Murder on Paper

Signal gasoline, the gasoline that does go farther. The Signal Oil Company presents the Whistler. The Signal Oil Company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by the Whistler. Tonight's murder on paper.

I am the Whistler, and I know many things where I walk by night. I know many strange tales, hidden in the hearts of men and women who stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.

To begin with, I'm not telling this story. No. Fred Wallace is telling it. Fred Wallace is the writer of detective stories for Pulp Magazine. And this is the best story he's ever told. Yes. Go on, Fred.

Continue your dictation. We were a writer, a police reporter, and you never held a job very long. Just why was that bread? I was a victim of the ponies. They couldn't stay away from the racetracks.

I was hitting the 40-year mark and I was down to Hylia Park in Florida when I met a gorgeous blonde from California named Lita Martin, her friend Vera Doran. This bureau was a widow who was tossing money around and having a time of her life.

She wasn't too pretty, not as pretty as Lita, but her husband had left her a half a million dollars. That made up for it. But what could I ask? Am I taking too much time?

All the time you want, Wallace? Well, by the time the high-aliyah meet was over, Vera and I were married, and on her way to her place in Los Angeles. Santa Anita was closed, but Hollywood Park was about to open, and I'd figured on running a stable on the string of ponies.