Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop (9 page)

Read Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop Online

Authors: Lee Goldberg

BOOK: Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop
12.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Monk had me take him to every Babies R Us, Target, and Wal-Mart in the city so he could stock up on all the Diaper Genies and supplies he thought he’d need for the next year. After he was through, the shelves were bare and the nearest available Diaper Genies were either across the bay or down in Daly City.
It took several trips from the car to unload everything into his apartment. I was going back for the last two Genies when Monk stopped me at his door.
“I want you to keep those two,” he said. “They’re gifts for you and Julie.”
“That’s very considerate of you, Mr. Monk. But we really don’t need Diaper Genies.”
“Everybody needs them,” Monk said. “I’m going to spread the word.”
“I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gift, I really do, but I don’t have a baby and neither one of us wears diapers.”
“You’re going to replace your trash cans with these,” he said. “You can put one in the kitchen and one in Julie’s room to get you started.”
“Julie won’t put a Diaper Genie in her room.”
“Why not?”
“Because she hangs out with her friends in her room all the time,” I said. “What would they think if they saw a Diaper Genie?”
“That she’s a clean, upstanding citizen,” Monk said. “And a patriot.”
“They’d think she was either pregnant or incontinent and word would get around school. She’d be mortified.”
“All Julie has to do is explain to her friends that she’s using it to individually seal each item that she throws out.”
“Then they’d think she was a geek,” I said.
“She will thank me later,” Monk said.
“Why would she thank you for being considered a geek?”
“Don’t you know anything about teenage life?” Monk said. “It’s a badge of respect.”
“It is?”
“I was one,” he said.
“You don’t say.”
“A very special one. I was crowned King of the Geeks, not once, but every single year of high school,” Monk said. “It’s a record that remains unbroken in my school to this day.”
“Were there a lot of students who wanted to be King of the Geeks?”
“It’s like being homecoming king, only better. You don’t have to go to any dances,” Monk said. “You aren’t even invited.”
“Julie likes dances.”
“You should put a stop to that before things go too far,” Monk said.
I didn’t want to know what “too far” meant in Monkland, so I just dropped the subject. “I’ll do that.”
I thanked him for the gift and we proceeded to place Diaper Genies in every room in his house and in the corridors and closets, too.
But we were just getting started.
He had me deliver Diaper Genies, with his compliments, to the other tenants in his building, even the guy with a prosthetic leg who lived upstairs (Monk especially wanted him to have one).
He wasn’t doing it out of generosity.
Monk wanted to be sure that all the trash from his building was as “clean” as his was.
I didn’t bother telling him that, despite his gift, none of his neighbors would ever seal every single thing in their trash cans into bags and sort them according to his specifications (which he’d printed up and passed out to them on numerous occasions over the years). He’d find out on his own soon enough.
When I got home, I put my Diaper Genie in a corner in the kitchen, because I knew it would be the first thing he’d look for every time he visited me. I didn’t have to worry about him ever checking Julie’s room for hers, though. Because she had put a DANGER—HAZARDOUS WASTE sign on her door and he took her at her word.
Julie didn’t notice the Diaper Genie until we were cleaning up after dinner. She glanced at it and gave me a look.
“Is there something I should know?” she asked.
“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re getting at, and I’m controlling my bladder just fine. Mr. Monk gave that to us to use as a garbage can.”
“Why?”
“So we can wrap up all of our trash,” I said. “I have one for your room if you’d like it.”
“No way. It was bad enough when he gave us Tupperware containers for our toothbrushes, our underwear, and our socks. This is too much.”
“It’s just his way of showing that he cares about us,” I said. “And I show him how much we care about him by letting him think that we follow some of his rules.”
She shook her head, grabbed a cookie, and headed for her room. “He doesn’t pay you nearly enough, Mom.”
“No,” I said, “he doesn’t.”
 
