Mr. Monk Gets Even Read Online Free PDF Page A

the armrest on the opposite end of the couch.”
    “We’re showing you the apartment, Monk, not redecorating it,” Stottlemeyer said.
    “I understand,” Monk said. “The bowl of seashells and the other items on the coffee table are in disarray.”
    The items appeared to be neatly arranged in the center of the table, but that wasn’t what made Stottlemeyer grimace. “You said you understood what I just told you.”
    “I did, but this isn’t redecorating,” Monk said. “It’s making things right.”
    Stottlemeyer turned to Devlin. “Let’s take him to the deck.”
    “I am not done looking around inside,” Monk said.
    “Yes, you are,” Stottlemeyer said and led them to the sliding glass door that opened onto an unlit narrow balcony with a wrought-iron railing, two wicker chairs, and a very small table with a lightbulb box on top. One of the chairs was tipped over and there was a big hole in the seat where it appeared Zuzelo’s foot had fallen through the wicker webbing. There was a broken lightbulb on the floor.
    “Show me the fallen chair,” Monk said.
    She did.
    “Show me the light fixture,” Monk said.
    She aimed the camera up at the round, recessed light socket in what was basically the bottom of the balcony on the floor above.
    “Show me the lightbulb that’s on the tabletop,” Monk said.
    It was a hundred-watt bulb, still in its protective cardboard box.
    “Show me the broken lightbulb,” Monk said.
    Devlin aimed the camera at the broken glass on the ground.
    “Let me see the part that screws into the socket,” he said.
    Stottlemeyer bent down and carefully picked it up. The stems that held the filament were still intact and there were some jagged bits of broken glass around the rim.
    “Okay,” Monk said. “It’s obvious what happened here.”
    “I told you so,” Devlin said.
    “No, you told me he was changing a lightbulb, lost his balance when his foot went through the seat, and he fell over the railing,” Monk said.
    Devlin hit the flip icon so the camera was now showing her angry face to Monk and Julie. “And that’s what happened. You saw the evidence.”
    “I did,” Monk said. “That’s how I know it’s murder.”

CHAPTER THREE
    Mr. Monk Sees the Light
    “N o way,” Devlin said.
    She knew better than to question Monk’s conclusion. He was never wrong about homicide. But that didn’t stop her. He’d spotted something amiss that she had not, and it was a blow to her pride. What made it worse was that this was the second death in a week that she’d initially determined was an accident but that Monk immediately concluded was murder.
    Captain Stottlemeyer knew how she felt, but he had long since stopped worrying about how his observational and deductive skills stacked up to Monk’s and instead chose to appreciate the results. Besides, the captain knew the price Monk paid for his brilliance and, all things considered, felt he had the better end of the deal.
    But Devlin had a long way to go before she could achieve Stottlemeyer’s peace with Monk’s genius and stop taking it as a personal insult every time he solved something before she did. The captain knew that questioning Monk’s conclusions was a necessary step toward acceptance.
    “There’s no other possible explanation,” Monk said.
    “I just gave you one,” Devlin said.
    As much as Julie liked Devlin, she would have preferred it if the lieutenant simply accepted Monk’s conclusions and moved on. It would be easier for everyone.
    “Look around,” Monk said. “The place has been trashed.”
    “Everything is clean and orderly,” Devlin said. “There’s no sign of forced entry or a struggle.”
    “I didn’t say that anyone broke in or that there had been a fight,” Monk said.
    “But you said the place was trashed,” she said.
    “I did,” Monk said.
    “But it hasn’t been,” she said.
    Stottlemeyer sighed. “How about we agree that you both have different definitions of what constitutes a mess,