Summary - Four times Columbo got help from his dog to solve a case, and one case when he didn't.
(Because we all know that behind every great detective is a loyal and faithful sergeant.)


A/N - Written for the 2021 10k Heart Attack exchange, as a pinch hit for Missy.

A/N II - And for people who are familiar with the Ironside (1967) fandom, there are a few names you might recognise, as well as a couple of plot elements :D

Extra thanks to Honigfrosch for the super-quick emergency beta.


Sergeant Dog

Case I - Sleeping Dogs

It was always sunny in Southern California, at least that's what everybody thought. But every so often the clouds would roll over from the ocean and the temperature would drop, and the rain would come down in sheets.

Even though it happened only rarely, Lieutenant Columbo could recognise the signs. And that was why he was here in the park so late in the afternoon, as he hated taking his pet basset hound for a walk in the rain, even though it was the only time he ever felt he got good use out of his rumpled raincoat. But the dog would never get out of the car if it was raining, and at some point in the past few years Columbo had given up trying to persuade him. So rather than wait until evening, he'd decided to go out early.

He'd left his Peugeot close to the park gates. The dog had pulled for the first ten or so steps, then walked by his side for the few minutes up to their favourite spot, a bench in front of a short line of trees, just before the hill, with a wide vista over most of the area. As soon as they'd reached their destination, Columbo had picked the dog up and gently placed him on the seat, before sitting down himself and pulling out a cigar. He didn't light it, just stuck the end in his mouth, enjoying the familiar taste and feeling.

That had been fifteen minutes ago, and they were still sitting on the bench. Columbo sat in silence, looking out to the green park, the streets, and bustling city beyond, content to enjoy the warmth of the spring sun while it lasted. Beside him on the bench, his companion was stretched out on his tummy with his eyes closed, giving soft, deep puffs of air with each breath out. Columbo stared across to the clouds on the horizon, dazzling white against the cobalt blue of the sky, thinking. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers. This case. How was he gonna close off this case in time?

The Chief expected a result. True, he always did, he was that kind of man, but he'd put his neck on the line once again in not insisting that the case was closed off already. He would not be pleased if he had to eat humble pie in front of the Mayor. Their prime suspect, the well known hot-shot, high-flying entrepreneur Raymond Cassidy, had high-up "connections", as was often the case with people who owned large mansions in Beverly Hills, and had brought some pretty sharp pressure to bear throughout the department.

But there was no more sure a way to arouse suspicion than pulling strings at City Hall. At least, that was how Lieutenant Columbo saw it. The more he pushed, poked, prodded (and occasionally harassed) his suspect, and the louder the suspect complained to City Hall, the more sure he became that he was on the right track, and that Cassidy was guilty of a cold-blooded, brutal murder.

Sometimes it was a physical detail that would first arouse his suspicion. But not with Raymond Cassidy. No, it was the look he gave the cops when they came a-knocking on his door. "Smug" was the best way to describe it; unbearably pleased with himself, like a cat who'd caught the canary and swallowed it whole so no one would know. Even though Cassidy had a host of witnesses to his whereabouts for the whole evening, as he was so fond of pointing out to the Lieutenant, that wasn't gonna cut it now that Columbo had him in his sights.

After that came the other things, the little things, small and insignificant details that would keep him awake tonight, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom until after three o'clock in the morning. The way the inner door was open but the outer door was closed; the light on the landing; the fact that the maid and the gardener had been given the night off unexpectedly on the wrong evening. It didn't sit right, and it wouldn't leave him alone. These pieces of the jigsaw showed him part of the picture, and it was a picture of a rich, powerful, arrogant man murdering his business partner for total control of their company. Cassidy was his prime and only suspect, even though he had an air-tight and unbreakable alibi. At the moment…

Columbo turned to look at his dog, and carefully rubbed the closest ear between his finger and thumb. The dog sniffed slightly again and twitched his head, but didn't wake up and the Lieutenant gave him a fond smile.

'You see, that's another problem,' Columbo said to the animal. 'Why didn't he just wake up?' He sighed. 'That would make sense to me, him waking up, but he didn't. The man was asleep for the whole time. If I was in that room, in that bed with all the noise from outside, I mean, I would wake up. Would you?' Dog didn't respond. 'Exactly my point!' Columbo continued. 'You would wake up. I would wake up. Everybody would wake up. With the noise, and after the letters, the threats, after everything. But he didn't. He didn't wake up. He just lay there. Sound asleep. Just like you.'

For a few moments, Columbo lapsed into an uneasy silence. He rubbed his hand across his forehead a few times, then slowly ran his finger down to rest against the tip of his nose. With a sigh, he shook his head.

'And then there's the car,' he said, glancing down to the dog once again. 'For the life of me I just can't understand about that car. If it was going to be out all night, why didn't he put the roof up, and if it wasn't then why were there marks on the windshield?'

At the question, the Lieutenant gave a thin smile, remembering the rather forced explanations Cassidy had given for those facts. That the man had forgotten to fix it down properly, or that the wind had gotten too strong. Those didn't convince anybody.

With a huff, Columbo frowned, not speaking, trying to let the facts shuffle themselves into a different order. They didn't. As he stared out over the park, another little detail that was bothering him drifted to the front of his mind, pushing the case to the side.

'You know, he's wanting me to get another partner,' Columbo said quietly. 'The Chief, I mean, not Mr Cassidy, because that wouldn't make any sense, would it. No, it's the Chief, he's been talking about it with the Commissioner. Can you believe that? I heard it from Lieutenant Donahue, you know, from Narcotics, he's the one who gave you the extra ice cream that was left over from that party? You remember him. You liked him. Or maybe you just liked the ice cream.' Dog didn't move, still warm and sleepy in the sun. 'Well, Donahue told me that he'd heard through his sergeant that the Chief was going to get someone out with me, to accompany me. You know, like they tried a few months ago?'

It hadn't been much of a success, for either party. The young cops who came through the department all worked with a more experienced cop to show them the ropes and get them ready for the real world of real policework. And it wasn't that he didn't like his colleagues in the Los Angeles Police Department, he got on swell with almost all of them. They were all good cops, they were smart and fair, they worked hard and got the job done. They were friendly, even the Chief of Police could be pleasant from time to time. But he enjoyed working alone. Working with someone wasn't easy, it took time to get to know a new man, and few others in the department had the patience to keep up with his unusual work patterns and the Chief often told him he set a bad example and taught them all his bad habits.

