A Stake in Murder A Columbo/Night Stalker novella By Donald Allen Kirch In the early '70s, about the time Columbo was slouching about the haunts of Los Angeles' rich and famous and facing down some of the most formidable murderers ever to take a life, an equally rumpled reporter named Carl Kolchak slouched around alleys and dark mansions hunting some of the most formidable rubber-suited creatures ever conceived. To those of us who consumed the Friday night adventures of Kolchak like Beer Nuts, Kolchak was the Night Stalker. The Night Stalker was the bastard father and the quirky uncle of The X-Files -- a mix of cheesy creepy thrills and nervous laughter. Where Columbo's stock-and-trade was humble deception, Kolchak's was impertinent wit and a willingness to do anything for a story to please his implacable editor, Tony Vincenzo. In the Universal universe of the '70s, it is not imconceivable that our preternatural journalist might have crossed paths with the good lieutenant. And there is honorable precedent for Columbo's involvement in the tale that follows. NBC Mystery Movie fans might remember that Marshal Sam McCloud's final Sunday night case brought him face-to-face with a genuine New York bloodsucker. McCloud Meets Dracula co-starred horror genius John Carradine and ended on a blood-chillingly ambiguous note. Further, the Wednesday Night Mystery Movie in addition to bringing us the impossible crimes of Banacek gave us a chiller by the creator of The Night Stalker: The Norliss Tapes, starring Roy Thinnes as Kolchak without the humor, Buffy without, well... So if you have doubts about Columbo's talents as a vampire hunter, sit back, suck back a cool one (Type O, possibly), and enjoy... Donald Allen Kirch is the author of Still Waters, an historical horror/mystery novel about the Titanic republished recently as KA-RE (available at www.amazon.com), as well as Marley -- The Other Christmas Carol, a sort of modern-day sequel to the Dickens classic (for a preview chapter, visit www.blueskypie.com). KA-RE has received an average five-star rating from Amazon.com readers. Kirch, a California native who lives in Kansas City, Missouri,  has been writing since he was thirteen years of age and is a member of the Horror Writers Association and the Rod Serling Memorial Foundation.His hobbies are history, literature, and the study of strange phenomena.

The continuous barking of a dog suddenly shattered the crime scene's serious nature. Upon later inspection, several officers on the site discovered  the dog was a bassett, and that it was Columbo's dog. A few of the young officers wanted to shut the animal up, but the "old timers," with their fatherly ways, warned the young bucks, "Stay away from that one. The lieutenant loves his dog."

Columbo, deep in thought, did his best to ignore both "Dog" and the stares.

Finally dropping off at around eleven in the evening, Columbo was awakened by a sharp elbow in his side, from his wife. The ringing telephone was for him. Mrs. Columbo, knowing the drill, got up and fixed her husband an early lunch - two boiled eggs, a piece of fried chicken, and a thermos of coffee.

"Columbo," he said between yawns.

"Columbo, sorry to wake you."

The detective's eyebrows darted up in immediate alertness. He recognized the voice.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Gotta homicide over on Piedmont," his captain explained. Columbo detected a slight worry - uncharacteristic.

"Be there in a few, sir. My wife's up. No big deal. Fixing me a lunch."

"Columbo."

"Yes, sir?"

There was the worried pause, again. The detective got the impression that his captain wasn't alone in his office - that someone else was listening in.

"Don't take a lunch."

Yawning, the detective's ear heard a dial tone. Regretfully, Mrs. Columbo put the weathered "brown bag" back in the refrigerator. Her husband would eat it later.

Columbo could understand why his captain had suggested no breakfast. "The Blood Drinker, " as he was being called by the press, had struck again.

"No blood." An officer observed. Lighting a cigar, Columbo noticed that the young officer's hand was shaking. He sympathized.

"How's things going, Mac?" Columbo said, as he approached the body. "Haven't seen you in a while. What have you been doing with yourself?"

Mac closed his notebook, placing it in his raincoat. He had worked with the Lieutenant before, and had come to admire the man. In fact, all who worked with Mac kidded him on the fact that he emulated Columbo.

"Still learning, Lieutenant." Mac smiled. "Still learning."

Columbo stopped, admiring Mac's raincoat. "Are you expecting rain, Mac?"

"One can never be too careful, sir."

Columbo puffed on his cigar with a fatherly pride. "Tell me what you got."

Mac opened his notebook.

"Claudia Hall, 24, part-time bookseller at the Barnes and Noble just down the street."

"Oh, yeah?" Columbo asked, "Barnes and Noble, huh? You know Mrs. Columbo shops there. Buys all her detective novels there. Big store. Lots of books."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep talking, Mac," Columbo insisted, leaning over to investigate the body.

"The body was discovered around four this morning, and the FBI have been here for almost an hour."

"FBI?" Columbo asked, smiling. "Since when?"

"Got me, Lieutenant." Mac said, both surprised and uneasy. "Some flag went up when the call went in, and the FBI sent over an agent to take charge. I think we got another serial killer here."

Columbo gave his head a disbelieving shake, doing his best to hold back a smile.

"The FBI sent over an agent to head the case? And they woke us for this, Mac?"

"The death was of an unusual nature, sir. Perhaps that has something to do with it?"

"Hmmmm!" Columbo said, studying the body again.

The young woman was once very pretty. That was the first thing Columbo noticed. The second was a little hard to swallow.

"Mac?" Columbo asked, confused. "What happened here? This woman has no blood in her body."

"Yes, sir. That's why the FBI's here."

Columbo said nothing. He only stared up at the night sky, a finger to his mouth, thinking.

"Mac?" he finally asked.

"Yes, sir?"

"You said the FBI's here?"

"Yes, sir." Mac confirmed, reading his notebook. "A Special Agent Bernie Jenks is the agent in charge."

"Mac?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm going to talk with the FBI guys."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Mac smiled, closing his notepad.

Special Agent Bernie Jenks ruffled through some old and dog-eared files, hoping that he was wrong. Impossible! This could not be the same man. He saw the body. He was there when the thing was killed. He personally pushed the cheap cardboard coffin into the county coroner's crematorium. He saw the thing burn away into a harmless pile of ashes! How the hell did he survive?

Jenks' concentration was interrupted by the intrusion of a befuddled-looking man, dressed in a raincoat. The man had caused quite a commotion - he knocked over a coffeepot, located at the FBI Command Center, a small tent-office set up fifty yards away from the crime scene.

"Who are you?" Jenks asked, grabbing a roll of paper towels.

The man in the raincoat took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and began to wipe what he could of the spilt coffee.

"Sir, I'm so sorry. It's nothing serious, sir. I'll clean it up."

"Never mind all that." Jenks said. "Who are you?"

The curious man started to fumble around in his pockets, looking for something. "I'm Lieutenant Columbo, LAPD, Homicide. I've been assigned to head up this investigation."

"You're Columbo?" Jenks questioned.

Columbo produced his identification.

Jenks relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. This case has effected me on a personal level. I'm a little jumpy at the moment."

"Oh, I understand, sir. A young woman, horribly murdered - the sight still effects me, sir," Columbo reassured. "They told me, when I graduated from the academy, that I would learn to accept the sight of murder. I've been at this for thirty years, now, and the sight still sickens me."

"Maybe that's why you're so good at your job?"

"Sir?" Columbo asked, curious.

"Murder still bothers you." Jenks smiled. He was starting to like Columbo. "You bond with the victim. Feel their injustice."

Columbo gave the FBI agent a long glance, smiling, "I like to trip up the bad guy. Yes, sir."

"I asked your captain for his best man, Lieutenant. They sent you."

"Oh, thank you, sir. That's always good to hear."

"Would you care to sit down, Lieutenant?"

"Thank you, sir."

Both men sat at a nearby table, which by all appearances, looked as if it had just been purchased at a nearby department store.

"Lieutenant, I'm about to ask you a question that may make you question my sanity."

"Sir?"

Jenks opened up the old file he had been studying. Inside, it contained news articles, police reports, and personal accounts from more than one hundred people. People he knew once - people from Las Vegas.

"Lieutenant, do you believe in vampires?"

Columbo gave Jenks a wide-eyed look of utter shock.

"Oooooooo!" was all the detective could say.

"Kolchak!"

Carl Kolchak could tell that he was in trouble. There was something about the way Ron Updyke, fellow news reporter, and "teacher's pet," left Anthony Vincenzo's office that made Kolchak cringe.

"Carl, what did you do this time around?"

The careworn eyes of Miss Emily were the closest things in the universe capable of making Kolchak feel guilty - possibly because she was the only one who seemed to care. But, no matter what, Kolchak prepared for a yelling.

"Yes, Tony?"

Vincenzo motioned his arms, so that Kolchak would realize he wanted to talk to him alone in his office.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!"

The I.N.S. News Room was finally starting to get the respect that it deserved. Somehow, Vincenzo had bamboozled New York to pitch in for a branch remodeling. Kolchak was almost proud of the place!

He approached his Editor, Boss, and Friend, glaring at Updyke.

"You're in trouble, again." Updyke smiled.

"Go sniff some glue, Up-tight!" Kolchak barked.

"Carl," Vincenzo warned.

"Hey, Tony. What gives?"

"What gives?" Vincenzo huffed. "Boy, you're classy. Haven't you finished that story on the Tulip Festival in Aurora?"

"Yeah. Hours ago. Why?"

"Ron here claims that you paid off one of the copy boys to write up the story, with your byline."

Kolchak, like a young boy who had been caught stealing a cookie, started to pantomime his innocence, looking calmly at Vincenzo, and rather harshly at Updyke.

"Ridiculous!"

Vincenzo, producing the report, as if magically, from behind his back, gave Kolchak an evil look.

"You wrote this?"

Kolchak squirmed. "Yes, sure, I did."

"My old boss, God rest his soul, once said that the most important sentence in any reporter's story was the first one." Vincenzo paused, studying Kolchak's face. "What's yours?"

