Lee Goldberg: Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

We held each other, safe and loved, until we both fell asleep.

I took the next day off to catch up on my sleep and decompress from all the excitement. The arrests and Stottlemeyer’s release happened too late to make the morning paper and I didn’t turn on the TV.

I spent the day puttering around the house and taking it easy. I finished the Murder, She Wrote book, though. I don’t know how that old lady can handle it. I was a good thirty years younger than her and solving murders and facing down killers wiped me out.

The Wurzel case was front-page news the next morning. The story laid out exactly what Slade and Wurzel had done, and how it led to the murders of Peschel and Braddock, but otherwise it was thin on details of how the case was cracked. Monk was mentioned only in passing and I wasn’t referred to at all (which was no surprise, since nobody from the media had tried to call me the previous day). The implication was that the police had doggedly pursued the case, spurred by their belief that Captain Stottlemeyer had to be innocent.

I didn’t care that the story was inaccurate. I wasn’t looking for publicity or recognition. It was enough for me that we’d come out of it alive and the captain was exonerated.

I went to Monk’s at nine a.m. the next morning, ready to face the issue of our unemployment head-on. I was still driving the Lexus and would continue doing so until someone showed up to repossess it. Intertect owed me at least that much for what Slade put me through.

My plan was to start contacting local police departments to see if any of them were interested in our services.

Monk’s plan was to contact the Diaper Genie people and see if he could become their West Coast sales rep in charge of developing and encouraging broader use of the gizmo. The living room was filled with the extra Diaper Genies that he’d bought.

Before either one of us could dive into our pursuits, there was a knock at the front door. It was Captain Stottlemeyer. He looked surprisingly rested and relaxed, considering what the last few days had been like for him.

“I’ve got some good news for you,” he said.

“The police department has agreed to replace all of their trash cans with Diaper Genies,” Monk said.

“Almost as good,” Stottlemeyer said. “You’re back on the payroll as a consultant.”

“It’s a pleasure to be working with you again,” Monk said.

“The feeling is mutual,” Stottlemeyer said.

“How did you get the chief to change his mind?” I asked.

“Blackmail,” he said.

“That’s illegal,” Monk said.

“Not this kind,” Stottlemeyer said. “It’s called political blackmail. I told the chief if he didn’t restore my budget to what it was before, I’d go to every TV station and reporter in town and tell them how I was falsely arrested for a murder by an incompetent police department and freed by the efforts of a consultant they fired. I would also remind the reporters that one of the mayor’s biggest campaign contributors was Linda Wurzel.”

“Ouch,” I said. “Speaking of lovable Linda, how’s the case going against her and Slade?”

“They’re each trying to cut a deal with the DA to testify against the other in return for taking the death penalty off the table. I think Slade’s got the edge. Turns out he was wearing a wire when he met with Wurzel ten years ago and he kept the tape of their conversation as insurance.”

“Slade wouldn’t have taped the meeting if he’d gone into it intending to take the job,” Monk said. “He was going to arrest her but something must have changed when he heard her proposal.”

“It’s called greed, Monk. He saw a way to bankroll his dreams.”

“Why did she want her husband killed?”

“Remember all those women who came forward demanding a piece of Steve Wurzel’s estate because they claimed that he’d knocked them up?” Stottlemeyer said. “Well, he did.”

“I could see why that would make her furious,” I said. “But why did she go shopping for a hit man at Peschel’s tavern of all places?”

“She didn’t know where else to go. She picked the slea ziest, most dangerous bar in the seediest neighborhood she could find and figured there was bound to be someone inside who was desperate and immoral enough to take the job.”

“It’s hard to believe that a police officer would ever fit that description,” Monk said.

“It’s an ugly world out there,” Stottlemeyer said.

“I know,” Monk said, and handed the captain a Diaper Genie. “We can change that.”

“With this?” Stottlemeyer asked.

“Every revolution has to start somewhere,” Monk said.