At the memory of their last conversation on the subject, Columbo shook his head once more.

'I know he keeps saying it's good to have a sounding board, someone to talk things through with, someone to discuss it all with, but I don't think it's gonna happen. Not after last time. What do you think?'

Dog make no movement, still sound asleep in the sunshine, but Columbo gave an approving nod.

'Exactly,' he said. 'There's no need to change anythin-'

The Lieutenant stopped, and looked up, and blinked.

'Nothing changed,' he said, looking back down at his prone companion. 'Nothing. Nothing! How about that? That's what the maid said, and the gardener.' He paused, took his cigar out of his mouth and rolled it between his fingers before putting it back. 'And if nothing changed then, well, of course there's nothing to see that's different. And if there's nothing to see that's different, well...'

There was a short pause, the Lieutenant let the facts shuffle through his mind one more time. But now he could see a way it could have been done. All Cassidy had to do was make sure it was all the same afterwards. The car, the noise, it would all fit. And the evidence would be back at the crime scene, waiting for him to go collect it.

Nodding to himself, he petted his dog again, then gently shook him awake. The animal looked up to him, ears low, eyes half closed.

'I know it's shorter than you like,' he said. 'But we've cracked it. And we've gotta get back to that house to get our proof.'

He stood, but his dog didn't follow him. Columbo watched him for a few moments, hoping he'd stand, and when he didn't the Lieutenant sighed and carefully scooped him up before turning and walking off back towards his car.


Case II - Dog's Dinner

Columbo had been looking forward to lunch in the Department canteen. The men at the precinct always needed coffee and they always needed lunch. So maybe it was half past four in the afternoon, and it was more like dinner than lunch, but that's what happened when you were a cop. Crime didn't stop because you were hungry, and missing meals was an occupational hazard that they all got used to eventually.

Beside the Lieutenant, the dog sat on the ground, with his tail softly thumping up and down, looking more alert than he ever did at any other time of the day. He was also looking forward to lunch at the Department.

There were few people in the canteen this afternoon. It had been a furiously busy week, and was surprisingly busy for a Thursday, and almost everyone was out working hard in the swelteringly hot summer sunshine.

The Lieutenant himself had been busy over the past couple of days with a tricky homicide, and had spent all day so far checking with the witnesses and confirming the alibis of all the guests at the restaurant that evening. All the other senior staff had a sergeant to do the legwork, but that never suited Columbo, he liked to check the details for himself, and interact with the people involved. He found it a better way to get an angle on the case. It had felt like a very long morning and afternoon, but he'd finished it all before returning to his desk and writing it all up. Only then had he allowed himself the chance to go and get his lunch.

In front of him on the table sat a half-finished bowl of chili, and an open packet of crackers. As it was a Thursday, they always had chili, and the staff had saved him a portion with some crackers, along with a bit of extra leftovers for his dog. No one in the world made chili quite like they did here at the Department canteen, and Columbo always made the effort to have lunch here on a Thursday. Murder might get in the way occasionally, but very few other things would come between him and a good bowl of chili.

'Hey, Lieutenant? Lieutenant Columbo?'

The voice, from a young man judging by its tone, came from behind him and slowly Columbo looked round. By his side, the dog did the same, lifting his nose to sniff the air, in anticipation of meeting someone new.

A young officer, dressed in a smartly starched uniform and blindingly shiny shoes, was striding towards him across the canteen. Columbo recognised him as Officer Galloway, a young man who had quickly become the Chief's favourite errand boy, the one who got landed with all the dull or difficult jobs that no one else wanted. He was tall and slim built, with a handsome face and warm, charming smile, when he chose to use it. Although he usually appeared confident, he was still only a few months into the job and had already built a fine reputation for attracting trouble. But in spite of that, the Lieutenant liked him. He was observant and bright and eager to learn, even if his skills were in need of sharpening up. He might make a good detective, if he managed to stay out of trouble for long enough.

Officer Galloway lifted his hand in greeting to the Lieutenant and came straight over, then hovered nervously by the side of the table, shifting from one foot to another. He was holding a file.

'Hey, Lieutenant,' he said with a smile. So it couldn't be bad news. Not with a smile like that.

'Officer Galloway,' Columbo said with a nod. 'Take a seat.'

After a moment's hesitation, Galloway sat down in the seat opposite, the dog stood to move closer to the newcomer, giving the air a good hard sniff. He shuffled closer again, still sniffing then sat down beside the chair, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Columbo gave an inner smile as Galloway tried hard to ignore the big brown eyes that were gazing up at him.

'Hey, Lieutenant,' the officer said. 'I've just come from the top floor.'

'I guessed,' Columbo said. 'You need some lunch? You look like you need some lunch.' He gestured with his spoon to the canteen serving area, where one or two staff were still milling about.

Galloway hesitated, looking at the bowl in front of the Lieutenant, and licked his lips. Then he shook his head.

'Can't,' he said, sounding genuinely sorry. 'Gotta get back up after. He'll be after my badge again if I waste too much time.'

'Eating lunch isn't wasting time,' Columbo pointed out.

'D'you wanna argue about that with the Chief?'

Columbo flashed a grin. He had a good point.

'You could still have a cracker,' he said.

'Maybe later,' Galloway replied with a smile.

'So what did you do this time to draw fetch-and-carry for the boss?' Columbo asked. 'Well, no. I don't want to know, do I? You're still here so it can't have been that bad.'

Galloway gave a nervous little shrug, turned a pale pink, and Columbo smiled again. He knew all about it. Of course he knew what had happened, everyone around the Department knew, but there was no need to make the man feel more embarrassed than necessary.

'I should never have left the keys in the car,' he said in a low tone, as if he was worried they'd be overheard. 'The Chief's got every right to be mad at me for that one!'

Columbo grunted his agreement and took a mouthful of chili. As he ate, the other officer spoke again.

