We rewind the clock and find out how the lieutenant found his one and only. Set circa 1960. Rose is mid/late 20s, Columbo nearing 30.

"I heard Gonzalez is finally gettin' married. Yeah. I know."

"My condolences!"

"Get outta town."

"Don't tell me, tell him!"

A motley crew of Detective Columbo's twelfth precinct squadmates nattered away next to him, as they were wont to do. He stared out the diner window in his typical manner of diverted attention, cheek in his hand, chili bowl empty. The summer evening sunlight filtered prettily through the window pane, casting a glare on his face. Today, he was the top bun of the idiot sandwich, the bunch shoved into their usual post-shift corner booth. It wasn't exactly the Algonquin Round Table, but it was theirs. And that suited him just fine.

"I went to high school with 'er. Once you get that broad started on som'n…hoo-wee. Talk about a life sentence, eh? The ol' ball 'n' chain!" one of them-Paulie-roared, elbowing Columbo in the side. "Hey, lighten up, Detective."

"And then there was one," another, Manny, piped up. "You're the last bachelor among us, Columbo. I know you like the ladies. You can't hide from 'em foreva'."

"Oh, I just don't know, fellas," he said with one of his self-effacing handwaves. "I'm practically married to this damn job. I don't have time for the homestead, what with this city's love affair with homicide. I can barely sleep as it is."

"I thought that, too," John, his sergeant, piped up. "'Til one day I realized corpses can't keep you warm at night. Even if you want 'em to. If you don't do somethin' one'a these days, you're gonna wake up old an' gray like me, Columbo. You gonna be like old man Cheong feedin' pigeons alone in Battery Park? Talkin' to 'em?"

"Well, someone's gotta do it," Columbo said, chuckling to himself.

"Speakin'a dames, ain't that one'a Vito's girls ova there, what's 'er name? Rita?" Paulie said in a hushed tone, nodding towards the booth several tables away.

"No, you dip. Rita's her sister. That one's Ruth."

Columbo turned to look, immediately zeroing in on the woman in question. His eyes widened.

"Rose," he said.

There sat a woman of heavily tanned complexion poring over several sprawled textbooks, furiously taking notes. Tight black curls tied back in a messy ponytail fell forward, framing her heart-shaped face. Her coke-bottle glasses somewhat obscured her features, but there was no question about it. This was indeed Rose Palermo, daughter of local Sicilian deli owner Vito. Columbo and his brothers had worked at Palermo's in their aimless Kerouacian post-high school blur of travels, odd jobs, and sporadic classes. Really, joining the force had been his single longest commitment since compulsory education. And it was the only one that had felt at all "right".

"Well, I'll be!" Paulie laughed. "Lil' Rosie, all grown up. And she ain't even half bad. There's a bona fide eye-talian goddess for ya, Detective!" He slapped Columbo's back, prompting hyena-like laughter from the table.

"Boy inn't she," he said reflexively, too transfixed to care about his colleague's moronic quip. "Wouldja just look at 'er? I haven't seen her since she was just an awkward little thing in high school."

Puerile "ooh"s rippled from the men at the table. Truth be told, something about Rose had caught his eye even then, but there was no room in either of their lives at the time for such an arrangement. He was young, she was too young. Besides, what would she have possibly seen in him?

"Have we got the hots for the lil' Miss?" Manny asked, prompting another handwave and shushing from the detective. "Wait 'til Vito hears about this. Hey, hey, lookie here, she's gettin' up. You betta' go say som'n."

Rose had indeed risen from her table, wallet in hand at the register. The day had been blistering, so she'd opted for a white, sleeveless button-up with high-waisted maroon shorts and sensible white flats. Particularly short, her petite stature accentuated her plump, buxom figure.

Columbo couldn't tear his eyes away from her as thoughts began to race through his mind. He wondered where she was off to. What she was studying. If she'd go for someone like him. Whether her eyes were still the same bottomless brown.

