“Any Old Port in a Storm” aired October 7, 1973, and guest starred Donald Pleasence as Adrian Carsini, a wine connoisseur who murders his half-brother to prevent him from selling the family winery. Peter Falk is, of course, Lieutenant Columbo.
Adrian Carsini's anxiety grows with each encounter with the amiable detective. In the just-one-more-thing scene (a staple of every episode), Carsini is almost begging to be caught and relieved of the pressure when Columbo mentions the detail that first triggered his suspicion: the dead man's sports car—which Carsini staged at the beach where he dumped the body—was spotless even though it had supposedly been parked there in the rain. Columbo yells his apparent afterthought—turning the screw even more—from the end of the winery's long driveway:
Columbo: Oh, Mr. Carsini! Sir! I just remembered one of the reasons they’re not releasing your brother’s body. I forgot to tell you the other day. Well, you know your brother’s car? It stayed out on that cliff for a week. During that time, it rained, and then we had some sun. But when we saw the car the morning we found the body, it looked like it just came off a showroom floor.
Carsini: What’s your point?
Columbo: No water marks. Can you explain that?
Carsini: No, I can’t.
Columbo: Well, there must be a reason for it. There always is!
Carsini: When you find it, will you tell me!?
Columbo: Believe me, sir, you’ll be the first to know!
I watched “Carlos,” an excellent movie about the infamous international terrorist for hire, Carlos the Jackal. Carlos was a Venezuelan Marxist named Ilich Ramirez Sanchez; the recruiter in the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine code-named Ramirez Sanchez "Carlos" because of his South American roots; then The Guardian began referring to him as Carlos the Jackal after one of its correspondents supposedly saw the fugitive with a copy of the novel, The Day of the Jackal.
So the movie led me to read that 1971 fictional thriller. The novel, written by English author and journalist Frederick Forsyth, is about a professional assassin contracted by a French dissident paramilitary organization to kill Charles de Gaulle, the President of France. The book covers the organization’s history of failed attempts; its subsequent activities and hiring of the assassin; the assassin’s meticulous planning and preparations; and the Government of France’s work to protect the President, foil the dissident organization, and identify and catch the assassin. Forsyth trusts his reader and includes a lot of wonderful details and characters. The result is an especially satisfying read.
Notes:
She zipped from the leafy greens to the citrus, where she paused for 70 seconds to honor her device, then slipped from the citrus to the potatoes and onions, where again she bowed her head. Produce to dairy, back to produce; to soups and canned meats, back to dairy—on and on like this, squatting in prime Safeway real estate a minute at a time. The other Safeway shoppers sidestepped her or took detours. I found her cart blocking the tuna cans; as I reached for the StarKist, I read a sheet of paper in her cart: “Instacart Do Not Touch” written in Sharpie. She was working, and this was business. The rest of us were just running an errand.