'I heard about the Cassidy case,' Galloway said, raising his eyebrows. 'Everybody around here has.' He leaned forward. 'The Chief was very relieved it panned out like that. He kept getting calls from the Mayor. Did you know that?'

Columbo gave another soft grunt.

'Anyway,' Galloway continued in a slightly wistful tone, 'everyone else had it down as a robbery gone wrong, but you didn't. I don't know how you knew it was him.'

He got that kinda comment often enough for it not to be a surprise, but he was intrigued by Galloway's half-hidden sigh.

'You get some luck on cases from time to time,' Columbo said modestly.

Galloway gave him a doubtful look.

'The rest of the boys in homicide don't call it luck,' he said.

Feeling himself getting a little embarrassed, Columbo pointed at the file with the spoon, wanting to change the subject.

'So, what is that you've brought for me?' he said.

'This? The Carrington case. The autopsy along with the scene report,' Galloway said. 'Chief said to get it down to you as soon as. That's another high profile one he wants put to bed real quick.'

Galloway handed the file over and the Lieutenant took it with a slow nod. He helped himself to another mouthful of the chili before putting the spoon down and opening the file.

As he read, he noticed that Galloway was surreptitiously petting the dog, rubbing the top of his head and behind his ears with a slow and firm hand. The dog had lifted his head and was pushing back, eager for more attention. After a short while, Galloway nonchalantly helped himself to a cracker from the packet. He nibbled a corner, then broke it in half. He kept one half for himself and, after a pause, he let his hand drop down to the side so the dog could take the other half. The Lieutenant smothered a smile, not wanting to let the other man know he'd noticed. His pet had that effect on a lot of people.

Taking his time, Columbo read the whole report in one go, trying not to let himself dwell on any of the details until he got to the end. When he finished, he closed the report and leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling, tapping his chin with a finger trying to see the pattern.

Galloway continued to pet the dog for a few moments, then he looked at Columbo.

'Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?' he asked.

'Wrong? No, not wrong. Not right, but not wrong either.'

Galloway frowned, tilting his head to one side, eyes bright with curiosity, making him look like an eager puppy. He might be a trouble magnet, but he was keen to listen and learn. Beside him, dog leaned against his hand, not wanting the ear scratching to stop. This time Galloway didn't break, he was too busy concentrating on the conversation.

'It's the little things that always bother me,' Columbo said after a short silence. 'You know, it's always the little details. This is going to bother me all day.'

'But you got something?' Galloway asked eagerly.

'Take a look yourself,' Columbo said, handing the file back.

Galloway hesitated, clearly keen to read the report and find out for himself what the Lieutenant was talking about, but aware that it wasn't his case and the Chief would be angry if he found out. After a moment, he took it anyway.

It took him a minute to read it all the way through, and Columbo spent that time eating his chili and trying to work out what his next move should be, but without much success. At last, Galloway gave a low huff and closed the file, putting it down on the table in front of him. He frowned again, and shook his head.

'I don't- I don't see what you mean,' he said, sounding disappointed with himself. The Lieutenant smiled; at least Galloway didn't pretend when he didn't understand something.

'You're looking but you're not seeing,' he said, pointing to the file.

For a moment the other cop looked annoyed and frustrated. His shoulders were tense and he sat hunched over. At his knee, the dog moved closer and gently prodded him with his nose. Galloway didn't respond.

As Galloway looked at him, Columbo thought through the details of the case. Miss Carrington was as guilty as sin, that's what his gut was telling him. The facts were straightforward enough, she had a motive that might drive any person to kill; a controlling, lying brother who was a bad and unscrupulous man. He'd thought nothing of using her name, reputation and money for his own ends, and he would never have agreed to set her free. Columbo could understand how crushed and trapped she must have felt. Although he didn't approve of what she'd done, at least he could understand why she had been driven to kill. For her, there had been no other way out.

He gave a sigh. Murder or manslaughter? His gut said murder, but he couldn't be sure, and since there were no witnesses it could be either.

Galloway was still waiting for him to speak.

'So?' Columbo asked. 'What'd it say?'

For a second, the Lieutenant thought Galloway might pick up the file and read it again, which was not what he was meaning. But instead the officer said:

'He was hit on the head, he died of blood loss.'

There was a long pause.

'And?' Columbo prompted.

'And the wound wasn't very deep, but it was long. Like he'd been slashed with something real sharp.'

'And?' Columbo said again.

'Um?'

'Shallow wound, and no arteries severed. A sharp weapon. And the blood…?'

'There was a lot of blood,' Galloway said slowly. 'And there was a lot at the scene. So it must have been flowing out for a-' He drew a quick breath and a look of surprise and understanding crossed his face. 'Oh!'

The Lieutenant nodded, hoping the encouragement would get the other officer to keep on going.

'So he died at four, but he could have been hit earlier and left,' he said, suddenly sounding excited. 'So there was time for the blood loss to kill him.'

The excitement only last for a second, as logic quickly asserted itself. He gave a disgruntled frown, shoulders sagging.

'But that's too big a risk. What if someone had found him earlier? Or he didn't lose enough blood? Or he reached the phone? How could anyone be sure?'

Columbo gave an approving nod.

'I'm sure the doc did all he could. But I had hoped the autopsy would give me a little bit more to work with on this.'

'And,' Galloway started tentatively. 'And you think Miss Carrington did it? Killed her brother?'

'Yeah. I do.'

'But-' The officer hesitated, clearly feeling awkward about asking his next question. Patiently, Columbo waited.

'But Lieutenant, how you gonna prove it?'

'That I don't know,' Columbo said with a long, heavy sigh. 'But I hope something will come up.'

'Oh.'

It was obvious that Galloway was a little disappointed at this response, but he had to be honest. At that precise moment in time, Columbo had no idea about how to get the proof he needed for an arrest, let alone enough for a conviction.

In the following silence, Galloway looked down to the dog who looked back at him, his eyes wide and dark, his tail swishing gently against the floor, the very picture of rapt adoration. Unable to resist this time, Galloway leaned down to pet him.

'I think he's more interested in what you might have on the table in front of you,' Columbo observed with a smile. 'He thinks you're gonna be an easy mark.'

Galloway gave a light laugh.

'Sorry, boy, I don't get any dinner today, at least not yet.'

