Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant by Hy Conrad

Author:Hy Conrad
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-11-25T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mr. Monk Refocuses

The usual suspects, plus a few extra, were crowded into the semiprivate room at SF General. Trudy Stottlemeyer gathered her husband’s bag of dried, bloody clothes, ready to make their exit, while I adjusted the captain’s shoulder sling and tried to get him into a wheelchair. The captain wasn’t cooperating.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting around under my own power.”

“Everyone leaves the hospital in a wheelchair,” said Trudy. “It’s a rule.”

“A dumb rule,” said Stottlemeyer. “If I’m fit enough to go back to work . . .”

“You are not going to work,” Trudy informed him. “Banish that thought.”

“Why not? I dare you to find anyone more capable of tracking down my killer.”

“Leland, that’s not funny.”

“Trudy’s right.” Randy tried to guide his former partner into the wheelchair. “You can’t be part of the investigation. We need you safe at home with a guard at the door.”

The captain found it hard to argue, not after what had happened the previous day in the alley. “Okay. But I need you to keep me constantly updated.”

“Will do,” said Lieutenant A.J. He was lifting himself out of the next bed, with his sister helping him into the other wheelchair. Since he could put only limited weight on his right leg, the process was more difficult. “I’ll keep you in the loop, Captain.”

“Not you,” said the captain. “If I’m getting bed rest, you’re getting bed rest.”

“Sir, that’s not fair. I’m perfectly capable of returning to the field.”

“Not with that leg. Chief Disher is on loan from the Summit PD. Between him and our consultants, they can handle it.”

“You’re trusting your life to them?” A.J. stubbed his foot onto one of the wheels and let out a little scream.

“Sorry, Arny,” said Rebecca, as if she were somehow to blame. “So sorry.”

Her brother brushed her hands aside. “Captain, you can’t be serious. Some doofus with a dinosaur diary? A pair of strip-

mall detectives? Look at Monk. He can’t walk down a street without stepping over every crack. They’re not even with the department.”

“Well, I’m authorizing them. You’re going home and they’re in charge.”

“You can’t do that. I’ll file a complaint.”

“You do that, A.J. Meanwhile, will someone please get me out of this damn place?”

“It is not a dinosaur diary,” muttered Randy as he straightened the captain’s wheelchair and started pushing. “It’s a journal.”

“I wouldn’t trust this bunch of misfits to make me a sandwich,” shouted A.J. into our backs.

By the time the old Subaru made it through the crosstown traffic and was being flawlessly edged into a tight parallel parking spot on Hyde Street, the three of us had all calmed down. Pretty much. “How can you work with him every day?” Randy asked from the backseat.

“That’s my point,” said Adrian. “That’s why we need you to come home.”

“Monk, it’s not going to happen.”

“Then I’ll figure out some other way. Maybe Luther can help.”

“Luther?” said Randy, looking puzzled. “You mean your driver friend?”

Monk grinned. “Luther and I have our own ways of solving problems.”

I heard this and nearly scraped the bumper in front of me.

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