OverDrive Inc. - Mr. Monk is open for business a novel

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Monk and the Empty Office

S o, youre not telling me anything about the murder?

I didnt say there was a murder, Monk.

No murder? Adrian Monks hands were poised in front of his face as he moved across the room from left to right, his head tipping slowly from side to side to catch all the angles. He let his hands fall. Okay. What are we doing here?

I was hoping you could tell us. Captain Stottlemeyers upper lip moved and his mustache twitched. That was his tell, an unconscious sign that he was enjoying himself. Monk must have caught it. Monk can catch every detail, dozens of them at onceits uncannyexcept when he chooses not to. Then he can be as thick as a brick.

I want you to have a clear mind, added the captain.

We were in a storefront office in a tiny strip mall, about halfway between Monks Pine Street apartment and my bungalow in a neighborhood called Noe Valley. There were no signs on the front windows and next to nothing inside the building space to indicate its occupant. But that wouldnt be a problem for Monk.

He threw the captain a sideways glance, then continued. Ive seen him do this hundreds of times. He walks into a room full of CSIs and cops and at least one corpse. Five minutes later, he has the whole thing figured out: victim, murderer, and motive. This time he had less to go on. There were no CSIs with little tidbits of information to throw his way, no corpse, and only one cop, his oldest and only male friend this side of New Jersey, Leland Stottlemeyer.

I actually knew more about this case than Monk did, but that wasnt because Im brilliant. Im just Natalie Teeger, a San Francisco single mom who got talked into being Monks assistant, keeping him focused and functioning, and trying to keep half the people he meets from strangling him to death.

Being joined at the hip with one of the worlds top detectives must have rubbed off, because I am now Monks full partner in our own agency. Technically, Im Monks boss, since Im the one who studied and got my California PI license. Im a decent investigator, but I know the business would be nothing without Monk. So does everyone else.

This space has been recently rented. Monks nose was just far enough away from the front window so that no germs could make the death-defying leap onto his skin. Germs are just one of his many phobias. I would say countless, except he actually does count them.

There are traces of tape glue set at diagonals eighteen inches apart, twelve inches high, which is the standard size of a mass-produced For Rent sign. The wood flooring is new. But theres a half inch of standard white tile in the corner, suggesting this was an inexpensive food establishment. He pointed across the room. The row of two-hundred-and-twenty-volt outlets on that wall confirms my theory, as does the tiny shred of lettuce on the welcome mat, which has not been replaced. Or cleaned properly. This used to be a sandwich shop.