Lee Goldberg - Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

“That’s not what Nick thought. I could feel his heart pounding against my back.”

“I don’t know if I would have taken the shot or not,” I said.

“I do,” Danielle said.

That gave her an edge on me. I still wasn’t sure what I would have done.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Look for a job,” she said. “Maybe one in a less dangerous line of work.”

“But you’re good at this,” I said.

“I’m not sure that I want to be,” she said. “I’m going to take some time off and think about it.”

Monk and Disher came over to us.

“Congratulations,” Disher said. “You did some amazing detective work. Monk has filled me in on everything. But I’ll still need you to come downtown and give me your official statements.”

“Can you make the charges stick?” I asked.

“The nine-one-one recording and the voice mail are as good as signed confessions,” Disher said. “Slade and Wurzel know it, too. They’re already competing to see who can roll over on the other one first in exchange for a lesser sentence.”

“When will the captain be released?” Monk asked.

“As soon as the DA can wake up a judge,” Disher said. “But in the meantime, he’s relaxing in the officers’ break room with some coffee and doughnuts.”

“So for the time being you’re still Acting Captain Disher,” I said.

“Yes, I am.” He smiled at Danielle and offered his hand. “We haven’t been introduced. As Natalie said, I’m Acting Captain Disher. But everybody calls me Bullitt.”

“They do?” Monk asked.

“Yes, they do,” Disher stated.

“I don’t,” Monk said.

“That’s because you’re out of the loop,” Disher said. “I’m in the loop. You could say the loop loops around me.”

She shook Disher’s hand. “Why do they call you that?”

He puffed out his chest a bit and hiked up his pants. “It’s obvious once you see me in action on the streets. I’m basically fearless.”

“Excuse me, Bullitt,” I said. “Where do you think Stottlemeyer will go once he’s released?”

“He’ll probably swing by the station to thank you before he goes home,” Disher said, turning back to Danielle. “After your statement, how would you like a tour of police headquarters?”

“You could start by showing her your acting captain’s office,” I said. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Oh my God.” Disher suddenly froze. “All my stuff is still in there.”

He spun around and ran back to his car.

“What’s his problem?” Danielle asked.

I shrugged. “You never know with Bullitt.”

It was nearly sunrise by the time we finished up with our statements. Danielle went home but we hung around so we could see Stottlemeyer when he came back.

Monk used the time to wash the windows, dust the shelves, and mop the floors in Stottlemeyer’s office. He offered to let me help him but I declined. I knew how much he enjoyed doing it on his own without having to worry about me doing it wrong.

Yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to mop. It involves a highly elaborate technique, which, if not done exactly right, could cause a plague and the demise of entire civilizations.

Rather than risk that, I got myself a cup of coffee, sat at Lansdale ’s desk, and watched Monk work and Disher fill out his reports. I didn’t even realize that Stottlemeyer had come in, and neither did they, until he was standing right in front of me. He was back in his rumpled clothes, and looked bone-tired, but there was a smile on his face.

“‘If I’m lucky the bullet will go through her and into you,’” Stottlemeyer said. “We’re going to have to start calling you Dirty Natalie.”

Disher grimaced. It would kill him if that nickname caught on. I was tempted to encourage it just to get back at him for arresting Captain Stottlemeyer.

“How did you know I said that?” I asked the captain.

“They’ve been playing excerpts of your 911 tape all over the building,” Stottlemeyer said. “You’re one tough broad.”

“This is news to you?” I said.

“Nope,” he said. “I’ve been on the receiving end before.”

Monk came out of the captain’s office, his hands still in rubber gloves.

“Welcome back, Leland,” he said. “Your office is clean and disinfected. You don’t want to know what it was like before.”

Stottlemeyer grabbed Monk, pulled him into a bear hug, and clapped him on the back. “I knew I could count on you, Monk. Thank you.”

“It’s what I do,” Monk said, his body stiff, his arms flush against his sides.

“Better than anybody,” Stottlemeyer said, clapping him hard on the back again before letting him go. “And no matter what anybody says, that doesn’t bother me one bit, especially right now.”

He looked past Monk to Disher, who stood there nervously, unable to meet Stottlemeyer’s eye.

The captain sighed and held out his hand to Disher. “I’ve got no hard feelings, Randy. You were just doing your job and doing it well.”

Disher grabbed the captain’s outstretched hand and pulled him into a big hug.

“Thank you,” Disher said. “I’m so glad it’s all over.”

“Me, too,” the captain said.

But Disher wouldn’t let go. “It was a living hell for me.”

“Yeah, you had it rough,” Stottlemeyer said, trying to pull free. But Disher held tight. “I need to go now.”

Monk and I headed for the door. Stottlemeyer turned to look at us pleadingly.

“I could use some help here,” he said.

“We’re helped out,” I said, and opened the door for Monk.

“It’s the burden of the badge,” Disher said. “It has no soul. But I’ve got a soul.”

“I know you do,” Stottlemeyer said, patting Disher on the back. “I know.”

I closed the door behind us.

Julie was waiting up for me when I got home shortly after sunrise. She was sitting on the couch, facing the door, her arms folded under her chest.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” I said.

As I got closer, I could see that her eyes were red and her cheeks were tear-streaked.

I sat down beside her, put my arm around her shoulders, and drew her to me. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“There was a message waiting on our voice mail,” she said. “I listened to it.”

I closed my eyes and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You could have been killed, Mom.”

“I wasn’t,” I said.

“What were you thinking, going into an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night?”

“I was doing my job,” I said.

“Going after murderers,” she said.

“I think maybe it’s what I’m good at,” I said.

“You are,” Julie said.

“You think so?”

“‘I’m capable of killing and a gun just makes it easier,’” she said, quoting me verbatim.

I winced. “That wasn’t what I was referring to.”

“Dad was a great fighter pilot but that didn’t stop him from being shot down. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“Maybe I should quit and do something safer.”

“You could get killed crossing the street. This job makes you happy,” she said. “Happier than I have ever seen you doing anything else. But you have to promise me that you will be more careful.”

“Hey, I’m the one who is supposed to do the worrying in this relationship.”

“That changed when people started pointing guns at you,” she said. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” I said.

It had been so long since I’d held my daughter. Once she became a teenager, the last thing she wanted was her mother’s affection. She didn’t want to feel like a baby. But she didn’t care now and I was thankful for it.