Lee Goldberg - Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

Slade took a card from his pocket and picked up a pen from the coffee table. He wrote something on the back of the card and passed it to Monk.

“This would be your monthly salary,” he said. “It’s only the floor to get us started. We’ll gladly negotiate an escalator clause that will be tied to certain agreed-upon performance levels.”

I glanced over Monk’s shoulder at the number. I had to look twice to make sure I wasn’t imagining the figure. It was a huge bump up from what he was getting paid by the police.

Monk shook his head. “I can’t live with this figure.”

He wouldn’t live at all if he let this job slip away. I’d kill him myself the moment Slade walked out the door.

“What would it take to make you happy?” Slade asked.

“Make it an even number,” Monk said.

Slade took the card back and rounded the figure up to a big, fat, whole number with lots of zeros at the end.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Monk,” Slade said. “Do we have a deal?”

I looked at Monk. He sighed miserably.

“Yes,” Monk said.

Slade smiled. So did I. He had a nice smile. Now Julie and I could afford to have one like his. I made a mental note to get the name of his dentist.

“I am so pleased.” Slade held out his hand.

Monk shook it, then motioned to me for a wipe.

“Allow me.” Slade reached into his pocket and pulled out a travel packet of Wet Ones and offered a wipe to Monk. Oh, Slade was a smooth one. “When do you think you can start?”

Monk wiped his hand and glanced at his watch.

Slade took a Baggie out of his pocket and held it out to Monk, who dropped his wipe into it.

Slade sealed the Baggie. I took it from him and dropped it into a nearby Diaper Genie, twisted the ring, and sealed the Baggie in another bag. I hoped the anthropologists who examined it centuries from now would appreciate the effort.

“What a great idea,” Slade said, admiring the Diaper Genie. “I have to get one of those for my office.”

I had to hand it to him: He actually said it with a straight face. But I was worried that it was overkill and that even Monk would find it insincere.

But then Monk did something incredible.

He smiled.

“I can start today,” Monk said.

Intertect was located on the twentieth floor of a high-rise in the financial district. I stopped by to fill out all the paperwork required to get us on the payroll and the health plan as soon as possible.

As I walked down the hall, I saw that each office had a window with a commanding view of the window of the building next door, but I guess that was better than no view at all. By my count, Intertect had at least thirty operatives-and those were just the ones with offices.

I was led to a vacant office that was set aside for Monk if he ever needed it, though I doubted that he would make the long climb up the stairs to see it unless there was a dead body there, too.

The office came with a sleek computer, sleek furniture, and an even sleeker assistant in her early twenties named Danielle Hossack.

She informed me that she’d graduated from McGill University in Montréal with a degree in psychology, spoke three languages, and had a black belt in tae kwon do. She was also blessed with the body of a lingerie model. She didn’t tell me that. It was obvious from what she was wearing, which qualified more as underwear than clothes.

In fact, all the women I saw at Intertect were young, gorgeous, and scantily clad.

Slade was in for a big disappointment if he expected me to dress that way.

He hadn’t mentioned what my salary would be and I’d forgotten to ask. When I saw the figure on one of the forms, I blinked hard, hoping it wasn’t a mirage. It wasn’t.

I could almost hear Ricardo Montalban whispering in my ear. Welcome to Fantasy Island.

“Is there something wrong?” Danielle asked. I’d been so mesmerized by my salary figure that I hadn’t realized that she was still standing beside the desk.

“No, no, everything is wonderful,” I said, and I meant it. “Have you worked here long?”

“Two years,” she said.

I wondered if she made as much as, or more than, I did, but I didn’t ask.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she said. “I have learned so much. Nick is an amazing man.”

“He must be,” I said. “Lots of detectives leave the force to become private detectives but few are as successful as he is. What’s his secret?”

“Substantial capitalization and abundant charm,” she said. “He made some wise investments in the stock market ten years ago and used his profits to start the company. I’ve learned that successful detection is a combination of determination, intuition, and getting people to give you what you want. Nick is a real people person. He can win over anybody he meets.”

“That’s for sure,” I said.

She gave me a knowing look. “If you’re thinking about hooking up with him, I should warn you that he’s very sweet and a great lover, but he’s a free spirit. Monogamy is not part of his personality. He wants to enjoy the buffet of life’s opportunities.”

That sounded like a direct quote. “Does that philosophy factor into his hiring practices?”

“Is that your way of asking if he sleeps with every woman he hires?”

I shrugged. “They all seem to be young and attractive.”

“And smart,” Danielle said. “There isn’t a woman here, whether it’s a secretary or an operative, who doesn’t have a degree or two under her garter belt.”

“They wear garter belts?”

She politely ignored my comment. “Sleeping with him won’t get you hired or get you promoted or get you any special treatment, beyond what he does for you in bed, of course, which is pretty exceptional.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you give him two thumbs-up in the sack-a-roo.”

“If you get into bed with him, you won’t be sorry.”

“I’m not big on buffets. I always feel bloated afterwards,” I said. “But I appreciate the information. To be honest, I’m surprised by your candor.”

“Because I’m not shy about discussing sex?”

“Because you’re so open with intimate, and potentially unflattering, details about your boss with someone you just met,” I said. “Aren’t you being indiscreet?”

She smiled. “I’m an employee of Intertect but I am working for you and Mr. Monk now. You deserve my full honesty if we’re going to establish any kind of trust. And besides, Nick doesn’t mind my talking about his love life or I wouldn’t do it. He’s a very open guy.”

“In more ways than one,” I said.

“You don’t need to worry about me breaking any confidences as far as you and Mr. Monk are concerned,” she said. “My first loyalty now is to you both. Nick made that very clear and that’s fine with me. I consider it an honor to be working with you. I am a big admirer of your accomplishments.”

“You mean Mr. Monk’s,” I said, handing her the sheaf of completed forms.

“Mr. Monk couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Just what I needed: advice on self-esteem from a twentysomething with a college degree and a body that could melt the statue of David. What did she know about insecurity?

Danielle went on to tell me that she was at our beck and call any hour of the day or night, seven days a week, for anything we might need.

In other words, I was getting my own Natalie.

I didn’t want her to run away screaming on day one, so I decided to give her a quick briefing on Monk’s phobias and his obsessive-compulsive disorder.

It turned out that she’d already studied up on his “special needs” and was not the least bit put off by them. She said that one of the reasons that Slade handpicked her to work with us was because of her psychological background.