He turned to smile at the Lieutenant, and Columbo felt something scratch at the back of his mind. The autopsy had mentioned something about food. And there were empty cartons of takeaway in the garbage at the crime scene. When had the victim had time to have dinner?

Galloway was still talking to the dog.

'You look hungry,' he was saying, rubbing around the dog's ears again. 'Bet you're always hungry. Bet you can't resist any treats too.'

Columbo huffed a laugh. He ran his spoon around the edge of his bowl, almost finished and wanting to savour the final few bits.

'He'll eat all the candy or ice cream a man can buy, but trying to get him to eat that tinned stuff is impossible. But here, well, here he gets everything he wants. Walter saves extras for him. And he gets treated like the king of LA!'

'Well, at least one of us has had a good meal today,' Galloway said, still gazing down. 'Haven't you, boy!'

The words made the Lieutenant stop dead, the spoon paused half way up to his mouth. Then he abruptly put it back down with a clunk and picked up the autopsy report again, flicking the pages to find what he wanted.

'Lieutenant Columbo? Are you okay?'

'Say that again, Galloway,' he said. 'What you just said. But say it exactly the same.'

The young officer paused, looking uncomfortably left to right as if trying to figure out what had just happened.

'Um. Okay.' He looked back down to dog. 'Well, at least one of us has had a good meal today. Haven't you, boy!'

The Lieutenant lifted his free hand to his head as inspiration struck. He could see it as clear as a glass of water. He knew how it had been done and he suddenly knew how he could prove it.

He stood suddenly, pushing the chair back with a screech, surprising the dog and the officer.

'Excuse us,' he said, picking up the file. 'But my dog and I have an appointment with a judge.'

'Judge?' murmured Galloway.

Columbo nodded.

'I need a warrant. And then we are going to go see a murderer.'


Case III - Old Dog, New Tricks

'Did you have to bring your pet with you, here of all places,' Mrs Whyte asked. 'Didn't you say this was a crime scene?'

She stood defensively near the front door, her arms crossed, and watched with obvious disapproval as the dog padded quietly around the main room of the beach house, sniffing out crumbs. By the time he'd reached the fireplace, the disapproval had changed to annoyance and it looked as if she was ready to storm off at the slightest provocation.

Lieutenant Columbo didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he walked to the large double window to look out to the beach and the wide, rolling ocean. It was a delightful little house, newly-built and close to the sand, ideal for a weekend getaway. At this time of year, with the days getting shorter and the sun lower in the sky for longer, the sunsets out of this window would be spectacular. Pity it was still morning.

He turned to look back at her and gave a bashful shrug.

'Oh, you know what it's like with dogs, Mrs Whyte,' he said. 'Once he gets something into his head there's nothing that's gonna shake it out of him. You see, it's next door's cat, it has a crazy way of getting his attention. And last night, well, he just wouldn't settle down. Scratching at the window, I don't know how he got to the ledge, he's never done that before. And he pushed over the plants as well. And the howls, Mrs Whyte, I bet you've never heard a howl like it.' Columbo raised his hand to his ears and shook his head in despair. 'If I left him there today I don't think we would have a house left to go back to. And I like our neighbours. I couldn't let him howl at them all day. They're good people. Always very friendly, I'm sure you know what that's like with neighbours.'

He ground to a halt and the woman gave him a thin smile, not an unkind or unfriendly smile, it was more disinterested and nervous than actually unfriendly, and the Lieutenant couldn't really fault her for that. They were investigating the double murder of her husband and his pretty mistress after all, and she was the main suspect. A real main suspect this time as well, as there was a substantial amount of evidence that was currently stacked against her. But it still wasn't right. He still had that awkward feeling he always got where there were little details he couldn't explain.

The woman did it. He knew she did it. The evidence said she did it too. She'd been seen at her husband's office at the right time. She didn't deny the argument, she didn't deny the fight. The gun was hers, and the bloody clothes and the fingerprints. To anyone in a court room, it was about as open and shut as it could get.

The Chief hadn't been pleased that he was still poking around at the crime scene, and was loath to keep the DA out of it for much longer. But there were too many other things, little inconsistencies in the details, to let him close this off and walk away. How had her husband taken the recorder home when it was still being used by his secretary when he'd left? Why did he take it in the first place and record their argument? How had he known they would fight? If she was guilty, why had she kept the clothes. She was a smart woman, and a trained lawyer. All the evidence was damning, and she looked like she would go down for it, but there were enough questions to make him keep prodding away.

And nothing was more distracting than the firm insistent feeling that she was too smart, too controlled and too calm, and he was absolutely and completely certain that she was a cold-blooded killer and that she was trying to get away with a double murder.

As his dog shuffled slowly around, Columbo stayed quiet, wondering what the woman would do next.

In her position, main suspect with a barrage of damning evidence, he would have been a lot more worried, and a lot more annoyed. But she was standing in the beach house belonging to her husband, the house where he used to keep his much younger mistress, and she was looking around with a critical eye as if she was thinking of buying it for herself.

'I don't know why we are here at all,' she said. 'Either of us. I don't like being here. It's very-' She stopped abruptly and fluffed her hair as she glanced around again.

Columbo looked around the room as well, seeing the cosy fireplace, the thick pile rug, the pair of dirty champagne glasses on the table, the empty bottle of champagne lying on the floor. He caught sight of an ashtray and went over to it, and tapped the ash off the end of his cigar. She watched him with an air of disbelief. He returned her gaze.

'I mean,' he started to say by way of an explanation, 'it's such a nice carpet, such a nice colour that it won't be right to get ash over it. I know it might be a crime scene and I know they've already taken the photographs but I don't think my boss would be happy if I sprinkled ash over the carpet at a crime scene, would you?'

She didn't answer. It looked like she'd stopped listening before he got to the end, maybe somewhere around the word "colour".

'I know what you're thinking, Lieutenant Columbo,' she said. 'It's a love nest. That's what it is. They were here. They lived here as Mr and Mrs Baxter. In their love nest while I was at home, waiting like the dutiful little wife he wanted me to be.'

She flicked her hand and for a moment a cold fury flashed over her face, quick enough to be fleeting but he noticed it anyway. He saw her looking back at him.

