CHAPTER TWO
The next morning, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi arrived bright and early on very little sleep to Couron, just west of the distributory that made a clean slice across a class divide. They didn’t need the law east of the river, so they said. Yet, from what he’d heard about him, Columbo seemed to work exclusively to pester rich murderers who felt above the law. So far, this wasn’t a homicide case. It looked artfully like a suicide, perhaps was a suicide, but for whatever reason their precinct sent them back across the river the very next morning to worry at the little details that didn’t quite fit. He’d go over exactly what those were on the ride over. It would make sense if they took the same motor carriage instead of riding separately. Kitsuragi much preferred his own MC, and didn’t much mind having a passenger.
Powered by a small breakfast of eggs and coffee, Kitsuragi joined Columbo in the parking lot. His plans fell a bit askew when he saw the other detective had brought his basset hound, a happily rotund and droopy hound.
“Oh good morning!” greeted Columbo. He’d put himself together much more coherently for the morning: hair brushed, eye more alert, dark, greenish gray necktie neatly tied, and pale yellow shirt buttoned. He had his beige jacket on under his beige raincoat. The raincoat appeared to be eternally rumpled, but he looked worlds better than last night.
“Good morning,” greeted Kitsuragi. “Who is this?”
“Oh him?” Columbo affectionately ruffled the head of his hound, who wagged his tail and panted. The hound looked out at them from the open window of Columbo’s shabby, pale gray motor carriage. “Oh he’s Dog. He won’t get in the way, will ya old buddy?” Dog licked his human’s face.
Kitsuragi didn’t have anything against dogs, or Dog, but he didn’t want his motor carriage to smell like one. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Dog.” He offered his palm to sniff.
Dog wetly snuffled and licked Kitsuragi’s hand, checking it thoroughly for snacks. Kitsuragi smiled and petted the hound. “Shall we go?”
“Oh, sure. Let me just get that door for you. It’s a tricky one,” agreed Columbo. He walked around and fiddled with the passenger side door until it squawked open.
Kitsuragi slipped into a motor carriage smelling of cigars, Dog, and fast food. Closing the door, he noticed the handle was broken on the inside and he’d have to wait for his colleague to let him out when they arrived. He sighed. Dog panted in Kitsuragi’s ear and wafted him with humid canine breath. Columbo dropped himself into the driver side and, with a few tries, got the engine to turn. The poor thing sputtered in sleepy indignation, reluctant to go anywhere. Kitsuragi itched to fix the damned thing but now wasn’t the time. He could hear exactly what was wrong with it, besides the cosmetic damage and problems with the door. Okay there were a lot of things wrong with this motor carriage.
“I was thinking on the way there we could go over our notes,” mentioned Kitsuragi. “Or, your notes should probably wait for us to arrive since you’re driving.”
“Oh yeah,” agreed Columbo. “What did you notice last night? Did that strike you as a suicide?”
Kitsuragi fished out his notebook from the inner pocket of his bomber jacket. “I have my doubts. Now, let’s see…We didn’t get to speak to Mrs. Willis last night. I don’t think that would have been a very insightful interview, since the family physician had just sedated her. We should be sure to do that today. The motivation for suicide looks quite weak. I know these things almost always come as a shock to the loved ones, but I don’t like it. He had travel plans he’d been looking forward to, he wasn’t isolated or lonely, and there were no signs of depression according to those who knew him.”
“I want to know what that book was about he was reading,” mentioned Columbo. “Did you see that? What was it called?”
“I didn’t take note of the title,” admitted Kitsuragi.
“It didn’t look like a somber book. He’d taken his sleeping pill, he was all cozy in bed in his pajamas. And when did he get the gun? Do you think he snuck it in with him somehow without the butler noticing? He certainly didn’t walk over to the garage in those slippers.”
“I believe Raymond is also his driver, so it would not just be a simple matter of fetching it from the pullout compartment after driving home. It was a small enough weapon to conceal, so it isn’t impossible, but it does seem suspicious.”
Columbo nodded.
“Oh, you did remember your badge and your notebook this time, yes?” checked Kitsuragi.
“Oh yes.” Columbo patted his pockets to make sure even as he assured his colleague he hadn’t forgotten. “Yes, I’ve got them.”
When they arrived, Columbo let Kitsuragi out of the motor carriage.
