Chapter Text
It had been a fine spring day. The California sun had all but scorched the earth, as it always had, yet now a cool evening breeze was soothing the burns the setting sun had left behind. The parking lot for the police department had steadily cleared out, but a handful of cars still remained, one being a beat-up old Peugeot convertible. Columbo was reclined in that car, weary from a long day. It was off, driver's side was left open. One of his legs hung out of the open door. The wind rolled over him, cooling Columbo’s weary body as he listened to the birds chirping. He'd just cleared out another case, so he was taking a little break before heading back into the station to wrap up his day. It had been a rough case. Columbo had known who it was, as usual, but just hadn't the evidence to prove it, as usual. He got there in the end, but boy was he tired now. The murderer was a cruel sonuva. He ended up killing a witness… That’s when he got real sloppy. He just about shot Columbo, himself! Oh it was stressful, alright. It was tough dealing with the guilt that came with that– the witness thing. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, puffing on his cigar with the other. He was ready to just get himself home and spend some quality time with the missus.
Smoked trailed from his lips as he pulled his cigar away, checking his watch. Yeesh. He scratched the back of his head and reached out to the car door. He hit the lock and rose to his feet. Well, he ought to get everything sorted so he could make it home for his wife's cooking… he shut his car door and stretched a bit, letting out a grunt. Man, he needed a good sleep. With another puff of his cigar, he started to shuffle off to the station. The building was nearly a second home at this point, considering all the years he’d given to it, yet he still spent much of his time out in the field. He pushed the door open, offering a small nod to the youngster at the desk. He seemed nearly bored out of his mind, yet he perked up when Columbo entered.
“Hey, Lieutenant, you did a great job today. There’s some stuff left on your desk upstairs, but it’s nothing important. The captain said he needed it by noon tomorrow if you wanna wait for the morning."
Columbo waved his hand. “Ahhh, it was nothin’, Jackson. Might as well take care of it, seein’ as I’m already here.” He hummed thoughtfully and walked past the desk. It was very much not nothing, but Columbo found it better to be more humble about these things. After all, he was always the eccentric character. The boy, officer Jackson, nodded and turned back to whatever he had been occupying himself with on the desk.
"Alright. You have a good night, Lieutenant." He called out as Columbo passed. Folk were moving around, to and fro, while hardly paying any mind to their coworker as he passed through. The night team was setting up for the graveyard. Regardless, Columbo offered little waves and greetings as he went along, knowing most of the names of these folks by now– not everyone, but he’d worked with plenty of the folks there given how sporadic his hours tended to be and how many different police stations he’d ended up working with. And either way, he at least knew the faces around there. After all, it was his station. His desk was there. He came in and he did his reviews and paperwork as needed and he’d go out and get hands-on with cases as needed. Being a lieutenant was a big job, after all. A lot of delegation and planning went into it. Columbo rubbed his eye, trying to will his weariness away. He didn’t want to fall asleep at his desk– a not-too-uncommon event in his life, regrettably. He headed upstairs, his cigar still clutched between his fingers.
The upstairs was even more empty than the downstairs, yet there was the faint sound of music playing. Columbo paused on the top step, raising a brow as he listened. It was hard to make out from where he was. Hm. He’d have to investigate that, he supposed. He traveled along the hall, on the way to the his office. The music grew more clear as he drew nearer, and soon enough he heard Vicki Lawrence’s voice singing about the Georgia patrol. He let his ears follow along with the tune as he turned the corner, revealing some kid he didn’t recognize sitting at a desk in the hall near the homicide offices– tucked against the opposite wall. They were pouring over a book of some sort. The source of the music– one of those newer portable cassette players– sitting next to the desk lamp, shining a yellow-tinted light over the whole surface yet conveniently shrouding their features in the shadow of the darkened hall, most of the lights long since turned off. The stranger seemed to be, gosh, maybe somewhere in their twenties, wearing a dress shirt and tie while some embellished letterman jacket (presumably theirs) was slung over the chair behind them. They hadn’t noticed Columbo’s arrival yet, too busy shifting though some loose leaf paper and writing in a notebook they had off to the side of all the clutter. The clutter was damn near precarious; one of the tiny cups from the water cooler was on top of a book nearby, bound to fall if either he or the girl so much as breathed wrong. Columbo cleared his throat as he passed.