'I'm sorry Lieutenant,' she said. 'It hurts to know that the man you thought you knew could be so… could be so… brazen.'

Brazen? The word made Columbo give a mental start. Brazen wasn't the word he would have used in the circumstances. Duplicitous, dishonest, cheap, two-faced, unkind, sleazy… the Lieutenant could think of a number of highly unpleasant ways to describe Mr Whyte's behaviour, and brazen was a very long way down his list.

'Yes, Mrs Whyte,' he said consolingly, 'and I know this must be very painful for you, but you have to understand I need to get as much help as I can with this case. And you were the one who knew your husband the best,' she snorted at the statement but didn't contradict him, 'and if there is anyone who can help me, then I think it is going to be you.'

'I don't know how much more help I can give you,' she said, giving a despondent sigh.

Columbo lifted his hands in a placating, soothing gesture.

'I know, Mrs Whyte,' he said. 'I know this must be difficult and unpleasant, but you are the main suspect. Until the DA says otherwise, that is.'

The deflated look didn't leave her, and though the Lieutenant waited, she didn't speak.

He busied himself looking around at the furniture, keeping half an eye on the dog, who had grown bored of the rug and was shuffling towards the kitchen, nose to the floor, his tail swishing from side to side.

After a few more moments of looking around, Columbo walked over to Mrs Whyte, giving her a more reassuring smile.

'Your husband, we still haven't found his body,' Columbo said. 'Just remember that. I know there's all that other evidence. But there's still no body.'

She rolled her eyes.

'You can still charge me with his murder without a body,' she said. 'I know that. Jason knows that as well.' She drew a sharp breath. 'It's all set out for you already. All the evidence is there. There's the tape with the argument and a gunshot. It sounds like I shot him in the office and set all this up to look like he ran off. The clothes. The gun. I don't know why you haven't arrested me already. Anyone else would have had me in front of a judge in minutes.'

She turned to look at him, and her voice grew more anxious as she spoke.

'But the argument was at home, I swear. I couldn't have shot him at the office, I was still at home. He called. He said to meet him at his work, to be there just before noon. He said he had thought it through, that a divorce would be the right thing for us. He said he would see me there.'

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, her mouth held in a thin line.

'I swear I didn't go to the office and shoot him.'

'And I believe you,' the Lieutenant said firmly. And he meant it. There was no way she could have shot her husband at the office and been able to move the body. He was a big man, and it was twelve flights of stairs to the car lot in the basement. Something else must have happened.

At his words, she gave a tremulous smile, and turned away, scrambling in her handbag for a handkerchief.

'But even if he's not dead,' Columbo began, lifting his hand to his forehead, 'we still have the body of his young woman found floating down by the boat.' He gestured out of the window to the ocean beyond.

Mrs Whyte lifted her head proudly.

'I did not murder Candy Johansen,' she said. 'What ever the evidence says.'

'Well, the bullets they took from here are from your gun, the fingerprints on it are yours. You can see why the DA is pushing. The evidence, it's very clear, Mrs Whyte.'

Her shoulders sagged again, but this time she moved unsteadily to one of the seats and slumped down.

'If this was Jason, then he's done a very thorough job of making it look like me and not him.'

Columbo had to nod. "If" was a big word in this situation, and it bothered him.

'From the outside, Mrs Whyte,' he said. 'From far away, that's what it looks like. But the closer we get, the more the little things stand out.'

'Little things like-?'

'Well, there's the food, you see.' She looked at him blankly, not rising to the bait. 'Miss Johansen had eaten breakfast.'

'Breakfast? What does that have to do with it?'

'You see it's the time,' Columbo explained. He pointed at the kitchen where his dog was snuffling about. 'There are dishes in the sink. Pink lipstick on the cups.'

'So she ate,' the woman said, not appearing to be interested.

'It's like a case a few weeks ago,' the Lieutenant said. 'Mr Carrington. The man had eaten. He'd had lunch, when he was supposed to have been dead.'

Mr Whyte frowned, confused.

'Are you saying-? She was alive later? She-?'

'Oh, no, Mrs Whyte, nothing like that,' he said quickly. 'But she was here. And she had breakfast, and she wasn't alone.'

For a moment, she brightened, then she leaned forward in the chair.

'If Jason was here for breakfast, then he couldn't have been in the office. He couldn't have been in two places at once.' She gave a sudden confident smile, then after a moment the excitement faded from her eyes. 'But you can't prove it. She ate, she had company. There's nothing to say it was Jason. Is there. This is hopeless!'

Columbo regarded her carefully, trying to figure out what she was thinking. It surprised him that she would give up like this, he knew her reputation for being confident and calm. The way she was acting felt forced, out of character and a contradiction. He didn't like contradictions. He didn't like the way she seemed to want to be arrested.

'They must have bought food,' he said. 'Maybe somewhere close by.'

She shook her head.

'Finding where isn't going to be easy,' she said. 'Who's going to remember selling some milk and eggs and bread. They must get people doing that all the time around here.'

Columbo nodded.

There was a short silence, and slowly the Lieutenant walked around the room again, looking at things, aware that Mrs Whyte was watching him.

This was one of the strangest cases he'd worked on. Stranger than the McMillan case where the wife had pushed her husband off a cliff and tried to make it look like an accident. Stranger even than the Forbes case, and that had been odd with the double clues and the changes of times.

He stopped, taking a puff on his cigar, and rummaged around in his raincoat pocket for his notebook. It wasn't there, so he tried his jacket, in the outer pockets then inner ones, before finding it and his short stubby pencil. He looked through the notes trying to figure out just what was bothering him.

The tape had a recording of an argument on Friday night between the Whytes that had ended in a gunshot. Blood was found in his office. Bloody clothes were found in her house, hidden in the back of a cupboard. She'd been seen at the office, she'd not denied going there either. And when they'd found out about her husband's "secret" second home, they'd found a dead girlfriend, killed with Mrs Whyte's gun, and the gun with her fingerprints on it.

It should have been the simplest case he'd ever worked on. The direct physical evidence was overwhelming, the DA was pushing for an arrest. They had clothes, fingerprints, bullets, everything they needed to make it stick.