"Boy, she'd fill out a sweater, huh?" A low whistle.

"Damn right-the whole thing, by the looks of it!" Raucous hoots and hollers. Columbo snapped out of his reverie and frowned.

"'Least she fills out them shorts, too, 'nawm sayin'? God damn. She ever needs a seat on the E, I got a big ugly mug for 'er right here." Deafening laughter, attracting attention from the adjacent table.

"Do you mind?" Columbo snapped, with an indignance that surprised even himself. He normally had no such axe to grind during his colleagues' regular cat-calls, crass as he found them. But to so brazenly objectify this lady felt particularly unconscionable. The gang quieted, acting in mock offense.

"Gee, sorry, boss."

"Hate to talk about your mistress that way." Snickers.

"Wh-tchh!" More laughter.

Columbo would've countered in some way had he not been so focused on the more important matter at hand: the beautiful creature stuffing books into her leather attaché bag. Those that did not fit, she carried. She stood and took one final sip of her milkshake, leaving it empty before turning to leave. Columbo found his legs itching to rise and follow her. He sat up from his slouched position conspicuously.

"Uh, guys, I'm gonna, um, I've got some dry cleanin'-"

"If you love 'er so much why dontcha' marry 'er?"

"Heheh, that was a good one."

"C'mon, guys. Hey, go get 'er, boss."

"Yeah, yeah. Buncha' goons," Columbo growled, sliding out of the sticky vinyl booth and lurching towards the door.

"Good luck!"

"See ya tomorrow!"

"You owe me thirty-six cents!"

The diner door jingled behind him as he stumbled outside, frantically searching for her. There she was, almost down the block already. The sun had begun to set, bathing the city in hues of orange and lavender. The day's heat had broken somewhat, though the baked concrete still radiated intense warmth. Up Lafayette Street he dashed, maintaining tunnel vision on his target through throngs of people. Not before long, she was within earshot.

"'Scuse me, miss? Excuse me!"

Rose stopped, turning toward the source of the sound. A man was calling, looking directly at her. Somewhat disheveled, he was slouched, perspiring, and in the process of doffing his gray linen suit jacket. Instinctively, she clutched her books to her chest and froze.

"Me?"

"Yes, you, miss," he panted, clearly out of breath.

"Can I help you?" she asked uncomfortably.

"Listen," he said, regaining his composure. He raked a hand through his short hair and rolled up his shirt sleeves, attempting to straighten his posture. "I was just in that diner back there, and pardon me, but I…I couldn't help but notice you."

"Well, thank you. Good day, sir," Rose said curtly. She turned on her heel and kept walking. Columbo paused, then broke into a trot after her.

"You don't remember me?" he called out. Rose stopped again and faced him, quirking a brow.

"Should I?"

"I went to P.S. 21. My brothers and I worked in your father's shop years back. Name's Columbo, that ring a bell?" He noticed her exhale, recognition dawning on her face as her manner relaxed somewhat.

"Ahh, you're one of those Columbo boys," she said, actually studying his features. Now she placed him. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember you. You guys were real pains in the ass."

"Guilty as charged. You got us pegged."

"You're…Fredo? No, that was the older one, sorry. Uh…Francesco, yeah?"

Columbo felt his ears burn. He highly disliked hearing his forename truncated, let alone the whole damn thing. Something about it simply never failed to embarrass him.

"That's right. But, uh, just Columbo. Please," he said stiffly, looking at the sidewalk.

"...Columbo. So then you're the one who became a cop, right? How's that treatin' you?" She was talking, at least.

"Ah, same ol'. People are always killin' each other. Provides job security. And uh, you, you're studyin' still?" A pause.

"Well, a woman doesn't get far in the field with just a bachelor's, so I'm finishing my master's. Library science." A master's. He'd barely gotten out of high school alive.

