June 15, 2012

Adrian Monk donned his suit coat and walked down the upstairs hall, mentally checking off his to-do list—reservations made, babysitter in place, gift picked up and wrapped. He patted the small box in his pocket as he stopped to straighten his tie in the bathroom mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he allowed a whistle to play on his lips. It had been a while since he had taken his wife on a proper date, and he wanted everything to be perfect. Reaching the stairs, he took them two at a time, but before he made it to the first floor of his home, he heard the patter of bare feet on the wood floor below.

"Daddy," shouted two-and-a-half year old Sophia as she ran toward him, her arms reaching high and her smile stretching wide.

"Hi, sweetheart." He picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Did you eat your supper?"

She nodded, making her dark curls bounce. "Oolie made 'sghetti. I feed Timody too."

Adrian looked at his son, still seated in his highchair. "I see that." He rolled his shoulder as baby cereal-covered hands reached his way. Timothy's face wasn't any cleaner, and some of it had even found its way into his hair, plastering it to the side of his head. "Did any actually make it into his mouth?"

"Don't worry, Dad," said Julie as she walked toward her brother with a wet cloth. "I've got it."

Sophia surveyed her father's attire, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Where going?"

"Now, why do you think I'm going somewhere?" He walked into the living room and sat in his favorite chair, settling her onto his lap.

Sophia giggled and patted his new burgundy tie, an early father's day gift from Natalie.

"Oh, I see. You've figured out that Daddy only wears a tie when he's going somewhere special."

Sophia nodded and grinned.

"Well, aren't you smart? I am going somewhere special. Do you remember what yesterday was?"

"Mommy birfday?"

"That's right. Daddy's going to take Mommy to a nice dinner to celebrate."

Sophia's brow wrinkled as she shook her head. "Mommy already have birfday. It not today."

"I know. Yesterday was our family celebration. Tonight is something special just for Mommy and Daddy."

"Why?"

"Well, yesterday was not only Mommy's birthday. It was also the second anniversary of when I asked her to marry me."

"Mawry?"

"Yes, and it was the day we decided to adopt you. So, we have a lot to celebrate."

Julie, who had come home for the weekend, joined them with a cleaned-up Timothy on her hip. "Trade? I need to help Sophia into her pajamas."

Sophia crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. "No night-night."

Julie leaned toward her. "You're not going to bed yet, silly, but I thought we could get into some comfy jammies. Then we'll pop some popcorn and watch a movie. Maybe if you're really good, we can have some of Mommy's leftover birthday cake."

Sophia jumped off Adrian's lap with a clap of her hands. "Cake!"

Adrian frowned at his older daughter. "You're spoiling her."

"That's what big sisters are for," she said, relenting to the toddler pulling her toward the stairs.

Adrian looked at his five-month-old son in his arms. "Hi there, buddy."

He ran his fingers through Timothy's damp hair to make sure it was truly clean. It was lighter than it had been at birth. It now more closely resembled Julie's, but with gentle waves which were beginning to curl in the back. His dark, brown eyes and dimpled smile were a reflection of his father's, but his button nose, no doubt his mother's.

Adrian smiled at the determined concentration on his son's face as he examined the stuffed dog in his hands. He pointed to the toy. "I had a dog once. Her name was Shelby. She was a very nice dog. You would have liked her. She would run to me when I came home, barking and wagging her tail like this." Adrian took the toy and bounced it on Timothy's chest, eliciting a laugh from the usually reserved boy.

Natalie smiled when she found her husband and son, lifting her hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. "You'd better be careful," she said, stepping closer. "He'll be begging for a real puppy soon."

Adrian's smile broadened when he lifted his head. His wife was a vision. Her green eyes sparkled and her blush-pink dress showed off a figure which gave no indication of her recent pregnancy. He stood and kissed her cheek. "You look great, sweetheart."

Her cheeks matched her dress as she eyed him in his charcoal-gray suit. "You don't look so bad yourself." She took Timothy from her husband. "And how's this cutie?"

Adrian buttoned his jacket and tugged out the wrinkles. "Are you ready?"

