Mr. Monk Goes to Germany Read Online Free PDF

wedding. They just didn’t know it.”

    I looked back at the couple, and at the cake on the table. They were celebrating their anniversary last night. That was why the wedding video DVD was in the player and the TV was still on. They were probably watching it when they died.

    Until death do us part. It was a tragic romance that was doomed from the start.

    “It was the best man,” Walker said. “He was the one who saved the piece of cake and wrapped it for them. The DeSantinis must have gotten to him. But I was the stupid sonofabitch who kept the cake frozen and made sure it was in their freezer here when they arrived. So you were right, Monk. I was the one who killed them.”

    “You were being thoughtful,” Stottlemeyer said. “You didn’t know the cake was poisoned.”

    “I knew they shouldn’t take anything with them from their old lives, not even a piece of cake,” Walker said. “I’m turning in my badge and taking early retirement.”

    “Over this?” Stottlemeyer said.

    Walker gestured to Monk. “And him. I completely underestimated his abilities. That kind of mistake could get someone killed.”

    I have to admit I took pleasure in Walker’s misery and pride in Monk’s success. Walker was a jerk and deserved to be knocked down a peg. And I was pleased, and relieved, that Monk’s incredible roll was continuing. I was losing count of how many murders he’d solved lately right at the scene.

    “Can I go now, Captain?” Monk asked.

    “Sure,” Stottlemeyer said.

    Monk started to go, but Walker stepped in front of him, blocking his way, and held out his hand.

    “I owe you one,” Walker said.

    Monk shook his hand, then motioned to me for a disinfectant wipe. I gave him one. “As it happens, I could use the federal government’s help on a case.”

    “What is it?” Walker said, watching Monk wipe his hands. It obviously offended him.

    “I’m missing a sock,” Monk said.

    Walker narrowed his eyes at Monk. “Are you messing with me?”

    “I never make a mess,” Monk said.

    “But he does a hell of a job cleaning them up,” Stottlemeyer said.

CHAPTER FOUR

    Mr. Monk Sees His Shrink

    Even though Walker was indebted to Monk for solving the murder in less than thirty minutes (fast even by Monk’s standards), the marshal was unwilling to dedicate the full resources of the Justice Department to finding a lost sock.

    “Our resources are stretched a little thin and we have to prioritize,” Walker said. “We’re fighting a war on terror at the moment.”

    “You don’t think thousands of missing socks is terrifying?” Monk asked. “Our enemies could be using psychological warfare to undermine the stability of American society.”

    “By making socks disappear,” Walker said.

    “It’s insidious and ingenious,” Monk said.

    Walker didn’t buy it. I couldn’t blame him. I had a hard time imagining Osama sitting in his cave thinking of ways to steal my socks.

    But Walker’s refusal to help didn’t dim Monk’s spirits. He still enjoyed his post-crime-solving high. At least he’d set part of the world right. His sock drawer would come next.

    When we got back to Monk’s place, the crime scene tape was gone and we found Disher sitting to the right of the one-legged man on the front steps of the building. They were both drinking from cans of Coke and smiling.

    Monk whispered to me as we approached the building from my parked car. “Randy has shrewdly lulled the suspect into a false sense of security to lower his defenses. He’s going in for the kill.”

    I’ll admit I was surprised to see them hanging out together. I’d assumed the one-legged guy would be offended by Disher’s questions and the thinly veiled—not to mention ridiculous—accusations they probably contained.

    Monk covered up his right eye with his hand as we neared the steps and turned his head at a slight angle to regard the two men.

    “Hey, Monk, back so soon?” Disher said.

    “I solved the