The I.N.S. News Room turned deathly quiet. The arguments between Vincenzo and Kolchak had become legend. No one missed an episode, if they could help it.

Kolchak noticed the silence, and cleared his throat, uneasy.

"What makes you think I didn't write that?" Kolchak said, motioning to the paper Vincenzo was holding.

"Besides the fact that there are no spelling errors, you mean?" Vincenzo beamed, realizing the Kolchak may have been caught in the middle of a lie. "There was a big poker game at Manny's last night. My bet is that you were there. Right!?"

Again, nothing but silence from Kolchak.

Vincenzo waved the piece of paper in Kolchak's face. "The first sentence. What is it?"

Kolchak squirmed. "What makes you take his word over mine?"

"Ron's a responsible administrator."

"Yeah? So was Hitler!"

"Carl!" Vincenzo yelled. "The first sentence. Now!"

Kolchak cleared his throat.

"Aurora's annual Tulip Festival was greeted this year by Ex-President Gerald Ford."

Vincenzo's jaw dropped. "The second sentence."

"Viewers were concerned when the ex-president tripped on his way to the ceremonial podium."

"What!" Updyke huffed, rising to his feet. "Mister Vincenzo, I have it on the best of authority that Carl never wrote that!"

"Who told you that, Ron?" Vincenzo barked, starting to feel embarrassed.

"Johnson." Updyke squirmed. "In typesetting."

Kolchak laughed. "Johnson! The man's an idiot."

"Nah!" Vincenzo stated. "Johnson's been here longer than all of us. He's a good man."

"He also believes that the Apollo moon landings were government hoaxes."

"Let's not talk about people who come up with wild stories, Carl." Vincenzo warned. "Get back to work."

Sheepishly, Kolchak returned to his desk, making sure Updyke saw him stick his tongue out at him.

Miss Emily's kind eyes once more attacked Kolchak.

He tried to change the subject.

"Working on a new crossword for tomorrow's paper?"

"Yes. I'm making the theme a kind of twisted one, this time around."

"Really? What's that?"

"Serial killers." Miss Emily stated, her eyebrow arching with cleverness.

"Yeah?" Kolchak smiled, not at all interested. "That's nice, Miss Emily."

"Carl?"

"Yes?"

"You memorized the first couple of lines, didn't you?"

Kolchak, uneasy, shrugged. He never said a word.

Columbo left the FBI tent, lighting another cigar. For the first time, in a long time, he questioned the world around him.

"Lieutenant?" Mac said, approaching Columbo, noticing the look of utter shock on his superior's face. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mac, I don't know how I'm feeling right now." Columbo approached Mac, talking in a low voice, so that only he could hear him. "Listen, Mac; I got a job for you."

"Anything, sir."

"Check with the captain, and see if this Jenks guy is on the level."

Mac stood, uneasy. "Special Agent Jenks was personally appointed to the case by the governor."

"Really?" Columbo said, surprised.

"Yes, sir." Mac confirmed. "It appears that the governor and him knew each other, when Governor Paine was a D.A. in Las Vegas."

"Interesting."

"Yes, sir."

"Mac?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Forget Jenks. No need to bother the captain. Don't want to make waves."

"I understand, sir."

Columbo, still looking a little confused, pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. He stood, for a long time, reading it.

"What's that, sir?" Mac asked.

"Good question. I'm going on a trip, Mac."

"Oh?"

"To Chicago."

"Really? Does it involve this case?"

Columbo turned, perplexed. "Mac, I don't know what this is."

"It looks like a federal warrant."

"It looks like a federal warrant!" Columbo repeated, irritated. "However, Mac, it's a federal warrant, dated August 16, 1971."

"Is that right?"

Columbo showed the paper to Mac. "See for yourself. August 16, 1971. What do you think about that?"

"It's a warrant for first degree murder." Mac said, surprised. "Is the man accused still living?"

"Mac, you're not going to believe this, but, Agent Jenks claims that he and the man listed, used to be close friends. Also, he, and Governor Paine have kept tabs on this manall these yearsknowing all this time where he lives."

"Then, if they knew where he lived"

"Why haven't they picked him up?" Columbo concluded. "That's my problem, Mac."

"What's his name, sir?"

Columbo read the warrant, placing the paper dangerously close to his face.

"A Mr. Carl Kolchak."

Wiping the dried blood from his face, Janos Skorzeny watched the two men, in front of the FBI tent, with great curiosity. From past encounters, and personal experience, he knew that these two had been assigned to stop him. Like any hunting animal, he had to study those who could, and would, destroy him. In several cities, in several countries, he had gone through this drill before. However, he had been away from the hunt for far too long - the world had changed indeed since last he slept.

Two summers ago, in a desert outside Las Vegas, his dark world was suddenly invaded with the noises of life. It appeared that those who had wished to destroy him, knew not of his mortal birth defect - his heart was of a small size - and, as a man, it had given him great pain and difficulty. That was, until, the crossing over.

The man, who destroyed him, was not a powerful one, or he would have seen to his proper resting.

Having awakened, he tore himself out of a pine box, which was resting in a warehouse - a casino was being built, and the old cemetery, in which he rested, was being moved. He laughed at the foolishness.

Las Vegas was a marked town. They knew of him there. The man, who destroyed him, could still be there - waiting. He did not wish to see that man's face again.

So, he came to Los Angeles.

Even in his youth, so long ago, he knew that he could hunt here, for a great long while, and not worry about destruction. So many lives. So much blood!

In any case, Skorzeny knew that his time for caution was at hand. One of the men in the tent, he remembered! The FBI man was with the one whom tried to destroy him, many years ago. Even thinking about the sad event made his chest hurt.

Skorzeny watched the two police officers, as they seemed to puzzle over a piece of paper. Suddenly, his attention was forced to that of the animal he was holding. A small rat he had come across while hiding in the woods.

Skorzeny laughed. The small creature was biting into his hand, terrified. The rat could sense that its life was in danger, and indeed, it was! Skorzeny could no longer afford to hunt humans; so, he had to rely on "smaller" lifeforms to sustain him. At least, until the police relaxed a little.

Wetting his lips, Skorzeny ripped the rat's neck open, drinking its blood, as he looked on.

The two were still standing in front of the tent, debating about something written on the paper the older one was holding. After lighting a cigar, and looking directly at him, it seemed the older one in a battered raincoat left, heading toward a junky car, with a barking dog inside. Did the older police officer see him? Impossible!

Drinking the rat dry, Skorzeny threw it aside. He kept his eyes on the young man, feeling, again, the urge to hunt.

"Mister Vincenzo, there's someone here to see you."

Vincenzo looked up from his desk, to see Ron Updyke looking at him with a devilish gleam. The editor-in-chief rolled his eyes in agony.

"What's Kolchak done this time?"

Updyke's face turned serious. "No, sir. You have a visitor."

"Oh, well, show him in." Vincenzo got up, straightened his tie, and put his jacket on.

Columbo entered the room, smiling. "Mister Anthony Albert Vincenzo?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Lieutenant Columbo, LAPD Homicide. I'm here to see..."

"Ahh, it is Kolchak, isn't it?" Vincenzo sat down, defeated.

"Yes, sir." Columbo affirmed. "I am here to see Carl Kolchak. Ah, sir, is he here at this time?"

"Third desk down, on the right." Vincenzo pointed. "The tired looking fellow, wearing the two dollar bird feeder."

Columbo looked. "Thank you, sir."

The detective started to leave, but Vincenzo's curiosity was peaked. "Ah, excuse me, Lieutenant. Lieutenant?"

"Columbo, sir."

"Columbo!" Vincenzo said, with a smile. "You're Italian! Damn, it's sure fine to have another Italian in the place. What does the LAPD want with Kolchak? I mean, he hasn't been in LA since." Vincenzo's features suddenly turned hard. "This hasn't got anything to with someone in your department named Matteo? Does it?"

"Matteo, sir?" Columbo thought. "No."

"Oh, sorry, Lieutenant." Vincenzo relaxed. "Last time Kolchak was in LA, he damaged a local landmark, claiming that he needed to do it, in order to destroy a female vamp--" Vincenzo stopped, correcting himself. "In other words, a disturbed woman. Every now and then, we hear from him, wanting us to repair the damages. I'm sorry, sir."

"Yes, sir." Columbo said, puffing on his cigar. "Sir, forgive me, but, were you about to say the word vampire?"

"Yes."

"Does that word bother you, sir?"

"No."

"Does that word, and the mention of Las Vegas, worry you?"

Vincenzo gave Columbo a startled look. "Third desk down, on the right."

Columbo, paused, studying Vincenzo's features. For an instant, the editor appeared much older to the detective. "Thank you, sir."

Columbo left the office, heading toward the third desk on the right.

Kolchak had been tapping away on his typewriter, doing his best not to fall asleep. The copy boy's feature article, on the Tulip Festival in Aurora, was so successful, that the New York office had wanted more. The last thing Kolchak would have ever bet he would be writing, after college, at his age, was a feature on plants.

"Mister Kolchak?"

Looking up, Kolchak saw a middle-aged man, smiling at him in a rumpled raincoat.

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Columbo, LAPD Homicide." Columbo flashed his badge.

"Columbo?" Kolchak said, remembering. "I know that name."

"OhIt's a very common name, Mister Kolchak."

Kolchak snapped his fingers, remembering, "Lieutenant Columbo! I wrote a story about you years ago! The Carsini murder, back in '74. The wine merchant who murdered his brother. Of course!"

"You remember that?" Columbo said, astounded. "That was a long time ago."

"Believe me, Lieutenant, I'm the proverbial reporter who has no life." Kolchak paused, "What can I do for you."

Columbo stood uneasy, not knowing where to start. He puffed away on his cigar.

"Nice raincoat, by the way." Kolchak added.

"Oh, thank you, sir. Nice hat."

Hearing this, both Ron Updyke and Miss Emily let out a dry laugh.

"In any case, Mister Kolchak, I have been sent here to find you."

"Oh?" Kolchak's brows darted up, curious.

