Mrs. Columbo
A/N: This story is a bunch of little ideas of what the real home life between Columbo and his wife might be like. While Columbo and his wife had no official first names on the show, I decided to go with the flow of the common belief that the name 'Frank' is on Columbo's police badge, and taking a cue from Peter Falk's Columbo appearance at Frank Sinatra's roast, for the story his wife's name is Rose. Hope everybody enjoys!
"I don't care if you do get extra credits for taking this course, I still think it's ridiculous."
"Oh come on, Frank, be a good sport."
"I'm always a good sport; look, I know we each have our own individual interests, that's what keeps us unique, like you like swimming, I like fishing, you like bowling, I like shooting pool, that's why we've always worked so well together because we do have different hobbies…but this is just ridiculous."
"Hold still, don't squirm."
"I mean," Columbo said as he shifted in his chair as he felt his wife parting through his hair with her oh so delicate and yet oh so strong hands, "Feeling a person's head for lumps, to determine criminality, to say nothing of what sort of personality a person has, that's very unusual."
"Oh come on, Lieutenant Columbo, isn't that how cops used to look for crooks?"
"Yes, it was," Columbo answered, flinching slightly as he felt his wife's fingers dig against his scalp checking for lumps, "One of them anyway. There was this other method. Before they started taking fingerprints, this guy came up with the idea of measuring criminals. He figured…"
"Hold still."
"Sorry." Columbo tried holding still but he stuck his arm out and used it to gesture and emphasize as he talked, "He figured while it's very common for several guys to be the same height, same weight, same build, if you were to measure people by their neck, their wrist, their little finger, all those sorts of measurements, you'd never find two who had the exact same measurements. It was very effective for a while…until the one day when it wasn't, had a case, guy arrested for escaping a jail he'd never been to, the original guy they'd arrested was still in lockup, and they both had the exact same measurements…isn't that a kick?"
"Very, keep your head still."
"Bertillon, that was the guy's name that thought it up, that's what they called it too, the Bertillon system…it was French, you know, the guy was French, and he started his system in the French police department. Once they found out two guys could have the same measurements, then they switched to collecting fingerprints to ID criminals. So then some of the criminals started looking for ways to change their fingerprints, impossible you know, but they sure tried. You know, everybody remembers John Dillinger because he used acid to try and burn off his fingerprints…but you know there was this one guy who had his fingers taped to his chest for weeks to let his chest skin grow over his fingers instead? So when he got arrested, they printed him and all they got was 10 perfectly smooth, unmarked, unidentifiable prints. Makes you wonder why his idea never caught on, it was almost completely foolproof, except he still got arrested and identified, maybe that's why."
His wife smacked his hand away that had subconsciously reached up to scratch the side of his head.
"So what do you deduce, Mrs. Columbo?" he asked.
"You must have zero personality," his wife concluded, "You don't have any lumps to feel through, you have a perfectly smooth head under all your hair."
"No kidding," Columbo said as he shifted in his chair, "Maybe it's only the criminals that have lumps on their heads. So now what're you going to do?"
"Oh, I'll figure something out for my report for my phrenology class at the night school, don't worry about that," she assured him.
He smiled at her as he asked, "You going to find another test subject to volunteer for the job?"
"Yeah, maybe my brother the next time he comes for dinner."
"I think that'd be a much better choice," Columbo nodded as he stood up from the chair, "But I have a funny feeling his head's going to be perfectly smooth too. Your brother never so much as let a parking meter expire, you won't find any criminal lumps in this family…but then again, I don't know you'll be able to find many willing volunteers outside of the family either who are going to let you feel their heads for lumps to determine if they're crooks or not."
He had just started to turn around, but he turned back to her and smiled at her and said, "Mrs. Columbo, you certainly are an amazing woman."
"Oh Pshaw," she waved him off, "You always say that."
"Because you always are," he replied, "You were amazing when we first started going out, you were even more amazing when we got married, and you're even more amazing than that now. I don't know how you do it, but the way I see it, there never was a guy in this world luckier than I am. If there was a more perfect wife in the world, I wouldn't want to know her."
Mrs. Columbo just tried to keep from giggling, but he was able to spot a minor blush in her cheeks. The truth of the matter was she was a very amazing woman, in so many ways nobody else would ever know about. And in that way too, he felt like the luckiest man alive, that what made the Mrs. so special was not something he shared with the rest of the world, like it was specifically preserved and tucked away for him to witness.
"You know," he said sheepishly as he continued to gaze at his wife, "When I'm on the job and I'm talking to people, I always seem to start talking about you, I tell people about you…I know I really shouldn't, because of safety reasons, but I just can't help it, you're too good not to talk about. The only thing of it is, I get the feeling they don't believe me."
She just laughed and patted his cheek and told him, "That's alright, Frank. Now come on, the lasagna should be ready."
Oh and her cooking was superb, always great, even when they first got married, and yet he would swear it had somehow gotten better over the years, and he never even thought that was possible. Columbo shook his head helplessly, he just couldn't figure out how people could not believe everything he said about his wife, everything about her was too incredible to just be made up. But of course, for all the things he unintentionally found himself mentioning while on a case, there were just as many things about Mrs. Columbo that he knew not to disclose to anyone else, certain things he just knew were better left unknown to anyone else.