Mr. Monk and the Blue Flu

Table of Contents

 

 

 

“An entertaining and ruefully funny diversion that stars one of television’s best-loved characters, and because it’s a mystery novel, it will stick long after you’ve forgotten the plot of the latest
Monk
episode.”—
Honolulu Star-Bulletin

 

 

“The first in a new series is always an occasion to celebrate, but Lee Goldberg’s TV adaptations double your pleasure. . . .
Mr. Monk Goes to the Firehouse
brings everyone’s favorite OCD detective to print. Hooray!”—
Mystery Scene

 

 

“Can books be better than television? You bet they can—when Lee Goldberg’s writing them.”

—Lee Child

 

“A nifty creative take on the tradition of great amateur sleuths with a cast of quirky characters.”

—Stuart M. Kaminsky

 

“A clever, high-octane whodunit that moves like a bullet train.”—Janet Evanovich

“Well plotted and beautifully rendered.”

—Margaret Maron, Edgar, Agatha, and Macavity
Award-winning author of the Deborah Knott
mysteries

 

“Elegant writing, wry humor, a suspenseful premise, [and] a fast-paced plot.”

—Aimee and David Thurlo, authors of the
Ella Clah, Sister Agatha, and Lee Nez mystery series

 

“A clever, twisting tale.”—Lisa Gardner

 

“A riveting mystery . . . wonderful stuff!”

—Paul Bishop, two-time LAPD Detective of the
Year and head of the West Los Angeles Sex Crimes
and Major Assault Crimes Units, and author of
Twice Dead
,
Chalk
, and
Whispers

 

“Sly humor, endearing characters, tricky plots.”

—Jerrilyn Farmer

 

“A swift saga with colorful homicides, glamorous locales, and clever puzzles.”

—Walter Wager, author of
Telefon
,
Twilight’s Last Gleaming
, and
58 Minutes

“Intricate plots and engaging characters . . . page-turning entertainment.”—Barbara Seranella

 

“A devilish plot sense, sophisticated humor, and a smooth writing style . . . he’s as good as anyone writing in the genre today.”

—Donald Bain, coauthor of the
Murder, She Wrote
series

 

“Just what the doctor ordered, a sure cure after a rash of blah mysteries . . . more plot twists than a strand of DNA.”

—Elaine Viets, author of
Murder Unleashed

 

“Fast-paced, tightly constructed mysteries. . . . You’ll read them in great big gulps!”—Gregg Hurwitz

SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, January 2007

Copyright © 2007 Universal Studios Licensing LLLP. Monk © USA Cable Entertainment LLC. All Rights Reserved

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

 

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

eISBN : 978-1-101-01075-4

To Valerie and Madison,
my Natalie and Sharona

I would like to thank Dr. D. P. Lyle, William Rabkin, T. J. MacGregor, Janet Markham, Pat Tierney, David Mack, Tony Fennelly, Sheila Lowe, Hal Glatzer, Karen Tannert, Michael Siverling, Eve Simson, Aubrey Nye Hamilton, Jim Doherty, Paul Bishop, Lee Lofland, and Barbara Fahringer for their invaluable technical assistance on astrology, medicine, geography, police procedure, and dental fillings, among other things. Any mistakes in the book are entirely my fault and shouldn’t be held against the fine people mentioned above.

Special thanks, as always, to my friend Andy Breckman, creator of
Monk
, and his incredibly talented staff—Stefanie Preston, Tom Scharpling, David Breckman, Hy Conrad, Joe Toplyn, Daniel Dratch, Jonathan Collier, and Blair Singer—for their inspiration, enthusiasm, and support. And to Gina Maccoby and Kerry Donovan, without whom there would be no
Monk
books for me to write and you to enjoy.

I would love to hear from you. Please stop by
www.leegoldberg.com
and say hello. We validate parking.

Mr. Monk Takes a Walk in the Park

The corpse might as well have been in a minefield, surrounded by razor wire, and guarded by trigger-happy snipers. There was no way Adrian Monk would go near it.

Monk stood on the red gravel jogging path that ran around McKinley Park at Vermont and Twentieth on Potrero Hill. He wore one of his six identical wool coats, one of his twelve identical off-white shirts (tieless and buttoned up to the collar), one of his twelve identical pairs of pleated brown slacks (specially tailored for him with eight belt loops instead of the usual seven), and one of his twelve identical pairs of brown leather shoes (Hush Puppies buffed to a shine each night).

He held a pair of binoculars up to his eyes. From where he stood he had a clear view west across the Mission District and Noe Valley to Sutro Tower, which rose out of the fog that always seemed to surround the Twin Peaks in the morning.

But that wasn’t what he was looking at.

His binoculars were trained on the dead young woman sprawled only ten yards below him. The weedy area around her body was cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape that was twined around several trees.

The woman was twisted at an unnatural angle, her mouth open in a silent, frozen scream. Her shirt was hiked up, revealing the pale skin of her flat stomach and her tattooed lower back. The tattoo was a plus sign, with little matching plus signs in each of the four quadrants of the larger one. She was wearing Lycra shorts that showed off her long, muscled legs.

She was a jogger. The two previous victims were also joggers. And like them, she’d been strangled.