"Yes." Columbo affirmed. "It appears that the FBI thinks you quite an expert on a series of killings that have taken place there, over a two year period. The last killing took place not more than seventy-two hours ago."

"Really?" Kolchak laughed, "Who in the FBI could possibly think that?" Kolchak paused, his eyes seeming to remember, looking back on a far-away memory. "No. It couldn't be!"

"Ah, yes, sir." Columbo guessed, "Special Agent Bernie Jenks."

"Bernie?" Kolchak huffed, "I haven't seen him since..."

"Since Vegas?" Columbo finished.

The typing in the room stopped. All eyes were on Kolchak and Columbo. From the corner of his eye, Columbo thought he saw Vincenzo peeking at him through the dusty blinds of his office window.

Kolchak swallowed hard. His hands began to shake. Surprisingly, he found himself breaking out in a cold sweat. "Tell me, Columbo, what manner of killings is Bernie working on?"

Columbo cleared his throat.

"Mister Kolchak, the victims have all been drained of blood."

"Blood?"

"Yes, sir. A very messy thing. Not a drop left in their bodies."

Kolchak's face turned a blank white, as all the color seemed to leave his skin. Columbo could sense that the man was afraid.

"Sir, is something bothering you?"

"Columbo, why did Bernie send you here?" Kolchak asked, "I mean, I haven't heard from him in over thirty years. Why now?"

"He wants your help on the case, sir."

"Oh, no!" Kolchak dryly laughed. "I helped that bastard once before, and it cost me my job, my credibility, and the woman I loved." Kolchak paused, angry. "You tell that man to go screw himself!"

"Ooooooo!" Columbo said, surprised. The detective started rummaging around in his pockets, looking for something.

Kolchak, grabbing his camera, coat, and tape recorder, felt an overwhelming urge to leave the office. "Now, Lieutenant, if you will excuse me, I have work to do."

"Ah, Mister Kolchak," Columbo said, one hand in the air.

Kolchak turned.

"If you were not willing to come with me, peacefully, I was ordered to enforce this." Columbo showed Kolchak a weathered piece of paper.

Kolchak looked at it, remembering.

"That son-of-a-bitch."

"Ah, yes, sir." Columbo said, clearing his throat. "About that. This isn't real, is it, sir?"

"I'm afraid that it is, Lieutenant." Kolchak returned to his desk. "Bernie was there, sir. He was there. When I killed the thing. Or, at least, when I thought that I had killed him."

"Yes, sir." Columbo looked on, studying Kolchak's face. "About that"

"When do we leave?" Kolchak asked.

Columbo checked his watch.

"In about two hours."

Kolchak shook his head, surrendering.

"Ever get the feeling you should have been a farmer, Lieutenant?"

"Only when I'm wrong, sir."

Kolchak turned, looking at Vincenzo, who, in turn, was standing at his office door, silently looking back.

"Okay, Columbo. You call Jenks, and tell him I'll help."

Columbo reached for a phone. Silently understanding.

"Yes, sir."

Mac pulled back the tarp, looking at another murder victim. Like before, all blood had been drained from the woman's body. Like before, her throat had been torn out. Like before, the FBI was on the scene taking care of everything. Mac sincerely wished that the Lieutenant were here.

"What do we do now, sir?" A uniformed police officer asked.

"Nothing." Mac explained. "Special Agent Jenks is running this show. We're here to provide window dressing."

"Sure wish Columbo was here," the officer said. "He wouldn't just sit here."

"True." Mac agreed, "But I'm not the Lieutenant."

After several minutes of walking in a circle, Mac had had enough. This was the third victim since Columbo had left on his trip to Chicago. He was getting tired of being told what to do. He was tired of lying to the press. Most importantly, he was tired of lying to his men.

Mac, folding up his notebook, started to walk away from the scene of the crime.

"Hey, Mac, where you going?" the officer asked.

"Barney's. Going to get me a bowl of chili. You coming?"

The officer, checking his watch, and looking back at the FBI tent, just set up moments ago, said, "I don't think so, sir. These guys are going to be picking and probing for at least another hour. Enjoy your chili, sir."

"Thanks."

With that, Mac left the scene.

Janos studied the young man leaving his latest feast. Wiping away the blood from his face, he followed the police officer. He was in need of an ally.

When Mac was alone, standing at his car's door, the vampire struck.

Before Mac knew what hit him, he was on the ground.

Janos, licking his lips, took the first, and most important bite.

The young police officer was now his!

Mac, in horror, did what he could to hold his attack back. The man with the huge animal-like fangs had tremendous power - almost superhuman! All he could do was scream.

The young detective awoke in a dark room. A slight smell of wet dirt permeated his nostrils. Fighting the pain, Mac strained to open his eyes - he wasn't used to the dark.

"Where the hell am I?" Mac asked, not expecting an answer.

"You are home."

The voice was horrid. It held in its confines the rasp of old age, and the bile connected with the smell of death. It also seemed to bring the police officer to a striking attention. It held within it a certain power.

Mac looked up into the eyes of Janos Skorzeny.

Skorzeny was dressed in a black and white suit, soiled with blood and dirt. The garment was literally rotting off his body. The vampire, realizing the state of his clothes and reacting with amusement, brushed off the dirt, feeling the need to explain.

"I apologize for my clothes, mister police officer," Skorzeny explained. "I have been dead for almost thirty years. In the desert. Bad times they was. You have no idea!"

"I am a police officer."

The vampire began to laugh. "Yes! Perfect!"

"For what?"

"We shall see, shan't we? Police officer."

Mac reached up, grabbing the side of his neck. There was a wet substance dripping from his shoulder. Almost black, the thick substance provided much curiosity. He had seen this a lot in his line of work - it was...

"Blood?" the detective asked.

"Yes, I must apologize." Skorzeny said, still brushing dirt off his clothing. "I was thirsty, and in this climate, one must grab a bite where they can." The vampire paused, looking up in disgust. "I must obtain a new set of clothes. What do men of high stature wear now? "

Mac continued to rub his throat, wanting nothing more than to stop the pain, but, every time his captor spoke, he found the sound of the man's voice intoxicating. He could not get over how beautiful the maniac sounded.

"Never mind!" the vampire huffed. "Perhaps you will find me clothing, later."

"Later?" Mac asked, confused.

"Yes, later, Mister Police Officer." Skorzeny licked his lips. "I thirst. You will bring me a woman, a young woman to enjoy."

Mac fought the urge. Before he knew what had happened, he was on his feet, climbing up a shallow flight of stairs, and climbing out of the dirt into the cool Los Angeles night. He was actually doing what the madman had ordered! He brushed off his clothes, wiped the blood away from the bite mark on his throat, and actually started to carry out the vampire's orders.

What was more horrifying, is that Mac was starting to enjoy it!

Jenks looked around the crime scene, making sure that everyone was gone. This was to be a "secret" meeting, and he wanted no mistakes. He checked his watch. The bastard was late.

"Damn politicians." He huffed, fighting the chill in the air.

The limo's headlights broke the black veil of the night, as they came toward him. Jenks mentally made a note to tell the man about Carl Kolchak. He wanted to see the reaction in the man's eyes when he told him that the cover-up was over, and that Jenks was finally honoring an old debt he had toward a friend.

Governor Paine rose from the back of the limo, offering Jenks his hand. Jenks could see that the man was holding back a great deal of trepidation in his phony smile.

"Agent Jenks!" the Governor said. "How has life been treating you since Vegas?"

"Not as good as it has you, sir."

"Yes." Paine paused, uneasy. "After Vegas, I thought it time to come back home. My family needed me."

Jenks said nothing. He only stared at the man, hard.

"Why have you called me here, Agent? I have a meeting with representatives from six states tomorrow. You are aware of our blackout problems, are you not? We need to secure a stable energy bill before the next elections, or I'll be looking for another job." The politician laughed.

"I have often wondered, Governor, what had happened to the estate of Janos Skorzeny after his death."

Paine said nothing. He looked around, silently ordering his men to get back into the limo. It was obvious to Jenks that Paine wanted no one else to hear what they had to say.

"What the hell do you mean by that nonsense?" Paine demanded.

"You forget, sir, that I was there in Vegas. I was the FBI agent assigned to the case. I know, full well, that the thing we killed came from a very wealthy European family. Mr. Skorzeny had over one hundred million dollars in a Swiss bank account. Whatever became of all that cash? I have wondered about that for decades. Could you answer that, sir?"

Jenks knew that he wasn't going to get an answer. The man in front of him was incapable of honesty - he was a politician.

"I have sent Columbo to obtain an expert on this case, sir, and I thought you should know." Jenks said, holding back a smile.

"Is that why I'm here?" Paine asked, upset. "Who is this expert?"

"Carl Kolchak."

For an instant, Paine's eyes showed no response. Then, as if a huge wall, devised over the years, started to tumble down, the Governor glared at Jenks in surprise, rage, and panic. "You didn't!"

"Sir, he stopped the man once. He will do it again. Of that I have no doubt."

"You will contact Columbo and tell him to withdrawal. I do not want Kolchak in my state, do you understand me?"

"I understand that this is a Federal case now, sir. Although I respect your wishes, I can call whomever I wish to assist me in my endeavors. I have used the warrant you enacted to kick Kolchak out of Vegas, to bring him back into the fold. You remember? Columbo is an intelligent man. What would he say if a federal agent ordered him to ignore a warrant for first-degree murder?"

Paine's face started to show signs of worry. The man was incredibly uneasy.

"Bernie, name your price."

"Excuse me?"

"You were right in your assumption. I obtained some of the Skorzeny fortune. My family estates were in ruin. The man was dead. There were no descendants to claim the money. Before I left Nevada, I helped myself."

"You bastard." Jenks huffed. "I betrayed a friend for your sorry ass, and I have lived with that pain for far too long."

"Come on, Bernie. I can pay whatever you wish. Nothing, in politics, comes without a price. Name it. I promise you the funds will be in your account by noon."

