives in as if to help. But actually, she merely watches Edith's feeble struggles until she goes under. Then it's all over with Cynthia sailing off alone. Minutes later, piloting in and out between the rocks, you navigate to the spot. React excitedly as you see Edith struggling back to the surface, the tide helping her toward the rocks. She might make it and hold on, but you take care of that. You swing the boat around. You catch her with a bow. Yes, yes, it's really complete now, isn't it, Paul? All over. For good. It isn't easy in the week that follows. The recovery of the body. Your seeming grief, the funeral. A couple of weeks later, you decide it's time. Phone Cynthia and drop by her apartment. Another cocktail, Paul? No, thanks, Cynthia. Just a cigarette. Light? Thanks. Why did you ask me to set up my movie projector, Paul? I have some pictures, some last shots of Edith. Oh. I developed them myself. Quite a process. Poor Edith. The stuff came out a little rough, but clear enough to make me glad I have them. I understand, dear. Paul, you do need a drink. I'll get more ice. Okay. Maids off tonight, isn't she? That's right. Taking advantage of Cynthia's absence, you open a desk drawer, take out Cynthia's.22 revolver and slip it into your pocket. Cynthia bought it a year ago after a series of robberies of wealthy women. She's never touched it since. You're sure she's even forgotten it. But you feel safer knowing it's no longer in her possession. You're sitting down again as she comes back into the room. There. Just help yourself if you want anything. Okay, thanks, Cynthia. Paul, you've been wonderful about everything. I know what a shock Edith's death was to you. It was to me, too. I...I can't help but feel I'm to blame. Drop the act, Cynthia. Edith's death wasn't an accident. Wasn't an accident? I don't know what you mean. Oh, yes, you do, Cynthia. And I have the evidence to prove it. Paul, you're not inferring that it's not... As I said, I have the evidence. I'll switch off the light and you'll see what I mean. Why, it's a movie of Edith and me. Sure. You are the star. But how did you... This scene coming up is my favorite. The one where you deliberately push Edith overboard. What's the matter, Cynthia? Don't you like it? Stop it! Shut it up! Okay. Paul, you won't believe it. I planned to tell you about everything later. You said you'd marry me if anything ever happened to Edith. I know. And it turned out exactly as I thought it would when I said it. Something did happen to Edith. Yes, darling. And in a little while we can get married. That's what we wanted. Well, not exactly. I never figured on marrying you, Cynthia. Not at all. You see, I'm in love with someone else. Paul, you can't... Paul, you planned it from the beginning. All the things you said about loving me. It was a big joke with you, wasn't it? You never cared about me at all. Oh, I wouldn't go there. I like you a lot. So much that if you were to give me, say, $100,000... I wouldn't even tell the police about what happened. I'd even give you the pictures, too. The negatives. $100,000? I've already picked out the stocks you can sell to raise the cash amount. But, Paul... But you can sell the first thing in the morning. Then you'll have plenty of time to get the cash for me before the bank's closed. Let's say tomorrow evening, shall we, Cynthia? Back at your apartment, you congratulate yourself. The money is as good as yours, isn't it, Paul? You pour yourself a drink, settle back in your favorite chair... and think of all you can do with $100,000. And then... Hello, Paul. Well, Fred Mason. How about asking me in? Oh, sure, sure. Come in. Sit down. I'll mix you drinks. Oh, no, no. Don't bother. This isn't a social visit. I got the thinking over the little deal you offered me. Decided it was an easy way to pick up $10,000 after all. You're a little late, Freddie. I didn't want to disappoint my client, so I took the pictures myself. Maybe you like mine better. What? I was fishing further down, you see. You took pictures, too? Mm-hmm. Of you, Paul. Finishing Edith off with your bull. How much do you want? $10,000. When? Tomorrow's still enough. And if I can't raise the $10,000? Oh, I know another party who'd come across right away. A lady named Cynthia Winders. Okay, Fred. I'll have it for you tomorrow. Good. Bring it to my apartment around 5 o'clock. I'll be there. Okay, here's your money, Fred. Let's have the pictures. Sure, as soon as I count this. Oh, looks pretty. Well, okay. Your film's on the desk. Projector's in the other room. If you want to run it, make sure it's all there. I'll check on that later. Right now, there's a little favor I'd like to ask you to do for me. What kind of favor? I want you to write a letter to Cynthia saying you won't give her the print or the negative of the film she wants unless she pays you $100,000. And that if you don't get the dough by tomorrow, you'll take the pictures to the D.A. What are you trying to pull? I'm not that crazy. You won't write it? Not on your life. Maybe this will help you change your mind. What? Now, wait a minute. Put down that gun. Ah, ah, Fred. I won't put it down until you write the letter. Now walk over to that typewriter and sit down. Uh-huh. Very good. Now, one other thing, Fred. This print you gave me of the film, it isn't enough. I'll have to have the negative. Uh, well, that'll cost you more. I figured you'd pull something like that, Fred. That's why I made you write the letter before I brought the matter up. And that's why I brought along this gun. You won't shoot as long as you don't have the negative. You're wrong. I will. You'd never get away with it. Somebody would hear you. You've forgotten about the milk train, Fred. The one that tells you what time it is. I timed it over very carefully. It'll cover the sound of a shot easily. No. And this is Cynthia's gun. They'll pin this on her. Maybe figuring you were blackmailing her. You've got it all figured, haven't you? Uh-huh. There's still the negative. Oh, I know. It's here in your apartment someplace. You'd better play it smart, Fred, and give it to me, then I won't have to shoot. You're bluffing. Uh-uh. There's not much time left. How about it? Okay, Fred, if that's the way you want