Mr. Monk Gets Even Read Online Free PDF

okay? Tell us what happened, Monk.”
    “Here’s what happened,” Monk said. “Zuzelo was sitting on his couch, reading a book, when someone rang the bell in the lobby. It was someone he knew, so he buzzed his friend up and set his book on the edge of the table on his way to answer the door. He greeted his friend and led him in. As they passed the dining room table, the friend picked up the book and, as Zuzelo turned, hit him across the face with it, knocking him out.”
    “That’s pure speculation,” Devlin said.
    “That’s how Zuzelo’s glasses got broken,” Monk said.
    “What glasses?” Stottlemeyer asked.
    “The reading glasses that he forgot to take off in his eagerness to greet his guest.” Monk nudged Julie, who produced the evidence baggie containing the glasses and held it in front of her so Stottlemeyer and Devlin could see it. “I found them beside the body.”
    “Because he was wearing them when he fell,” Devlin said.
    “The killer had to throw the glasses over the railing with the body to cover up the fact that they were broken first by the book. You’ll find some bits of the broken frame in the carpet by the table. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
    “I never pointed the camera at the floor,” Devlin said.
    “You did when you aimed it at the book, which the captain picked up and held above the floor,” Monk said.
    “And in that brief moment, on a tiny iPhone screen, you could see a speck of plastic in the carpet that you can positively identify as coming from a pair of glasses.”
    “I could see the crumbs from the sourdough toast that he had for breakfast, too.”
    “Not even Superman could see that,” Devlin said.
    “That’s why Clark Kent wears glasses,” Monk said. “The killer got a fresh lightbulb from the closet, turned out the lights in the apartment, and went out on the deck. The killer wanted the apartment dark so he wouldn’t be seen by anyone in the building across the way.”
    Monk went on to explain that the killer set the new bulb on the table and stood on the wicker chair to reach the light fixture above. But he was too heavy for the chair and his foot went through the worn wicker seat. So he went back into the apartment, banging his shin on the coffee table in the darkness, and carried out one of the dining room chairs, which he stood on to remove the bulb from the light fixture. He purposely dropped the old bulb on the ground, brought the chair back in, then picked up Zuzelo and threw him over the railing to the street below.
    “That’s quite an elaborate story, almost bordering on slapstick,” Devlin said. She glanced around the apartment and then looked back into her iPhone camera. “But I don’t see any evidence to back up a word of it.”
    “Then you need to see an optometrist right away,” Monk said. “Because the evidence is everywhere.”
    “Like what?” Devlin said.
    “There’s the hole in the wicker chair,” Monk said.
    “Yes, I can see that. How do you know Zuzelo didn’t put his foot through it standing on the chair himself to change the bulb?”
    “There are four reasons. One, his shoe size. Whoever made that hole wears a size twelve shoe. Second, his height. Although I didn’t see his body, I saw his jackets in the closet. He was five foot six. Even if he stood on that chair, he would not have been tall enough to reach the fixture. Third, the lightbulbs. The old bulb is a sixty-five watt and the fixture has a seventy-five-watt capacity, but the new bulb is one hundred watts, the kind used in the lamp beside the couch. The killer grabbed the wrong bulb. Fourth, everything on the coffee table is in disarray.”
    She looked at the table. “It looks fine to me.”
    “I’m surprised you’re allowed to drive,” Monk said. “The sunlight pours into the apartment and, over the years, has bleached the tabletop. When the killer banged the edge of the table with his shin, he shifted all the items that were on top of it, exposing the