He looked back at the woman, about to ask about the gun again, when he saw a slight movement in the kitchen and remembered about his dog.

'Hey you!' he said suddenly, looking towards the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mrs Whyte start, but he wasn't paying attention to her. His dog had nuzzled his way out of the kitchen by pushing open the back door. 'Hey!'

The dog, as per usual, paid him no notice and padded softly through. Columbo followed and was lead into a small pantry area. At one side was an open cupboard with shelves filled with a whole variety of tinned food. On the other was a new-looking chest freezer. Curious, Columbo moved over and opened it, aware that Mrs Whyte had come through as well.

He gave a low whistle.

'Would you look at that,' he said. 'Just look at all that food! They must have had enough food stashed away here to last them through until next autumn!'

Mrs Whyte moved to his shoulder to see what he was looking at. He felt her brush against his sleeve and smelt Chanel no 5 as she leaned over.

He picked up a box from the top layer, a frozen dinner, with chicken and vegetables. He picked up another, and another, then had a good rummage downward. He moved the boxes from the top easily but when he got lower down they began to get more difficult to move as the frost had made them stick together. He tried a few, stopped, then carefully replaced the ones he'd moved, taking his time.

'Most of it's new,' he observed once he had finished, pointing to the top layer of food.

'New?' Mrs Whyte sounded very surprised at his remark. 'How do you know? Couldn't these have been here for a long time? They all look the same to me.'

'Well no, you see, the frost hasn't built up yet.' He lifted one of the top boxes, a mix of vegetables. 'Look at this, it's like it was just made this morning. It's clean, clear of any frost or ice. You see?'

Wanted her to see what he was meaning, Columbo handed over the box. She took it gingerly and with little enthusiasm.

'I suppose,' she said. 'But that doesn't mean it is new. Not all freezers are like that. Not all of them get iced up. Maybe it's one of those.'

As he listened to her speak, the Lieutenant wondered why she was trying to convince him that these weren't new. She hadn't looked interested at all when he'd opened the freezer, and now she was giving him excuses?

He took the packet back from her, placed it from where it came and crossed his arms.

'You think these might not be new?' he said carefully. She nodded. 'Because not all freezers get iced up?' She nodded again, but he shook his head. 'But there's ice all over the bottom ones.'

Mrs Whyte peered into the freezer once again, the look on her face was one of consternation. She stood there looking for a few moments too long, but long enough to make the Lieutenant think she was trying to think up something appropriate to say.

'I suppose you're right,' she said. 'But it doesn't matter anyway. It's just a freezer full of food.'

Columbo gave a dutiful smile at her response but shook his head.

'If this is all new, then they must have bought it recently. Very recently. Maybe even this weekend. And people buying a large amount of frozen food would be a lot more memorable than someone buying just the basics.'

'I suppose.'

She didn't sound enthusiastic, and that was a surprise as well.

'Don't you see, Mrs Whyte?' he said. 'There is a much better chance of finding where they bought all this. And of someone remembering. And if they remember, then that could show Mr Whyte was alive after you were supposed to have killed him.'

She nodded, giving a smile that didn't feel quite as genuine as the ones before. He waited, giving her a chance to think, and an opportunity to think of something to say.

But instead of words there was a faint noise, a slurping, slobbery noise that made Columbo jerk round. His dog was in the corner of the room, between the wall and the edge of the cupboard, busily licking something off the floor.

'Hey, what are you thinking?' he said loudly, going over to the dog. He pulled him back gently, to see what he'd found.

In the corner the floor was wet, there was a puddle of water, along with a few tiny bits of stray vegetables, a few peas and cubes of carrots. The dog had been licking them. He looked up plaintively at his owner, ears down, eyes wide. Unable to resist, the Lieutenant petted him on the head.

'Should have known you wouldn't miss something like that! ' he said in a disapproving tone. 'Shall we find you some proper water? Say, Mrs Whyte, would you do me a favour? Would you go and get a bowl or something, something you can fill up with some water for him.'

Mrs Whyte had a very odd expression on her face as she looked down at the pair of them, and it was an expression that Columbo recognised as worry. But she nodded and did as he asked.

While she was in the other room Columbo put his fingers into the puddle, then gave them a sniff. They smelled of food. He frowned, but looked back to his dog.

'What is Mrs Columbo going to say if she finds out I let you drink that stuff off the floor?' he asked the dog in a serious tone. 'Who knows how long it's been there. Trust you to find something like that.'

He stood, glancing up to the ceiling. It was autumn, true. And it hadn't been that warm for the past few weeks, but surely any water left out would have dried up.

He leaned back down, but didn't look at the water, instead he looked at the walls, looking for any signs of damp. There weren't any.

'So where has this water come from?' he asked the dog in a low voice. A thought struck him and he turned to look back at the freezer, feeling a cold prickle of discomfort. All this hinged on a time of death, after all. And the time of death came from decay rates and body temperatures.

He straightened and looked up to the ceiling again, not seeing any water damage, his discomfort growing into understanding. As he did Mrs Whyte returned with a bowl of water. She moved toward where the dog was waiting, her hand wobbling, the water about to slosh over the side, but Columbo go to it before any catastrophe could happen.

'Better not have it inside,' he said and pointed to the door. 'Because we wouldn't want anything to happen to disturb the crime scene, would we Mrs Whyte? Not before the lab boys get back down here.'

There was the tiniest flicker of frustration on her face, there for a fraction of a second and then gone. Columbo smiled to himself. She would have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to get a trick like that past him. He gestured to the door, and she was obliged to leave the room. Then, with a low whistle, he left as well, with his dog padding along behind him.


Case IV - In the Doghouse.

The Records and Property Office was not a place Lieutenant Columbo liked to go, especially not in winter and especially not if the heating had been playing up, like it had been for the whole week. It was colder than the rest of the Department at the best of times, being in the basement, and not a place to linger for any length of time.

As he walked along the corridor towards the door, the Lieutenant steeled himself and pulled his raincoat tighter. He didn't have to be there for long. He needed a quick look at the Mason evidence again, just to make sure, and then he could get back to the relative warmth of the Homicide office on the third floor.

