Mr. Monk Meets Lieutenant Columbo

A Whole Lot Of Leg Work


Sunday morning, 7:45 a.m. PDT


The sound of the wall phone ringing caused Mike Van Portman to glance up sharply from his seat at the kitchen table in the small, ramshackle third floor apartment that had been his home for nearly fifteen years. He had only been up for an hour and was busy sipping away the last of a hot cup of coffee while finishing off the remnants of a lightly toasted bagel. He rose instantly to his feet, eyes roving to his sports blazer and the silent cell phone contained in one of its pockets. Whoever was calling had chosen to use his home number. Any call at this point was unsettling… he had few friends and contact of any sort by someone from the police would be a strong indicator that they were on to him.

He swiped the receiver off of its wall setting with one smooth motion. "Hello?" he asked curiously.

"It's me," replied a shaky voice that could only be Frank Lauden's.

"What the hell are you doing?" Van Portman demanded instantly. "Do you have any idea how stupid an idea this phone call is? When the time is right, I will find you."

"If we keep the duration of this call under 60 seconds, you'll get a one minute minimum on your phone bill… you can always claim it's a wrong number. And I'm not dumb… this is a pay phone."

"What if the police have already found probable cause and tapped my phone?" Van Portman scowled and opened his mouth to say something else, then decided to keep silent and shook his head with frustration. "Nevermind. What is it you want?"

There was a brief fumbling sound on the other end of the line before Lauden finally responded. "I've been watching the news. The only information that the police have officially released to the press is the report about Petersen's death. But they know more than they're letting on… a lot more."

"I'm sure that they do," agreed Van Portman dryly. "And they're probably following you right now in order to learn even more."

"No, no they're not following me. I made sure."

"What do you want?" said Van Portman, feeling suddenly irritable. "Sixty seconds goes by fast."

"One of the detectives told me that they found diamonds in the fountain… three of them."

"Damn." The accountant shifted the phone to his other hand and glanced at his watch. "So in other words, they're doing a much better job of finding my diamonds than you are." He smiled grimly at the awkward, clumsy reaction that he heard in response from the other end of the line. "Find my diamonds," he stated sharply. "Then we'll have something more to talk about than the police." He slammed the phone back into its cheap, plastic wall base.

Van Portman fought off a sudden wave of anxiety and poured another cup of coffee before returning to the table. He sat there for some time, mind racing, unable to calm his troubled thoughts. A lot of things had gone suddenly wrong, and his dependence on Frank Lauden was a major problem. With each passing day there was a much more probable chance that he would never see his hard earned fortune again. He could feel the balance of control he held over the matter fading inexorably away. If the police had indeed located diamonds as Lauden claimed, they could only have come from the handful that he had swatted out of Petersen's hand. And that meant that Lauden had been unable to successfully locate them all in the dark.

So what were the odds that this screw up of a security officer would be successful now?

Next, his thoughts drifted to the hundred or so diamonds that were stashed in his bedroom. He hadn't dared to keep any more than that in such an insecure location, but it was better than trying to risk hiding them at the office. He certainly hadn't wanted to put all of his proverbial eggs in one basket at the zoo. Along with the five or so gemstones that he had retrieved from Petersen after killing him, he estimated that slightly more than a million and a half dollars was immediately available to him in the bedroom should the need arise to leave without the rest of his loot. It was enough to begin again in some other state, probably on the east coast, and live comfortably. Certainly, however, the concept of fleeing was a last resort… Van Portman had worked hard to accumulate the briefcase full of gems and he wasn't about to give up on it unless he was left with no other alternative.

Nonetheless, the constant, pervasive presence of the police involvement in the matter hovered over him like a dark cloud.

