Mr. Monk and the Two Assistants by Goldberg, Lee (books for students to read .TXT) 📕

“Trevor did this to himself,” Sharona said.

“You can save him,” I said. “You don’t have to lose him.”

“I’ve done it before,” Sharona said. “I’m not doing it again.”

“You have no idea how lucky you are,” I said. “I would have given anything for the chance to save Mitch.”

I burst into tears. And I mean burst, shocking myself and probably Sharona, too.

The next thing I knew, Sharona was holding me, my face was pressed against her shoulder, and I was heaving with sobs. I was overcome with grief as sharp as the day I got the news that Mitch was dead.

I don’t know how long we stood there like that with me crying my guts out, but when I finally stopped, and all the tears were gone, I didn’t give a damn anymore. Let her have Monk. Let her have my job. I didn’t have the strength to fight. I was weak from a sorrow I thought I’d finally managed to bury.

“I’m sorry,” I said and I went to the kitchen to look for some tissues.

I couldn’t even find a napkin. I ended up having to settle for a Brawny paper towel.

Sharona followed me into the kitchen. Oddly enough, the fight seemed to have gone out of her, too.

Without asking, she sat down at the table and I poured us both cups of coffee. I took a seat across from her. There was a long, strangely comfortable silence that lasted for a few minutes.

She asked me how Mitch died. I told her how the navy fighter plane he was flying was shot down over Kosovo and how he’d been killed on the ground afterward.

“Trevor isn’t a hero,” she said.

“Mitch wasn’t either, except to me and Julie. The official story is that he was a coward, that he ran away from the crash scene, leaving his injured crew behind. I don’t believe that. I think his instinct would have been to save his men, and if he ran, it was to draw the Serb patrol away from his men. I’ll never know the truth about my husband. But you can know the truth about yours. Mr. Monk can find it for you.”

Sharona chewed on her lower lip. “You believe Trevor, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Sap,” she said. “I used to be just like you.”

Sharona finished her coffee. I finished mine.

“I guess I still am,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll ask Adrian to look into it as a favor to me. If Adrian thinks something is screwy about the case, then I’ll help him investigate and I won’t ever give up. But if he thinks Trevor is guilty, then I’m dropping it and so are you.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “And I won’t make it difficult for you if Mr. Monk decides he wants you back.”

“I never said I’d take the job if he offered it,” she said.

“He did,” I said. “And you would.”

When Sharona and I showed up together at Monk’s door, he smiled with delight and relief and beckoned us in.

“I knew you two would work it out,” Monk said. “You’re going to be great co-assistants.”

“Co-assistants?” Sharona said.

I’d forgotten to tell her about Monk’s brilliant plan for us to share the bliss of taking care of him.

“You can divide up the responsibilities however you see fit,” Monk said. “For instance, when you work together, you could alternate who carries my water and who carries my wipes. It will be fun for you. Maybe even liberating.”

“How about you liberate my husband from jail instead?” Sharona said.

“You want me to plan a prison break?” he said.

“I want you to prove he’s innocent,” Sharona said.

“But he’s not,” Monk said.

“We don’t know that,” I said.

“She does,” Monk said, gesturing to Sharona. “And I have enormous faith in her instincts.”

“I’m not so sure anymore, Adrian,” she said.

“I am,” Monk said. “He’s guilty as sin. No, he’s even guiltier than that. He’s guilty as dirt.”

“You don’t know anything about the case,” I said.

“I have no doubt the police did a very thorough job. They should lock Trevor up, throw away the key and then forget where they threw it,” he said, “for the sake of humanity.”

“You mean for your sake,” Sharona said, narrowing her eyes at him and putting her hands on her hips. “You want him locked up just so I can work for you again.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” he said.

“What’s another way?” she said.

He rolled his shoulders as if that act would put him and the rest of the world back into proper alignment.

“That it would be really great if he stayed in jail and you worked for me again.”

“That doesn’t sound any better, Adrian.”

“Somehow it does to me,” he said.

“We’re going to Los Angeles today, Mr. Monk. Sharona’s sister has agreed to watch Julie and Benji for us,” I said. “Captain Stottlemeyer talked Lieutenant Sam Dozier, the cop on the case, into meeting with us and going over the evidence.”

“Los Angeles is hundreds of miles away from here,” Monk said.

“Yes, Adrian, it’s going to require some travel,” Sharona said.

“The flight is less than an hour,” I said.

“I’m not getting on an airplane,” Monk said.

“You had no problem getting on a plane and following me to Hawaii,” I said.

“He followed you to Hawaii?” Sharona asked.

“I was under the influence of mind-altering drugs at the time,” Monk said. “I won’t do that again. I don’t want that monkey on my back. I don’t even want to imagine a monkey on my back. Or any monkey anywhere. But it’s too late. There he is. I can see him. Now the filthy animal is in my head, and who knows where he’s been? Look what you’ve done and we haven’t