Jenks was due to retire soon. He had saved, but even he knew that he hadn't enough to live a "comfortable" life. Within six years of retirement, Jenks had pictured himself working part-time with a security firm, just to make ends meet. Paine's offer was an opportunity he could not turn down.

"To hell with you, sir!" Jenks laughed. "I'm going to help Carl, and this time, nothing on earth will keep him from exposing this story, this cover-up, and especially your sorry ass. Goodnight, sir."

Jenks turned his back, and walked away.

Paine started to panic. He wondered, for a moment, about the men he had chosen to help him this night. Could they be trusted? Were they loyal to him? Both questions were answered with a 'yes.'

"Agent Jenks." Paine said.

Jenks stopped, turning to face the Governor. "What?"

"I cannot allow you or Kolchak to stop me. You see, I'm going to be President some day."

"Not if I can help it, sir."

Paine lost his mind. Without thinking, he picked up a rock, about the size of a fist, and threw it at the FBI Agent.

With a surprised cry, Jenks fell to the ground. Grabbing the back of his head, the FBI agent's hand withdrew, showing deep red blood. Without saying a word, Jenks fell to the earth.

"Dear God!" Paine suddenly realized, regaining his sanity. "What have I done?"

The governor's aides burst from the limo, coming to Paine's assistance.

"We'll take care of this, sir," one of the men suggested.

Paine, terrified at what he had done, asked, "How is he?"

The men checked Jenks. One shook his head to the other.

"He's dead, sir."

Paine placed his hand over his mouth. The Governor was going to be sick.

"I did not mean this to happen," he pleaded to no one in general.

"Sir," the aide said. "We will take care of this."

"How?" Paine asked.

The aide took a Swiss Army Knife out of his pocket, selecting a "pick"-like knife. Showing the blade to Paine, the Aide continued. "Mister Jenks, unfortunately, will become another victim of The Blood Drinker."

Paine's features started to gather in strength again. A sly smile forced its way on his face. He, again, was in control.

"Perfect." Paine said.

The governor watched as his men did their "bloody" work.

Kolchak pushed the record button down on his trusty Sony tape recorder

"A famous writer once coined the phrase 'You can't go back home.' Sometimes, home has a way of coming back to haunt us. In that respect, HE, has returned.

"The vampire Janos Skorzeny has returned from the grave. The politicians, law enforcement agencies, those in real power, screwed up! For some unknown reason, Skorzeny was not cremated, which means he is on the hunt again.

"I was made aware of this fact, and my small contribution in this affair, when my old pal, Bernie Jenks, had enforced a long-forgotten arrest warrant on this reporter. Namely: the murder of Janos Skorzeny. I wonder what would cause Bernie to risk his career in calling me to assist him? I haven't spoken to him since Vegas, and he knows why!

"This time, however, I will make damn sure that the vampire is destroyed."

Kolchak turned off his recorder, noticing the look on Columbo's face, who was sitting next to him, chewing on his cigar, doing his best not to look Kolchak in the eye. Kolchak knew that look Columbo was giving him - the detective thought he was crazy.

"Lt. Columbo," Kolchak asked. "You don't believe any of this, do you?"

Columbo stirred in his seat, uncomfortable. It was obvious to the reporter that Columbo did not like to fly.

"Oh, no. I never said that, Mr. Kolchak. Not at all, sir."

"But, you don't."

Kolchak smiled, admiring the detective's ability to keep his cool. It was obvious that Columbo was a logical man -- not taken with flights of fancy.

"No, sir." Columbo finally confessed. "In fact, I wanted to question my supervisor about your validity to this case." The detective paused, a sly smile forming on his face. "It's not that often, sir, that I'm sent to arrest a man accused of murdering a suspect the FBI is currently looking for. If you know what I mean?"

Kolchak let out a dry laugh.

"How long have you been a cop, Columbo?"

"Oh, about thirty years now, sir."

"Ever seen anything you weren't able to explain?"

"Sometimes." Columbo thought. "Murder is a mysterious business. But, I would fall short of my duty if I started to search for monsters in the closet. No offense, sir."

"None taken."

Kolchak studied Columbo for a long moment. Summing him up.

"Lieutenant, I think that you will be an interesting partner for the next few days."

"Oh, thank you, sir." Columbo beamed. "You're an interesting person, yourself."

Sgt. John J. Wilson fidgeted with his tie as he waited for Lt. Columbo. He was nervous. Columbo was a great investigator, and demanded only the best from the men he worked with. Sgt. Wilson always considered it an honor when he worked with the lieutenant on a case.

The airport was busy. Several international news services were on hand, assigned to "The Blood Drinker" story. Only recently had Wilson found out about the nickname LA's newest serial killer had obtained.

Wilson turned his attention to a fellow uniformed police officer.

"Has transportation been obtained for the lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good!" Wilson said, relieved. "Good. The lieutenant, after he arrives, will want to go directly to the crime scene. He's a very thorough man."

"Understood." The uniformed cop headed for the exit to prepare.

Again, Wilson waited, fidgeting with his tie.

"Oh, no!" Columbo moaned. The detective was looking out the airplane's window, covering his eyes with his hands.

"What's wrong?" Kolchak asked, loading 110mm film into his camera.

"You see that guy over there?"

Kolchak looked out the passenger window, as their plane came to a complete stop. He saw a well-dressed man, fidgeting with his tie.

"Yeah?" Kolchak reacted.

"That guy's Sgt. John J. Wilson."

"Friend of yours?"

"You could say that, Mr. Kolchak."

Kolchak laughed dryly, reacting to Columbo's hard stare. "Remember the well-dressed guy at my office?"

"Mister Updyke?"

"Same thing."

Columbo shook his head with sympathy. "I understand, sir."

Both men left the plane with smiles on their faces. Columbo was humming. Kolchak, too busy checking his camera, didn't recognize the tune.

"Sgt. Wilson," Columbo said with a tired huff.

"Lt. Columbo, good to see you, sir."

"This is Mr. Carl Kolchak," Columbo said, pointing to the reporter. "Mr. Kolchak has been, ah, asked by Special Agent Jenks to assist us on the case."

Wilson turned cold, his face pale.

"Lt. Columbo, I..."

Columbo paused, studying Wilson's face. "Sgt. Wilson, what's wrong?"

"Special Agent Jenks has been murdered."

Both Columbo and Kolchak responded about the same time. One with surprise. The other with horror.

"What?" they demanded in unison.

"Yes, sir," Wilson confirmed. "He was found near the last murder site."

Kolchak interrupted. "Who found him?"

"One of the governor's assistants." Wilson confirmed.

"Governor Paine? Hell, he probably..." Kolchak huffed. "Lt. Columbo, Jenks was killed by this man. I'd bet my last dollar on that."

"Now, Mr. Kolchak, let's not jump to conclusions here. After all, you can't just go around accusing the governor of murder."

"The hell I can't."

"Sir," Columbo warned.

"Columbo, Paine was D.A. of Las Vegas back when Skorzeny first started killing people. Paine was responsible for having that warrant issued, and for having me run out of town. Jenks was on to something, and that bastard stopped him. Just like he stopped me!"

Columbo, amused, pulled Kolchak away from Wilson, who, by now, was quite lost.

"You don't like Governor Paine, do you?"

"Columbo, do you curse?"

"I make it a habit not to, sir."

"Know any good 'bad' words?"

"A few."

"Paine's worse." Kolchak paused. "The man is more evil than Skorzeny could ever be. I'm telling you, Colombo, Paine had Jenks killed."

Lighting his cigar, Columbo took a long slow drag - his eyes never leaving the reporter's.

"Mr. Kolchak, stay calm. There might be more to this case that just vampires."

Kolchak and Columbo joined Wilson, who directed them to their squad car.

Columbo suddenly realized something! He stopped, looking around. Confused.

"Wilson, where's Mac?"

"Oh," Wilson beamed, suddenly aware of the fact that Columbo had not been informed. "Mr. Albinsky hasn't reported for duty since you were here."

"Strange." Columbo said, entering the car.

Mac fell to the ground, his mouth bleeding. Noticing the blood coming out of him, he discovered that he had chipped a tooth, causing him to bite his lip.

Stop! He kept shouting in his head.

His legs were not listening. It was as if they had a mind of their own.

His master was hungry, and it was now his job to do the dirty work - bringing him his food.

You can't do this!

Mac was alone in some city park. He was too confused to know where. The night was incredibly calm, and, if the press and the police were doing their jobs, the parks should be clear.

They were not.

A young woman, in her late twenties, was seen walking alone in the park. As Mac approached her, he noticed how pretty she was - the kind of woman he would have asked out on a date.

You have to stop. Now!

Try as he might, Mac continued behind the woman. Stalking her.

His master needed food.

Kolchak kept his eyes on Columbo. The man seemed to know his business. With the patience of a Buddha, the detective slowly went over the murder scene. A white chalky outline screamed out in the night, showing all that cared to look, where, and how, Bernie Jenks' body was found. Kolchak, like Columbo, had been very interested in what condition the body was. The years, Kolchak discovered, had not been kind to his friend. The coroner stated that Jenks' death was like the others - massive loss of blood. Kolchak found it ironic: The very monster he had helped, all those years ago, had killed Jenks.

"See anything interesting, Lieutenant?" Kolchak asked, his flash going off as he took a picture.

Columbo hummed, mostly to himself. "Not really. You knew Special Agent Jenks?"

"We had been friends."

"Close?"

"We drank a few beers. Told a few lies to one another. A working relationship, Columbo. You know how it is?"

"Oh, yeah." Columbo confirmed. "Was Jenks a cautious man? Do you think he could be tricked into doing something he didn't want to go and do, is what I'm asking?"

"Well," Kolchak said, uneasy. "I haven't known the man for a great many years."

"No big deal." Columbo said, his arms up in a defensive position.

"If you're asking me if Bernie was a foolish man, I'd have to say no."

Columbo shook his head, smoking his cigar. "That's the impression I got of the man."

"What are you getting at?"