"I am. I'm starving." She kissed her son's chubby cheek and buckled him into his swing just before two fuzzy pajama-clad arms encircled her legs.

Natalie bent to hug her daughter. "Mommy and Daddy are going out for a while. You be a good girl for Julie and help her with your baby brother."

Sophia nodded as she bounced on her toes. "Julie make popcorn. Then, we watch movie. Then, we have cake."

"Only if you're a good girl," Julie said from the kitchen.

Adrian placed his hand on Natalie's waist as they joined their oldest. "Don't wait up for us, Julie. Your mom and I will probably take a walk after dinner."

Julie turned to them, the air popper in her hands. "A walk? To where?"

Natalie smiled up at Adrian. "A walk on the waterfront—to our bench."

"Your bench?" Julie asked, setting the popper on the counter. "You own a bench?"

Natalie wrapped her arm around her husband. "That's what we call it. It's where Adrian first told me he loved me and where we first kissed."

Julie rolled her eyes as she measured the corn kernels. "Okay, well get out of here before you make me nauseous."

Natalie laughed. "You'll understand when you find Mr. Right."

"If I find Mr. Right," she said with a sigh.

As soon as the couple buckled themselves into Adrian's car, Natalie gasped. "Look at the sun reflecting off those clouds. The sunset is going to be beautiful tonight." She turned, but her husband wasn't looking out the window. His gaze was fixed on her.

"Not as beautiful as you." He leaned across the center console and his lips brushed against her cheek. "Are you sure you want to go eat?" he whispered, inhaling her sweet perfume.

She pushed him away with feigned irritation. "Adrian Monk! I've been looking forward to this all week, and this is our first real date since Timothy was born." She smiled at his playful pout. "Don't worry. There will be more of this later." She sealed her promise with a kiss that made him hope dinner wouldn't take too long.

While driving the short distance to Antonio's, their favorite restaurant on the San Francisco waterfront, Natalie couldn't stop talking about the mouthwatering meal she knew awaited them, but Adrian's thoughts remained on the moonlit walk planned for after the meal. The weatherman promised clear skies, and the light summer breeze coming off the bay should be just right. The crowded marina district wouldn't normally be his thing, but Natalie loved it. As he had come to do with many of his fears, he wouldn't let it control him, if only temporarily, for her sake. On this particular evening, he found himself nearly giddy with the exhilaration of being on a date again. Knowing he could feel still feel that way after nearly two years of marriage made him smile. Arriving at their destination with time to spare, they pulled into an empty parking space. Adrian took Natalie's hand as she stepped out of the car, but before closing the door, her cell phone rang.

"Don't answer that," Adrian said as Natalie pulled the phone out of her purse.

"I have to. What if it's Julie?"

Adrian threw his hands in the air and turned away from the car only to pace beside it.

"Hi Randy," Natalie said just before the call went to voicemail.

At the sound of his friend's name, Adrian caught Natalie's eyes and shook his head, forming a silent "no" with his mouth.

She frowned at him. "Um yeah, he's here, but could he call you back? We are …"

Natalie placed her hand on her hip. "Randy, Adrian doesn't work on your cases." She looked at Adrian who was now gesturing for her to hand him the phone. She held up her finger. "You did? Okay, but …"

Adrian stepped back beside her and reached for the phone. "Let me talk to him, Natalie."

Natalie grabbed his hand and held it away from the phone. "Oh, I see. Well, okay. We'll be there as soon as we can." She closed the phone and blew out a breath.

"Natalie, why didn't you let me talk to him? And, why did you tell him we'll be there? I don't want to be there. I want to be here—with you."

"I know. I know. He's got a murder case he wants you to look at. His detectives think it was a home invasion, but he's not so sure."

"But, what does it have to do with me? I'm not even contracted with the city of San Mateo."

"You are now. His police chief gave the okay."

Adrian's shoulders slumped. "Natalie, this was our night."

Natalie sighed. "I'm just as disappointed as you, but there's more."

He stood straighter. "More?"

"Luke is there."