Determined to be prepared for anything, he walked into his bedroom and retrieved a large suitcase from the room's small closet. Then he began packing everything he wanted to take with him should the need arise to leave quickly. He left the diamonds in their hiding spot for now. But he made certain that he prepared enough clothing and toiletries, so that he was ready and able to leave town at a moment's notice. The paperwork he had focused hard on over the past year was ready – a fake drivers' license and passport. All he had to do was show up in somebody else's state, and he would automatically be able to assume a completely new identity, social security number and all. Van Portman considered the plan to be his own personal witness relocation program, and he smiled at the thought of being so close to the end.

He located the hiding spot where weapons were concealed, and pulled another unregistered, snub-nosed .38 revolver out. This too he concealed within the suitcase, so that he would be able to defend himself when the time came to flee. The killing of others was something he had hoped to avoid, but at least several deaths had seemed inevitable no matter how carefully Van Portman planned his escape. So he had contented himself with the fact, and thus had been fully prepared for violence on the early Friday morning when he confronted Petersen. It was quite probable now that Frank Lauden would end up a casualty too. If Lauden was unable to locate the diamonds, then he would not have the resources available to him that would be necessary to evade law enforcement. That reduced him to yet another loose end that a fugitive-to-be like Van Portman would be wise to eliminate.

Briefly he glanced toward a small desk packed tightly into one corner of the bedroom. There were several different disguises locked in the top right drawer, including a bald cap, an odd-looking pair of glasses along with a fake mustache and beard. Van Portman had used them on many occasions, changing his look completely while walking around the city with a briefcase full of cash money. Even the use of cash couldn't completely fool law enforcement any longer, not with modern computer databases and surveillance cameras. Therefore he had made many trips to various jewel wholesalers over the years during his prolonged effort to convert cash into gemstones. But he had done so on each occasion with a varied appearance – no one would be able to identify him personally using the crappy surveillance footage available to the majority of businesses.

After thinking the matter over, he decided to leave the disguises and his make-up kit in their current location. Van Portman had already been seen while wearing that stuff, after all, and if he was truly to make a fresh start somewhere else then he would have to do so looking like someone completely new. A change of hair color and the rapid growth of facial hair would suffice for now, he decided idly. His real beard would grow rapidly and be mostly silvery gray. He was a practiced expert, fully used to altering his appearance. In fact, the major problem facing him right now was a decision – specifically, how long should he wait for Frank Lauden to find the diamonds? At what point would a police investigative network gradually collapsing around him become too tight to escape from?

He would have to make a final decision soon… in a matter of days, not weeks.


Sunday afternoon, 12:45 p.m. PDT


After spending much of their second consecutive morning strolling through the Los Angeles zoo, Natalie and Julie Teeger stopped at a snack station across from a small children's zoo in order to have lunch. There were lots of tables available, some of them setting in the shade while others sprouted large, colorful umbrellas from their midst in order to catch the full heat of the afternoon sun. Natalie was particularly hungry and chose to order a hamburger with everything, served on a hoagie with honey mustard sauce and fries. Julie chose a simple hot dog and a plate of cheese nachos, also pausing long enough to request a large soda pop that she planned to share with her mom. It wasn't long after they started eating that a dark-haired, female stopped by to meet with them. After ordering a sandwich for herself, the newcomer stated the purpose for her visit and proved to be an unexpected surprise.

All three women were still eating when Monk found them. He appeared suddenly, emerging from the crowd with the familiar nervous look on his face that Natalie had grown accustomed to over the years. There was a partial fence surrounding the southwestern edge of the children's zoo, and Adrian reached out with his right index finger and briefly touched each fence post – one by one in traditional Monk fashion – as he passed by. "Hey! Mr. Monk!" Natalie called out eagerly upon noticing him. She waved him over to the small table where she and Julie sat with the dark-haired woman, using her foot to ease a chair out for him. "It's good to see you!" she commented with her usual enthusiasm. "Just look at you… moving through a zoo filled with animals all by yourself – I'm really, really proud of you!"

"So am I," agreed Julie. Her hot dog was gone and she was carefully picking at the remaining, soggy nachos on a thin paper plate.