Columbo pointed to the immediate crime scene, bringing Kolchak's attention to it.

"You know what's been bothering me since I got here?"

Kolchak looked around, confused. "No. What?"

"Two things: One, no sign of a struggle. A federal agent was murdered, and there's not even so much as a branch out of place. Two: Blood. There's blood here at the scene. None of the other murders had blood at the scene - totally dry. But, here, we have blood. Why's that?"

Kolchak gave the observation some thought.

"I don't know."

"Loose ends." Columbo admitted. "Too many loose ends. They bother me. I can't rest until I figure them out, you know what I mean?"

"Sometimes," Kolchak said. "Wait a minute, Columbo. Are you saying Jenks wasn't killed by Skorzeny?"

"I don't know what I'm saying, Mr. Kolchak." Columbo paused, showing Kolchak something"he discovered close to where the body was found.

"What's this?" Kolchak asked.

Columbo produced a bent paper clip, with the tiniest drop of blood on it.

"I don't know that much about vampires, Mr. Kolchak, but, one thing I do know is they really have no need for paper clips. Do they?"

Kolchak's eyes opened wide.

There was more to this story than digging up old memories!

As both Kolchak and Columbo headed to the detective's car, the night air was invaded by the bark of a dog.

"Your dog, Columbo," Kolchak asked, "Is he always like that?"

"He's spoiled," Columbo tried to explain, taking a long drag on his cigar. "What can you do?"

Both men laughed.

Kolchak stopped. His face turned livid.

"Mr. Kolchak," Columbo asked, "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Was all Kolchak could say.

Columbo turned his attention to the advancing detective heading toward them. Columbo knew the man, and, like Kolchak, he wasn't happy to see him.

"Matteo." Columbo grumbled. Smoking his cigar.

"You know him?"

"We met."

Kolchak could tell, just by the tone in Columbo's voice, that he did not like the man. "What, you know him?"

"Ah," Kolchak shrugged, "I might have run into him once or twice, the last time I was here."

Kolchak took his hat off, stuffing it in his suit jacket, and tried to hide himself behind Columbo.

It didn't help.

"Kolchak!" Matteo yelled, pointing at the cowering reporter behind Columbo. "Is that you! What the hell are you doing in Los Angeles? You tell Vincenzo he still owes us damages for that cross you burned."

Columbo stopped. "Cross?"

"I killed a female vampire," Kolchak explained.

Columbo's face turned hard. "What is it with you and vampires?"

Kolchak, frustrated, put his hat back on. He motioned to Columbo's car. "I'll keep your dog company while you finish up, okay?"

Columbo nodded his head.

Matteo waited, patiently watching, until Kolchak was way out of earshot.

"Columbo, if you value your career, get rid of that clown."

"He seems to know what he's talking about, sir," Columbo pointed out. "Not to mention the fact that the victim, Mister Jenks, considered Kolchak an expert on this case."

"Whatever!" Matteo grumbled. "I won't have anything to do with the man."

"Sir," Columbo cautiously suggested. "He is on this case."

Matteo stopped. He glared at Columbo.

"Because of the unfortunate death of Special Agent Jenks, I have been given control of this case. And, Columbo, I say, I will have NOTHING to do with the man. Is that clear?"

Columbo chuckled. "Sir, we have a problem, I think."

"Oh? In what way?"

Columbo faced Matteo. "We're talking murder here, sir. And, as I see it, that's MY department. Now, until I hear otherwise, this is still my case."

Matteo said nothing. He turned his attention to the crime scene, doing his best to control his temper. He did not like Columbo, but he respected his authority. After checking out key points of the crime, he turned again to Columbo, who, like Matteo, was doing his best to control his temper.

"One word, Columbo"

"Yes, sir?"

"Keep Kolchak away from me." Matteo pointed a warning finger at the detective.

Columbo shyly smiled. "I'll do my best, sir."

"You do that." Matteo said, laughing. "Vampires! Hah!"

Columbo puffed on his cigar, returning to his car.

Columbo brought his car to a complete stop.

"You sure this guy can help?"

Kolchak nodded. "If there's one thing I know, Columbo, if the police are not aware of the facts, Jim "The Swede" Bytowski, is already writing a novel on the case. No one knows more about this town than 'Swede.'"

"Oh, he's an informant." Columbo said, understanding.

"Worse." Kolchak laughed. "He's a news reporter. Used to work for the Vegas Sun as a court reporter, years ago. The man's been trying to get me to cross over to TV for years."

"Why don't you?"

"Columbo, I don't even own a television." Kolchak said, sounding insulted by the very idea. "Besides, all TV news reporters look so plastic."

Columbo shook his head, agreeing.

Getting out of the car, both Kolchak and Columbo headed inside KCTO-Channel 14. The studio was busy this time of the day - working on the six o'clock news.

"Let me do all the talking, Columbo," Kolchak ordered.

"Okay."

"The cops know nothing!" Swede said, sitting in a studio chair, while a young woman applied foundation makeup to his face. "Word on the street is that this is a serious killer with superhuman strength."

"That's our feeling." Kolchak verified, looking at Columbo, who was totally amused by the whole affair. As promised, Columbo kept his mouth shut. Occasionally, Kolchak would notice him, giving the reporter a sly smile, while smoking his cigar.

"Thing's are getting hot in this town, Carl." Swede said, "Just like Vegas."

"I got news for you Swede, this is Vegas."

Swede's eyes widen with greed and revelation. "You have got to be kidding!"

"I wish I were."

"Carl, has this anything to do with. with Skorzeny?"

Kolchak said nothing. The uneasiness in his eyes confirmed everything.

"Christ! This is bigger than I thought."

Columbo, surprised, broke his silence.

"Wait a minute. You were aware of Mr. Skorzeny?"

Swede laughed. "Why do you think I left Vegas? I wasn't going to wait around, just so that I could be given the proverbial boot, like Carl here. Do you know how many news careers Paine destroyed? That's why I moved to television."

"So, you knew that Skorzeny was a vam..."

"Columbo!" Kolchak interrupted. "That's my story. Okay?"

Columbo raised his hands, apologizing. He knew he had crossed the line. The detective returned to his cigar.

"Why are you here, Carl?" Swede asked, "I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you, but it's been 'way too many years for this just to be a social call."

"Swede, I need to know if anyone has produced anything that the police are not currently aware of. You are the only one I know who has a habit of collecting unofficial news. News that has made you a very wealthy man over the years." Kolchak paused. "Swede, this is my chance to vindicate Vegas. All of it! I'm begging! Please, if you have anything, share it!"

After a few moments of silent thought, Swede ordered his makeup girl to finish what she was doing, and to leave. When they were alone, Swede produced a soiled shoebox. The item got the immediate attention of both Kolchak and Columbo.

"One of my sources picked this up at the scene of the last murder."

"You mean Special Agent Jenks' murder?" Columbo asked.

"No." Swede confirmed. "There was an abduction of a young woman the other day. Word on the street suggests that the killer has a police officer working for him now."

"That's silly, Swede." Kolchak argued. "Why would a cop work for a killer?"

"Carl," Swede paused. "I know more than you think I do. Remember that I was in Vegas. Ever hear of a Dracula who didn't have his Renfield?"

Kolchak gawked. "You knew? All this time??"

"Carl, you said it yourself. I'm the best there is on secrets. That's why I left Vegas, after you. I got word that I was next on Paine's hit list, and, unlike you, I don't want to end up with a murder on my resume."

"What's in the box?" Kolchak asked, changing the subject.

"I was about to ask that myself." Columbo mused.

Swede opened the box, producing a pair on antique handcuffs.

"These, it was said, were being used by the kidnapper, but, during his fight with the young woman, they were dropped at the scene. My sources conclude that they were once used by the LAPD. Hence, a police officer must be involved."

Kolchak took the rusty cuffs, studying them. Columbo, on the other hand, was NOT amused.

"Mister Swede?"

"Yes?"

"Ah, Lt. Columbo, LAPD, Homicide." Columbo produced his badge, trying to ignore the hard glance Swede gave Kolchak. "I'm working with Mr. Kolchak on this case."

"Carl, I trusted you!" Swede yelled.

"Swede, he's on the level," Kolchak reassured. "You can trust him. He hates Matteo just as much as we do."

"You do!" Swede asked, giving Columbo a look of awe.

"Now, I never said that, Mister Swede." Columbo raised his hands in careful protest.

Kolchak laughed. "Columbo, you have got to be the most evasive man I have ever known."

Columbo smiled an understanding smirk. "I like to be careful. Yes, sir."

Kolchak shifted his curiosity.

"Okay, Swede, what gives with the cuffs? Anyone can tell that they're turn of the century. No police officer uses these things anymore."

"My sources state that these are police handcuffs," Swede insisted.

"Not unless that cop's Barney Rubble, Swede," Kolchak protested.

"No." Columbo said, "You're both wrong."

Kolchak and Swede turned to face Columbo, who, by now, was fully investigating the pair of ancient cuffs. "It's true that police used similar cuffs, at one time, Mister Swede, but these are special cuffs. They were used for an entirely new and different thing, way back when."

"Yeah?" Swede snipped. "What was that?"

"These are cuffs used by a magician," Columbo explained, raising the cuffs out of the box into the light. "You see these keyholes? They have been keenly filed out, and a fake gadget placed here -" Columbo pointed just beyond the cuffs weld points - "so that it would be possible for the one trapped inside, to magically break out."

"Columbo, how do you know that?" Kolchak asked, amazed.

"Columbo?" Swede repeated the name, trying to remember. "Are you, by chance, the Columbo responsible for arresting The Great Santini?"

"Yes, sir." Columbo smiled, humbly.

"The who?" Kolchak asked.

"The Great Santini," Swede explained, "was a great magician years back, Carl. There was a murder of a night club owner, and Columbo, here, proved that the motive behind the killer was survival."

"Survival?" Kolchak asked.

"Santini killed the owner so that he could keep the fact that he was a Nazi war criminal from the U.S. Government."