“‘Scuse me.” He said, pausing in front of his office door. The stranger looked up. They looked to simply be some college-aged girl, a dead tired one at that, too. Her eyelids were heavy and she simply couldn't sit still. She raised her hand as she appraised Columbo, fidgeting with the pencil it held. She blinked a few times before seemingly coming up with her response. She sucked in a breath.
“Oh– Sorry, sir, I’ll turn it down…” she rushed, stumbling over her words. She rubbed her face, displacing a pair of glasses that she wore as she turned back to her things. She turned the cassette player down just as the chorus came back up. Columbo stood there a moment longer, watching as she settled back into her seat. Yeah, he was certain. He absolutely did not know her. She rolled the pencil over her knuckles before she returned to the work she was doing, thumping the toe of her tennis shoes on the tile. He wanted to ask her some questions, but it didn’t seem like he’d get too much out of her like that. She was in the zone doing… whatever she was doing. Was she a new hire? Seemed to be a weird place for a secretary to be… He’d just have to ask about it when he got back downstairs.
"Ahh, it's no problem, really. By all means, you can keep on, just sayin' hello." He assured, waving her off. The girl raised her head again, blinking owlishly. She nodded slowly, giving him the slightest of smiles that quickly grew as she spoke to him.
"Oh! Yeah, okay, hi? Sorry, I'm just… sorry I am just so tired right now." She laughed awkwardly, rubbing her neck. "But yes! Hello." She managed before her face reddend and she quickly turned back to her work. He nodded to himself for a good moment, before he spoke again. He had to excuse himself from this dumpster fire of a first impression…
"Oh… I hear ya there. I am beat. ” He paused for a long moment. “Well, I really ought to get to work." He managed before he yawned. He quickly stifled it with the back of his hand, shook his head, and headed into the office. She waved without raising her head from her work this time. Columbo gently shut the door behind him before plopping into his chair, looking down at the papers he'd have to do. Oh boy, that was more than he had anticipated. He held his head in his hands for a moment. Regardless, if he got it done quickly, he might still have time to get home for dinner. After all, the sun was still setting and Mrs. Columbo, well she usually waited until her dear husband got home– unless he called saying he’d be late or wouldn’t make it. …another regrettably common occurrence. As he pulled his pen from his coat pocket to get started, he heard the girl's cassette player getting turned up again. He paused mid movement, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Oh boy, the youth these days…
- ○●○●○●
By the time Columbo had finished up in the office, it was officially dark– far past dark, in all honesty. Yeesh, that took longer than he expected. He'd be stuck reheating dinner, that was for sure. He snuffed the cigar he'd been smoking and left it in the tray he kept on his desk– one of the ones his wife had picked up before. Columbo stayed there, stuck with his arm lingering over the ashtray before he let out a long sigh. Leaning over the desk, he ran both hands through his hair. He really ought to get home before he passed out in his office. The music outside the door had ended so that girl must've been long gone by now. He took a peek at his clock. He'd completely lost track of time, it seemed. It was getting to be damn near midnight! Hopefully his wife wouldn't be too mad. He could have just brought some paperwork home, honestly, but he expected he could get it done so he foolishly did it in the office anyways. Ah well, maybe she'd still be awake. He could reheat what she'd made– it'd still be good, after all, she made it. He'd tell her so, then they could both get some shut-eye and have some real personal time in the morning! Certainly sounded like a plan to him. He rose to his feet, patting himself down to make sure he had everything. He was not gonna make it downstairs that night just to find out he’d forgotten his keys or something like that. He paused before grabbing the paperwork. Might as well drop it off now… There. Now he had everything. Once he was satisfied, he killed the lights and headed for the door. Before he touched the handle, he noticed that the lamp the girl had on was still on, the yellow light clear through the window on the door. Hm.
Exiting the office, he saw that girl was still there. The cassette she was listening to had simply ended and she was now slumped over, face buried in her arm. Columbo rolled his eyes, a lip quirking up. Goodness, college kids really didn't know how to take care of themselves, did they? He lingered in the door a moment before stepping out all the way and shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t as cautious with the force he used, but the sound didn’t wake the stranger. He raised his brows, pondering for a moment before heading over. He touched her shoulder. Still nothing. Gosh, he hated having to touch this stranger but she was out like a light. He shook her shoulder carefully.