"What are you doing here?" asked Natalie curiously. "I thought you'd be with the Captain."

Monk shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He was wearing a light yellow polo shirt and cream colored sweater vest with green and blue diamond patterns on it. "We're just the consultants, remember?" he said, sounding somewhat disappointed. "The Captain, Chief Disher and Columbo are all scattered around town, interviewing various businesses that deal in jewels. They're trying to track down the people who sold the diamonds we found. Two of them turned out to be from the same wholesaler, but there's still a lot of work involved in tracking people down."

"I would imagine," commented the dark-haired woman. "Especially on a Sunday. Are they bothering people at home over this?"

"I believe so." Monk reached into the pocket of his slacks and removed a small, open pack of sanitary wipes. Working with his usual precision, he carefully cleaned the metallic, iron arms of his chair and the table surface immediately in front of him. "Their schedule was full for the day, and they don't need me until everything is done. So the Captain decided to drop me off here and let me spend the day with you." Grimacing just slightly he glanced to his right, staring directly at the children's zoo. The braying sound of a donkey could be heard, along with the non-stop howls and laughter of children. "I'm supposed to bond with the zoo and its… animals."

Behind them a zoo employee with a bright blue short-sleeved shirt and khaki slacks passed by them. She was holding one end of a leash, while the other was attached to the collar of a gray aardvark shuffling along behind her. The animal's rather pronounced snout was roving back and forth while it sniffed the ground, casually sorting through the thousands of different scents dotting the area. Several families with curious children were following closely, and one small boy with a red punch stain along the top of his mouth was relentlessly asking her all kinds of questions.

"Would you like something to eat?" wondered Natalie. She pointed toward the nearby sales booth situated next to the restrooms and phones. "We could order you anything you want… they have bottled water."

"No thank you," replied Monk curtly. He glanced apprehensively in the direction of the departing aardvark before finally shifting his gaze back toward the dark-haired woman sitting next to Julie. She was older, with wrinkly laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Her hair had obviously been dyed to hide the gray, but she still appeared youthful, her smile was enthusiastic and her brown eyes sparkled as she held out a hand toward Monk. He shook it somewhat hesitantly and managed a weak smile in response.

"Hello former detective Adrian Monk. It's quite an honor to make your acquaintance."

"This is Kate Columbo, the Lieutenant's wife," pointed out Julie. "She's our ride to the Handsome Stranger concert later this evening. Mr. Columbo wanted to make certain that we didn't have to rush through heavy traffic in a strange town." She held out a half dozen colorfully printed tickets. "Can you believe it? We get to be at the front of the mosh pit!"

"I used to work for a neighborhood newspaper," chuckled Mrs. Columbo, clearly amused. "I still keep in touch with my former boss, and he just happens to have quite a few connections in the show business arena. So does my husband, as a matter of fact, although his contacts usually end up behind bars."

"Oh God, the concert," growled Monk, remembering the early morning conversation from the previous day. "I sure hope the Captain returns to pick me up by then."

"We can drop you off back at the hotel if you prefer," suggested Natalie. "You can clean to your heart's delight all night long."

"No, actually I can't," sighed Monk with a deep frown. "I got carried away this morning after finishing up with my room. Once it was cleaned to my satisfaction, I kept going… out into the corridor."

"Really?" said Natalie, raising an eyebrow. Next to her, Julie tried her best to stifle a giggle.

"Yes." Monk clasped the fingers of both hands together and set them on the table top. 'The maids took the matter a bit personally and confiscated my dustbuster."

Natalie shrieked with absolute delight. "They… confiscated… the dustbuster?" she repeated.

"It's not funny," growled Monk somewhat irritably. "Aside from the iron and the vacuum cleaner, all I have left are the supplies I brought with me in suitcase number two."

Natalie shrugged her shoulders at Columbo's wife. "What can I say… the man likes things clean!"

