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

“Yes,” Dr. Rahner said, “I do.”

“You do?” Dr. Kroger said, unable to hide his surprise.

“Of course. He underwrote my lecture series in Berkeley and invited me to his home for dinner.”

“Whenever you visit Dale, it’s dinnertime,” Monk said. “The man never stops eating.”

“That’s why I was eager to meet him. I’d heard that he was so obese that he couldn’t leave his bed. His physical condition fascinated me.”

“Most people are disgusted,” I said.

“That’s what made him so compelling. I study people with physical anomalies and how they interact with a society that considers them outsiders and ‘freaks.’ He was a very special case because he was so rich and powerful. I was especially interested in how he treated others.”

“With enormous cruelty,” Monk said. “That’s how.”

“Which, sadly, is also the way most people with physical anomalies are treated by society. But Biederback amassed the wealth, power, and influence to strike back.”

“By ruining lives and killing people,” Monk said.

“He is a horrible person. I am in no way condoning what he did. But as a psychiatrist and researcher, I can understand the psychological and societal forces that made him who he is. He was born abnormally overweight, and as he grew, he got fatter and fatter. You can imagine the cruelty he endured, and I believe that’s what drove him to become so rich.”

“So Dale was just a benefactor and a research subject to you,” Monk said.

“He wasn’t my direct benefactor; his money went to the university that invited me to speak. But otherwise, yes, I’d say that’s a fair assessment.”

“I think you’re lying,” Monk said. “I think Dale had you hire the bomber who killed my wife.”

If Dr. Rahner was offended by Monk’s accusation, he didn’t show it. He just took a sip of his coffee and dabbed his lips with his napkin, using his six-fingered hand to do it, of course.

Monk couldn’t take his eyes off that hand and Dr. Rahner knew it.

“You think that I’m a liar and a murderer just because I was born with an extra finger,” Dr. Rahner said, wiggling the extra finger for emphasis.

“The bomber was hired by a man with six fingers,” Monk said. “How many people could there be who match that description?”

“One hundred and two in the United States that I know of,” Dr. Rahner said. “There are probably many, many more.”

“How many of them knew Dale Biederback?” Monk said.

“Do you know for certain it was Dale Biederback and not someone else who killed your wife?” Dr. Rahner asked. “Aren’t you only making that assumption because you saw Dr. Kroger and me here together?”

“It was Dale who led me to the bomber,” Monk said, “and it was the bomber who told me about the man with the extra finger.”

“And you’ve been looking for this elusive eleven-fingered man ever since,” Dr. Rahner said. “Now you think you’ve found him.”

“Haven’t I?”

“I’m merely the first person you’ve encountered with an extra finger,” Dr. Rahner replied. “But there are many of us out there. Two out of every one thousand children are born with extra fingers or toes.”

“I’ve never seen any of them before,” Monk said.

“That’s because extra appendages are usually surgically removed at birth by overprotective parents acting on the advice of narrow-minded doctors,” Dr. Rahner said. “It’s barbaric and inhuman. I’ve devoted my career to encouraging the acceptance of physical differences. I’ve also spoken out against surgeries that force people to conform to a perfect body image, whether it’s removing webbed toes or adding breast implants. We should embrace diversity.”

“ ‘Diversity’ is just another word for things that don’t match,” Monk said. “It’s unnatural.”

“Not everything has to match, Adrian,” Dr. Kroger said.

“That’s just what Dale the Whale would like me to think,” Monk said.

Dr. Kroger sighed and shook his head.

“In some ancient civilizations, physical anomalies were considered signs of divine power,” Dr. Rahner said. “Lord Chan-Bahlum, ruler of the Mayan city of Palenque in 683 A.D., had six fingers on his right hand and six toes on his right foot.”

“Now you know why the Mayans aren’t around anymore,” Monk said.

“Pope Sixtus II had six fingers on his right hand,” Dr. Rahner said. “And the Catholic Church has endured.”

“Barely,” Monk said.

“I founded Sicherer Hafen, a private resort outside of Lohr where people with physical anomalies can be themselves and experience true freedom without facing scorn, ridicule, or stares,” Dr. Rahner said. “I’m giving some of the attendees of the conference a tour this morning and I’d like you to join us.”

“Why would I want to go with you?” Monk said.

“It will give you some insight into who I am and how I think so you can judge my sincerity,” Dr. Rahner said. “And I have an ulterior motive. I’m hoping that after you meet the people there you’ll be less suspicious of the next man you meet with an extra finger.”

“What have you got to lose, Adrian?” Dr. Kroger asked. “You might even gain some insights into yourself.”

Monk got up and motioned to me to join him. We stepped a few feet away, out of earshot of the others.

“What do you think?” Monk whispered to me.

“You don’t have any evidence against Dr. Rahner now,” I said. “If he did kill Trudy, the more time you spend with him, the more opportunities you will have to catch him in a lie.”

“Good point,” Monk said, and returned to the table. “Okay, let’s go to Freakville.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mr. Monk Visits Freakville

Monk and I followed Dr. Rahner’s van