"Molly's Luke?"

"Yeah," said Natalie, sliding back into the car. "He knows the victim. He's the one who found him."

Arriving at the San Mateo address as dusk settled on the town, Adrian wove his car through the tangle of police cruisers, emergency vehicles, and a CSI van, all vying for space on the narrow, tree-lined street. After maneuvering into an empty space along the street, he took Natalie's hand and navigated the sea of emergency personnel and curious neighbors. Approaching the victim's mid-century home, they found the San Mateo police captain on the driveway with a couple of plainclothes detectives.

When Captain Randy Disher spotted them, he lifted the yellow barrier tape indicating the nature of the scene. "Looking sharp," he said with a smile. "Did you get all dressed up for me?"

"No, Randy," Natalie said. "We were on a date."

Randy rubbed his cheek. "Oh my gosh. Yesterday was your birthday."

"Yeah."

"Well, I guess this is my birthday present," he said with outstretched hands. "You get to work with me."

Natalie glared at him. "Where's Luke?"

"He's in my car." Randy thumbed to the street behind him. "He was getting a little woozy, so I put him in there before he passed out."

"So, what's going on?" Monk asked as Natalie left to see Luke.

Randy nodded to the departing detectives and put his hands on his hips. "Luke found the vic at 5:30 p.m. and called 911."

Monk looked around as uniformed officers brushed past him. "Who's the victim?"

"He's a forty-six-year-old male named Eduardo—A.K.A. Eddie—Gomez. Ex-con. Now has a photography business.

Monk raised his eyebrows. "Ex-con?"

"Yeah, drug possession and dealing."

"Did Luke say how he knows this guy?" Monk followed Randy up the driveway.

Randy looked back. "I thought maybe he took pictures for the paper Molly works for before he started his own business."

Approaching the door, Monk bent to look at the knob and the wooden frame beside it. He took a step back and visually examined the windows on either side of the porch. There were no signs of forced entry. "How did the perp get in?"

"This door was unlocked and the one in the back was left open, which Luke said isn't typical. He said this guy was pretty security conscious, so all the entryways were usually secured.

"Time of death?" Monk asked.

"Approximately 10:00 p.m. yesterday." Randy stepped through the doorway.

Monk set one foot inside the house to follow but stopped before both feet crossed the threshold. The small home looked as if a tornado had ripped through it. Every drawer, cabinet, and closet must have been emptied. The home had probably once been clean and tidy, but now, the victim's possessions littered every available surface. Peering into the galley-style kitchen revealed more of the same including broken shards of dishes, effectively creating a gauntlet from one end to the other. On top of the visual chaos, death permeated the air, invading the nostrils and lungs with each breath.

Monk rolled his shoulder as he turned to the captain. "Other than the obvious, why do your detectives think this was a home invasion?"

"San Mateo has had a rash of them over the last few months. The M.O. here is similar. The home was broken into while the victim was home, and the place was trashed."

"And you don't agree with their findings?" Monk watched a couple of CSI techs dust for prints.

Randy stepped over the evidence markers, toward the sheet-covered victim. "No. Something isn't right. First of all, this is the wrong neighborhood. All the other invasions have taken place in high-end neighborhoods—waterfront homes, golf course communities. This isn't what they were targeting. We actually think we've got the guys. They're a couple of FedEx drivers, casing the homes while making deliveries, then coming back at night. Robbing the places with the homeowners present was a statement, a way to get back at the rich—so to speak."

Monk shook his head. "Sounds like a couple of hippies."

"This guy was obviously not wealthy. He was just trying to rebuild his life after a prison sentence. There's something else here that doesn't seem right. Take a look." He lifted the sheet off the victim as Monk stepped forward.

Eddie Gomez was a man in his mid-forties with shortly-cropped, black hair. A number of prison tattoos were etched across his tan skin. He was dressed in workout clothes, and his six-foot frame proved they weren't just a fashion statement. A trail of now-stagnant blood flowed from a single bullet hole in his chest, saturating the faded blue couch he was still seated on. He was slumped over the throw pillows, and on the end table beside him, lay an empty can of Coke and the remains of a stale, take-out pizza.