"Gee, that's quite a feat." He stole a glance at the textbooks in her arms. "...Index Systems Design, huh? FORTRAN…some kinda computer stuff, innit? Crazy stuff. Man, this sorta thing just sends me into a tailspin. I dunno how you do it. Cars I can do, but those things…"

"Right. So, who put you up to this? My mother, wasn't it?"

Columbo blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"That woman'll do anything."

"Sorry, do what now?" he pressed, bewildered.

"Of course she'd put a guy like you up to askin' out a girl like me. God forbid I be a spinster, she's gotta pair me off like I'm livestock on the ark. I cannot believe her. Y'know, if it meant finally marryin' me to a nice local boy, I think she'd kill a man."

"If she did, I hope you'd let me know. I am in homicide these days, after all," he said, tongue firmly in cheek. Now it was Rose's turn to blink in surprise.

"Homicide, huh? Whaddya gonna do, read me my rights?" she said dryly. Columbo grinned.

"No, you're not a suspect. Well. To my knowledge, at least."

"Then what could you possibly want from me?" she asked, studying her shoes. Columbo studied her in surprise.

"Well, as I said, you really struck me somethin' fierce back there. And all those books you're readin'...well, that's really what got my attention. You up at NYU?"

"What's it to ya?" she asked sharply. Ouch. He lowered his voice.

"Listen, you don't gotta tell me anything you don't want to. I'm real sorry to bother you here. The truth is…I just wanted to know if you were available to have dinner or somethin' sometime." Rose's eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

"Uh…no. Sorry. Bye, now," she said suddenly, turning and walking away once again-this time faster.

What just happened? Where had he gone wrong? He'd put deodorant on this morning, hadn't he? Either way, if he didn't do something now he would likely never see her again, she'd make sure of that.

"A-Ahh, just drinks then!" he called out, hurrying after her.

"I can't!" Damn it, she was really getting away.

"C'mon, uh…doughnuts!" he said in desperation, without thinking. Who doesn't like doughnuts? Rose stopped in her tracks. "You like doughnuts, right? There's a place nearby, they got-"

"What is that, some kinda joke?" she exclaimed, interrupting him again as he caught up to her.

He stopped in stunned silence. Their eyes met, busy pedestrians brushing past them on the sidewalk without care. And then he knew.

Through those thick glasses of hers, they were, in fact, still brown. Big pools of deep brown, now beginning to scatter light as tears gathered in them. Those eyes and those tears told him everything. He felt his heart racing, both from the mild exertion and from meeting eyes with this poor woman who was now ready to cry on his account. He put a thoughtful hand to his chin, elbow propped by his other hand.

"Listen to me, Miss Palermo," he muttered firmly, leaning in with gravity. She froze, his eyes boring holes into hers. "You've got nothing to be insecure about. And I can tell you are, I mean no offense, it's written all over you. I can tell your self-esteem is nonexistent, you couldn't even wrap your mind around someone wanting to compliment you, let alone ask you out. But you've got no reason to feel like that. Not your looks, not your mind, nothing." Columbo paused, awaiting another caustic interjection. He received only silence and tears, and so he continued.

"What I'm saying here is that you're an absolutely lovely woman. Really, I mean that." Rose stood like a deer in headlights, shocked senseless by being spoken to in such a way by someone whom she'd only known in passing.

"You really believe that, don't you," she said gingerly, casting her gaze downward before meeting his again. "You're serious."

"I'm dead serious. If you're as sharp as you seem-and judging by those books, you are-you should know that by now. Whatever anyone tells you that makes you feel that way, your friends, your family, even yourself for that matter, you can throw it right out the window. Why else would I run after you?"

"Oh, I dunno," she grumbled, trying and failing to hide a sniffle. "If my experience is anything to go by, it's because you wanted to sling some remark at me about my appearance. Coin flip on lecherous or plain mean."

"No," he said, more strongly than he'd intended. "Never. I'm not like that. It's because you're just…just irresistible is what you are. If nobody else is gonna tell you that, I will."