it... No, no, wait. Wait, don't. I'll give it to you. The negative's there in the middle desk drawer. Yeah. You're all right. Well, thanks, Fred. That's all I wanted to know. Wait. Wait. You said you wouldn't do it. You said you wouldn't do it. Sorry, Fred. I say a lot of things. You make sure you have the negative and all the prints of Fred's film. Then you walk to the fireplace, touch a match to the edge of the blackmail note which Fred typed, and snuff it out quickly so that the police will think Cynthia attempted to burn it. You're having to alter your plans as far as Cynthia's money is concerned, aren't you, Paul? You'll have to be satisfied with a hundred thousand because Cynthia's arrest for the murder of Fred Mason will close the source of any future supply. You decide to get the money as soon as possible. You're sure Fred's body won't be discovered for several hours. So you look quickly around the studio, wipe the fingerprints from everything you've touched, shut the door, and hurry outside. You hurl Cynthia's gun into a small flowerbed as though Cynthia had hidden it. But, well, you're sure the police will find it. Then you hurry home, destroy Fred Mason's films, and phone Cynthia. Yes? Hello, Cynthia. Paul. Paul. How are things? Ready to complete our little deal? Yes, Paul. I'm ready. You've got everything for me? Everything. Paul. Good. I'll be there in just a few minutes. I'll be careful. Goodbye. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. You're used to having announcers try to sell you something, but tonight we're turning the tables. We want you to sell your signal dealer something. And that something is the unused mileage in any smooth old tires you have on your car. What's more, signal dealers in most cases pay you more per mile for that unused, unsafe mileage in your old tires than you now pay for safe, carefree miles in new first-line Lee tires. That probably sounds amazing. In fact, it is amazing. So amazing that signal dealers are now selling more new Lee Super Deluxe tires than at any time since the war. And what super tires these are. Made of cold rubber, toughened still further with patented fill black oil, today's Lee's actually wear 30 to 40 percent longer than ever before. So don't be penny-wise and pound foolish if the tread on your present tires is getting smooth. Don't miss this opportunity to sell that remaining unsafe mileage for today's highest price. Ask your signal dealer for his trade-in offer. You'll be surprised how little it will cost to trade your old unsafe tires for safe new Lee tires at Signal Service Station. So, Paul, at last your plan is going to pay off. As you sit across the room from Cynthia and her Malibu beach house, you're sure everything is going to be all right. Yes, because you're completely in the clear and then... I have a disappointment for you, Paul. I'm not giving you the money. Now, wait a minute, Cynthia. The police will be very interested in that film. They'll be more interested in the last half. The part where you kill Edith with your boat. What? You see, Paul, a man named Fred Mason came to see me a few days ago. His price was a lot cheaper than yours and his merchandise much better. A double-cross. Clever picture man, isn't he? Why don't you see how clever, Paul? I have the projector set up for you. Another print. He made another print. I wouldn't be surprised if he made several prints. And the part where you become the star is ready to go. Go on. Run it off, Paul. What are you going to do, Cynthia? I haven't quite decided. You're in the first half of this film. If you showed it to the police, you'd only implicate yourself. Uh-huh. But the picture also proves I didn't really kill Edith. I might be able to talk myself out of my part in it. You couldn't. Look, Cynthia, I... Who's that? How would I know? Whoever it is, you're the impatient type. Cynthia Winters? Yes? Lieutenant Blake, homicide. Oh? After what you did this afternoon, I somehow didn't expect to find your home. What do you mean? You're under arrest, Miss Winters, for murder. Oh, but there must be some mistake. No mistake. We know you did it. What's going on, Cynthia? Who's this man? Who are you? I'm Paul Benton, Miss Winters' attorney. You better be a good one. She's going to need it. I'm Lieutenant Blake, homicide. What's wrong? My boys and I stopped by Fred Mason's apartment a few minutes ago. We got a tip he was mixed up in a hit-and-run accident last week. We found him buried dead. But, Officer, why would I have anything... You got a little careless when you left his apartment. A blackmail letter you left didn't burn up. But I didn't kill Fred Mason. We found a gun outside, too, hidden in a flower bed. The 22, the kind ladies like to use. Ever see this gun before? Oh, I guess. But I didn't have... Easy, Cynthia. We'll straighten this out. Paul, you did it and fixed it so I'd get the blame. Cynthia, you're hysterical. I'm afraid you can't put the blame on anyone else, Miss Winters. The evidence against you was too strong. Well, now here's a coincidence. A movie projector, all set up. That blackmail letter we found mentioned some film. We couldn't find a trace of it in Mason's apartment. Now, this wouldn't be it in the projector, would it? No, Lieutenant. It's just snap off the lights and run it. Yes, sir. But it isn't anything, I tell you. I... Keep it going. Well, you've been fishing, eh, Mr. Benton? Looks like you're going to have a chance to make a rescue. You're a pretty good skipper. You can turn a boat on a... Turn on the lights. Well, that's the first time I've ever seen anyone murdered by a boat. I don't think you'll do her much good defending her for that Mason killing Mr. Benton. You're going to need an attorney yourself for the murder of your wife. 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. 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 Ted D'Courcier, Virginia Gregg, and Jack Petruzzi. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen with story by Nancy Cleveland, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is entirely fictional. 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. Whistling Air Fire G Air Air Signal Signal Gasoline This is Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
