The Whistler. Presented by the United States Air Forces in Europe. 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. Mr. Pettybone's last journey. The London night was hot, sultry, and the narrow, crooked street deserted and quiet, except for the sound of laughter drifting out of the Lion and Hawk Inn. Inside the smoke-filled pub, Russ Anders, formerly of St. Louis, Missouri, sat alone at one of the tables. And his mood was anything but jovial as he popped nervously on a cigarette and glanced from time to time toward the street entrance. And then suddenly, pushing through the crowd, a small, wiry-built man wearing a bowler hat approached him. Shifting his umbrella from one arm to another, the small man's bowled slightly. Hello, Mr. Sanders. Oh, hello, Miss Pettybone. Brightly hot out, isn't it? Super storm, I'd say. Uh, yeah, I suppose so. Do you mind if I sit down? Well, no, but... Oh, yeah, better. You're like a good lad, eh? My pleasure, Mr. Sanders. No, no, thanks. This'll do fine. Eh, now tell me, Mr. Sanders, hasn't seen your calming wife about the flat recently? Did she wade? Uh, yes, she's gone back to America. Where is she now? Illness and her family here. Put her on the plane a week ago. I see. And you, Mr. Sanders, you're going to stay on here in London? For some time, yes. Business. Insurance business, isn't it? Uh, Mr. Sanders. Hmm? Oh, yes, yes. You're expecting someone to join you. I noticed you keep glancing tall up the street. Yeah, that's right. A friend. I'm expecting a friend. Ha ha ha. Really? I'd hardly call them a friend now, would you? Why? This gentleman you're expecting, the person who sent that note around for your smalls. What do you know about... Wait a minute. You! Easy now, easy, Mr. Sanders. I shouldn't like a row. Hmm. Please do sit down like a good chap. What? What do you want, Patty Boy? As my note explained, a chat. A chat concerning your wife. What about Edith? I happen to know she didn't go back to America, as you've been telling everyone. Really? I also happen to know the two of you had the robber of violent quarrel. Oh, yes, I did see. Juicy night lost. Yes, that was it, juicy. I overheard the entire affair. My flask, as you know, is directly above yours, and the lightwell carries sound so beautifully. Go on, Patty Boy. The following morning, the body of a woman, her clothing stripped of all identification, was found piled in the tins, dark brown hair, 5'2", weight 110. Your wife, Mr. Sanders, eh? You're in a weed field, little man. Am I? I wonder if stopping the odd was in there. I wonder if... Wait a minute. Sit down, Patty Boy. Sit down. Very well. Shall we say a thousand pounds, Mr. Sanders, as a starter? A thousand pounds? You consider the seriousness of the crime, sir? Murder? Oh, yes, yes. I must insist on a thousand. I often wondered what business you were in, Patty Boy, and I never figured it was blackmail. And you, Mr. Insurance Adjuster, swiddling your own firm with faulging its fangs. Are you more than judgment for a day? No. Now, we're a pair of scoundrels, Mr. Andrews. A pair of... Oh, thank you, Betty. Here you are, my lad. There. Here's the Sanders. There. Look, Patty Boy, I haven't got a thousand pounds. But you'll get it, won't you? See, by tomorrow noon? Tomorrow noon? No, it's impossible. I have to have it by then. I tell you, it's impossible. I can't get the money. You'll try, won't you, Mr. Andrews? Take my word for it, I shall hesitate to turn you in. Actually, I'd become quite fond of Mrs. Andrews. Wonderful woman. You really shouldn't have killed her, you know. But good night. You watch this strange little man as he moves out of the car. One word from him to the police in your finish, don't you, Rush? Yes, but you know you can't do this quite. It's impossible. And so you'll make up your mind quickly what you must do. You hurry outside, see him enter the tobacco shop on the corner. You race back to your flat, up the fire escape to Mr. Pettibone's bedroom window. Slip inside. You wait in the darkness. A quarter of an hour goes by. The room is hot and scuffy. You move to the window again and draw back the drapery. Hello there. The light from the flat across the light well hits you full in the face. And there's a young woman standing at the window, smiling at you. Hello. Sightfully warm out, isn't it? Yes, yes it is. Music bother you? Ready to get loud? No, no, I hadn't noticed really. Just wanted a breath of fresh air. Now remember when it's been as hot in London this time of the afternoon? No, it's rather... Unusual weather as they say. Yes, not Mr. Anders. Good