This chapter: Psych/Monk.

Lassiter was not in a good mood. Honestly. The P.I. was bad enough with all his quirks. But having to work under that Lieutenant was equivalent to being paired back up with Goochberg.

It all started when a burglar from San Francisco decided to make himself scarce and came to hide in Santa Barbara. Of course, being your typical stupid criminal, he wasted hardly any time before once again launching full force into his chosen profession. Now, this wasn't the actual problem. The SFPD never would have become involved if the burglar had accidentally killed someone in the course of committing one of his crimes. Now the man was guilty of a felony murder and San Francisco's homicide department was aching to join the hunt. If he had known how much trouble this would cause him, he would have finally made use of those vacation days he'd accumulated.

When the cars carrying San Francisco's finest arrived, he was wary of the second car only. After all, it carried the civilians. There was a teenage girl, whose mother had refused to leave her behind. Then there was the mother, assistant extraordinaire. Finally, there was Adrian Monk, and former cop and current private detective with a number of quirks not mentioned in detail at the briefing. When the man needed to wipe his hands after shaking hands and insisted on changing immediately because he had worn these clothes within one hundred miles of a manure processing plant, Carlton thought the obsessive compulsive detective would be his biggest problem. Little did he know.

They had gone to the murder scene. Monk had to have the toilet seat put down and every cop to have matching socks before he could properly concentrate. However, it was Lieutenant Disher that made his curse his position of Detective.

"Natalie," Mr. Monk complained, "why did you have to drag me here? I'm missing my appointment with Dr. Kroger. And I bet Harold's making a mess of the magazine rack."

The woman rolled her eyes. "They needed you here, Mr. Monk. And I'm sure we can get you in with the department's psychologist."

Somehow, Lassiter wasn't too surprised at this new information.

Captain Stottlemeyer cleared his throat to get everyone's attention before turning to Detective O'Hara. "So, where was the point of entry?"

Carlton, miffed at having been overlooked in favor of Juliet, spoke up instead. "We couldn't determine either that or the point of exit."

Spencer's hands flew to his temples. "I'm sensing that the burglar devised some sort of devious trick."

"Way to state the obvious," Gus muttered under his breath.

"Maybe…" Disher began. Lassiter turned his head to look at his superior. He continued, "Maybe he was an octopus charmer."

There was silence for a moment. Lassiter hoped that the man two ranks above him did not just say what he thought he said.

"An octopus charmer?" the Captain questioned, looking exasperated.

"Yeah. They can fit through openings smaller than half an inch. They can also survive out of water for short periods of time."

"But the victim was stabbed."

Disher shrugged. "The guy trained it to hold a knife. Should I make a list of all the octopus charmers in the area?"

It was at that moment that Lassiter decided to never transfer to San Francisco.

Yep yep. Disher is of a higher rank of than Lassiter. That amuses me to no end.