Mr. Monk Gets Even (19 page)

“On top of that,” Julie said, “cops aren’t paid a lot and he’s not only supporting himself but he’s sending money to an ex-wife and two kids who are going to college.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

Of course he hadn’t. Julie couldn’t think of a polite way to say that Monk rarely thought about other people’s troubles, so she didn’t say anything.

“Whatever his financial problems may be,” Monk said, “he would never, ever accept a bribe, and the department should know that. He’s an honorable man and has proved it again and again.”

“I am not an expert on politics, or anything really, but I’m guessing the brass are extremely embarrassed about Dale’s escape and are desperately looking for someone to blame.”

“I understand that, and he was ready to fully accept that blame, though it’s rightfully mine. What I can’t comprehend is how they can believe that he was on the take.”

“Because it’s easy and convenient,” Julie said.

“But it’s wrong,” Monk said.

“Doesn’t matter when something is easy and convenient. They don’t have to think too hard.”

“They aren’t thinking at all.”

“It’s panic and embarrassment and ass-saving,” she said. “Their own, not Leland’s.”

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about rear ends,” he said. “Or even thinking about rear ends. Especially not the rear ends of people I know.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“I knew this would happen. I told you it would, back at the hospital, as soon as Dale escaped. He enjoys playing games and destroying lives.”

“What you said was that it was just the beginning. Do you think he’ll come after me? Or Mom?”

Monk looked over at Julie and tried to offer her a reassuring smile. Instead, he came off looking queasy. It wasn’t very reassuring. But to reassure him, she pretended that it was.

“I’ll catch him before that can happen,” he said. “Just like I am going to catch Cleve Dobbs.”

He said that just as they pulled up in front of Dobbs’ mansion and parked. Julie looked up at his house.

“I have a feeling that Dobbs likes to play games, too,” Julie said. “And his might be starting right now.”

Monk rolled his shoulders and tipped his head from side to side, like a boxer loosening his muscles before a fight.

“I hope he’s not a sore loser,” Monk said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mr. Monk and the Game

M
onk pressed the doorbell at the gate and Dobbs buzzed them in, instructing them over the intercom that he was in the backyard and that they should meet him there.

They went over the bridge and followed the path around the large house to the garden, where Dobbs was shoveling rich, dark potting soil out of large yellow bags and spreading the mixture over a path of tilled dirt.

“That’s not a pot,” Monk said, gesturing to the ground.

“I know, but the soil mixture helps the plants thrive,” he said.

“You shouldn’t use potting soil unless it’s in a pot.”

“Why not?” Dobbs asked, plunging his shovel into the ground like a post and resting one of his gloved hands on the upright handle.

“It’s for pots,” Monk said. “It says so on the bag.”

“Dirt is dirt,” Dobbs said.

“But this is pot dirt,” Monk said. “Not ground dirt.”

Dobbs rubbed his brow, getting dirt on his sweat-dappled forehead. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about dirt. I have something more important to discuss with you.”

“Do you want to confess?” Monk asked.

“I know that you think that I killed those people, but I didn’t, and I am afraid that whoever did might not be finished,” Dobbs said. “That he won’t stop until he gets to me.”

“Not unless you’re planning to kill yourself,” Monk said. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” said Dobbs. “I want to hire you to find the killer.”

“I already have,” Monk said. “It’s you.”

“I want you to open your mind to other possibilities,” Dobbs said.

“Are you trying to buy him off?” Julie asked.

“I want Monk to do his very best and follow the clues wherever they lead. But I am asking that he also consider the possibility that it’s a misdirection, one designed by someone out to destroy me.”

Even one day ago, the suggestion that the evidence pointing to Dobbs was a deliberate misdirection would have been absurd. But now, considering the events of that morning, it struck a nerve with Monk. Julie could see it in the way Monk adjusted his balance between his two feet as if he’d been hit by a sudden, and totally unexpected, gust of wind.

“I’ll think about it,” Monk said.

“I appreciate it,” Dobbs said and offered his gloved hand to Monk to shake.

Monk ignored the outstretched hand and walked away. Julie looked back at Dobbs, meeting his gaze for a moment, and then left, too.

When they got back to the car, she stopped to talk with Monk.

“What do you make of that?” she asked, looking back at the big house.

“He’s rich and cunning and a killer,” Monk said. “He’s a lot like Dale, only thinner.”

“Not anymore,” Julie said. “But if you feel that way about him, why did you tell him that you’d think about his offer?”

“To have an excuse to come back and talk with him again,” Monk said. “Remember what Sun Tzu said in
The Art of War
: ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

“You told Amy that was stupid,” Julie said, “that it’s what got Sun Tzu killed.”

“Perhaps Sun Tzu was investigating a murder,” Monk said. “I’ll try not to let Dobbs kill me.”

“That sounds like a wise strategy,” Julie said.

• • •

Julie drove Monk to Dr. Neven Bell’s office for his regularly scheduled appointment and told him that Ellen would be picking him up to take him home.

“Where are you going?” Monk asked.

“I’m picking up Mom at the airport,” Julie said. “And three people in the car wouldn’t be even or safe.”

“I’m glad you’re a conscientious driver,” Monk said. “But why is Natalie arriving today? She’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

Julie thought of a lot of ways she could answer the question, but then she considered where they were, and that Monk would soon be sitting with his shrink, and decided this was as good a time as any for the truth.

“She came early because of what happened yesterday,” Julie said.

“The explosion. But you’re fine.”

“Physically, yes. But I’m not fine with doing this job anymore,” she said. “I’m quitting, Mr. Monk.”

Monk nodded. “Because I failed you and you’re disappointed in me. And that’s why Natalie is coming back early, to admonish me for not taking care of you.”