He pushed open the door, ready to say hello to Bill, but Bill wasn't sitting at the front desk in his usual place. Instead, slumped forward, resting his chin on his hand and looking extremely bored, was Officer Galloway. He started wildly at the noise, trying to look like he hadn't just been dozing. When he recognised the Lieutenant, he let out a loud sigh of relief.

'Oh, it's you, Lieutenant!' he said. 'Thank goodness you're not Donahue! Um, I mean, Lieutenant Donahue, sir!'

Columbo smiled a greeting and walked closer.

'Evening, Officer,' he said, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice. 'Didn't expect you to be down here tonight.'

At that, Galloway gave another long sigh, pursing his lips. Columbo couldn't be sure, but it looked like Galloway started to blush.

'Oh,' said Columbo. 'It's like that?'

Galloway nodded.

'I'll probably be here until next Christmas,' he said heavily. 'Or the Christmas after that.'

'That bad?'

'You'd better believe it!'

It crossed Columbo's mind to ask, but he would no doubt hear all about it from the men upstairs. Galloway already looked like he wanted the ground to open up underneath him, and he didn't want to make the man feel worse.

'Well, I'm sorry to have to wake you, but I'm just here to check the crime scene evidence on the Mason case,' he said. 'Can you get it for me?'

At the request, Galloway gave a charming, relieved smile and nodded, then went through to the back room to get the boxes of evidence. As he waited, the Lieutenant glanced at the desk, and saw the sign-in sheet for Property. Unable to stop himself, he turned the page round and took a brief glance through the names: Donahue, Smith, Roberts, Mitchell, Donahue again. There were a few more, then Donahue's name was there once more.

When Galloway reappeared, Columbo gestured at the sheet.

'I see Lieutenant Donahue has been here a few times today.'

At that, Galloway gave an annoyed huff and plonked the property box he was carrying onto the table with a thump.

'I think he's checking up on me,' he said. He closed his eyes and gave another sigh. 'Today can't end fast enough!'

There was an uncomfortable pause, as Columbo had expected the other man to go and get more boxes, but instead Galloway huffed again and leaned against the table, his arms crossed. He didn't speak.

'So, said the Lieutenant after a few more moments. 'That's it, huh?'

'Yup. That's all there is.'

The Lieutenant rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

'You sure?'

At the question, Galloway leaned forward, licking his lips.

'Is- is there something wrong?' he asked. 'I'm sure there's only one box for the Mason case. I'll check again.'

He did, but was back in under a minute, with no more boxes.

'I'm real sorry, Lieutenant, that's all I've got.'

'If that's all you've got, then that's all you've got,' Columbo said with a sigh.

With a sympathetic shrug and a shake of his head, Galloway sat back down behind the desk and started to fill out the sign-in sheet.

Perturbed at the lack of evidence, Columbo opened the box he had and started to rummage around, leaning right over it to get a good look inside. There was a more companionable silence for a minute, then Galloway asked:

'No dog today?'

Columbo looked up. He didn't smile.

'That's something else we shouldn't talk about,' he said gruffly. Galloway looked surprised but didn't push for answers. The Lieutenant went back to rummaging, but didn't last for more than ten seconds before stopping and looking back to the other officer.

'My wife, Mrs Columbo, well, her cousin and his family were gonna come over for dinner last night. It was his wife's birthday and she didn't want to make a big thing of it, but the cousin, he doesn't like to leave these sorta things alone, and they agreed to do something for a few people. And Mrs Columbo, well, she likes his wife and they get along, and they sorta set it all up together and knew what they all wanted so they used our kitchen, even though Mrs Columbo, she doesn't cook. You know what families can get like. So they arranged this big dinner with some fancy cooking, and they made a few special dishes from the family recipes. And Mrs Columbo, she likes to make sure we have enough for everyone. It was a lot of effort.'

As he'd spoken, Galloway's expression changed from polite interest to wary understanding. Columbo nodded.

'Exactly,' he said. 'I don't know how the dog got in there. I'm a detective and I don't know. And I know that he didn't mean to make everyone change their plans and everything, but there was no other explanation. Meatballs don't disappear without some help!'

As he spoke, he saw Galloway's mouth twitch at the sides, as if he was trying to smother a smile.

'And Mrs Columbo was very upset, you see. No one could blame her for that. And after all that work, all that planning. Everyone was very understanding, but even so.'

Galloway nodded.

'So what did you do?'

'We ordered out. It was still a great meal. Not what they'd planned, but they all enjoyed it.'

'And your dog?'

The Lieutenant frowned slightly, and crossed his arms.

'Oh, he stayed with Mrs Columbo today, and she said she'd keep him in the garden, on the lead, somewhere he couldn't get into trouble.' He sighed. 'He looks more like a sausage dog than a basset hound, after all that eating. Getting into any trouble today would be difficult!'

At that statement Galloway gave a rueful smile.

'I know that feeling!' he muttered, glancing around.

'Don't we all,' Columbo added.

He leaned forward again to start looking into the box, when Galloway gave an awkward cough. Intrigued, Columbo waited.

'Look, Lieutenant,' Galloway started to say. He paused, drawing a quick breath as if working up to something.

'What is it?' Columbo asked, wanting to be helpful.

'Well, I really wanted to ask you something,' he said. 'But the case had nothing to do with me, and the Chief said, well, he went on about bad habits and said I shouldn't stick my nose into your cases. And, well, I don't wanna get you into trouble.'

At the word, Columbo gave a smile.

'Why don't you ask. I don't have to answer.'

'It's about the Whytes,' he said eagerly. 'The case is going before a jury next week, and everyone was talking about what you did. I wanna understand more, like how you knew she'd killed them both.'

'There was a lot of evidence,' Columbo pointed out.

'Yes, but that was all faked, wasn't it?' he said. 'You got the real evidence. And you told them where to find Mr Whyte's body. You figured it all out. You looked at the faked evidence and you still knew it was her. You got her confession. Everything. '

'Well,' he said.' It wasn't exactly like that-'

'But how did you know?' Galloway asked. 'How did you see past all the fake stuff? How did you figure out about the freezer, that she'd used it to fake the time of death? The frozen food that had been defrosted and refrozen? And how did you know about the car, and the faked blood stains at the office? And that she'd faked the tape as well? She faked all the evidence against her, and had the fake time of death to get her out of a murder charge!'