“Now, listen to me,” Columbo told Dog, holding the sides of the hound’s face and letting his droopy friend lick his face. “I want you to stay here. I’m only gonna be a few minutes. Alright? Alright.” He left the windows wide open. “No barking. Then later on we’ll go get a hot dog. Alright?”
As soon as they walked away from the car, Dog woofed. Columbo turned around with a gently warning, “Ah!” and made a shooing gesture with his hand. Dog lowered his head and settled back onto the front seat.
Stone lions Kitsuragi hadn’t noticed in the dark stood on either side of the front entrance. The wooden door was mostly multi-paned window with the family crest in the middle.
“Yes? Oh, not you again.” When Raymond answered the door he had a feather duster under one arm and a silver pan in his hand. He didn’t immediately step aside to let the detectives in, but rather gave them a look. “I’ve spent the whole morning cleaning up after your men.”
“It’s just two of us this time, Sir. Could you tell Mrs. Willis we’re here? It’ll just take a few minutes,” Columbo requested.
Raymond reluctantly let the detectives in, nodding his head inside. “I’ll see if she’s available. Take a seat, Lieutenant.” He gestured to one of the chairs and started to turn to go up the stairs, then stopped.
Columbo sat down in a white chair while Kitsuragi decided to remain standing. Kitsuragi stood with his hands behind his back and his back straight, feet shoulder width apart.
“Oh, and this if you don’t mind.” Raymond eyed Columbo’s cigar and walked back over to hand him the silver lidded dustpan to use as an ashtray. On his way up the stairs he turned an exasperated look over his shoulder. What a household where even the dustpan was made out of silver.
Alma walked by carrying a silver tray set with an equally silver pot of coffee and fancy dark blue coffee cups. Today she wore a pale gray uniform with a white apron. She followed her husband, Raymond, up the stairs. Columbo got up from the chair and walked past the base of the stairs. Kitsuragi walked with him, almost to the room just past the stairs. A tall man in a brown suit worn over a reddish brown turtle neck came down the stairs. Ned Diamond was in his sixties, with gray hair going silver at his temples, and he had a mustache. As he turned the corner around the banister, Diamond reached a side table with a telephone and a potted plant. He’d left a tweed hat there, and picked it up now to put it back on then began dialing a number on the rotary telephone.
Kitsuragi looked, stopped to clean his glasses, then looked again. Columbo gave Diamond a considering look, walked past him and looked out one of the tall, narrow windows next to the front door, then looked back at Diamond. Kitsuragi covered his mouth with his hand and tried not to stare. He wasn’t particularly into musicals, that just wasn’t his thing. But he thought he recognized him, and even if he didn’t, well, that man had aged very well. Really, really well. He consciously looked away to avoid staring.
“Pat, Ned,” Diamond said into the phone. “I just came from her room and she seems to be doing very well….No, she -” he faltered a second when he noticed Columbo and Kitsuragi, “…wants to go back to work. And frankly…”
Columbo tilted with dawning recognition and took his cigar out of his mouth.
“You know frankly, I think it’d be the best thing for her,” Diamond said. He hesitated again as Columbo walked past back to where Kitsuragi still stood then turned around to look Diamond in the eye. This was made easier by the raised landing leading to the stairs, since Columbo was significantly shorter than Ned Diamond. Columbo smiled slowly at the man on the phone with his notebook draped from his hand, the cigar between the fingers of his other hand. He leaned closer to Diamond with a conspiratorial smile. The corner of Kitsuragi’s mouth twitched in amusement at Columbo’s open fawning. Not that he wasn’t also awed, just the difference in how they each showed it. Or didn’t show it, as the case may be.
“Just a moment,” Diamond said into the phone.
“Hi,” whispered Columbo. “How are ya?”
Diamond took the notebook and pen. “What’s your name?” he whispered back.
“Columbo,” the lieutenant whispered.
Diamond began to autograph the notebook. Columbo stepped closer to take a look. He smacked his forehead when he presumably read the signature. Luckily enough, Diamond must have had an at least semi-legible signature. Columbo grinned with delight as Diamond handed the notebook back.
“Ned Diamond,” whispered Columbo.
Diamond turned his attention back to the phone and the lieutenant underlined the autograph and closed he notebook.
“Yeah. Pat, I’ll be in the office like, half hour…Fine. See you then.” Diamond concluded his phone call and hung up the receiver.
