Mr. Monk on the Road (7 page)

“I told you to shut up!” Aaron said.

“He’ll kill me if you don’t step back,” I said. “So I’ll take my chances with the infection.”

Monk took two more tentative steps toward us, his arms open in front of him.

“Think about it, Aaron. Do you really want her oozing, feverish, drooling death on your conscience? Because that’s what will happen if you don’t use a clean knife.”

“You’re insane!” Aaron screamed at Monk.

“Me? I’m not the one holding a filthy knife to a woman’s throat. My knife is not only cleaner, it’s sharper. Here, use this.” Monk thrust his knife at Aaron.

“Back off!”
Aaron jabbed his knife at Monk. And that was the instant that Devlin fired, shooting the knife right out of Aaron’s hand.

Aaron shrieked in pain and surprise, pulling me down to the floor with him as he fell back.

Devlin shoved Monk aside, kicked the knife away, and pressed the barrel of her gun against Aaron’s forehead.

“Release her or die,” she hissed.

He let go of me. I rolled off him and scrambled to my feet, my heart racing.

Monk took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“That was close,” he said. “Did you see the food caked on that knife?”

“Oh yeah,” I said, taking deep breaths and trying not to have a post-near-death-experience panic attack. “It was all I could think about. The thought of bleeding out from a severed jugular vein never even crossed my mind.”

Devlin holstered her gun, pulled out her handcuffs, rolled Aaron facedown, and cuffed his arms behind him.

“You’re under arrest,” she said and read Aaron his rights. When she was done, she got up and gave Monk an appreciative nod.

“That crazy routine about the dirty knife was a great distraction. You provoked him into giving me the opening I needed to take my shot. You’re a ballsy guy, Monk. I may have misjudged you.”

She took a dish towel and wrapped it around Aaron’s hand as a crude bandage.

“I thought you’d decided to kill him,” Monk said to her.

“So did I. But I started to think about all the paperwork I’d have to do, and then you gave me a clear shot at his hand, which I never thought I’d get, so I changed my plans.” She glanced at me. “You backed Monk’s play perfectly. That arguing-couple act really threw him. I don’t know how you two worked that out on the fly like that.”

I shrugged and fought the urge to throw up from the anxiety.

“What can I tell you?” I said. “We’re pros.”

“Watch him,” Devlin said, motioning to Aaron. “Make sure he doesn’t bleed out while I call this in and request an ambulance.”

I nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. She stepped out of the kitchen and left Aaron moaning facedown on the floor, bleeding on himself.

“She’s dangerous,” Monk said.

“So are you. That’s the second time someone has held a knife to my throat and you didn’t listen to their demands.”

“And both times it worked out fine. What does that tell you?”

“That my luck is running out,” I said. “I can’t believe you offered to trade knives with him.”

“I was only thinking of your safety,” he said. “No need to thank me.”

Monk put on a pair of gloves, found an apron, and began to do the dishes.

“I need a vacation,” I said.

 

I was sitting on the hood of my Buick, eating Oreos and sipping a carton of apple juice that the paramedics had given me, when Devlin walked up and took a seat next to me.

I held the Oreos out to her. “Want a cookie?”

She nodded and took one. “Oreos are my weakness.”

The paramedics gave me the food to deal with my lightheadedness, which was a symptom of the high anxiety I’d experienced with the knife to my throat. I wondered whether Devlin knew that, and I decided that she probably did. Even so, I wasn’t going to admit anything.

“They are everybody’s weakness,” I said. “That’s why I make a beeline to the paramedic unit as soon as they show up. They usually have some Lorna Doones around, too.”

Devlin took a bite of the cookie and chewed on it thoughtfully as we silently surveyed the activity going on in front of us.

The street was clogged with patrol cars, an ambulance, and a forensic unit. Brenda’s neighbors were standing on the other side of the crime scene tape, talking and pointing and taking videos with their phones, as Aaron was wheeled on a gurney into the ambulance.

“I don’t get along well with people when I am myself,” she said. “I’m much better when I’m undercover, when everyone is an enemy, and I’m just playing a role. I haven’t been a regular cop in a long time.”

I nodded. “You could pretend you’re undercover as a homicide cop.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “The adrenaline isn’t there.”

“It’s there,” I said. “It’s just a different kind of fear.”

She turned and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.

“Are you some kind of shrink?”

I shook my head. “I spend a lot of time with Mr. Monk, which forces me to think about fear, relationships, and what it takes to fit in. You two are more alike than you think.”

“Where is he?”

I gestured toward the house. “He’s still cleaning the kitchen.”

“He doesn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, he does,” I said.

Captain Stottlemeyer drove up and got out of his car. He acknowledged us with a nod and conferred with the crime scene guys for a moment.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said.

“It makes sense to him, and part of your job now, whether you like it or not, is going to be learning how he sees the world,” I said. “For instance, that stuff with the dirty knife? That wasn’t a distraction and it wasn’t an act. It was Mr. Monk being Mr. Monk.”

“I was afraid of that,” she said.

“I guess that changes your opinion of us.”

She shook her head. “Not really. I mean, yeah, I think Monk is crazy, but he’s got guts. He stood his ground even though a killer had a knife to your throat. Aaron saw Monk’s fearlessness. It unnerved him. And I got my shot. I also saw something in your eyes.”

“Tears?”

“Sure, you were afraid, but you were in control of yourself, weighing the options, looking for an opportunity to make your own move.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“I know what I saw,” she said. “Reading people is what has kept me alive undercover. I could see that it wasn’t the first time your life was in danger. You can take care of yourself. That’s probably what makes you so good at taking care of him.”

“Mr. Monk is irritating, and he will drive you crazy, but he’s a brilliant detective.”