"Mr. Monk, my husband has been talking about you a lot since you arrived in town," said Mrs. Columbo with a cheerful smile. "He has become a big fan of yours, and – as police officers go – that's really saying something. Usually it takes someone from the Hollywood crowd to impress him… detective work is normally very routine and boring for him." She chuckled lightly; more than a little amused by the back and forth banter between Monk and Natalie. "Normally he takes to celebrities, and he always tells each and every one of the legends that he meets that he needs an autograph for me… for Mrs. Columbo. The full truth of that matter is that he's the one who has always been star struck. He just uses my name for leverage, until he gets what he wants."

"He also talks about you quite a bit otherwise too," noted Monk with a nod. "But I think it's more out of a deep fondness for you… at least based on what I've observed so far. I can always tell when someone loves and devotes themselves to their spouse." He smiled shyly at her. "Believe me; you have nothing to worry about in the marriage department, Mrs. Columbo."

"The ladies told me a little bit about your Trudy," she responded with sincere sympathy reflected in her partially freckled expression. "You have my sympathies. I'm really glad you finally found out the truth about what happened to her."

Monk actually smiled for once during a time when Trudy was the subject of discussion. "I sort of gained a stepdaughter in the process," he chuckled with a genuine light-heartedness. "She's really great, and I wish she could have made the trip. But she had to…" Monk trailed off suddenly upon noticing Natalie point just past his right side. "What?" he asked curiously, glancing down toward the side of his seat.

A large, brown- and black-feathered duck with a bright orange bill had managed to waddle its way over from the children's zoo. It was standing next to Monk's chair and expectantly looking up at him with dark black, beady little eyes, as though waiting for something. Julie caught on instantly. "He just wants a snack!" she shouted jubilantly, reaching across the table with a piece of her soggy, cheese-covered nacho chips. The duck responded instantly, stretching its neck out and snapping the food out of Julie's fingers while she laughed with enthusiasm. She withdrew her hand back to the paper plate and began tearing apart additional nacho chips. "Look Mr. Monk… he's hungry!"

"Hungry?" Monk stared darkly down toward their small visitor. "I'd say he's busy spreading bird flu, among other things." Slowly, he began sliding his chair gradually backward. "First an aardvark and now this? Aren't the animals in a zoo supposed to be kept in cages? I think I read that somewhere…"

Natalie grabbed several reasonable-sized pieces from the sections of her hoagie bun that she had torn off her sandwich earlier in order to lower its carb content. She flipped them past Monk and onto the ground next to the duck. Happily, the creature leaned over and began nibbling at the tidbits she had offered to it. "Come on Mr. Monk," she teased, pushing her plate toward him. "Why don't you give him a little something… who knows, you might make a new friend."

After studying the large brown duck for a moment, Monk came to a decision. He reached inside his pants pocket and removed another sanitary wipe from the packet he kept there. Then he tore a small piece of tomato from the remnants of Natalie's sandwich and – carefully using the wipe as a barrier between his fingers and the food – he held out his hand. Almost immediately the duck snatched the food from his grasp and gobbled it down. "He even likes lettuce!" said Monk with an astonished shake of his head a moment later after feeding the duck a second time. "Who would have thought that a duck would eat lettuce?"

"Maybe he's a vegetarian," suggested Natalie with a smirk.

"I hate to be a killjoy," piped in Mrs. Columbo. She pointed across Natalie's shoulder toward a sign affixed to the nearby fence railing. "Please do not feed the animals," she read out loud.

Julie continued giggling for a moment. "I don't think too many people obey that rule," she decided, gesturing toward the duck. The feathery bird had abandoned them and was waddling, webbed feet and all, over toward the table next to them where additional people sat waiting to feed him all he wanted.

"Have you managed to get anything done?" Monk wondered suddenly, studying Natalie carefully. "You are supposed to be working undercover, you know."