Kolchak gave Columbo an amazed look. Columbo, shyly, agreed with Swede.

"Do you ever arrest normal people, Columbo?"

"Every now and then. It's the job. What can I say?"

Kolchak took the cuffs from Columbo, giving them a look. Something caught his eye. "Hey, there's a set of numbers on these cuffs. Looks like it was carved there by somebody."

Columbo looked, nodding his head. "Most magicians inventory their tricks."

"Could mean something," Kolchak insisted.

"Carl," Swede said, "I doubt if that will lead to anything. I have already checked with LAPD Inventory, and they had nothing on these cuffs."

"Do you mind if I run a check?" Kolchak asked.

"What do you think you'll find, sir?" Columbo asked.

"I have my connections, Columbo."

Columbo put his hands up, puffing again on his cigar. He and Swede exchanged curious looks.

"Columbo!" Kolchak yelled, happily, as he ran through the police station, finally reaching the detective's desk.

Columbo had been working on the investigation surrounding Jenks' death. Things were forming an interesting circle, pointing the finger toward one man, and one man ONLY. Columbo had a few more loose ends, but he was sure, and had told his captain, that he would have the case closed within a few days. This was the kind of case he wanted, and loved, to solve. Kolchak's case, that was another story.

"Columbo, I got something."

"Yes, Mister Kolchak?"

"I found out who the cuffs belonged to."

"I'm very happy to hear that, sir. Tell me, how did you find the owner?"

Kolchak cleared his throat. He noticed several police officers looking in on his and Columbo's conversation.

"I have this priest friend in Chicago, he belongs to a particular religious order, which caters to the betterment of, shall we say, the least of this city's civilized."

"I got ya!" Columbo said.

"Unlike the others of his order, he never took the vow of silence. That oversight has proven a great source of information to me over the years. For police purposes, you can simply call him 'The Monk.'"

"The Monk?" Columbo question. "First, we have vampires. Now, we have a monk?"

"Do you want to hear what I found out, or not?"

"Continue, Mister Kolchak," Columbo said.

"It seems that the Smithsonian has numbers that match the ones on the cuffs."

"The Smithsonian?"

"Yes, these cuffs, it turns out, belonged to a man by the name of Ehrich Weiss."

"Ehrich Weiss?" Columbo mulled.

"I did further checking, with a dear woman-friend of mine, who sells real-estate in Los Angeles. Mister Weiss had a house in Hollywood, which burnt down in the late thirties, after his death."

"So, a dead end?" Columbo asked, expecting it to be so.

"No," Kolchak sat down beside the detective. A devilish smile was on his face. "Ehrich Weiss was the name of the man who bought the place. His real name. I checked, the remains of the mansion are still here, in the city."

Columbo started to show Kolchak a confused look. "What sort of estate would allow ruins to remain for over seventy years?"

"A historic estate." Kolchak said.

"Historic?"

"Ehrich Weiss, was better known in the realms of magic as Harry Houdini."

Columbo's eyebrows darted upwards. Kolchak could see that he had hit a nerve with the detective.

"If I remember right, Mister Kolchak, houses, in the days that Houdini's was built, had root cellars, did they not?"

"Yes, sir, they did."

Both men looked the other in the eyes, smiling. Rising from his desk, slowly, Columbo smiled, shaking Kolchak's hand.

"We have him, sir." Columbo confirmed.

"Yes, I believe we do." Kolchak said. The reporter produced a small black leather bag, placing it on Columbo's desk. As he opened it, several police officers gathered around the lieutenant's desk. "Only, this time, Columbo, I intend to do the job right."

Kolchak showed the contents of the bag to the detective. Kolchak had, in the small bag, a silver cross, a wooden mallet, and several pointed stakes.

"Are these what I think they are, Mister Kolchak?" Columbo asked, rubbing his temples, not really wanting to believe what he was seeing.

"Columbo, I intend to kill Skorzeny," Kolchak said, his eyes burrowing into the detective's own. "You can help me, or..."

"I understand, sir."

Kolchak closed his bag. "What do we do now?"

Columbo turned uneasily.

"Now, we have to convince Matteo that the both of us are not crazy."

Kolchak agreed.

Both men left the squad room.

"Are you mad?!" Matteo yelled, coughing tea as he spoke. "The Houdini estate is a national landmark, not to mention a unique part of Los Angeles history. I will not allow you to destroy it!"

"Matteo," Kolchak glared at the police officer, "Were you born stupid, or did it just come naturally?"

Columbo silently walked away from the two.

The fight was on.

"All right, Kolchak," Matteo yelled, "I want you out of my office. I will no longer listen to your delusions of vampire grandeur!"

"Listen, Matteo, back in Vegas we learned that Skorzeny was from Eastern Europe. Houdini was from Eastern Europe." Kolchak paused, looking at both Matteo and Columbo. "A vampire can only rest in soil of native origin. The Houdini Mansion contains the blessings and ordinary life of an Eastern European family. He's got to be there. He's go to!"

Columbo continued to smoke his cigar, studying Kolchak. He never said a word.

Matteo calmed down.

"Columbo, you buying any of this?"

"Well, Lieutenant Matteo, I have found some of what Mr. Kolchak is saying to be a little on the strange and unusual side. But, one thing is for certain.."

"What's that?"

"He believes in what he is saying." Columbo smiled, "And in my line of work, sometimes, belief is all a guy has to go by." Columbo walked up to Kolchak, patting him on the back. "I might be dingy, but I'm starting to believe him."

"About time," Kolchak huffed.

Matteo let out a deep breath. "I can't believe that I'm doing this, but, I'll follow you two out there, just to see if Kolchak is right, and to watch the man." Matteo pointed a warning finger at Kolchak. "This time around, I don't want any stakes through the heart until I see fangs. Is that clear? Kolchak?"

"I'm the sole of discretion." Kolchak beamed, loading his camera.

Columbo continued to watch Kolchak. The reporter was acting as if he was about to confront his most terrible fear. Kolchak checked his camera twice, his tape recorder at least six times, and his cross, hammer, and mallet, more times than the detective could count. Kolchak was starting to sweat, and that worried the detective.

"Mister Kolchak?"

"Yes, Columbo?"

"I can't help but notice..." Columbo paused, uneasy. "You're scared, aren't you, sir?"

"Columbo, I chased Skorzeny to his lair once, in Vegas. I hid in a closest, waiting for that monster to leave a room. A room, in which he had, held captive, a young woman, tied to a bed, with pints of blood dripping into her bloated body." Kolchak paused, looking Columbo in the eyes. "You see, he knew that we were close, and he was using this poor woman as a false means of providing food and entertainment."

"Well, that must have been a terrible sight, sir," Columbo said, flicking his ashes.

"No, what was my personal nightmare was being trapped in a closest, with no way out, as that monster opened the closet door, glaring at me with those eyes those teeth. Wanting nothing better than to rip my throat open." Kolchak paused, "I hope you never have to face that hell, Columbo."

"I'm with you on that one, sir."

"You know what's worse?"

"What's that?"

"Knowing the truth," Kolchak said. "We tell our children, Columbo, that there are no such things as monsters. We tell them that we will always be there, to protect them. But, I know that there are real monsters out there, somewhere, and no one has ever believed me. No one."

Columbo put out his cigar.

"Mister Kolchak, you're right. This is a dangerous world." The detective patted Kolchak on the shoulder. "And I, too, have seen my fair share of monsters."

Kolchak, silently, thanked Columbo for his support.

"Besides, if Skorzeny bothers me, I'll sic my dog on him."

Kolchak burst out laughing.

"What?" Columbo asked, smiling. "He's trained. He could be a killer."

Both men noticed Matteo getting off his phone. He soon joined the two.

"I've got two patrol cars waiting, Columbo. Whenever you and Doctor Van Helsing are ready."

"Oh, cute, Matteo." Kolchak barked.

Exiting the police precinct, Columbo noticed Sgt. Wilson waiting by one of the patrol cars. This was it!

"Lieutenant, Columbo," Wilson waved, pointing to the evidence bags he was holding. There were three.

"Excuse me, Mister Kolchak." Columbo said, waiving both Matteo and the reporter to continue. "I have to talk with the sergeant for a moment."

With Kolchak and Matteo gone, the smile quickly left Columbo's face.

"Did you get what I had asked for, Sergeant?"

"Right here, sir," Wilson stated, quite proud of himself.

"Were we correct in our assumptions?"

"Yes, sir. The D.A. thinks we may have a case, but, because of the circumstances involved, he, and the captain, want only you to be involved."

"Understandable."

"Sir," Wilson started to say something, but fell silent, uneasy.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"The captain wants to know if you are right about all of this?"

Columbo paused, thinking.

"I see no other way to go about it, Sergeant. Do you? I'm open to suggestions, here."

"No, sir."

Columbo patted Wilson on the shoulder. "I have some things to do. I'll be gone for the rest of the day. First thing tomorrow, you book three flights to Sacramento."

"Three?"

"Three," Columbo reaffirmed.

"As you wish, sir."

"Good work, Sergeant."

Wilson beamed. Columbo lit another cigar.

"Looks like a terrific night to hunt for a vampire, Sergeant."

Wilson looked on, not fully understanding what the lieutenant meant.

"Vampire?" Wilson asked, doe-eyed.

Columbo had once heard that the mansion in which the famous magician had lived, back in the thirties, had once been a wonderful place. Now, all that was left were the foundation, the grounds, and a storm shelter. The shelter, according to city park officials, was nothing more than a soggy hole in the ground, forgotten, and overlooked by a city that had forgotten the legacy of its original owner.

A perfect place to hide a vampire.

Vampire. Columbo silently chuckled to himself. A week ago, no one would have ever believed that he would be looking for a creature best left to Hollywood B-Movies. He didn't even tell his wife. With her superstitions, she would have never let him leave the house. Still, all in all, he was hoping that Kolchak was wrong about this one. But, instinct told him otherwise.

"Columbo."

