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

“The reporter discovered that the doctor isn’t a doctor and that he’s swindling the investors in his resort.”

“Here.” Stoffmacher thrust his finger in the direction of the firefighters. “I want to know what happened here.”

“We found out where Dr. Rahner hid Bruno Leupolz’s body before dumping it on the trail,” Monk said. “It’s that shack over there.”

“It was,” I said. “Now it’s ashes.”

“Dr. Rahner must have seen us park at the Franziskushohe tonight and guessed what we were after,” Monk said. “So he followed us down here with a gasoline can and a match.”

“What evidence do you have to back up your accusations?” Stoffmacher demanded.

Monk looked at me. “Why does everybody keep asking me that question?”

“They’re detectives,” I said.

“That’s no excuse for repetition,” Monk said. “It’s tiresome.”

“So are these encounters with you, Mr. Monk,” Stoffmachersaid. “If you don’t show me some proof right now, I will arrest you for arson.”

“You think that we burned down the shack and did this to ourselves?” I said. “That’s insane.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Stoffmacher said. “Mostly since you both arrived in Lohr.”

“We have this,” Monk said, motioning to the big trash bag. “You’ll notice that it’s tied in a Norwegian Reef Knot, the same knot Dr. Rahner uses to tie his shoes and the shoes of people he kills and dumps on hiking trails.”

“Oh God.” Stoffmacher groaned. “Not the knots again.”

“Knot, not,” Monk said to me with a giggle. “Get it?”

Stoffmacher glared at him. “I don’t see anything funny about this. We’re lucky the entire forest didn’t go up in flames.”

“Oh, relax,” Monk said. “Don’t get yourself all twisted in a tizzy.”

“What’s a tizzy?” Geshir asked.

“If you’ll give us a ride up to the Franziskushohe we can wrap this whole case up tonight,” Monk said.

“Can’t it wait until morning?” I said. All I wanted to do was get in a hot shower for about two hours and check my body for leeches.

“Why wait?” Monk said.

“Because if you could see yourself right now, you’d die,” I said.

“I can see myself,” Monk said.

“Tomorrow you’ll die,” I said.

“All the more reason to do it now.” Monk picked up the bag, rose to his feet, and faced Stoffmacher. “Where’s the car?”

Baffled, Stoffmacher looked at me. “Is he on drugs?”

“Yes,” I said.

The bluntness of my answer seemed to surprise him.

Stoffmacher looked back to Monk. “We’ll go to the hotel and I’ll allow you to confront Dr. Rahner if you will promise me that no matter what happens, you’re done. You won’t pursue your investigation any further or trouble Dr. Rahner ever again.”

“Deal,” Monk said.

“He can’t make a deal,” I said. “He’s on mind-altering drugs.”

“Then maybe we should arrest him,” Stoffmacher said pointedly.

We were screwed no matter what. Monk was going to have a lot to regret in the morning.

“We’ll take the deal,” I said.

“Wise decision,” Stoffmacher said.

“Great,” Monk said. “Who’s driving?”

“I am, but you’re walking,” Stoffmacher said and handed him his flashlight. “You aren’t stinking up my car.”

Stoffmacher and Geshir turned their backs to us and walked away.

“We were almost killed tonight,” I yelled after them. “Is this how you treat victims of violent crime around here?”

They ignored me. I made a very unladylike gesture with my hand in their wake. I’m sure they would have understood its meaning if they’d seen it.

I turned and saw Monk squinting at me.

“What?” I said, daring him to criticize my actions.

“Is that a leech on your neck?” Monk asked.

I grabbed at my neck, but there was nothing there.

“Gotcha.” Monk laughed, turned away from me, and headed jauntily towards the trail with a skip in his step.

I thought that was cruel and unfair. I never made fun of his plethora of phobias, not that what I was experiencing was anything less than sensible, rational, and totally reasonable.

I vowed to myself that I would make him pay for this. Dearly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mr. Monk Has a Brand-new Bag

Mildred, the woman who had taken the picture of Dr. Kroger and Dr. Rahner, was setting up her collage of conference photographs on an easel in the center of the lobby as we came in dripping sludge.

She let out a shocked little squeak when she saw us. I don’t know whether she reacted that way because we looked and smelled like two corpses who’d risen from a bog to eat human flesh or because she was afraid I’d come back to beat up on a few more shrinks. Either way, I didn’t hold her reaction against her.

Stoffmacher and Geshir stood at the front desk, talking to the lady behind the counter. She sucked in her cheeks in disapproval and glowered at us.

“They can’t go any farther than the lobby,” she said to the detectives loudly so that we’d be sure to hear it. “I don’t want them tracking mud and spreading that stench all over the hotel.”

“That’s fine,” Stoffmacher said. “Could you call Dr. Rahner’s room and ask him to join us, please?”

“Could you ask Dr. Kroger to come down, too?” Monk set the garbage bag down on the coffee table and browsed the bowl of apples that was beside it.

“Whom do you think he killed?” Geshir replied.

“He’s Mr. Monk’s shrink,” I said.

“Then he should definitely be here,” Stoffmacher said, and nodded his approval to the counter clerk. “Please call him as well.”

Monk took an apple in his dirty hand and went