Mr. Monk Goes to Germany Read Online Free PDF Page B

case,” Monk said.

    “I solved mine, too,” Disher said and whipped out a plastic evidence bag from behind his back. Inside the bag was a white sock. “Look familiar?”

    “It’s my sock.” Monk took the bag. “Thank you, Randy.”

    “My pleasure. This is Nick,” Disher said, motioning to the new tenant. “And this is your neighbor Adrian Monk and his assistant, Natalie Teeger.”

    Nick offered me his hand. I shook it.

    “Welcome to the neighborhood,” I said.

    “Thanks,” Nick said. “It’s really peaceful and everybody here is so friendly.”

    “Why isn’t he in handcuffs?” Monk said, ignoring Nick’s outstretched hand.

    “Because he didn’t do anything,” Disher said. “The culprit is static electricity. Your sock got stuck inside the dryer. After you left, Mrs. Sandowsky in 2B did a load. The sock got mixed with her stuff. Is something wrong with your eye?”

    “No,” Monk said.

    “So what’s the problem?” Disher asked.

    “The problem is that there is no problem,” Monk said. “I can see everything that’s in front of me and not in front of me. Would you mind sitting to his left?”

    Monk gestured to Nick without looking at him. Disher moved to the other side of Nick. The legged side.

    “You thought I stole your sock?” Nick said to Monk.

    “No,” Monk said.

    “Are you being honest with me?”

    “No,” Monk said.

    “Nick was just telling me about his adventure climbing alone on Mount Kilimanjaro,” Disher said with boyish eagerness. “He got his leg stuck between two boulders and had to cut it off with his pickax to save himself.”

    “My God,” I said. I remembered reading an article about him in the San Francisco Chronicle a few months back. It was a horrifying and yet undeniably captivating tale.

    “And you left it there?” Monk said.

    “Yeah,” Nick said.

    “You should go back and get it,” Monk said.

    “It’s a little late for that.”

    “You know what they say—it’s never too late to pick up your leg,” Monk said.

    “Actually, it is,” Nick said.

    “That’s not what they say,” Monk said. “And they wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

    “Who are ‘they’?” Disher asked.

    “They are the people you should listen to when they say something,” Monk said. “They know what they are talking about.”

    “I ate it,” Nick said.

    “You ate it?” Monk said, looking at Nick despite himself and then turning away, repulsed. “Your own leg?”

    “Amazing,” Disher said. “I thought I was tough, but you’re like five times tougher.”

    “I had no choice, Randy. I was alone in the snow for days. I had no idea how long it would take them to find me. It was a matter of survival,” Nick said. “Life or death.”

    “You should have chosen death,” Monk said.

    “What Mr. Monk means is that he admires your bravery and sympathizes with your sacrifice,” I said, hustling Monk past them. “You’ll have to stop by sometime for coffee.”

    Monk gasped. “What if he wants something to eat?”

    I hoped Nick hadn’t heard that. I hurried Monk into his apartment and closed the door behind us.

    “How could you be so rude?” I said.

    “I have to move out,” Monk said. “Help me pack.”

    “He’s a hero,” I said.

    “He’s a cannibal and you invited him here for a snack,” Monk said. “What were you thinking?”

    “He’s not going to do it again,” I said. “It was an extreme situation.”

    “So is this,” Monk said. “I’m very tasty to cannibals.”

    “What makes you say that?”

    “It’s the one thing I’ve been absolutely certain of my entire life.”

    “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.

    “Look at me. I’m clean, healthy, trim, and I stay away from all germs and chemicals. I’m lean, delicious, prime-cut, organic meat. That’s why I’ve never gone to Africa.”

    “That’s why? I thought it was because you’re afraid of travel, foreign countries, zebras, airplanes,