"We've done plenty of work, we… hard working gals… have!" declared Natalie defensively, pulling a large notebook out of her purse and flipping through its pages. "I've even made notes on some of the zoo staff." She shrugged her slim shoulders and smiled wryly. "Everyone looks totally normal, except for Lauden." The small ghost of a smile faded instantly. "I don't know if it's because we already suspected him and I'm seeing what I want to, or if he really is behaving suspiciously. But it seems plainly obvious that he's looking for something."

"More diamonds?" queried Monk.

"Probably." Natalie smiled and stuck the bottom half of the green-covered notebook back in her purse. "He makes his rounds and smiles at all of the zoo's guests as though everything is totally normal, but as soon as he has even a few spare seconds alone he searches…" She trailed off for a moment, remembering. "We've seen him searching the grounds, the trees, the maintenance sheds, everything. There are even a few empty cages that are being cleaned and prepped for new animals. Mr. Lauden finds excuses to go in there too, usually under the pretense of casual conversation with the workers. But even if he's visiting with people, his eyes are busily studying everything."

"At first he was pretty good about covering it up," pointed out Julie. "From an observer's point of view, he blended in pretty well. But particularly today, you can see the anxiety in his eyes. He looks like a man who hasn't found what he wants. It won't be long before he gets desperate."

"I'll be sure to let the Captain know," Monk promised her. "The police will want to make sure he's off of the streets before he gets truly desperate." His eyes drifted to the tickets that Mrs. Columbo had laid on the table top. "Now, just who is this 'Handsome Stranger' and why do you like his music so much?"

Julie blushed slightly at the question, obviously feeling a little too old to maintain a crush on a celebrity. "I've just always really liked his music," she shrugged casually, although the thought of seeing a live concert had kept her going all day. "His real name is Steven Kurnelowski… he used to play country western music in local bars and restaurants out in the mid-west. I think he's originally from… from…" Her thoughts clouded for a moment, and she glanced up at the sky, struggling to remember.

"Missouri," Natalie coughed softly under her breath.

"Yes, Missouri," beamed Julie gratefully. "Mom likes him too. She just won't admit it because he used to do a lot of drugs." She shook her head with bewilderment. "But he went to rehab and he's sworn off of them now. And what musician doesn't have flaws? I think the bad behavior is a genetic defect… the same thing that gives artists such talent also exacts a price in return."

"Maybe it's all of those endless road trips on bus tours that get to him," suggested Natalie. "Or all of the willing groupies that hang around his concerts. Anyway, the man may have given up drugs, but he still parties like there's no tomorrow. Your father was a much better role model."

"I know that," replied Julie with mild frustration. "I just never get to do things like this on the spur of the moment, and I'm really looking forward to it!" She stared defiantly at her mother and pointed. "You're going to have fun too, and you know it!"

"Have you been to many concerts?" asked Mrs. Columbo curiously.

"A few," nodded Julie, smiling at the memory. "I also met the members of Korn once, but that was because we were stuck in a traffic jam on the freeway and I had to use the bathroom in their tour bus." She rolled her eyes at her mother with a sarcastic smile. "I've been scarred mentally ever since."

Holding up the six tickets, Mrs. Columbo smiled at Monk. "We've got six tickets Adrian," she told him with a tempting smile. "Would you like to come?"

"Nah," replied Monk slowly. "For country and western I prefer Willie Nelson…"

"Yeah, because Trudy liked him," objected Julie. "And Handsome Stranger doesn't do country music anymore… he's more of a pop icon, singing stuff that transcends a lot of musical boundaries. He sells a lot more albums that way, appealing to fans across multiple musical categories."

"There's still a lot of country in his music," Natalie countered with a small smile.

"All things considered, I think I'd rather go back to the hotel," Monk decided. "You ladies have fun."

Reaching over and borrowing Julie's soda pop long enough to sip from the straw, Natalie studied her boss apprehensively. "They took away your dustbuster," she reminded him. "So what are you going to do all night? Get in trouble? I'm not taking you back if you're just going to drive everyone nuts. You can stay with me then, because I get paid to put up with your shenanigans."

