Mr. Monk is a Mess Read Online Free PDF

I’ve handled a lot of money today and you have no idea where it’s been or how many dirty hands and grimy pockets it has passed through.” She went to the front counter, where there was a bottle of hand sanitizer by the cash register. She squirted a dollop on her hands, rubbed them together, then headed to the door. “You can never be too clean.”
    No wonder she and Monk got along so well.
    We both went outside, where we found Monk writing up a ticket for a man in his thirties wearing a loose-fitting, short-sleeve vintage bowling shirt and cargo shorts. The man had a day’s growth of beard and his hair was cut so short that it looked like a shadow on his head. But the style worked for him.
    “I’m glad to see you, Officer,” the man said to me. “Maybe you can talk some sense into your partner. He’s ticketing me for traveling in the wrong lane.”
    “You’re lucky you didn’t have a head-on collision with someone,” Monk said.
    “He’s right,” I said. “That’s a serious moving violation.”
    “I agree, if you’re in your car on the street,” the man said. “But not if you’re walking on the sidewalk.”
    “You were still in the wrong lane,” Monk said.
    “There are no lanes on a sidewalk,” the man said.
    “They’re invisible,” Monk said. “But rest assured, they are there.”
    I took the ticket book from Monk. “Why don’t you let me handle this? You have someone who’d like to have a word with you.”
    Monk looked back, saw Morse waiting, and nodded. “Okay, but penmanship counts.”
    He walked over to her and while they talked, I pulled the businessman aside. His driver’s license was clipped to Monk’s notebook. His name was Stephen Booth. He was thirty-six years old and a resident of Summit.
    “We’d appreciate it, Mr. Booth, if you walked on the right side of the sidewalk, just like you would drive on the right side of the road.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it’s what most people do, whether they realize it or not.”
    “I’ve never noticed,” he said.
    “You would if you went to London. You know how people there drive on the opposite side of the street? Well, they walk down the sidewalk the same way.”
    “I didn’t know that,” he said.
    I didn’t, either. I’d been to London, but I couldn’t remember if they walked any differently down the sidewalk than we did. But I figured that it sounded plausible.
    “So now you know that there are invisible lanes on the sidewalk that we impose on ourselves to reflect the traffic patterns on the street. There’s no law that says you have to follow them, but I’m sure Officer Monk isn’t the only one who’d like it if you did.”
    “Would you like it?”
    “Yes, I would.”
    He smiled and he got these little laugh lines in his cheeks that made him look like a mischievous child. “Then I’ll do it and think of you every time I do.”
    “You’re flirting with me,” I said.
    “I’m glad you noticed,” he said.
    “I’m an officer of the law. I’m very observant.” I smiled and handed him back his license. “I’ll let you off with a stern warning this time, Mr. Booth.”
    “Please call me Steve. Perhaps I could thank you with a cup of coffee?”
    I glanced back at Monk, who appeared to be finishing up his conversation with Morse.
    “That would be nice. But it will have to be some other time.”
    “It’s an open invitation. I have lunch most days at the Buttercup Pantry,” he said, gesturing to the café right next door. “You’re always welcome at my table.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be sure to stop by one of these days.”
    “I hope you’ll make it soon”—he glanced at the name tag on my chest—“Officer Teeger.”
    “Natalie,” I said.
    “Natalie,” he said and walked away. I watched him go and then I tore the ticket out of Monk’s notebook and stuck it into my pocket so I had Booth’s contact information for safekeeping. He would be my first date when I officially moved to