Columbo walked back around to intercept Diamond on his way to the door. Kitsuragi walked right there with him. “Listen, you don’t mind if I pump your hand, do you? You’re the fellow that was in all those musicals. Wait till I tell my wife. You were always her favorite. She dragged me to every musical you were ever in.”
“I’m sorry you had to be dragged,” replied Diamond and he grinned.
“Alright, poor choice of words. It’s just that 25 years ago I used to like those gangster pictures,” explained Columbo. He started naming off actors from gangster films back then, with some titles thrown in.
“I’m Lieutenant Kitsuragi with the RCM. We are just here to -” he glanced at Columbo as the other man rambling off names continued despite the fact that Kitsuragi had started speaking. “How many films are you going to name? Are you going to introduce yourself?” he whispered.
“The RCM?” repeated Diamond.
“You know I don’t think any of them were about the RCM,” admitted Columbo. “Made an appearance, but not really the focus. Yeah. Oh, I watched a whole bunch of them. I think that’s why I became a cop.”
“Police?” asked Diamond.
“Yes, the police,” confirmed Kitsuragi.
“RCM, Lieutenant Columbo,” introduced Columbo.
“But you were here last night,” said Diamond.
“Yes, Sir,” confirmed Columbo. “We came back here today.”
“We wanted to speak to Mrs. Willis,” explained Kitsuragi.
“What about?” asked Diamond.
“We’ll just ask a few questions,” replied Columbo. “It’s very normal in these kind of cases.”
“What do you mean, ‘these kind of cases’? This is a clear case of suicide,” said Diamond.
“Yes, Sir, but there are just a few loose ends,” said Columbo.
“Look, Lieutenant, this lady is a very old and dear friend of mine. I wouldn’t want anything to unnerve her or upset her,” warned Diamond. “Is that clear?”
“We understand, Sir,” said Kitsuragi.
“Nice to know you Columbo, Kitsuragi,” Diamond said and shook each of their hands.
Kitsuragi smiled, just a little.
Columbo put a hand to the side of his face. “I wonder if you could help me out with this thing here. My wife is a terrific dancer and a very good singer, but I got two left feet when it comes to dancing in public, you know, I get self-conscious and so on and I, and so she always has to sit it out.
Is there something that…What can you do for a problem like that?”
“Become a critic,” replied Diamond, and he walked out the front door.
“Well, don’t critique your wife,” advised Kitsuragi in a low voice. “But I get that was a joke.”
Raymond appeared on the landing and leaned over the banister. “Mrs. Willis will see you now.”
Columbo chuckled as he headed up the stairs. “Ned Diamond. How about that.”
“How about that,” agreed Kitsuragi. “I didn’t expect a doctor and an actor to run in the same circles. What do you think he was doing here?”
“An old friend of Mrs. Willis, he said?”
“Yes.”
Ahead, Raymond knocked on Mrs. Willis’s door. “Lieutenant Columbo and Lieutenant Kitsuragi, Madam.”
After she gave the okay from within, the butler turned to the two detectives and nodded. He gave Columbo a sour look in passing.
Inside, a slender old woman with white hair in a short style combed back sat at a glass-topped table with a table cloth beneath the glass. The table stood against one wall and had a white lamp on each end. There was an oval mirror in a hexagonal silver frame, a low vase of pink roses, a picture of the woman from her younger days, and a few other items on the table. The wallpaper had a pastel floral print and the carpet was light green. A full length mirror stood nearby. Mrs. Willis sat on a bench with a mint green cushion. A silver tea set, the one Alma had carried upstairs, sat on a fold-out tray table to the old woman’s left. She wore a black, long-sleeved dress with pearls and had a charming smile.
“Ah,” Kitsuragi said as the pieces clicked.
Columbo grinned in delight as he looked between the woman and the photos of her on the wall.
“Would you like some coffee?” asked Mrs. Willis.
“Grace Wheeler?” exclaimed Columbo.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“No one told me. I just saw Ned Diamond downstairs. I should have known.” Columbo was beside himself with amazement.
“Please sit down,” invited Wheeler.
“My wife is not gonna believe this,” Columbo gushed. “Diamond and Wheeler. Oh, we were high school sweethearts. She took me to every movie you two ever made.”
Kitsuragi introduced himself and took a seat in a vibrant green armchair near a window with matching green curtains.