She swallowed, feeling herself break out in a sweat. This man whom she'd only remembered vaguely as a wisecracking clown, late to any and all engagements, was now staring directly into her soul, having just delivered a slam-dunk read on her psyche. And for some reason, he seemed utterly relentless in convincing her to give him a chance.

Well, she could do worse.

"Fine. Doughnuts," she said with a shuddery sigh, blinking back more tears. "Ten minutes. And you pay."

"You drive a hard bargain, miss," he said in relief, trying and failing to restrain his massive smile. One point for Columbo. "My dime. Ten minutes. Not a second more."

"I could never make sense of those truth tables on paper, not 'til I started actually programming," Rose said. "It was all too abstract. But once you think of the zeroes and ones as truths and falsities, ons and offs, everything falls into place. Nothin' like an if-then statement to tie it all together, yeah?"

He nodded along blithely, reveling in every word while understanding none. Three hours had flown by since they'd gotten their doughnuts, having long since finished them. They loitered atop an apartment stoop on a quiet street, soaking in the late July moonlight. Rose had sat at arm's length from him at first, but slowly moved closer throughout the evening and was now almost right next to him.

Another point for Columbo.

"I'm gonna be honest with ya, this stuff well and truly confounds me. But it's really somethin'. I mean I am really blown away."

"Takes a lot to wrap your head around, but it really all boils down to logic. Anyone can do it. Believe me, compared to the folks at the university, I'm practically a layman."

"A layman?" he said, mildly taken aback. He put his hand in the air. "The way you were goin' on about it, you coulda fooled me. Though maybe that's not sayin' much. You're one smart cookie, Miss Palermo."

Rose bristled at the remark but felt her irritation quell, as she found herself beginning to warm to this strange man despite her initial reticence. That penetrating scrutiny of his had completely stopped her in her tracks, enough so that she had relented and allowed him to take her out.

Ten minutes. She'd given him just ten minutes for his elevator pitch. But cleverly and completely, he sidestepped it by asking only about her. With genuine enthusiasm he engaged her, showing keen interest even in that which he didn't understand. He was caring, quick-witted, intoxicatingly endearing. By the time Rose sought answers from him, those ten minutes had long slipped away. Thus, ten minutes had become twenty, which became sixty, and so on. And the time limit lost its relevance.

Columbo was not, in fact, the slovenly lout she'd first assumed he was. On the contrary, the detective was genial, sensitive, astute. Startlingly astute. He'd deceived her with his dishevelment, disarmed her with his demeanor. More than disarmed, she feared-there had sparked between them a crackling chemistry the likes of which she'd never felt before.

"Well, some smart cookies of the world would buck such a title," she said. "But just this once, I'll make an exception. And please…call me Rose."

He smiled, his face now just inches away from hers. Oh, dear. She felt her heart leap into her throat. Truth be told, she was starting to feel butterflies when he smiled that smile at her.

"Rose," he said softly, savoring her name on his tongue. "D'ya mind if I tell you something?" She gulped, feeling her face get hot. Something in the air had shifted. Suddenly, she was short of breath.

"What's that?"

"You know, ever since I worked at that deli, I thought you were just swell."

"Really?" That came as a surprise to her. It didn't seem like he'd paid her any mind-she was only in high school at the time, after all. But the more she got to know this man, the more she felt like perhaps he could hide just about any feeling he wanted.

"Oh yeah, I could always tell you were somethin' special. I was always wonderin' what you were up to. So I see you now and…I mean, you gotta understand."

"Pardon?"

"Let's just say I woulda been an idiot to not go after you. I had to, I hadda see whether I was right about you. And I am. Other women-I been with em, they're great, just never what I was lookin' for. But you…" he said, trailing off. He put a hand to his head. "I need someone special. And you are truly something special."

"Thank you," she breathed. She was going to say more, but no words came out.

"There are just some things, though, that I gotta sort out."