"I'll be good," Monk insisted comfortably. "I packed several cans of Lysol foam, so I can clean the restroom again. After that, the windows could use a good cleaning too… they're still kind of cloudy." He thought about the matter for a moment, frowning. "The maids probably won't allow me in their laundry room any longer, so I'll try and steer clear of them entirely."

"You'd have more fun with us," Natalie teased him.

"Thanks but no thanks."

Mrs. Columbo's eyes suddenly widened, and she stared at a spot just past Monk's right shoulder. "Adrian, I think you should turn around… slowly," she suggested calmly but surely.

Monk studied the expression on her face curiously and then slowly turned to find another face behind him staring at the back of his head. A pair of large, luminous gold and black eyes blinked at him from a whisker filled, wedge-shaped cat face… a very large cat face. Like the aardvark before it, this animal too was on a leash held by a female zoo employee. It was big, about four times the size of a standard house cat and covered with light brown fur. Small, dark curling tufts of black fur lifted upward from the tips of each ear. The animal was obviously a younger cat, but already its body was big and very predatory in appearance.

"Oh my God!" shouted Monk, leaping to his feet and hopping up onto his wrought iron chair. Although he was frightened, he noticed that some of the green paint was peeling off of the chair's armrests and reached down to pull off the cracked pieces with one hand while staring at the animal. "This one definitely belongs in a cage!" he stated bluntly, glaring at the woman holding one end of the leash.

"Not really. She's pretty young yet," responded the blue-shirted zoo employee. "It's a very young Lynx, and they're actually very friendly at this point." In her other hand she held what looked like a plastic fishing wand. On the very tip of it was a cluster of feathers and colored balls. She waved them in front of the animal, bobbing them up and down, watching the Lynx bat playfully at them with one of its front paws.

Monk's gaze shot instantly to Natalie. "It's time to go," he stated tersely. "Look at the claws on that thing."

"Yes, it is time that we were getting back to work," decided his blonde assistant. She paused long enough to pick up her plate and Julie's, tossing both in a nearby trash can. After completing the task, she turned back to the table. The lady with the Lynx on a leash had moved on, but Monk continued to stand on his chair with noticeable apprehension.

"You obviously can't drop me back at the hotel until you're finished working, so is there anything I can do to help?" he asked her.

Thinking the offer over, Natalie nodded in agreement. "Yeah," she decided. "Frank Lauden spent most of yesterday and part of today on the western part of the zoo. Today he's been walking most of the eastern paths. He starts in the south and meticulously moves north until he's searched everything he can possibly think of. Because we've been here two days in a row, he's seen Julie and me pass by him a couple of times. If you could watch him on the eastern side of the zoo, Julie and I could let him loose for a while and watch everyone else to the west."

"I'll help you Mr. Monk," said Mrs. Columbo amiably. "That way you'll have a partner, and you can tell me more about Trudy. She sounds like she was a really wonderful person."

"She was," confirmed Monk with a sad, reminiscing smile. "She was the best."

Tearing off several sheets of blank paper from her notebook, Natalie handed them to Mrs. Columbo along with one of her pens. "Write down anything suspicious that you see," she suggested. "I usually wait until I'm in front of the animal cages. That way, everyone else thinks I'm just another animal lover."

"We'll be fine," said Mrs. Columbo reassuringly.

Nevertheless, Natalie shot a stern gaze in Monk's direction. "We'll be fine," he repeated with more than a little sarcasm in his tone.


Sunday evening, 8:15 p.m. PDT


Merle Bettenhaus scratched his silvery, mostly gray-haired head with one hand as he emerged from the back of his jewelry shop. He smiled wanly at the three men waiting for him, and then dropped a folder full of sales invoices that he had pulled on the counter in front of him. "Do you folks from the police force always work on a Sunday, Lieutenant?" he asked Columbo curiously.

