Design for Murder

I'm the Whistler, and I know many things, or 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.

Tonight, it's the Whistler's strange story, designed for murder. The trio in the railroad station cocktail lounge seem typical of many groups awaiting the departures of their train. They were Charles Gilbert, his wife Edna, and her close friend, Myrene Walker, who chatted ceaselessly, voicing her envy at not being able to join Edna on the trip.

Myrene loved Trains, loved Desert Vacation Resorts. In fact, she seemed to love everything. Charles, on the other hand, seemed lost in thought or patient resignation until... I wish you weren't so anxious to have me out of town, Charles.

What do you mean by that? You've seen very insistent. Another time in the business needs me so. How do you like that, Maureen? She doesn't want to go. Thanks the jewelry business will go to pot.

Thanks, her husband plans a rendezvous with another woman. Oh, hope I haven't stayed. Thank you, Drink, Adna. You too, Charles. People all feel better. I'd feel better if I knew why you can't go alone, tall.

I told you I'll be busy. Also, I want you to go alone. You'll rest more. And you're doing me this. Look at her, Maureen. Not able to keep her hands still. Doodling on the bay, you. And give me that pin.

Oh, sorry. I'm always doodling. It's a design I was thinking of. Well, he says costume jewelry. Well, stop thinking of anything like that. And this is going to bother you. I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to be doing, dear.