The detective's concentration dwindled away from the ruins, to a silver cross waving in front of his face. Kolchak was handing out crosses. Columbo took it, responding again to the look of terror on the reporter's face.

"Mister Kolchak, are you sure you can do this?"

"It's the only way we're going to catch him, I'm afraid."

"Okay."

Matteo got out of the car, joining the two.

"I've ordered the two patrol cars to block the exits. We have the place surrounded." Matteo paused, looking at his watch. "Sunrise will be in ten minutes."

Kolchak still looked uneasy. Columbo keenly observed the reporter rub his hands together repeatedly. Kolchak was moving his lips slightly. Was the man silently praying? Columbo couldn't be sure.

"You know something, Mister Kolchak?" Columbo said, "At first, I thought you were nothing but a reporter looking to see his name boldly blazed across a supermarket tabloid."

"I get that a lot, Lieutenant."

"No, you get me all wrong, sir. That's what I used to think."

Kolchak paused, looking Columbo in the eye. "What do you think, now?"

"I think you're someone who has prayed, a great deal, for his ship to come in, but, fate, or those above you, wouldn't even let you walk on the dock." Columbo paused. "Sir, you have my word, that after this day, your ship will come in. There will be no cover-up."

Kolchak silently chuckled. The reporter could see that his response had caused some surprise to bubble up into Columbo's face.

"Did I say something funny, Mister Kolchak?"

"No, Lieutenant." Kolchak explained, "I just wonder where you were thirty years ago, when I could have really used you, sir. In any case, thank you."

All three men silently headed toward the Houdini ruins. The house, it was said, had once been a three story Victorian mansion. Elegant. Now, just a couple of bricks, stones, and a concrete porch. The porch was the only suggestion of what was once there. The two detectives and Kolchak headed toward the back. Toward the root cellar.

The Master was sleeping.

Mac awoke, as he was ordered, so that he could be the watcher. To help make sure that Skorzeny would survive another day, sleeping. He hated it! He wanted to leave! He wanted to open up the wooden crate the monster was sleeping in, filled with dark potting soil, and ram a stake through the man's heart, just like he used to see in the Christopher Lee movies, as a child. But, to his everlasting shame, he could not. Just like in the movies, he was under the vampire's spell.

His ears picked up movement outside.

"Oh, no." he silently whispered.

Mac slowly got up, holding the broken arm he had - his punishment for not bring Skorzeny the prey he had wanted - and looked out a crack in the root cellar's rotting wooden door.

Mac saw three men.

Mac saw Columbo!

Mac was terrified of what he had to do.

Kolchak took out his camera, and took a picture of the root cellar door. After the "click" he started to wind the camera to its next picture, wanting to take another, just in case.

"Kolchak, watch yourself!" Matteo warned, pointing a finger at him.

"Matteo, I've been taking pictures longer than you have had a badge." Kolchak took aim, ready to shoot another frame.

Before he could, however, Mac rushed out the rotted wooden doors pushing Kolchak to the ground interrupting the stillness of the dawn.

"Mac!" Columbo shouted, "What the hell you doing here?"

Mac was grabbing Kolchak by the neck. His aim: To kill the son-of-a-bitch.

"Mac?" Columbo asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

Kolchak, fighting the police officer's attack, screamed, "He's the vampire's servant, dammit! Get him the hell off of me."

Both Matteo and Columbo looked at each other - after all, they were both in virgin territory. Both seemed to ask the other, "Should we do this?"

"All right," Columbo said, shrugging his shoulders, placing his cigar in his mouth. "Let's help already."

Both men attacked Mac.

Mac, fighting like a wildman, seemed to be crying out in pain.

"Lieutenant!" he cried, "Go away!"

"Mac! What's going on here?"

"Go away or I'll kill you, you cock-eyed bastard."

Columbo's features turned hard, but, only for an instant. Doubling up his fists, he struck Mac across the jaw, knocking the poor man out cold. Matteo and Kolchak, picking themselves up, looked at the rumpled detective with amazement.

"He slipped," Columbo explained, embarrassed.

"Of course," Matteo stated.

"Banana peels everywhere." Kolchak concluded.

Columbo, fighting back the tears in his eyes, pulled Mac away from the cellar, hoping that distance would cure the young man of the curse he had been forced to live. Had Mac participated in any murders? Columbo surely hoped not. If so, he would do all in his power to help the man stay out of jail. The evidence had to be conclusive.

"What the hell am I thinking?" Columbo mused, taking off his raincoat, and using it to cover the quivering young police officer. "Mac did nothing."

Columbo's eyes turned hard. The cigar was placed, lovingly, into his pocket.

"Columbo, you coming?" Kolchak asked.

"Mister Kolchak," Columbo said, serious. "I'm right behind you, sir."

All three men descended into the cellar.

Skorzeny opened his eyes. He could feel them enter his crypt. Three souls for the taking. One, however, had a familiar "echo" to it.

He waited.

Kolchak took out his cross.

Matteo turned on his flashlight.

Columbo tripped on a rake.

The detective pulled himself up, embarrassment clearly on his face, quietly apologizing for the ruckus he had caused.

"Sorry," Columbo whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Kolchak rolled his eyes.

Matteo started to breathe again.

"Okay, Kolchak," Matteo asked, "What now?"

Kolchak stood still. His eyes scanning.

"From experience," he said, "We wait. Let him strike first."

Before anyone else could say or do a thing, the entire right side of the cellar exploded with activity. Boxes went flying. Chairs hit their mark. A dust cloud started to gain in momentum.

"What's all this, now?" Matteo asked.

"Trouble." Columbo confirmed.

With a terrible roar, Skorzeny burst forth, wanting to attack the three men with all his might. The only thing keeping him from doing so, was the rising sun.

"Go away!" Skorzeny roared. "Or die!"

Kolchak paused, only long enough to get his camera, snapping a picture of the vampire.

Skorzeny reacted to the flash. Recognition clearly on his face.

"You! You were the one in the closet."

"You," Kolchak threatened. "You are one dead vampire."

Kolchak produced his cross, causing Skorzeny to react to the icon. Positioning himself, correctly, Kolchak made sure that the vampire was facing the door. Walking forward, the reporter, slowly, pushed the vampire out into the light. A slight smile formed on the reporter's face, knowing that the end was near - it also helped his ego to see the damn monster smoking around the ears.

"I will kill you all!" Skorzeny screamed, blood starting to trickle from his nose.

Columbo stepped forward, stopping Kolchak and Matteo. "Hold it, right there."

"Columbo," Matteo shouted, completely terrified. "What are you doing?"

"My duty, sir." Columbo turned, producing his badge. The comical site of his family pictures falling down from his wallet, in a stream of drugstore plastic, was only surpassed by his focus on his job. "Janos Skorzeny, you are hereby arrested under the suspicion of murder, in the first degree."

"What!" Kolchak shouted. "Columbo, have you lost your bean?"

Skorzeny paused, looking at the small man in the raincoat. What amused the vampire, more than anything, was that he was serious about the hollow words he was saying.

"You, I will kill you last," Skorzeny threatened. "Then I will make you tell me where your family lives, and I will enjoy you killing them."

The vampire laughed.

Columbo put his badge away.

"Okay, Mister Kolchak," Columbo huffed. "We can kill him, now."

Both Kolchak and Matteo nodded their heads in perfect chorus and agreement.

Skorzeny, raising his arms, roared at the three men, baring his fangs. Walking forward, the vampire was stopped by Kolchak's steady hand.

"Not this time!" Kolchak barked. The reporter reached behind him, pulling out two stakes. He threw one to both Matteo and Columbo. "Here, guys," the reporter ordered.

Both Columbo and Matteo prepared for the event. Both looked green around the edges. After all, this was their first killing.

Skorzeny stopped, laughing.

"You fools!" the vampire laughed, his voice clearly shaking with genuine fear. "Time is on my side."

Suddenly, the morning air filled with the sounds of a barking dog.

Looking down, Kolchak, Matteo, and Columbo saw Dog rocketing toward the vampire. With ears flapping, and tail wagging, the Basset was moving faster than Columbo had ever seen it go!

"No, dog!" Columbo shouted, "Here, dog!"

Dog, with teeth snarling, attacked Skorzeny's pants leg. The vampire was taken completely by surprise, taking his attention away from Kolchak and his attackers, uselessly trying to shake the animal off.

Kolchak saw a window opened to him. It would never come again!

"Now!" the reporter shouted.

Both Columbo and Matteo headed toward Skorzeny. Both raised their stakes. Both knew what they had to do.

Skorzeny, realizing his mistake, turned his attention away from Dog.

"No!" the vampire screamed.

Columbo was first to attack. Hitting the vampire square in the chest, the detective caused the vampire to fall to the ground. Although honest in his action to destroy the monster, Columbo was too zealous in his actions. He too hit the ground, rolling away from the vampire, leaving the killing blow to Matteo.

Matteo, realizing that Columbo was down, screamed. In his fear, he plunged his stake into the vampire's chest. Skorzeny let out a terrible wail. Blood spurted everywhere.

Kolchak, handing his cross to Columbo, who was only now starting to recover from his fall, took out his mallet, ramming it repeatedly onto the stake Matteo was holding, sending it deeper and deeper into Skorzeny's chest. Kolchak only stopped hammering when there was no more wood to hammer into the monster.

All stopped.

"Jesus!" Matteo cried, realizing what they had all just done. Not quite wanting to believe.

The sun broke the skyline.

Skorzeny, in his agony, squirmed on the ground. As the sun came to his attention, he froze. The vampire was pinned to the ground by the stake Kolchak had plunged into him, so there was no escape. The vampire knew he was going to die - this time.

"Kolchak!" Skorzeny screamed.

Kolchak smiled. He loved every second of the whole affair.

Almost instantly, the vampire burst in flames. An inferno of screaming flesh. Then, slowly, nothing but ash. The only thing left was a half-buried stake in the Houdini lawn, and a shape on the ground reminding all that there had once been a monster there, which had once been a man.

Matteo fell to his knees, puking.