night. She called you by name, didn't she, Rush? This woman in the flat across the light well. It's rented to an acquaintance of yours, Tom Morrissey. But he's gone for the weekend, isn't he? And you wonder who she is, what she's doing there. If you kill Pettybone tonight, as you know you must, she'll remember seeing you and she could tell the police, couldn't she? You wait another quarter hour. Still Pettybone doesn't return. You pace back and forth, thinking things out. And then finally, realizing you can't wait any longer, you reach a decision. It's rather an unusual situation, isn't it, Rush? Yes. You've got to get rid of a witness, whoever she is, before you can commit the crime. I'm afraid Mr. Mawes isn't in, sir. Well, of course. Oh. I'm the Wigston manager here. I heard the knock on Mr. Mawes' door, so I thought I'd better tell you he's on holiday in Sussex. Last two days ago. I see. But I hear music inside. Mr. Mawes usually lets friends every key to his flat when he goes away. I expect one of them was here, left without turning off the wireless. Hello? Hello? Anyone here? Just as I thought. Next to life's home, too. Whoever was here might be coming back. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'll turn the wireless off in any case. The moment she slips into the room, you ease your hand around the door. Flip the latch on the lock, then step back into the hall. When Mrs. Wigston returns, you better good night and hurry out. Five minutes later, you're back at Mawes' flat. Flip inside. You're certain the girl you spoke with a short time ago, the girl in the window of Mawes' flat, will return soon. And you're going to wait and make certain she doesn't have the chance to tell the police of seeing you in Pettybone's apartment. When you're certain no one is aware of your presence in the flat, you light a match, begin to examine the apartment. Step behind the sofa or stumble over something in the semi-darkness. See the body of a man. You bend down, turn him over, recognize him in the flickering light. Pettybone. Mr. Pettybone. The discovery of Pettybone's body in Tom Mawes' flat comes as a startling surprise, doesn't it, Russ? Yes, a startling but most pleasant surprise, because you realize that the little blackmailer's death puts you completely in the clear, and the position you found yourself in a few moments before has suddenly been reversed. You are now the witness, and the young woman you saw in Mawes' flat is the killer. You turn on the small death glass, look around the room. Furnished in excellent taste, isn't it, Russ, expensively. You smile as you wander through the rest of the flat. As an idea begins to take shape in your mind. Then as you return to the living room, you try and place the girl you saw in the window. You're sure you've seen her before. Suddenly you remember where you've met her. Yes, she was with Tom Mawesby at the Lion and Hawk Inn a few weeks ago. And now you recall her name, too. Alma. Alma Benner. You begin a systematic search of the flat, because you're certain that Alma killed Mr. Pettybone. Yet the motive was blackmail, and that possibly Tom Mawesby is involved. Then finally you find something in the bureau drawer, something very interesting, Russ. Yes, a marriage license issued to Tom Mawesby and Alma Benner. Well, you know what I'm saying, this is whiskey and soda. Yeah, thanks, Russ. Now, what we chatting about? Oh, yes, Mr. Mawesby. He's a fine lad, he is a fine lad. Comes from a fine family, too, as I understand it. Quite wealthy, I suppose. He's a lot. Not only fit for lot, he is. He has come into a peck at when his girlfriend passed him, John. Size before him. Yeah, lucky guy. I've seen his girlfriend, too. He's really a lucky guy. Miss Alma, bit of a smasher, ain't he? As they say back in the States, a living doll. Works at some club, doesn't he? A singer, she is. Works at the West End Club. It's a bit too gaudy and expensive for my taste, you understand. Gives me a cozy little place like the Lion and Ork any time, I say. I think I agree with you, Russ. Well, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Mawesby, it's almost closing time. I'll see if the lads want another. Yeah, yeah, sure. You're anxious to have a little talk with Alma Benner, aren't you, Russ? Here. And after you finish your drink, you hurry outside. Start down the street. And then as you're near the corner, a car suddenly pulls up at the curb. Hello there. Oh. Hello, Mawesby. Did you list back your plan? Um, yeah, thanks. Here, I'll pop this suitcase into the back. There we are. Pop in. Yeah. Been