“That’s not it at all,” Julie said. “I’m quitting because I don’t want to die. I care about you, but there are other jobs I can do that won’t put my life at risk, that don’t involve my having to look at corpses with their faces frozen in terror or meet convicted killers and their crazy naked girlfriends.”

“I understand,” Monk said.

“Do you?”

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage all day to fire you,” he said.

“Really?”

“After the explosion, I knew I couldn’t live with the guilt if you got hurt. I just couldn’t figure out how to fire you and spare your feelings at the same time.”

Julie leaned across the seat and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Mr. Monk. You don’t know how much better that makes me feel.”

He got out of the car, but before he closed the door, he hesitated, rolled his shoulders, and turned back to face her. “That’s a lie. I wasn’t going to fire you.”

“I know,” she said. “But the fact that you tried to lie to me makes me feel good. It’s the thought that counts.”

Monk looked at Dr. Bell’s building. “I think this is going to be a long session.”

He took a deep breath, closed the car door, and walked into Dr. Bell’s office.

• • •

Julie was waiting for me in baggage claim.

I grabbed her in a tight bear hug and had to hold back tears. When I finally let her go, I took a step back and looked her over from top to bottom for cuts and bruises and any other injuries she didn’t tell me about in our call. She stared at me like I was mentally ill.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked, glancing around to see if anyone else noticed my behavior.

“I love you so much,” I said, filled with relief that she appeared to be healthy and whole and just as embarrassed by me as ever.

“You didn’t before?” she said.

“Of course I did. But you nearly got killed,” I said. “I guess it didn’t really sink in until I saw you.”

“Well, I am okay now. It’s over. You can relax and start acting like a normal person.”

“Because I am replacing you, effective immediately,” I said. “While I’m here, I am going to be Mr. Monk’s assistant and you are going to take a backseat, far away from naked psychopaths who blow up their own homes, and start looking for a new job.”

“Then I guess I better fill you in on all that’s happened since we talked,” she said.

“There’s more?”

“No one else has tried to kill me since we last spoke, if that’s what you are worried about.”

It was, but I didn’t admit to it.

She told me about the accusations against Stottlemeyer and about Cleve Dobbs trying to hire Monk to find whoever had killed Bruce Grossman, David Zuzelo, and Carin Branham.

I’d met Deputy Chief Fellows once before and thought he was an ass. The fact that Fellows, with his cherished degree in criminology, couldn’t see through Dale’s inane attempt to frame Stottlemeyer only confirmed that impression.

“You’d think the department would know better than to accuse Stottlemeyer of a crime after they did it once before and were proved wrong,” I said. “Are they looking for more embarrassment?”

“That was the one thing I didn’t think to say when I unloaded on Fellows,” Julie said.

“What you did say was great. Now it’s up to me, Amy, and Mr. Monk to catch Dale and prove Stottlemeyer is innocent.” I don’t want to sound like I was benefiting from the misfortune of my friends, but these were challenges that I looked forward to taking on. They would be a nice change from what passed for law enforcement in Summit. “How is Mr. Monk taking all of this?”

“Well, before I quit, he was taking it glumly, or I should say, glummier than usual for Monk. Is
glummier
a word?”

“It is for Mr. Monk,” I said.

“But I will say that the offer from Dobbs seemed to brighten him up considerably.”

“It simply shifted Mr. Monk’s attention from Dale and Stottlemeyer for a while and offered him a case he feels more equipped to solve.”

“You’ve been watching
Dr. Phil
again,” Julie said.

“Beats going to college for a psych degree,” I said.

“I don’t see how the Dobbs case is an improvement,” Julie said. “Mr. Monk is at a dead end on that one, too. He’s got no evidence at all.”

I waved off the concern. Literally, I waved. “He’s been in that position many, many times before. Like when he was convinced the killer in a case was someone whose alibi was that he was in a coma at the time of the murder.”

“Or when Mr. Monk was certain that an astronaut killed his wife even though his alibi was that he was in outer space at the time,” Julie said. “Those are the examples you always use.”

“Mr. Monk overcame those impossible situations, and many others like them, because solving murders is what he does,” I said. “But catching escaped felons is not his specialty.”

We collected my bags and found the car in the parking structure. Julie had used her police vehicle pass to park in the red zone. I beamed with pride at her abusing her privileges. She was a fast study.

I put my bags in the trunk, unzipped one of the suitcases, and removed my gun and holster, which I put on my belt.

Julie looked at me oddly as I did this. “Is that really necessary?”

“I’m a cop now,” I said.

“In New Jersey,” she said.

“There’s a killer and his acolytes who might be targeting my family and friends, so yes, I think it’s necessary.”

“Plus it’s cool and you like wearing it,” she said.

“Not especially,” I said. “It’s a real drag on my pants, so I have to cinch my belt pretty tight, and that cuts down on my consumption of donuts in a big way. Also makes me want to use the bathroom a lot more often.”

“More information than I needed to know,” Julie said.

“Are you going to keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve grown a tail.”

“It just feels odd to see my mom packing heat,” she said.

“Armed and dangerous, that’s me,” I said. “So I hope your room is clean and you’ve done your chores.”

I closed the trunk and got in the car. Natalie Teeger was back in Frisco and ready to kick some bad-guy butt.

Monk was setting the dining room table and Ellen Morse was making dinner in the kitchen when we walked into Monk’s apartment without knocking, as if it was our home (which I suppose it was, in many ways).

Nothing had changed, and I mean that literally. Everything was exactly as it had been when I left, and as it had been for years. And at that moment, I found a lot of comfort in that stability, just as Monk did every single day.