Columbo, dazed, felt just as bad.

Kolchak started taking pictures.

"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Dog barked, licking his slobbery chops.

Columbo went over to the Basset, looking at him with both rage and concern. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the car?!" Columbo yelled.

Dog looked up, not phased by Columbo's harsh words. Dog simply wagged his tail.

"That's it!" Columbo said, waving a finger. "You're grounded."

Dog barked, challenging.

"Columbo," Kolchak said, waving the detective over. "Stand by the stake."

"Why?!" Columbo asked, not wanting to go near the thing.

"Something to show your grandchildren."

Columbo meekly agreed. He approached the stake, half-expecting Skorzeny to rise from his ashes, seeking revenge. Kolchak flashed the picture.

"You got one crazy dog there, Columbo," Matteo smiled.

"He's trained." Columbo bragged. "Yeah! That dog's a killer."

All three laughed, heading back to Columbo's car.

It was going to be a wonderful day!

Columbo lit his cigar as he watched the tiny casket being lowered into its grave. With great professional zeal, he was feeling quite proud of himself. Kolchak had been busy for the last three days, giving interviews on various news and cable channels. Columbo, however, decided it best to remain out of the picture. This was Kolchak's hour, and, rightly so! Besides, Columbo didn't like interviews.

Hearing a camera click behind him, the detective put out his match, smiling a fatherly grin. He knew who was standing there, recording all that was possible to record.

"Mister Kolchak, sir!" Columbo said, "Good morning to you."

"Columbo." Kolchak nodded, finishing off his roll of film.

"How's the job?" Columbo asked.

Kolchak paused, really, not knowing what to say.

"Like I'm a kid again, Columbo. Do you know, Vincenzo is actually considering giving me a raise?" Kolchak shook his head with disbelief. "INS circulation has gone up eighty percent, and I have been offered my own office, complete with a suede chair! Which, when I was a young cub, was all I ever really wanted. Columbo, I hate to say it, but I'm happy. For the first time, in a rather long time, I'm happy."

"What's wrong with that?" Columbo said. "I like suede."

"Me too." Kolchak smiled.

The tiny casket reached the bottom of the grave. Kolchak's eyes turned to Columbo after he noticed a cement truck pulling up to the site.

"Columbo?"

The detective took a long puff on his cigar.

"I ordered the coffin to be entombed in concrete after the cremation." Columbo explained. "Never hurts to be careful."

Kolchak shook his head, agreeing. "So, what now?"

"Now, life goes on."

Kolchak became solemn. "Columbo, I'd like to thank you for your help. You do not know how important you have been. I'm rather proud to have known you, sir."

"Well, thank you, sir. That's possibly the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me." Columbo beamed. "You, sir, have opened my eyes."

"In what way?"

"As a police officer, I only saw the logical. The scientific. Now, encountering you, I have come to see this world in a new and fascinating way. Maybe, just maybe, it has made me a better person. That is a rare thing in this world, sir. A very rare thing. So, Mister Kolchak, I find it a great honor to know you as well."

The detective offered Kolchak his hand.

Kolchak gladly took it.

After a few moments, Kolchak broke free. "Well, I have to go. Would you believe the London Times wants to interview me?"

"God save journalism." Columbo joked.

Kolchak laughed, walking back toward a taxi he had waiting for him.

"Good luck, Columbo."

Columbo puffed on his cigar. He watched, smiling. Kolchak, by all appearances, had been the victim of a streak of bad luck, which had lasted for decades. It was nice to see a man marveling at the sight of his "ship" finally coming in to dock.

However, Columbo's association with Kolchak hadn't yet come to an end. The detective waited. Waited until Kolchak was close to the taxi.

"Ah, Mister Kolchak!" Columbo shouted, "Just one more thing!"

Governor Paine looked up from his desk with surprise. Engrossed in "party" reports, which seemed to show great promise on his run for the Presidency in the next election, Pain looked into the hateful eyes of Carl Kolchak.

"Kolchak!" Paine yelled, pointing a warning finger at him. "Get the hell out of my office. What are you doing here?"

Before Paine could call for assistance, a puff of smoke entered the room, followed by Columbo, smiling ear to ear. Behind him, equally befuddled, was Sgt. John J. Wilson.

"I'm sorry, Governor Paine," Columbo tried to explain. "I ordered Mister Kolchak to accompany me. There's something I wanted him to see. Something quite fascinating, in fact."

Columbo turned to Wilson, silently asking him for three evidence bags. The detective waved them in the air, sensing Paine's uneasiness.

"What's going on here?" Paine asked.

"Something has bothered me, ever since Special Agent Jenks' death," Columbo said, "All the murders Skorzeny was responsible for were bloody. Jenks', however, seemed too clean." Columbo stared hard into Paine's eyes. "Too clean, sir."

"What are you talking about?"

Columbo opened the first bag.

"You ever read The Police Chief Gazette, sir?" he asked.

Paine shook his head.

"Fascinating paper. There's this guy in Great Britain, you know, England, sir..."

"I know where England is," Paine insisted.

"Anyway, this serial killer made it his point to use a rather complex chemical to clean up all the blood from his victims." Columbo produced a paper towel from the evidence bag. "We found traces of the stuff at Jenks' murder site."

"So?"

"So," Columbo explained, "I have a friend at Scotland Yard, you know, where.."

"Lieutenant!" Paine warned.

"Yes, sir," Columbo said. "To the point. I know. Well, he said that only forty gallons of this stuff is available worldwide." Columbo paused, "Your office ordered two gallons. I've had people looking everywhere for the stuff. Can't find it."

There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke.

"What are you saying, Columbo?" Paine asked, "That I killed Jenks?"

Columbo gave the Governor a puzzled look. "No, sir. I know you killed him."

Kolchak broke the silence with a snap of a camera. Laughing, under his breath, the reporter was starting to write in next "big" story. The fall of a political powerhouse!

"Give me that film, Kolchak!" Paine ordered.

"No, sir," Kolchak barked, "Not this time!"

Columbo produced the second evidence bag.

"Another thing that bothered me, sir," Columbo explained. "We, fantastically enough, were dealing with a vampire."

Paine laughed. "You've been listening to Kolchak too much, Columbo."

"Oh, he's batting five hundred today, sir."

Paine soon realized that there were sirens outside. Curious, he went over to his office window, looking out.

On the office lawn, there were several news reporters, police cars, and national guardsmen gathering.

"What the hell's going on here?" Paine demanded.

Kolchak chuckled, snapping another picture.

"You know what else I found interesting, sir?" Columbo asked.

"I can't begin to imagine."

Columbo produced the bloodied paper clip he and Wilson had discovered. "This little paper clip."

"Paper clip?" both Kolchak and Paine said in unison.

"A paper clip," Columbo stated. "What would a vampire need with a paper clip? I ask you! And not just any paper clip, but a paper clip supplied by Green Eagle Supply Company. A company that limits its stock to government offices in Sacramento. Catalog number 57-GH. Very rare, sir," Columbo paused, again. "Can you explain that, sir?"

Paine said nothing.

"God, I've waited all my life for this moment." Kolchak beamed. He reached into his jacket, taking out his trusty Sony. "It's only fitting that I record everything with the very instrument you used to silence, back when you were D.A. of Las Vegas, you son of a bitch."

"So, this is all about revenge." Paine smugly said, trying to understand the whole affair. The Governor was doing his best to control the situation.

"No, sir." Columbo interrupted. "This is about murder."

"What?" Paine asked, surprised.

"You killed Special Agent Jenks to silence him. I don't know why, and I don't care. But, you did it. You were there."

Paine laughed. "Prove it! All you have is circumstantial evidence. When I'm done with you, Columbo, you're going to be patrolling the sticks, guarding trucks full of rubber dog shit from Taiwan."

Columbo smiled, producing the third bag.

"I don't think so, sir."

"What's that?"

Columbo pulled out a bloodied rock.

"I'm not a betting man, but you might be, seeing that you lived in Vegas." Columbo hovered the rock in Paine's face. "Odds tell me, that when we lift the prints on this rock, we will be able to prove that you were at the scene of the crime, and that this was used as the murder weapon. What do you think, sir?"

Paine shut up, slowly lowering himself into a chair. Defeated.

"Sir, I'm arresting you for the murder of Special Agent Jenks," Columbo said.

Kolchak took his final picture. "Beautiful!" he laughed.

Wilson motioned two police officers into the Governor office, and silently took Paine away. Paine, a defeated man, couldn't take his eyes off Kolchak. Hate was clearly visible on the politician's face. Kolchak responded to Paine's glares by throwing him an imaginary kiss.

The case was solved. All loose ends gone.

"Columbo," Kolchak asked, "I'm a little rusty on chemical analysis. What kind of chemical were you talking about?"

Columbo, smiling, took the paper towel and blew his nose on it. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mister Kolchak."

"Columbo, you're tricky."

"I love my work, sir."

Kolchak sighed, taking Columbo's picture. "So do I, sir. So do I."

SARAMENTO, CA - So, that's it - the case is finished. And now you'll have to decide for yourself. Are there vampires in the world? Are there monsters out there that are capable of laughing in the face of science? Skorzeny surely was the exception to the rule. He, finally, has been laid to rest.

ITEM - The remains of Janos Skorzeny have been placed in an unmarked grave, cremated, and entombed in cement.

ITEM - Governor Paine, poster boy for the Presidency, was found guilty for the murder of Special Agent Jenks. He will spend the rest of his life in prison for his crime.

ITEM - Police officer Theodore "Mac" Albinsky was cleared of all charges in acts connected with the Skorzeny murders. It was proven that the officer had been forced under mental duress to perform the acts that he had committed, and was given a commendation for his personal courage.

ITEM - Lt. Columbo received a special praise from the president, himself, who had been in town to start a special government program to help beef up the nation's police forces. When asked how he felt about the whole affair, the LAPD homicide detective was heard saying, "The President's a nice man. I didn't vote for him, but, still, he's a nice man. Excuse me, I have to go walk my dog."