“I don’t need help doing my job.”

“Everybody needs help,” I said. “If Mr. Monk wasn’t here today, would you have realized that Aaron killed his sister?”

“Probably not,” she said.

“Definitely not. Nobody would have. It was the perfect murder. But he saw right through it and you didn’t. That’s what really pisses you off.”

She nodded. “You’re right, I don’t like it.”

“Join the club,” I said, gesturing to Captain Stottlemeyer as he approached us. “How do you think he’s felt about it all of these years? But he’s made peace with it.”

“The hell he has,” she said.

Stottlemeyer stopped in front of us. “I heard you had some excitement today. How are you girls holding up?”

“Girls?” I said.

“I meant ladies,” Stottlemeyer said.

“Ladies?” Devlin said.

“Women,” Stottlemeyer said.

“Women?” Devlin and I said in unison.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “Forget I asked.”

Stottlemeyer turned and walked away.

Devlin waited until the captain was out of sight and then grinned at me.

“We’re gonna get along fine,” she said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
think it’s entirely reasonable to want a few hours off after your life has been placed in jeopardy.

Monk didn’t agree. He believed that risking my life was part of my job as his assistant and that I should have been used to it by now.

“I don’t recall you ever saying when you hired me that risking my life was part of the job,” I said as we stood outside of Brenda’s house.

“I don’t see why you are complaining,” Monk said, examining Aaron’s camper truck. “You didn’t get killed.”

“If I did, then you’d have to give me some time off.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I’m done for the day, Mr. Monk. Either I can drop you off at home or you can ask the captain to do it on his way back to the station.”

I turned my back on him and walked up to my car. Monk hurried after me.

“You can’t be serious. You weren’t even nicked.”

“I had a knife held to my throat by a murderer until it was shot out of his hand by a cop.”

“So what? I washed the dishes. You don’t see me asking for the rest of the day off.”

“It’s not the same thing,” I said. “Your life wasn’t in danger.”

“You obviously didn’t get a good look at the dishes.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Monk.” I unlocked the car and opened the driver’s-side door.

“Fine. We’ll go home.” He walked around the front of the car and got into the passenger seat. I started the car and was pulling away from the curb when he spoke up again. “But I am only paying you for half a day.”

“You do that and I’ll quit.”

“If you aren’t working a full day, why should I pay you for one?”

“Because I was nearly killed,” I said. “Consider yourself lucky that I don’t demand hazard pay.”

“You aren’t being reasonable or rational about this.”

“See? That’s what happens when I have a near-death experience. Clearly I need some rest.”

He sulked all the way to his place. I dropped him off and went straight home.

But I was only in the house for a few minutes before I started to feel anxious. It wasn’t that I was afraid. I just didn’t like being alone after nearly getting killed. I needed companionship, the comfort of another person’s company. I needed to be with somebody. And no, that’s not a euphemism for getting into bed with someone, though that certainly would have been nice if I’d happened to be in an intimate relationship. But I wasn’t.

It would have been enough just to sit at the kitchen table with Julie while she did her homework or ate her dinner. But she was off at Berkeley now, starting her own life. Even so, I called her to see whether she was interested in having dinner with me, but she was busy, studying with friends for a test.

So now what?

Before Stottlemeyer got married, I could have called him and we’d get together for a casual coffee. But now it would have felt inappropriate, even though there was never anything romantic between us. His free time belonged to his wife, Trudy, now.

I didn’t have any other friends to call. Being a single mother and working for Monk took up nearly all my time, so I didn’t have an opportunity to make friends or maintain the friendships I once had. The truth was that, except for times like this, my life was so chaotic that I didn’t really miss not having friends.

There were some old boyfriends and some wannabe boyfriends I could call, and I knew that they’d be glad to see me, but I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. More important, I knew how easy it would be for me to fall into bed with one of them and then regret it in the morning, leaving both of us feeling lousy.

I felt adrift.

I was so desperate that I almost regretted dropping Monk off. I was about to make the big mistake of calling him when I realized that there was someone else I could call, someone I could relax with and who could give me the simple companionship I needed.

I picked up my phone and dialed.

He answered on the second ring. He always answered on the second ring. Or the fourth. Any ring as long as it was an even number.

“How would you feel about me coming by tonight with a pizza and a movie?”

“That would be wonderful,” Ambrose said.

 

I brought over a plain cheese pizza and the latest James Bond movie. I figured Ambrose would enjoy the exotic locales and I could enjoy Daniel Craig.

While we ate on the living room couch, I told Ambrose about the Major Munch Peanut Crunch case and how Aaron nearly got away with the perfect murder. I left out the part about me nearly getting killed and Devlin shooting Aaron. That bit would have freaked Ambrose out and it would have jacked up my anxiety all over again.

Ambrose had an interesting take on the events.

“Adrian couldn’t have solved it without me.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Mr. Monk has a very good eye for detail.”

“But he knows nothing about the rich history of Major Munch toys,” Ambrose said. “It was Adrian’s knowledge of my collection that brought a felon to justice.”

“I suppose it was.”

“It just goes to show that you never know how things are interconnected. Maybe the reason why I’ve been collecting those toys for all these years was just so Adrian could catch a murderer today.”

“I didn’t know you were such a strong believer in fate,” I said.

“I’m not,” Ambrose said. “But I believe in balance and that everything fits together somehow.”

“That’s not fate?”

Ambrose shook his head. “It’s order.”

“If you say so. Ready for the movie?”

“Okay,” he said.

I got up, put the movie into the DVD player, and then returned to my place on the couch beside him, though there was enough room between us to fit a family of four. That was his idea of intimacy.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re still coming for my birthday on Saturday, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ambrose shrugged. “This feels like a birthday party.”