Authors: Lee Goldberg

Mr. Monk on the Road (30 page)

BOOK: Mr. Monk on the Road

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“I’m really, really sorry about the mess,” Monk said. “I wanted to help clean up, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“Next time, you might want to wait until some cops are around before you confront a murderer,” Stottlemeyer said, “especially if there is more than one of them.”

“You think there will be a next time?” Devlin asked.

“Without question,” Stottlemeyer said.

“C’mon, Captain,” Devlin said. “This is just a freak occurrence. What are the odds that Monk will stumble across another killer during a vacation?”

“In Monk’s case, I’d reverse the question,” I said. “What are the odds of him
not
stumbling across a killer on his vacation. It happened before in Napa, Hawaii, Germany, and France.”

“And you still went on vacation with him?” Devlin said.

“It could happen going to the grocery store with him,” Stottlemeyer said.

“It has,” I said.

“But the fact remains, Monk, that you stopped a family of serial killers that has been murdering people for years, across the United States, without anybody noticing,” Stottlemeyer said. “That’s a hell of a thing you did.”

Monk shook his head. “You’re congratulating the wrong man. Dub Clemens is the hero. He realized what was going on long before anyone else and didn’t give up. He’s accumulated the evidence that will bring closure to a lot of grieving families nationwide.”

Stottlemeyer nodded. “We’re going to go talk to the authorities, see what we can do to smooth things out so you can go on your way again tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Captain, we appreciate that,” I said. “Do you like martinis?”

“Love ’em,” he said.

“Go introduce yourself to Dub Clemens before you go,” I said. “You won’t be sorry.”

“I’ll do that,” he said and walked out with Devlin.

Monk turned to Ambrose. “I’m sorry for ruining the trip.”

“Are you kidding? I’m proud of you, Adrian. The captain was right. You did a wonderful thing here tonight. Two wonderful things.”

“What was the second?” Monk asked.

“You saved me,” Ambrose said.

We spent three more days on the road and managed to visit Lake Tahoe and Sacramento without coming across any more corpses or deranged killers. That was a real achievement for Monk.

We returned to Tewksbury late in the day, backing the motor home into Ambrose’s driveway and getting as close to the house as we could get without parking in the living room.

Much to our surprise, Ambrose made it from the motor home to his front door without too much drama, though he practically dove into the house as if it was a life raft.

Over the next half hour, we brought in all of Ambrose’s belongings that we’d packed into the motor home. The last thing I brought inside was a shopping bag containing his collection of souvenirs, which had expanded a bit over the last few days.

He took the bag from us and smiled. “Thank you for the best birthday present I’ve ever had. I can honestly say that it’s an experience that has changed my life.”

“I’ve been dreading the end of this trip,” Monk said.

“Really?” I said. “You enjoyed it that much?”

“No, I’m afraid what the damage to the motor home is going to cost me when we return it,” Monk said. “You might have to take a significant pay cut.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ambrose said. “You can just leave it here.”

“Abandoning it and running away is a nice thought,” Monk said, “but eventually, the rental company is going to want it back and will come looking for it.”

“No, they won’t,” Ambrose said. “While you were unloading the RV, I called the rental company and agreed to buy it from them. They are bringing over the papers for me to sign tomorrow.”

Monk and I were totally dumbfounded.

“Why did you do that?” Monk said.

“I’m keeping it as a souvenir,” Ambrose said.

“That’s an expensive keepsake,” I said.

“I’ve been saving my money for years,” Ambrose said. “It’s about time I spent it on something.”

“You’re just going to leave it parked in the driveway like that, all dented and scratched up, as a memento?” Monk said. “What will the neighbors say?”

“I’m going to fix it up like new,” Ambrose said. “So it will be in perfect shape for my next road trip.”

I felt a pang of anxiety. It was one thing to take Ambrose on the road as a special occasion, but I certainly didn’t want to make a habit of it.

My misgivings must have shown on my face, because Ambrose looked at me and smiled.

“Don’t worry, Natalie, I don’t expect you to be my driver,” he said. “Or you, either, Adrian, though you are both welcome to join us.”

“Us?” I said.

Ambrose’s smile widened. “I’ve made other arrangements. I spoke to Yuki before we left Yosemite. When Dub passes, Yuki is coming to work for me.”

“You’ve hired an assistant?” Monk said. “What do you need one for?”

“The same reason you do,” Ambrose said. “So I can have a life.”

I couldn’t resist the opportunity that comment gave me to tease Monk. “Is that what I have done for you, Mr. Monk?”

“On the contrary,” Monk said, turning and heading for my car, “it’s what I have done for you.”

I gave Ambrose a good-bye kiss on the cheek and hurried after Monk. “I had a life.”

“You were a single mother working in a dive bar being groped by perverts and being vomited on by drunks,” he said. “I saved you.”

“You were afraid to leave the house because you didn’t think that you could carry enough disinfectant wipes with you, that you’d run out, become infected with bubonic plague, and die ‘a miserable, drooling death.’ I saved you.”

We stopped at my car.

“Okay,” Monk said, “let’s call it a draw.”

“So you’re saying that we saved each other.”

He shrugged. “If that’s what makes you happy.”

“It certainly does,” I said.

The Monk Series

Mr. Monk on the Road

Mr. Monk Is Cleaned Out

Mr. Monk in Trouble

Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

Mr. Monk Is Miserable

Mr. Monk Goes to Germany