“Miss. Miss?” He tried, trying not to be too loud. She grumbled, hands flexing before she relented and opened her eyes. Her glasses had left an awkward indent on the bridge of her nose. She didn’t move or do anything for a moment, blinking slowly and staring just past the lieutenant. Before long, she raised her eyes up to him, eyes widening at the sight of the man. She let out a nearly frightened exclamation and scrambled upright so fast she almost fell from her chair. Fear laced the lines of her face for a couple seconds before she finally slumped with a groan, turning away, reddened with embarrassment.
“Look, I’m sorry I… I forgot where I was.” She admitted with a dry laugh. “And your face I suppose… I’ve heard about you, I think. You’re that lieutenant right? Lieutenant Columbo?” She asked, adjusting her glasses. Columbo gave an amused chuckle.
“Oh… yeah, I’ve fallen asleep here plenty of times, I know the feelin’. And yeah, that’d be me.” He said, clasping his hands in front of him. “Thought you might wanna get home. It’s gettin’ kinda late, ain’t it?” He asked. The girl frowned and peered down at a watch on her wrist, cursing when she saw what the time was.
“I really should… I gotta be up early tomorrow.” The girl noted, sighing deeply. “Thing is, I really gotta get this done– at least this one thing. I’m stuck on this, it’s ridiculous…” She looked back at the work she had fallen asleep on. Columbo peered over at the page but he couldn’t make sense of a thing the girl had written. He nodded thoughtfully, raising one hand to his chin.
"You know... I can tell ya somethin. My wife, she does these crossword puzzles a lot... and they're fine, usually she can get through ‘em nice and easy, no time at all, but sometimes, well, sometimes she can't get it off the bat. And sometimes she can't think of it at all! She likes to tell me about this when I'm having a hard time with a case y'know... she says that sometimes when she can't figure it out, she needs to take a break for a little while, do somethin else. Usually when she does that, things just sorta... come together." He proposed, gesturing with his hands as he did so. “Maybe you go home and get some rest, you can figure it out in the morning.” Columbo gestured down the hall with the paperwork in hand. The girl looked at him, seemingly considering his offer before rising to her feet. She groaned as her bones ached– she’d probably been sitting there for hours by that point. She started to gather her things up.
“I… think I will. Thank you.” She hummed, shoving the loose leaf paper into a binder before pulling a backpack out from under the desk.
“Say, how long have you been there?”
“Oh… since my shift ended. Since five..?” She offered, though she sounded unsure. Though, that might have just been from her struggling to shove something into her bag. Columbo watched her, pondering things as usual.
“You’ve just been… sittin’ there that whole time?”
“Yep.”
“No gettin’ up? Didn’t even get dinner or nothin?" He asked, incredulous.
“No, sir.” She huffed as she finally got her bag packed and buckled shut. She lifted the thing– seemed heavy– and set it on the desk, turning to face Columbo properly.
The older man sucked in a breath before tutting lightheartedly. “Well now, miss, you know that ain’t very healthy. You’re young so you can get away with this stuff pretty easy now but…” The girl laughed a bit, pulling her letterman jacket on.
“Oh, yes, old habits die hard, I guess.” She gave him a wonderful smile– the kind that crinkled your eyes. Gosh, it was practically a movie star smile. Columbo nodded, stuffing his free hand in his pocket and tapped the side of his head with the stack of paperwork he still carried.
“Hit it on the head, kid.” He found himself smiling as well. In his opinion, this chat went over far better than their previous attempt. She slid her bag up onto her shoulders and gave Columbo a haphazard salute.
“I gotta thank you for talking some sense into me, sir, really. I’ll be back in tomorrow, so hopefully we can meet up again when I’m not half-asleep.” She walked backwards for a few steps before heading down the hall and downstairs. "Good night!" She called as she disappeared into the dark halls. Columbo fidgeted with his paperwork for a moment before finally willing himself to turn and set a course for the captain’s office. He was itching to get another cigar but he was on his last one for the day, so he just kept his mind on his steps. His worn-in shoes hardly made a sound on the similarly worn tiling. About halfway along the way, he paused mid-step. Shoot. He forgot to ask the girl her name! He held his temple. Well ain’t that his luck? Honestly, it was hardly even luck, he was just distracted and in some desperate need of sleep. He hurried along, shuffling his way to the captain’s office and set his papers on the desk and, before he knew it, he was heading back downstairs. It was a bit more calm now that a few of the officers had gone out on their patrol. Jackson was still at the front desk. The young officer was folding paper. Now, doing origami to pass time? That was a strange one. He let out an amused huff before coming over and leaning on his palm against the desk.
