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

stupid enough to be seen in public, even half a world away, with the killer?”

I was torn.

When I saw Dr. Kroger and Dr. Rahner together, I made the same connections that Monk did. Monk and I didn’t usually think alike, but this time we reached the same immediate, unavoidable, and visceral conclusion: Trudy’s killer was here and Dr. Kroger was helping him. Everything fit together and made sickening sense.

But Dr. Kroger made a compelling argument. Why would he get involved in such a complex conspiracy? Why would he allow himself to be seen openly and publicly with a man who matched the description of Trudy Monk’s murderer? Could Dr. Kroger be both that coldly manipulative and that unbelievably careless?

If it was, as Dr. Kroger suggested, a perfect storm of coincidences, then it was a cruel cosmic joke on Monk.

But if it wasn’t, then Dr. Kroger was shrewd, evil, and very dangerous.

“I don’t know what to believe right now,” I said. “But I’m not the one who has to be convinced.”

“The truth is not going to be easy for Adrian to accept,” Dr. Kroger said. “I will need your help.”

That put me in a lovely position. Either an innocent man was enlisting my aid or an accomplice to a killer was trying to make me part of his conspiracy to play with Monk’s mind.

I wasn’t going to make that decision on my own.

“I’m going to call Captain Stottlemeyer right now and let him know what’s happened,” I said. “He’ll look into your story and find out the truth.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Dr. Kroger said. “Adrian trusts Captain Stottlemeyer.”

“Mr. Monk trusted you, too.”

“He still can,” Dr. Kroger said.

“We’ll see about that,” I said, turning my back to him and walking away.

As I went down the hill, I took out my cell phone and called Captain Stottlemeyer. I didn’t care what time it was in San Francisco. This was more important than a good night’s sleep.

“Yeah?” Stottlemeyer grumbled groggily.

“It’s me again,” I said.

“You do understand that there is a time difference between San Francisco and Germany, right?”

“We found the man with eleven fingers,” I said. “His name is Dr. Martin Rahner.”

“Is he the guy who killed Trudy?”

“We don’t know,” I said.

“So why are you calling me? I’m sure the police over there can handle it.”

“Because we found him having his picture taken with Dr. Kroger. It turns out they know each other.”

“I still don’t know what you want from me.”

“Don’t you see the significance?”

“I’m not even sure I am having this conversation,” Stottlemeyer said.

“If Dr. Rahner is the one who killed Trudy Monk, then he could have been using Dr. Kroger to keep Mr. Monk too messed up to ever solve the case.”

“That’s pretty far-fetched,” Stottlemeyer said.

“Or if they aren’t in cahoots, it’s the biggest coincidence in the history of coincidences.”

“Did you just say ‘cahoots’?”

“Whether it’s a conspiracy or a coincidence, it’s still hard to believe. That’s why we need you to run a background check on Dr. Rahner to see if he has any connection to Dr. Kroger, Mr. Monk, and Trudy Monk.”

“Would you like me to also stop by your house, maybe water your plants, collect your newspapers, or wash your car?”

“I know that I’m intruding on your sleep—”

“Again,” he interrupted.

“—and that what I’m asking is an imposition—”

“Again,” he interrupted.

“But think of what it means to Mr. Monk.”

“You’ve already used that as leverage with me before tonight, ” Stottlemeyer said.

“Did it work?”

“I’ll call you when I have something,” Stottlemeyer said. “No matter what time it is.”

“You just want to get even by waking me up, too.”

“Brilliant deduction,” he said as he hung up.

I put my phone back in my purse and that was when I spotted Monk, huddled under a tree, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked like a frightened child.

I sat down next to him and put my hand on the back of his head.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I just found out that my psychiatrist has been conspiring with the man who killed my wife to keep me off the police force,” Monk said. “I’m dandy.”

“What if it’s all just a cruel coincidence?”

“And dogs can talk, the earth is flat, and granola won’t kill you.”

“Granola isn’t dangerous,” I said.

“The last few years of my life have been a complete illusion, ” Monk said. “I may not be who I think I am.”

“You are still Adrian Monk,” I said.

“But I might not have any psychological problems at all. I could be the most together person in San Francisco,” Monk said. “We’ve only got Dr. Kroger’s word that I need counseling. Maybe I don’t need any help at all.”

“Maybe you don’t,” I said. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Monk said. “I can’t concentrate.”

“Because you don’t know what to believe anymore or who to trust.”

“Because of that rock wall over there,” he said. “Not a single rock is the same shape. Who can think with all of that going on?”

I followed his gaze. There was a low rock wall along one end of the hotel property made up of hundreds of different stones. They weren’t making any kind of ruckus that I could hear.

“So stop looking at it,” I said.

“I can still feel them,” Monk said.

“Then let’s go somewhere else,” I suggested.

“You can’t run from something