Monk gingerly stepped closer, avoiding the blood splatter on the floor, and bent for a better look at the wound. "I think he was shot with a 9mm."

"Good guess. We found the bullet inside the couch."

"Just a single shot?"

"Yep. Perp knew what he was doing."

Monk straightened and tilted his head back and forth. Lifting his hand, he traced an imaginary line from where he stood to the entry wound. "The shooter couldn't have been standing much farther away than I am right now." He looked at Randy. "He must have caught some of the blood splatter."

"We found an open bottle of bleach in the bathroom where he cleaned up. Probably changed clothes and took the soiled ones to dispose of later."

Monk rubbed his eyebrow. "He was prepared … no one saw him leave?"

"No one that we've talked to yet, but my detectives are still out canvassing the neighborhood."

Monk glanced back at the victim. "Shootings this close are usually personal. Does this follow the pattern of your other home invasions?"

Randy shook his head. "Most of our affluent victims were found alive with their hands bound. They were only killed when they fought back, and there was always a spray of multiple shots. Nothing like this."

"Are his hands tied?"

"See for yourself." Randy pushed the victim's torso forward, giving Monk access to his hands.

With his pen, Monk lifted the rope-bound hands. He squinted, pushing the rope back and forth. "No defensive wounds. He didn't fight back, and he looks like he had the ability to do so. That knocked-over soda can is the only indication he reacted at all."

"Maybe there was more than one guy. He could have been overpowered."

"He also didn't struggle once he was restrained. There are no abrasions on his wrists from the rope." Monk stood and returned his pen to his pocket. "I think his hands were tied after he was shot."

Randy stepped aside as Monk lifted his hands. " After? Why bother?"

"To create an illusion." Monk turned his attention to the remainder of the room, focusing through his spread fingers. His sharp eyes searched every square inch of the room, including the sparsely decorated walls and the decades-old, orange carpet. "The TV is still here. It's an older model, but electronics are usually a priority in stolen goods." He turned to Randy. "You said our victim was a photographer. Do you know where he kept his camera and photography equipment?"

"There's an office back here."

Monk followed Randy down a short hallway and into a cramped room which was also a wreck. He approached the desk and with his pen, sifted through the layers of papers and printed photographs. After a few minutes, he exhumed a power cord buried under the heap. "I think a laptop was plugged in here, and look at this." He pulled an empty camera bag from under the desk. "No camera but there's other valuable equipment still here." He gestured to the items strewn across the floor. "This lighting equipment, those lenses, and filters—I'm sure they could fetch a nice price. If this was only a robbery, why weren't they taken?"

Randy squatted on his heels and picked up one of the detachable camera lenses. "Nikon. Good brand. Do you think they were looking for a specific picture? Maybe he took the laptop for the same reason."

"I think that's possible. Was anything else taken?"

Randy stood and stepped toward the door. "We haven't been able to find a wallet or the expensive watch Luke said was a gift from his uncle."

Leaving the office, Monk followed Randy to the back bedroom, expecting it to be in the same condition as the rest of the house, but to his surprise, the bedroom appeared untouched. The sparsely furnished room held a dresser with the drawers remaining in place. A small coin bank, a pair of sunglasses, and a set of keys were the only things on top. The single nightstand also looked intact with only a lamp and clock residing on it. Clothes still hung in the open closet, and even the bed was neatly made.

Monk stepped into the room and held up his hands. "What happened here?"

Randy quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "What do you mean? I don't think anything happened here."

"Exactly, it's as if the perp ran out of time and had to leave in a hurry. It's like he was interrupted." He moved to the sliding glass door and investigated both the inside and outside of it. "Did your CSI techs find any prints?"

"Just glove prints on the inside. Same ones we found throughout the house.

Monk interlaced his fingers and tilted his head. "So, the perpetrator entered through the unlocked front door, killed our victim, trashed the front of the house and the office, possibly stole a camera and laptop, then exited through this door, probably in a hurry … You're right. This doesn't feel like a home invasion. I think the victim knew the killer. I think he let him in. He was probably shot before he knew what was happening. It was premeditated, and if he was looking for anything, it was something specific."