"Sort out?"

"Oh, I always gotta make sure no stone goes unturned. It's just a…compulsion of mine, you could say," he said with a smirk.

"A-and that entails?" Rose croaked, feeling her face blushing furiously now. She'd never so much as kissed a man before. She'd watched the movies, of course, but they were obviously just that. How was it all supposed to go? Was this really it? Was there a sprinkle in her teeth?

"Well," he said, drawing the word out. "I hate to be so forward, but you did insist on a ten-minute doughnut. Did you not?"

"I did."

"Which begs the question of whether you're still achin' to get rid of me. Which you definitely were before, yes? I mean, you looked totally repulsed."

"Correct."

"And not only is ten minutes history now, you've actually moved, oh…I dunno, three whole feet towards me here. Practically brushin' up against me now."

"R-right."

"So I'm left wonderin', in all my fondness for you, whether there's any for me. Now, I can understand if the answer is no," he said, gesticulating accordingly. Like hell it would be; he knew he'd gotten her hook, line, and sinker. "But judging by how rosy your cheeks have gotten, I think I can make an inference."

Feeling once again entirely too well-read by this man, her mouth opened to respond, but closed when she realized she had nothing to say. His eyes creased in amusement. That is, until Rose acquiesced to her desire and gave him a most succinct answer: she leaned in and tenderly kissed him on the cheek. His eyes widened; it was his turn to blush.

"That answer your question, Detective?" she whispered. A bashful grin spread across his face. He'd certainly expected a yes, but not such an amorous affirmative.

"Boy, sure does," he said, their faces practically touching. "You mind if I-"

Rose leaned in, kissing him mid-sentence. Chaste, slow pecks at first, and then more deeply. Less chaste. On autopilot, he kissed her back so ardently he could feel his ears ring. Their arms wrapped around the other, hands running through hair for what felt like hours but was only minutes.

Rose parted first, breath ragged and head pounding as she leaned back against the steps.

"So that's what it's like."

"That's what it's like?" he asked, incredulous. "You mean to tell me you never kissed someone before?"

"Indeed."

"I never woulda guessed."

"I've gone with boys, but…I just never felt the need. To do, uh. That."

"But me?"

"I don't know what came over me. It was like I couldn't help myself."

"That's the urge beautiful women like yourself tend to have around me, yes."

"Oh, shut up!" she said, giving him a playful shove. He laughed and put his arm around her. With any other man, Rose would've taken umbrage with such a gesture. But Columbo, as it became abundantly clear to her, was no normal man. Around him, she felt more relaxed. More at ease. More spontaneous. So spontaneous, in fact, that she felt like extending their date.

"How 'bout we catch a late movie," Rose said. "They're playin' that Jerry Lewis flick at the multiplex nearby."

Columbo looked at her, eyebrows raised. She'd thrown him yet another curveball. The same cold, introverted woman who tried to run from him earlier that evening was now asking him to a movie. He did have work tomorrow, but surely he could sleep when dead. A movie night with the girl of his dreams was calling his name.

"Oh, I'd love to, sure," he replied eagerly, about to get up until he realized he couldn't quite. It had been a while since he'd had such a passionate encounter and he preferred not to give the audience two shows for the price of one. "Uh, just gimme a sec here."

"What's the matter?" she asked, studying him for a bit. He draped his suit jacket over his groin. "...Ah."

"Yeah. Uh…listen, you don't mind if I walk you home after, do ya? I'm sure I don't live too far, and I just wanna make sure you're safe, you know, police escort for the lovely lady so late at night and, uh…" he trailed off, a blissful twinkle in his eye.

It had finally quieted downstairs. He got up and hung his jacket over his shoulder, extending a hand out to her. She took it with a smile and hoisted herself up.

"What's that?"

"The truth is, I just want more time before I gotta say goodnight to you. So how 'bout it?"

"I'd like that, Columbo."

"Please. Call me Frank."