Columbo stared in surprise at the officer, amazed that he knew so much about a case that supposedly had nothing to do with him. Under his steady gaze, Galloway looked uncomfortable.

'I read up on it,' he admitted. 'I wanted to understand how you knew.'

'There's nothing much to understand,' Columbo said honestly. He saw the look of disappointment on Galloway's face. 'See, it's like this. It's the little things that bother me. It's the details that don't fit the way they should. The small bits of evidence in the wrong place.'

Galloway was frowning but had tilted his head to one side, his eyes bright with curiosity again, eager to learn more.

'You've gotta look, and you've gotta listen,' he said. 'Murderers make mistakes, and it's when they try and cover up for them that they slip up more.' He gestured at the box between them. 'Take the late Mr Mason, here. He's got a nice job, a nice house. He works hard to keep the company going even though his lay-about brother does nothing but drift in and out whenever he chooses. So, one day he goes home for lunch and doesn't make it back to the office because he has a knife in his chest. And the brother, Mason junior, the only one who would benefit, has an alibi because, for the first time ever, he gets stinking drunk at a business social. He makes such a fool of himself that he's sent to sleep it off in one of their meeting rooms in disgrace. He's in the doghouse, just like you, just like my dog. And the whole staff will swear that he couldn't have left.'

Columbo gave a theatrical pause, waiting.

'But-?' Galloway asked.

'For the one time he needed everyone to know where he was, the man has a perfect alibi?'

'I admit, that's odd,' Galloway said. 'But is that all you have to go on?'

Columbo shrugged.

'Well, the knife isn't the usual kind of kitchen knife. It's cheap. It's not one from Mason's home.'

'But if it was a robbery gone wrong-'

Columbo rummaged in the box again, and pulled out a tatty-looking chef's knife, with a scratched handle and a very thin, weak blade, and showed it to Galloway.

'If you were going to turn over a house, would you take this with you, just in case?'

'I suppose not,' he admitted. He picked it out of the Lieutenant's hand and looked at it carefully. 'I don't know why anyone would carry a knife like that. It's doesn't look useful.'

'Exactly.'

'But perhaps it was one of Mason's own knifes?'

Columbo shook his head.

'No, I checked with the housekeeper, and with the maid. Neither of them recognise it.'

'Oh.' There was a short pause. 'But how does that fit in with the brother? And the murder?'

Columbo shook his head again.

'I don't know,' he said. 'But it's these details that for the life of me I can't let go of.'

Galloway looked concerned again.

'But why?' he asked. 'Why should it be important?'

'I don't know. But I want to know. I want to know where this knife came from and what it was doing in the house. I don't see why it would have been in the house at all. And until I know, I'm just gonna keep picking away at the case, on and on, until I find out.'

'And that's it?' Galloway asked, clearly surprised.

'And that's it,' Columbo replied.


Case V - Man's Best Friend

Sitting on their favourite seat in the park, the Lieutenant leaned back and gave a relaxed sigh. It was a lovely spring evening, warmer than it had been for a few days, and with only a very light breeze. The sky was a beautiful shade of deep blue and there was hardly a cloud to be seen anywhere. At his side on the bench, his dog was lying with his head on Columbo's thigh, drooling onto his raincoat. He petted him absentmindedly, looking off into the far distance, to the houses, the city and the mountains beyond.

'But I can't see how we're gonna close this one off,' he said at last. 'Weiss has the motive, but not the opportunity. You don't have any good ideas, do you?'

The dog gave a non-committal whine. After a pause, Columbo smiled.

'So that's it, huh?' he asked. There was no response, and the Lieutenant sighed. 'Well, I suppose you're right, something will come up.'

They sat quietly for a few moments, then he said:

'But the Mason case is going to trial, I heard that this morning. That's good news, isn't it. Everyone thinks that he'll plead guilty. He should plead guilty, he doesn't have a chance, not with his alibi in pieces. And not with all the other evidence.'

His dog let out a quiet huff of air.

'That's what I thought too,' Columbo said with a nod. 'He made a mistake with the knife. And the alibi was a tough one to break, but when we found out about the extra keys, and the broken alarm, well, it was only a matter of time before we found the way to get him.' He took a puff on his cigar. 'The Chief was pleased to have that one shut down.'

He was silent for a minute, enjoying the peace of the park, then he suddenly smiled again.

'But Galloway, you remember him, don't you? You liked him, he always petted you and fed you bits of cracker when he thought I wasn't looking. Well, he'd been put up for detective, after working with Reese on one of the homicides downtown. They say he did a great job, that he was very observant, and he's learning quick. He might make sergeant in a few years. Chief's gotten to like him. He should. He'll make a good detective.'

A few more moments of silence passed, then Columbo glanced down. The dog looked at him, big brown adoring eyes fixed on his as if there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

'You know, I should have a couple more treats in here, somewhere.'

His dog snuffled against him in a hopeful, eager manner as Columbo searched his pockets. He had one half treat left, a bit broken and crumbly so he let the dog take it out of his hand, then lick his palm for the crumbs.

'That's the last one,' he told his dog. 'I'll try to get another packet on the way back.'

The dog licked his hand once more, making sure he'd not missed any spots.

'And there's still nothing from upstairs about my getting a sergeant either,' Columbo said. 'Been over a year. Can't say I'm sad about it, what do I need a sergeant for? The rumours are still going round, but since Donahue was moved, there wouldn't be any point. Last time I saw the Chief he said that he didn't need me teaching the young officers all my bad habits.'

At the thought, he shook his head and smiled again.

'We wouldn't dream of doing that. Would we?'


The End


Notes:

Cases
Some of the plot elements from Case III were ruthlessly *borrowed* from Ironside, Seasons 2, Ep 9 "An Obvious Case of Guilt". I like the plot of that episode, so I reworked it as a Columbo case. Most of the names in that case are borrowed as well.

Names
There are a few references to the names of either Ironside characters or actors strewn thought this. The most obvious one is Officer Galloway who is inspired by Sergeant Ed Brown in Ironside, but younger and without the heavy angst backstory that he got in the show.