"You should consider yourself lucky," replied Captain Stottlemeyer using his trademark, gravelly tone of voice. "We've been at this all day… we got some of the people working for your competition up at the crack of dawn."

"Oh, I can certainly believe that," chuckled Bettenhaus with a mild smirk. He began sorting through the invoices in front of him. "I believe I found what you three gentlemen are looking for," he told them. "I'm a wholesaler, so not too many of my customers purchase smaller quantities of diamonds. Most of them want to buy gemstones in bulk and then have each of them individually set at a later date in earrings, rings, necklaces or some of the other end products that end up selling for a strong retail price."

Columbo removed a brown envelope from his jacket pocket, opened it, and took out an enlarged photograph of a man's face. "We're looking for this particular gentleman," he noted. "He has shown up on many occasions at other stores in this vicinity. He is mostly bald, usually wears dark glasses, and has a full mustache and beard. Even here in L.A. our suspect would probably stand out in a crowd. He is a caucasian male, and usually purchases his diamonds – up to ten or twelve at a time – with cashier's checks. Occasionally, however, he stops by with a briefcase full of cash."

"Oh, I very definitely remember him," nodded Bettenhaus with a grim smile. He studied the photograph carefully for a moment, just to be certain. It was somewhat grainy, and the color looked to be a bit faded, but the likeness matched closely with his memory. "Most of us in the wholesale business wouldn't generally sell to this kind of customer, but he was extremely insistent. He claimed to be a collector who likes diamonds – and when he stopped by with cash instead of the usual check, he always slipped me an extra thousand or two for my trouble."

"That makes sense," nodded Stottlemeyer. "Since you sell gemstones in bulk, I would imagine your bank transactions are for some very large amounts."

"At times yes."

"Do you know this man personally?" continued Columbo. "We suspect that he might live or work somewhere in this vicinity."

"Why would you suspect that?" Bettenhaus wondered.

"Come on, Mr. Bettenhaus," chuckled Columbo. "Even during daylight in a business district, any normal person wouldn't want to carry a suitcase full of cash very far."

"A lot of your competitors liked receiving cash," Chief Disher pointed out. "Most of them were pretty agitated by our questions. I doubt that they reported those sales, especially the extra dollars, to the IRS."

"I did," said Bettenhaus confidently. "My grandfather was a German immigrant who lived for a time in Southern Russia. I can tell you from the stories he told that those were not good days for him. This country offered our family opportunities that he could only dream of previously. I am an American, and I make certain to pay my fair share of taxes."

Studying the jeweler's overtly serious expression, Columbo smiled. "Please understand… it's not you we're after, sir. We have reason to believe that this man has been purchasing diamonds for his 'collection' with other people's money. Embezzling it and then laundering it, in other words."

A look of curiosity suddenly crossed Bettenhaus' thin, elderly face. "You mentioned my competition," he observed suddenly. "Has this man been buying a lot of gems from them too?"

"Yes," replied Columbo in affirmation. "He deals exclusively in diamonds, and has used both cash and checks with them too. Some of them 'charged' a little more than you do for cash only purchases, and being a smart business man he promptly moved on to other sellers. Whoever we're looking for is working hard to make himself rich, probably by stealing a great deal of money very slowly over time."

"Do you think he's a drug dealer?"

"Not yet." Columbo smiled grimly. "I know there is always a lot of that kind of activity going on in the L.A. area, but so far this looks to be a textbook embezzlement plot. Someone is funneling money into diamonds so that they can carry a small fortune with them, probably to another state or maybe even to a foreign country. Then they'll convert the gemstones back to cash and bank their illegally obtained fortune to keep it safe."

"Where, may I ask, did you get the photo?"

"Some of the other stores have surveillance footage dating back a year or more, especially the ones where randomly snapped photographs are taken instead of videos. I don't suppose you still have any of your video available to us?"