“Isn’t that nice?” Wheeler smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?”
“Coffee? Yes.” Columbo seemed to be acknowledging that this was a thing that existed more than accepting the offer. He was too starstruck for things like coffee. “I even remember my wife had her hair done up in little curls like you had in one of your pictures.”
“Really,” Wheeler said. She gave no hint of impatience and was perfectly poised and polite.
“There’s a word for that?” he asked.
“Krokono.”
“Detective,” said Kitsuragi with a meaningful look. It wasn’t reprimand, just a call to focus.
“I’m sorry, I got carried away. I realize how you must be feeling. I apologize,” said Columbo.
“Life must go on. I’ll just have to manage.” Wheeler poured some coffee from a silver pot into one of the same dark blue coffee cups that Alma served coffee in last night. She looked to Kitsuragi. “Would you care for some coffee, Lieutenant?”
“Yes please,” Kitsuragi replied.
She poured another cup and handed each detective a coffee. Columbo carried his coffee with him as he walked over to look at one of the photos on the wall.
Kitsuragi added some sugar and cream from the silver tray, stirred, and took a sip. “Thank you, Mrs. Willis.” He nodded politely.
“I just wanna ask a few questions,” said Columbo.
“Oh, I understand,” said Wheeler.
“Your butler said that you were in the projection room watching a film when it happened?” Columbo asked.
Kitsuragi set the coffee on a table and fetched out his notebook and pen.
“That’s correct,” confirmed Wheeler. “I was watching Walking My Baby. Did you and your wife ever see that?”
“Of course,” said Columbo. “That’s where the girl becomes a star, right?” He looked back at her then walked over to another photo.
“Rosie,” said Wheeler, saying the name of the girl in the movie. She seemed quite pleased to be remembered.
“That explains why you didn’t hear the shot,” he said.
Wheeler’s face sobered. “Yes.”
Cautiously, Columbo walked over to Wheeler and leaned closer to her. “Just between you and me, Madam. Are you entirely satisfied that your husband took his own life?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Well, the butler said when he entered the room just before eleven that Mr. Willis was reading and he didn’t appear to be at all depressed.”
Wheeler nodded slightly and glanced down. “Henry was a very private person. He rarely displayed his emotions.”
“A light goes on up here,” Columbo gestured to his forehead, “and sometimes I can’t turn it off.” He made a twisting motion like turning a knob. “I mean, a man about to take his own life, why would he be reading a book and taking a sleeping pill?”
Wheeler thought a moment and sighed. “He was very concerned about his health. Perhaps he was reading his book and taking his pill before he picked up the medical report and became depressed.”
“I see,” Columbo said softly. “You’re suggesting that he took the sleeping pill prior to the decision to take his life.” He nodded. “Yes, it could have happened that way. But then,” Columbo put his pencil to his forehead, “he could not have gone to the garage to get his gun out of the glove compartment before. Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes. Yes I do.” Wheeler bit her lip and thought about it. “He must’ve gone to the garage for it. No one would’ve heard him.”
“According to the housekeeper he dressed for bed at eight, had dinner in his room,” said Columbo. Kitsuragi tried to remember when that had come up last night. Maybe he’d missed something going up and down the stairs so many times. He sipped his coffee.
“He did that very often,” said Wheeler.
Kitsuragi chimed in. “That would mean that he would have to have gone to the garage in his robe and slippers.”
“I suppose,” said Wheeler.
“That’s my problem, Madam,” said Columbo. “I looked at those slippers very closely. They definitely have not walked on anything other than a rug. There is not a mark on them.”
Wheeler looked confused for a second. “I can appreciate all the reports you must have to fill out. But the point is, Lieutenant…” she faltered as she tried to remember his name.
“Columbo,” he reminded.
“Columbo. If my husband did not take his own life, how could he have died? The door was bolted from the inside.”
Kitsuragi nodded and his brow furrowed, looking back over last night’s notes. Columbo looked over his shoulder, smoke floating in a pale stream from his mouth. He pointed toward the deceased’s room and looked back at the widow. “Do you mind if I take another look at your husband’s bedroom?”
“Of course not.” Wheeler rose to her feet. “And I’ll go with you.”
Kitsuragi rose and set his coffee down. “That’s not necessary, Ma’am.”
“Oh, no. Don’t do that, Madam,” agreed Columbo. “That’ll just bring back bad memories.”