on a trip? Yes, my father's place. Well, there was a good deal better than this. I understand you're having a bit of a torture, eh? Yeah, I've been swallowing in this heat since frozen. Too hot to sleep? Well, I thought I'd take a stroll, find a tobacco shop, and pick up some cigarettes, eh? I'm fresh out. Yeah, I'm afraid you're out of luck, old man. Old shop sign or other clothes. Uh, here's a thought, though. I have some at the plant. You're welcome to them. Well, thanks. You can't help but smile, can you, Russ? As you follow Moresby up to his flat. He's going to be in for a surprise, isn't he? When he finds Mr. Teddybone's body. But then as the two of you step inside, you're the one who will surprise. The body is gone. Something wrong, old man? Uh, no, nothing. Hmm. Quite a spot you have here, Moresby. I like it. Quite comfortable and all that. Uh, cigarettes are over there on the table to help yourself. Thanks. How about a cold drink? I could certainly use one. Fine. Make mine a Coca-Cola. You know, you've really got a nice place here. You mind if I...should I look around? Not at all. That's the bedroom in there. As you move into the bedroom, you glance around quickly. But there's no sign of Teddybone's body. You open a closet door quietly. Look inside. There's a small schema trunk, a name printed on the side. I'm not going to try the lock, but it won't open. And up? Yeah, yeah, it's coming. Oh, there you are. I hope you didn't mind my browsing around. Of course not. Here's your drink. Thanks. Well, cheers. Happy days. Yes. Happy days. Hello, Alma. Hey, Mr. Anders. I went over to the club to catch your act, but you didn't put in an appearance for the last show. Door man gave me your address. I, uh, I wasn't feeling well. Terrible headache. May I come in? Well, as I said, I'm not feeling very well. Neither am I. I'm sorry. May I come in? Neither is Mr. Pettibon. Come in. If you're willing to dispense with the sentry and the double talk, we're both saved a lot of time, sweetheart. It is rough, isn't it? Yeah. May I sit down? Of course. You're a nice little chap to drink with your husband, Luzini. Huh? What gave you the idea? I was married. This? A marriage license. Don't grab, sweetheart. Where did you get that? In Tom Morsby's apartment. I also found Mr. Pettibon there, and as they say in the paperback novels, he was very, very dead. So? So, Scotland Yard might be interested in that trunk of yours, the one in Morsby's flat. That's where you put Mr. Pettibon, right? What's your timeline? We didn't leave, Miss Rander. I'm good at hunting. After you killed Pettibon, you ran out of the flat, got back to the club to do your act in the second show. Then you went back to Morsby's flat because you had to get the body out of the way. You knew Tommy Boy was coming home tonight, right? Right. What brings you back today, doesn't it? Not quite. There are a few details. You're sure I won't bore you? Try me. All right, right. Mr. Pettibon sent me this afternoon, said he wanted to talk with me. He decided to meet at Tommy's flat. He wanted more money, I suppose. Pettibon had been blackmailing you and Morsby because he found out you'd been secretly married. Mm-hmm. He should tell me father doesn't approve of me as a wife for his time. Might have even threatened to disinherit the lad that you two were married. Cut him off without a cent, huh? Yes, yes, sir. Tommy, of course, didn't mind. He could use this one of the two to live on love. But you're not. I'm a girl with a sensitive taste. Mm-hmm. Well, I must say, Armour, you've been very cooperative, volunteering all this information. And now I suppose your plan is to carry on for Mr. Pettibon. What does that mean without seeing? Sir, Father, you're in no position to do anything about... anything, Ralph. Why? I know too much about you and what happened to your wife, he did. Oh, you're terribly disappointed, aren't you, Ralph? How did you...? Mr. Pettibon and I have been sort of partners for years. You're a real sweet girl, Armour. Real sweet. You see, I said I'm a girl with a sensitive taste. And the allowance Tommy was getting from his father just wasn't enough. Sir, you figure a way to get more. Pettibon blackmailed Tommy and you got your cut of the teeth. You can. Unfortunately, Mr. Pettibon got a bit too greedy. Suddenly he decided he needed a lot of cash in the hurry to buy some... He took it as a cottage in the country. He'd always wanted to retire to the country. And you didn't like that, did you? You were afraid Tommy wouldn't hold still for it. Okay, Armour, what is all this