"Hey, I was wonderin', who was that girl upstairs?" He asked. "Haven't seen her face around here before. She's new, right?"
Jackson jerked, stashing his folded paper under his arms and looked up at Columbo. The paper was still very visible, the kid not wanting to mess up his work. "Oh– Columbo, you snuck up on me!" He laughed awkwardly, propping his face up on his hand. "And yes, she's new. She's an intern in forensic… uh… (F/N) (L/N). She's only been here for about a week, actually" Columbo nodded and stood upright, reaching into his coat and retrieving his last cigar.
"Huh. Guess I've just been too darn busy. She knew who I was but I'd never seen her once." He shrugged. He found it odd, of course, but with his last case being… as tasking as it was, it only made sense he hadn't noticed. Besides, how often had he personally visited the boys in forensics? Not in a while… "You still got a light over here?" Columbo asked. Jackson nodded and pulled a modest lighter out from one of the desk drawers, passing it over to Columbo.
"She doesn't get here first thing in the morning." Jackson explained. "She has classes so she usually doesn't come in until a little later." The kid paused before realizing he hadn't mentioned something that was rather obvious given the context clues. "Oh, yeah, she's a college kid. She said she's almost done." He amended, leaning back in his seat as Columbo lit up his cigar and set the lighter down on the desk, nodding.
"So she was studying up there."
"Yep. She worked something out with our superiors– she stays here late studying. Said it was easier to focus here than in her dorm." He shrugged. "Don't know where she gets that idea– you know it can get busy in here." Jackson gestured out towards Columbo.
"Probably why she does it upstairs." Columbo offered. Jackson's mouth formed an 'o' but he said nothing. Columbo slipped the cigar between his teeth. "Well, I really ought to get home. Thanks for humorin' me tonight, kid." Columbo gave Jackson a lop-sided smile and turned, heading out the door.
"Alright! Have a good night, Lieutenant!" Jackson called after him.
When Columbo finally made it home, he was pretty beat. His wife was gracious enough to sit with him as he heated up his dinner and chatted with him while ate. It was a simple pasta dish, so the noodles were a tad bit mushy by the time Columbo got around to eating– not that he would have said anything about it. It was just something he noticed. Such a thing couldn’t be avoided, after all. Somewhere amongst their idle chatter about the case he was on (barring some details, of course, Mrs. Columbo made it absolutely clear to her husband that he was going straight to sleep after he was done. Columbo let out a sound of disapproval, gesturing vaguely towards his wife with his fork.
"Ahh, at least let me take care of my own–" Columbo tried to argue, breaking off into a large yawn. He turned away, covering his mouth.
"Nope." Mrs. Columbo interjected, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her seat. "You will not be taking care of your own dishes tonight, you'll be heading to bed." She let out a soft sigh and touched his hand– the one holding the fork. "If you won't take care of yourself, I absolutely will." He squeezed his hand gently, dusting her thumb over his knuckles. Columbo shook his head with a fond smile across his face.
"Where would I be if it weren't for a woman like you?" He asked, rhetorically, but of course the missus had to answer– if only to poke a little fun at him.
"Fast asleep in your office with no clean clothes to wear tomorrow."
"Oh you hush. You know what I meant." He chuckled, leaning to the side and resting his head against hers. "You're remarkable. Absolutely fantastic. I love you." He dragged out the 'absolutely', laying so much emphasis into his words.
"Mmm, I know." She noted in mock modesty, leaning into him in return. "I just love to hear you say it." He gently thumped the back of his hand against her shoulder, sitting up.
"I tell ya every night!" He laughed.
"It doesn't get old." She giggled alongside him before pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. "Mm. Remember to shave tomorrow before going to the station, okay?"
"Alright, alright. You'll probably have to remind me, though."
“And I will. You won’t get your breakfast until you do.” She idly played with his hair. Columbo rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to lean against his wife again as he finished his late dinner.