"No," responded Bettenhaus with a shake of his head. He glanced up briefly at the three overhead video cameras that were carefully arranged to focus on the various display cases in the front of his store. "I only keep surveillance footage dating back a month or so, and then the tapes are reused. I very distinctly remember this man and can tell you with reasonable assurance that he hasn't been in my store for at least six months."

"Thank you Mr. Bettenhaus," said Columbo agreeably while scribbling in his small notebook.

The jewelry store owner continued sorting through the invoices until he found one that he was looking for.

"Mr. Bernard Sitte," he read carefully. "This particular purchase was made almost seven months ago. He bought eight diamonds, totaling ten carats, for approximately $15,000. I still have a copy of the cashier's check if you would like me to make you one."

"Thank you sir. That would be very helpful." Columbo studied the invoice carefully and then held it up so that both Stottlemeyer and Disher could get a better look.

"That's the same fake address he used everywhere else," noted Disher.

"Could we get a copy of all related invoices too?" asked the Lieutenant curiously. Bettenhaus raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but Columbo held up a reassuring hand. "We won't need them tonight… you can do that tomorrow if you like."

"I'll put it at the top of my to-do list just for you, Lieutenant," promised the jeweler pleasantly.

After finishing up their interview with Mr. Bettenhaus, the three police officers walked back out into the sunlight on a very pleasant, mild afternoon in downtown Los Angeles. Columbo paused for a moment to get his bearings, studying the various buildings along the other side of the street along with the signpost at a nearby street corner. Stottlemeyer and Disher were following close behind the Lieutenant when he suddenly came to a complete stop, eyes widening with amazement.

"What?" Disher asked immediately, his curiosity overwhelming.

"The guy we're looking for carried large amounts of cash on multiple occasions," said Columbo informatively, slapping his forehead with one hand.

"Yeah," mused Stottlemeyer thoughtfully. "You mentioned that he probably works in the area."

The Lieutenant promptly began checking all of his pockets carefully, one by one. As usual, the business card he was looking for turned out to be in the last place he looked – his left shirt pocket. He removed it and studied the print on it intensely. "Do you remember when Mrs. Petersen mentioned that both Frank Lauden and her husband used to work at an office building before quitting and applying for positions at the Los Angeles Zoo?"

"Yes." Disher and Stottlemeyer spoke simultaneously. Now they were both obviously interested.

"Mrs. Petersen gave me a business card with the address of that office building," replied the Lieutenant incredulously, holding it out so they could study the fine print. "The building that she spoke of is less than three blocks northeast of here." His eyes were bright with confidence. "I think we've just found a good place to start looking for a connection to our murderer."


Author's Notes: This chapter took a bit longer than usual. Apologies for that. Summer is here and I've been busy with other things, like trying to keep my lawn alive during an all out heat wave. Also, the storyline for a detective story is much tougher than I anticipated. I found myself faced with several difficult situations, as I am used to writing science fiction. There are lots of detective stories out there... I was in a book store only last week. Virtually every type of possible twist and turn that can be done in a mystery has already been done. Thus it's difficult to keep coming up with something original. So I've done my best to set up a reasonable storyline with a few twists and turns, but my primary goal is to try and tell a really solid Monk/Columbo tale. Rest assured, my mind is never far from this story and another chapter will appear as soon as I am able to put words to virtual paper. That's my pattern... it bothers me until I get the whole story on paper and properly told.

I absolutely HAD to sneak Mrs. Columbo into the story... played briefly by the wonderful Kate Mulgrew. One of the original Columbo movies took place aboard a cruise ship, with both Columbo and his wife on board. Even then she never appeared on screen... her husband explained that she wasn't feeling well or she was in the next room or something. In another movie, the vindictive widow of a man Columbo sent to prison tries to kill his wife, and yet we still never see her on screen. So I couldn't resist putting her in the story, since - once again - she has an actual presence but we do not get to "see" her.