Mr. Monk in Trouble Read Online Free PDF

said. I regretted the words the instant they were out of my mouth and quickly covered for my gaff. “Living with a teenager is hell. They are so moody and unpredictable. Sometimes it’s like Julie has a split-personality disorder.”
    Monk nodded. Not only had he bought it, but I think it might even have made him reconsider what I knew was coming next. He wanted me to offer to let him stay at my house.
    I’d let him spend a few days with me when his building was being fumigated and it was not an experience I wanted to repeat.
    “And she makes such a mess,” I said, trying to underscore my earlier point. “There’s hair all over the bathroom, bras hanging from the curtain rod, and she leaves half-eaten food on the living room couch.”
    Monk shuddered. I smiled to myself. Mission accomplished.
    As we came into the squad room, Disher was walking back to his desk with a cup of coffee. He kept bumping into desks and chairs on his way, fumbling around like a blind man. It wasn’t until he sat down at his desk outside of Stottlemeyer’s office that I saw why.
    He was wearing sunglasses that were so darkly tinted they were practically a blindfold.
    “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” I asked him.
    “The glare,” Disher said.
    “There’s no glare in here,” I said.
    “There is on the street,” he said. “You’d understand that if you’d ever been out there.”
    “We just came in from the street,” I said.
    “I’m not talking about that street.”
    “What street are you talking about?”
    “The mean street, lady, the grimy, bloodstained stretch of asphalt where I enforce the law,” Disher said. “Disher’s Law.”
    “Oh,” I said. “ That street.”
    “At least there wasn’t any gum on it,” Monk said. “You can wash dirt and blood off the street pretty easily. But gum is a living hell. People who spit out their gum should be put in prison for life.”
    Disher snarled. “Out there, a cop has to squint straight into the harsh glare of corruption, filth, and despair, and without shades, it’ll roast your eyeballs out and incinerate your soul.”
    Monk looked at me. “I need sunglasses.”
    I smiled at Disher, though he probably couldn’t see it with those sunglasses on. He reminded me of Julie when she was a little girl. It took her a week to stop wearing her Halloween costume everywhere. She hated to give up the fantasy of being the Little Mermaid or a Teletubby.
    Stottlemeyer opened the door to his office. “If you two are done chatting with Dirty Randy, I’d like to have a word with you.”
    “We’re done.” Disher reached for his coffee cup and grabbed his pencil holder instead. He lifted it up for a drink and spilled pencils on his face as we followed Stottlemeyer into his office.
    “Did you find out why Lenihan murdered my neighbor?” Monk asked.
    “Yeah. They’d been dating for a couple of months. He killed her because he was tired of her always overcooking his meat.”
    “You’re kidding,” I said.
    “It was also too salty,” Stottlemeyer said. “He likes his steaks a certain way.”
    “I don’t understand how anybody could make a life-or-death issue out of something so insignificant,” Monk said.
    Stottlemeyer and I both stared at him.
    “It’s not like she was serving him food on a chipped plate,” I said.
    “Or letting his vegetables touch his meat,” Stottlemeyer said.
    “Exactly,” Monk said. “His priorities are all out of whack.”
    Stottlemeyer rubbed his temples and took a seat behind his desk. “Forget about Lenihan. He’s not the reason I wanted to see you.”
    “I know why you asked us to come down here,” Monk said.
    “You do?” Stottlemeyer said.
    “You wanted to apologize to us,” Monk said.
    “For what?”
    “Desecrating Christmas,” Monk said.
    “How did I do that?”
    “You said that Santa only does three ‘ho’s.”
    “That’s not why I asked you down here,” Stottlemeyer said. “I need you to do me a favor.”
    Monk shook his