Mr. Monk Goes to Germany by Lee Goldberg (general ebook reader .TXT) 📕

He was armed with a fresh prescription from Dr. Kroger for Dioxynl, the mood-altering drug that relieved his phobias and enabled him to fly without fear. I’ve always suspected that Dr. Kroger put Monk up to it to avoid being harassed night and day while I was away.

“Dr. Sorenson is unbalanced,” Monk said. “How can you leave your patients in the care of an unbalanced person? That’s a clear case of malpractice.”

“I’m going to Germany tomorrow, Adrian, and nothing you say or do is going to change that.” Dr. Kroger stepped into his office and closed the door in Monk’s face.

Monk didn’t move. He just stared forlornly at the door.

“We have to go now,” I said.

“I’m staying right here,” Monk said.

“What good will that do?”

“If he thinks about it for a moment, I’m convinced that he’ll come to his senses and cancel his trip.”

“He seemed pretty adamant about it to me.”

“I felt that I got through to him at the end,” Monk said. “As he was closing the door in my face, I could see that he was wrestling with some major doubts.”

“There were no doubts,” I said.

“We’ll see when he comes out,” Monk said.

“He’s not coming out,” I said.

“Great,” Monk said. “I’ll stand here until my next appointment. If you want to see real endurance, and the true strength of the human spirit, just watch me.”

Monk put his hands on his hips and planted his feet in place and stared firmly at the door. I guess that stance was supposed to mean he was in this for the long haul. I’m sure the door was very intimidated.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Monk yelled. “And neither are you.”

There was no response. Monk shifted his weight.

“You’ll thank me later,” Monk yelled.

There was no response.

“Or you could thank me now,” Monk yelled. “Either way is fine with me.”

“Doesn’t the back of his office open onto an atrium?” I asked.

Monk nodded.

“And doesn’t that atrium have a door that leads to the tenant parking garage?”

Monk shifted his gaze to me. “You don’t think he would do that, do you?”

“I think he already has,” I said.

Monk opened the door. The office was empty. Dr. Kroger had fled.

“I’m doomed,” Monk said.

I was, too.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mr. Monk Falls Apart

As soon as we got in the car, Monk wanted me to drive him to Dr. Kroger’s house. I refused.

“That would be invading his privacy,” I said.

“I’m family,” Monk said.

“You’re one of his patients,” I said.

“It’s the same thing,” Monk said.

“No, it’s not, Mr. Monk. It’s crossing a line. He is a doctor and you are his patient. You are not his family. He is paid to listen to you and offer his guidance and advice.”

“We’ve gone past that,” Monk said.

“You have,” I said. “He hasn’t. He’s a professional and I’m not going to help you stalk him.”

Monk sulked for a long moment before speaking up again. “He doesn’t see me three times a week because he’s paid to. He cares about me.”

“I’m sure that he does, Mr. Monk. He wouldn’t be much of a doctor if he didn’t care about his patients.”

“It’s more than that. I share all my fears and anxieties with him.”

“You share them with everybody,” I said. “The ones you don’t exhibit in your behavior you have listed, indexed, and leather-bound for people to reference.”

“But he knows them all by heart. He actually listens. He’s there for me,” Monk said. “Or at least he was.”

“He still is,” I said. “But he has a life. That’s his priority. You are his job.”

“I see,” Monk said. “The only reason he cares about me, listens to my problems, and offers me emotional support is because I pay him. If I didn’t, he’d be gone.”

“I’m afraid so,” I said.

“That’s the way it is,” Monk said.

“Yes, it is,” I said.

I felt like we had made a real breakthrough. Perhaps, I thought, I should consider becoming a shrink. I seemed to have a knack for it.

“Is that how it is with you?” Monk asked.

So much for my knack. I didn’t see that question coming. The car suddenly felt very cramped to me. I broke into a sweat.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

I knew what he meant, of course. I was just trying to buy some time to think of how I was going to talk myself out of this one.

“Would you still care about me if I wasn’t paying you?”

“You hardly pay me as it is, so it’s a moot point,” I said with what I hoped was a lighthearted smile, which is hard to pull off when, in fact, you have a heavy heart. A two-ton heart.

Monk stared at me. I cleared my throat.

“You aren’t just a job to me, Mr. Monk. I honestly care about you. And I would whether I worked for you or not.”

“Then is it so hard to imagine that Dr. Kroger might feel the same way?”

He had a good point. I pulled over and looked at him. I didn’t want what I was going to say to appear tossed off.

“You’re right, Mr. Monk. I’m sorry. I don’t know how Dr. Kroger feels about you and it was wrong of me to assume that I did.”

Monk nodded. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you,” I said, and glanced over my shoulder to check for traffic before moving back into