"Okay, I see that," Randy said, "but why are the vic's wallet and watch also missing? Those must have been taken for their monetary value."

"It was part of the illusion. Take something of value in the same manner in which other robberies in the same town have played out, and the cops will think it's the same type of crime."

"Well, it worked. Had my guys fooled."

Monk stepped to the edge of the patio and surveyed the small backyard. It was past sunset, but a bright, full moon provided enough light for him to distinguish shadowy forms. Now, where did he go from here? His gaze fell on the property line at the back of the yard. He signaled for Randy to follow but stopped when a fierce barking pierced the quiet of the night. A large dog from the neighbor's yard strained against the chain keeping him there.

"Don't worry," said Randy. "He's not coming over here."

Monk swallowed and adjusted his neck before continuing his trek. "You should ask those neighbors if they heard their dog going off around the time of the murder. If he's barking at us now, he may have also barked at our perpetrator. Maybe that's what made him leave in such a hurry."

Randy took out his notepad and pencil. "Good idea."

Reaching his destination, Monk squinted against the darkness created by the cover of overhanging tree limbs. Randy handed him a flashlight, and with it, he traced the line of chain link fence until he found what he was looking for. He squatted down, then pulled a section of the metal barrier upward, revealing an opening large enough for a man to crawl through. He focused the light for a better view. "There are markings here consistent with a bolt cutter. I think he cut this ahead of time, providing a quick way out." He shined the light upward. "There's another street beyond these trees. I bet he had a car waiting." He started to stand, but then looked back down. With his tweezers, he plucked something from the sharp edge of the cut metal.

Randy looked over Monk's shoulder. "What have you got?"

Monk stood and smiled. "He left us something." He held up a minuscule piece of black cloth, most likely torn from the perpetrator's clothing.

"Good eyes," said Randy, opening a bag to collect the evidence.

Monk pulled out a disinfectant wipe and cleaned his hands as they walked to the front of the house. "Whoever did this knew what he was doing and planned it well. How much was Luke able to tell you before you had to take him out to the car?"

"He gave us a brief statement, but I've got my guys talking to the neighbors now."

"Let me talk to him."

Reaching the driveway, Randy turned to his friend. "That would be great … Hey, man, thanks again for coming down here. Tell Natalie I'm sorry I ruined your date."

Monk shrugged. "We'll try again another day."

"Well, I owe you." Randy stopped and smiled. "I'll tell you what. Sharona and I will babysit for you some time to make up for this. You pick the day and let us know."

Monk narrowed his eyes at him. "Babysit my kids? You and Sharona?"

"Yeah, come on. You watched Lilly for us. We can do it."

He cleared his throat. "I'll talk to Natalie."

Randy continued to the end of the driveway. "Just let me know. How are the kids anyway?"

Monk's face lit up as he followed. "They're great, just great. How's Lilly?"

"Walking and turning a year in a couple of weeks. Can you believe it?"

Monk shook his head. "Goes by too fast."

They stopped in front of Randy's police cruiser where Natalie and Luke waited inside. "I'm going to find my detectives," Randy said. "I'll be in touch, Monk."

"How is he?" Adrian asked his wife, who joined him outside the car.

"Shaken. Understandably so, but I think he's going to be okay."

Adrian took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but our date is going to have to be rescheduled. I need to talk to Luke."

"I knew you would."

It's not Antonio's, but I think I saw an Italian deli a few blocks north of here. What do you say we go there and get some sandwiches?"

Natalie smiled. "As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

Adrian pulled her against his side and kissed her temple. "Thank you, partner."

Just as Luke joined them, Molly ran up the street, her blond hair blowing behind her. She embraced her husband as soon as she reached him. "Are you okay? I was so worried."

He nodded as she wiped a tear from his cheek. She then embraced Adrian and Natalie, and they told her of their late dinner plans, inviting her and Luke to join them.