Wheeler set her mouth and drew upon emotional reserves. “I have made up my mind I am going to be very strong.”
Kitsuragi expected perhaps this would be a cover for the emotional detachment of somebody who might not be grieving as much as they let on, but that’s not what he read in the old woman’s expression. Her confusion, her guesses about the conundrum’s presented by the evidence, and now her bracing herself in preparation for something painful, it all felt genuine. Perhaps she used skills from her actress days to be so convincing, but that’s just not the impression he got. Were the butler and the maid the suspects, then? If this wasn’t a suicide? But that didn’t sit right with him either.
The three of them walked down the hall, and entered Dr. Willis’s room through the broken door. Kitsuragi stopped to look over the splintered frame where the bolt had busted, then looked around the room. He crossed the floor to a door to a balcony. While it had a lock, it wasn’t currently locked.
“Was this locked last night?” Kitsuragi asked.
“No, when it’s warm like this Henry always slept with the door slightly ajar.”
“Really? I would freeze. Up here on the mountain?” Kitsuragi asked.
“Well, in the summer it gets hot even here. We’re not that high up,” replied Wheeler.
“Hm.” Kitsuragi didn’t like the idea of sleeping with a door to the outside open, but this wasn’t about what he personally felt comfortable with.
“So that while there’s no doubt that that door was bolted, someone could’ve come through this door,” Columbo concluded.
“If you look more closely on the balcony…” Wheeler led the way outside and the two detectives followed her. “You’ll see that it’s not humanly possible for anyone to climb up.”
A tree grew almost dangerously close to the balcony. Kitsuragi blinked at the tree, then looked at Wheeler. No possible way to climb a tree to the balcony? Not…humanly possible? So there weren’t any low branches, and certainly not everybody could climb this particular tree, but… “‘Not humanly possible’?”
“Yes,” said Wheeler.
“Ma’am, it’s a tree,” Kitsuragi stated.
“I can see that, Lieutenant,” said Wheeler.
“It is…not humanly possible…to climb trees?”
“The reason I know this is that some time ago, Henry had all those lower branches cut away so no one could get up,” Wheeler explained.
“That certainly makes it more difficult, but.” Kitsuragi gave up. He didn’t want to be rude.
“You’re absolutely right, Madam,” said Columbo.
“Right,” muttered Kitsuragi.
Raymond peered around the balcony door at the widow. “Excuse me, Madam?”
“Yes, Raymond?” Wheeler asked.
“Your vocal instructor has arrived,” the butler informed her.
“But Mr. Salerno comes on Fridays,” said Wheeler.
“But today is Friday, Madam,” replied Raymond.
Wheeler looked a little lost. “Oh dear.”
“Madam, perhaps you’d better rest,” suggested Raymond.
“No,” Wheeler objected, speaking slowly. “I think I’ll have it as usual.”
Kitsuragi studied the confusion on the woman’s face. People often lose track of the days of the week, especially if they didn’t have work anymore.
Raymond smiled kindly. “Whatever you say, Madam.”
Wheeler looked at the detectives and shrugged. “I seem to be so forgetful lately.” She looked concerned. “Do you think it’s insensitive of me to take a vocal lesson so soon after my husband passed away?”
Columbo, his arms folded in front of him, replied, “No Ma’am.”
Wheeler turned and walked back into the house. “You see, I’m planning to resume my career. Henry would’ve wanted that. And besides, I find it a blessing to be able to turn to a song or a dance when faced by tragedy.”
“Oh, it is a blessing,” agreed Columbo. “You’re very lucky, you have a great talent that affords you an outlet.”
“Thank you,” said Wheeler.
“Me? When I’m down in the dumps, I go bowling,” said Columbo.
Wheeler smiled. “We all need something…Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh, yes. And thank you very much, Madam,” said Columbo. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Yes, thank you Ma’am,” said Kitsuragi.
Wheeler walked away, then stopped and turned in the doorway. “You must come by some evening and see one of my films. I have a print of all of them and you can choose your favorite. And be sure to bring your wife.” She lit right up at the prospect.
“Oh, thank you,” said Columbo. “That’s a date. She’ll…she’ll probably faint.”
“In my case there’s no wife to bring, but thank you. I’ll consider it,” said Kitsuragi.
The Forgotten Lady Remix 
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