The next morning I arrived at Monk’s apartment promptly at nine, as I always do. He was waiting for me at the door with two Diaper Genies with ribbons tied around them.
“You already gave us Diaper Genies,” I said. “Two more would be an embarrassment of riches.”
“They aren’t for you,” he said. “They’re for Captain Stottlemeyer and Lieutenant Disher. Let’s go deliver them.”
He handed me one, he took the other, and we trooped back to my car for the ride downtown.
We got some strange looks as we carried the Diaper Genies through the Homicide squad room and stopped at Disher’s desk. Stottlemeyer hadn’t noticed us yet; his door was closed and he seemed to be buried in paperwork.
Monk set the Diaper Genie down on Disher’s desk. “This is for you.”
Disher studied it. “What is it?”
“A Diaper Genie,” Monk said.
The detectives nearby started to snicker. Disher reddened with embarrassment and glared at us.
“If this is your idea of a joke, I don’t think it’s funny. I’m not the baby cop around here anymore and I’m tired of being treated like I am.”
“Randy, you get carded every time you try to buy a beer,” I said. “Or go to see an R-rated move. You asked me to go to
The Dark Knight
with you so you wouldn’t have to show your ID.”
“I’ve got news for you both—beneath this deceptively boyish exterior is the soul of a battle-scarred, coldhearted cop.” He pointed to the detective at the next desk. “I’ve got three years on Lansdale. Give the diaper can to him.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is for your trash,” Monk said. “It will change your life.”
“How will a trash can do that?”
“It will individually wrap everything you throw away in its own bag so you don’t have to.”
“I’ve never done that,” Disher said.
“I know, God help me, I know,” Monk said, then addressed the other detectives in the room. “You should all use it.” They just stared at him. “You’ll thank me later.”
He knocked on Stottlemeyer’s door and walked in without waiting to be invited. I dutifully followed after him, holding the Diaper Genie.
Stottlemeyer didn’t lift his eyes from the mess of papers in front of him and tapped numbers into a calculator that was so old, the numbers had worn off the keys.
“Come right in, make yourselves at home,” he said. “Don’t let the closed door or the guy working at his desk stop you.”
“I have a present for you,” Monk said and gestured to me to step forward. I did and set the Diaper Genie down on Stottlemeyer’s desk as if it were made of gold and covered with diamonds.
He lifted his head and looked at the Diaper Genie. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“What do you mean?” Monk said.
“As far as I know, I haven’t fathered any children lately,” Stottlemeyer said. “Or even gotten close.”
“Don’t play dumb,” Monk said, and pointed to the Diaper Genie. “This is why you brought us with you to see that senile bartender.”
“The diaper can?”
“You wanted to introduce me to this wonderful device because you knew that I would recognize its full potential.”
“That’s a bizarre leap, even for you,” Stottlemeyer said. “Does Dr. Bell have you on some new meds?”
Monk wagged a finger at him. “I see right through you.”
“Do you?” Stottlemeyer got up and closed the door. “Then you know what I’m going to say.”
I didn’t like the tone of his voice when he closed the door or the look on his face when he turned around.
“You’re going thank me now instead of later,” Monk said. “But you don’t have to. Just the joy of having this Diaper Genie in my life is thanks enough.”
“I was going to talk with you about this later, but since you’re here, I suppose that now is as bad a time as any.”
“I believe the correct phrase is ‘as good a time as any,’” Monk said.
“Not for what I have to tell you,” Stottlemeyer said. “The department has cut my budget to the bone. For weeks, I’ve been looking for ways to save money without having to pass on too much of the pain to my detectives. But I’m out of creative compromises and I’ve got to make some hard choices.”
“I’m sure the men will understand that,” Monk said.
“It’s you that I’m concerned about. I’m afraid that I have to cancel our consulting agreement.”
There was no hint anytime before that Monk’s contract was in jeopardy. And yet now, barely more than a day after Braddock used Monk’s success to humiliate Stottlemeyer, suddenly the agreement was canceled. I didn’t think it was a coincidence.
I felt a flush of anger rising in my checks.
Monk blinked hard. “Aren’t I doing a good job?”
“You are,” Stottlemeyer said. “An exceptional one, in fact.”
“Then how can you let him go?” I said.
“Because I have to think of my detectives first,” Stottlemeyer said. “How would it look if I kept him on while they lose their overtime and vacation pay?”
“It would look like you were doing what’s best for the people of San Francisco,” I said. “Or have you forgotten that Mr. Monk is a better homicide detective than all of your detectives combined?”
It was a low blow, but he deserved it. Besides, it was the truth and he knew it, which was the real reason Monk was getting sacked.
And me, too. If Monk didn’t get paid, then neither would I.
Stottlemeyer got in my face. It’s what cops do to intimidate perps. But I held my ground and my gaze. I was determined that it wouldn’t work with me.
“That may be true. But here’s the reality: They are cops and he isn’t,” he said. “And I’ll tell you something else. While they were all out there walking a picket line a couple of years ago, Monk was sitting behind my desk, scabbing. Maybe you’ve forgotten that, but they sure as hell haven’t.”
“Apparently, neither have you,” I said. “This is payback.”
We were so close our noses were almost touching.
“What I’m saying is that I can’t take money out of their pocket and put it in his. I just can’t.”
“Oh spare me, Captain. This isn’t about the strike or budget cuts; it’s about what happened at the conference,” I said. “It’s about your pride.”
“I’m disappointed in you,” he said. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
“So did I.”
We glowered at each other for a long moment, neither of us blinking. I could make out the edges of his contacts.
Monk cleared his throat to get our attention and to remind us that he was still in the room. “The captain is right.”
“No, he’s not,” I said, maintaining my glower. My eyes were beginning to sting from not blinking.
“Hiring me was always an act of charity and pity,” Monk said, “and that’s not a luxury the police can afford anymore.”
“It was never like that, Monk,” Stottlemeyer said, breaking his gaze with me to look at him. I stole a few quick blinks in case we had another stare-down. “I brought you in because you’re the best detective I’ve ever known. But unfortunately, the best is out of our price range right now.”
“I understand,” Monk said. “That’s why I’ll do it for free until the department can afford me again.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Stottlemeyer said.
“Neither can I,” I said.
Stottlemeyer glanced at me. “It’s nice to know that we can still agree about something.”
The door flew open and Disher practically leapt into the room.
“Judge Clarence Stanton was just gunned down in Golden Gate Park,” Disher said. “He’s dead.”
“And the shooter?” Stottlemeyer asked.
“In the wind,” Disher said.
“Damn,” Stottlemeyer said. “Get every available man down there now. I need statements from anybody who might have seen anything.”
“We’ll follow you down,” Monk said.
“No, you won’t,” Stottlemeyer said. “Didn’t you hear anything that I just told you?”
“You said you need every available man,” Monk said. “I’m available.”
“Not to us,” Stottlemeyer said. “I’m sorry.”

Other books

Picking Up the Pieces by Elizabeth Hayley
First Contact by Marc Kaufman
Narration by Stein, Gertrude, Wilder, Thornton, Olson, Liesl M.
Bound by Ivy by S Quinn
Dragon Coast by Greg Van Eekhout
The Tigrens' Glory by Laura Jo Phillips
Trauma Queen by Barbara Dee