add up to now? I don't know. I suppose I'll have to find a replacement for Pettibon. That could be quite a problem for you. Yes, it could. On the other hand, it could be very simple. Really? Sure. I could take up where Mr. Pettibon left off. You'd still get your presentage and I wouldn't get too greedy. That sounds rather interesting. I'd be a fool to turn it down, wouldn't I? I'd say so. All right. Fair play, Manny. Now how about our big problem? What do you mean? I mean getting rid of that cut. My first assignment, huh? Okay. I'll figure out a way. Morning, Rats. Hi, Armour. Come in. How'd you make out? Did you do what I told you? Exactly. I talked with Tommy on the phone a short time ago. Told him to tip my check to his credit attendance list. Good. It'll work, Armour. I know it will. It had better. We didn't live together, Russell. It was a waste. I told Tommy I wanted to get away for a while, take a nice holiday. He's all for it. Even when you told him you'd like to be alone the first few days? Well, he probably didn't live there. Let's get over it. Okay. What train are you taking tonight for Henson? The 1207. I have to stop by Tommy's flat to take up the 20 and some other things. I'll meet you at the station. I'll be there. Hello, Maud. Where? Leave me alone, man. I like to pay my debts, so I'm replacing the cigarettes I borrowed from you last night. Now you needn't have bothered. Well, like I said, I just... Excuse me. I didn't know you had company. That's quite all right. You've met my fiancé, Miss Armour. Haven't you? Oh, yeah. Yeah, at the Lion and the Hawk some weeks ago. Good evening, Mr. Armour. Sit down, Amber. Sit down. No, no, really. I only stopped by for a moment. Nonsense. Happy to have you join us. I was about to open a bottle of champagne. Champagne? Oh, darling, what's the occasion? The whole quality of a going-away celebration. Now you two sit tight for a moment. Be right back. I thought we'd agree to make a discussion now. Sure. Sure. I just wanted to make certain you wouldn't back out at the last minute. In this mid-twenty, I'm only wondering if we're playing it smart this way. Sure we are. If Tommy ever gets tired of playing blackmail, I'll have a nice hold on him with Mr. Pettibone buried under a cottage. Yes, Russ. Mr. Pettibone will soon be out of your way forever, safely hidden in a quiet grave beneath Tom Morsby's cottage at Hensley. It's what you need to keep Morsby in line should he ever become weary of paying off blackmail. It's perfect, isn't it? And you're certain your new partner, Alma Benner, sees it that way too, as you stick with her and Morsby's fight. All right, Russ, but remember, if anything goes wrong, we're in this together. I won't hesitate a moment to tell the police about you just as your wife. Stop worrying. Nothing's going to go wrong. Ah, here we are. The finest champagne I could get. You said this was a going-away celebration, Morsby. That's right, Mr. Anders. I'm leaving on holiday. Going to spend a few quiet weeks at Tom's cottage in Hensley. Correction, darling. I've made other plans. Other plans? Being sort of holding it back is a surprise. You see, I had a long talk with my father the last time down in Sussex. I told him the whole story. What story is this, Morsby? The truth of the matter is, old man, Alma and I have been married for over a year. You told your father we were married? Right. Decided to have it out with him once and for all. And would you believe it? The old boy's had a change of heart. Given his blessing. Wants to meet you, darling. I thought it would be clean. Of course I am, Tom, of course. So I decided we'd go down to Sussex together. Yes, but Morsby's the punk. Sent it on to my father's place. Should have arrived by now. Don't worry, darling. I sent the keys along, too. Instructed the housekeeper to open it up as soon as it got there and hang up your things. I think we'd better get out of here, Alma. I say, what's wrong, Andrew? No time to explain. Wait. Hello? You Tom Morsby? Why, no. No, I'm not. I'm Morsby. Who are you? Inspector Crell, Scotland Yard. May I come in? Yes, of course. I'd like to have a chat with you. About a trunk and a man named Teddybounds. Oh, well then you don't need me. We don't need it, Russ. We're in this together. I told you if your plan didn't work, I'd talk. It didn't work. Listen next week when once again the United States Air Forces in Europe present The Whistler. The Whistler has come to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. This is the American Forces News. This is the American Forces Network Europe.
