Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

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though.”
    “How does your husband handle it?” I asked, my nose once again in the baby’s surprisingly strong grip.
    “He’s great. Phil sits at the counter and lets Dad make him drinks all night,” she said. “But we know soon he will become too much for us to handle and he’ll need assisted living. Thank God those huge dividends from Dad’s InTouchSpace stocks keep coming in.”
    “How did he ever get InTouchSpace stock?” I said.
    “A tip from one of his customers,” she said. “He got in before it became the biggest social network on the Internet.”
    That was like getting in on Microsoft, Starbucks, and Google before they hit it big. No wonder Peschel and his late wife were able to retire to Florida.
    Monk joined us, a huge smile on his face, and held his arms out to Carol. “Could I give you a hug?”
    I almost dropped the baby in shock. Monk doesn’t hug anybody.
    “Why?” Carol asked.
    “Because you have changed my life,” he said.
    She glanced at me and I gave her a nod, letting her know it was all right.
    “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “I guess so.”
    Monk placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and tipped his upper body ever so slightly towards her. There was a good foot of space between them and no physical contact besides his hands. It was the strangest hug I’d ever seen. Apparently, it was even stranger for Carol, who looked bewildered.
    “I am so glad to have met you,” Monk said. “I will remember this day forever.”
    “Me, too,” she said.
    That was when Stottlemeyer joined us. “I’d better be getting back to the station.”
    “Thanks for coming by,” Carol said. “I know it meant a lot to my father.”
    “I enjoy it as much as he does,” he said. “It’s just like the old days, only in a much more pleasant environment.”
    “I know it costs you more than just your time, gasoline, and patience to visit with him.” She reached into her pocket and held out some wrinkled bills to Stottlemeyer. “This is what you gave him when you were here before.”
    “It was good information,” Stottlemeyer said a bit sheepishly.
    “Fifteen or twenty years ago,” she said, and forced the cash into his hands. “I’ll pay you back whatever cash you slipped him today but I’ll make sure to check his pockets this time before I put his pants through the wash.”
    “Why?” Monk asked.
    “So the captain’s money doesn’t go through the washing machine,” she said.
    “What would be wrong with that?”
    “Because it will get all clumped and mushy.”
    “That’s why you have to iron the bills afterwards,” Monk said. “That’s what I do when I clean my money.”
    “You wash and iron your money?” she asked incredulously.
    “Don’t you?” he said.
    “No,” she said.
    “My God, woman. You have children,” he said. “Cash is filthier than your baby’s diapers. Think of all the hands that have touched it and all the places it might have been.”
    Carol turned to me. “He’s eccentric, all right.”
    I gave the baby a kiss and reluctantly gave her back to her mother.
    “It was nice to meet you,” I said to them both.
    She led us to the door. We said our good-byes and Stottlemeyer walked Monk and me to my car.
    “I know why you brought me here,” I said to the captain.
    “Do you?” he asked innocently.
    “So do I,” Monk said. “Could I give you a hug?”
    “No,” Stottlemeyer said, and abruptly turned and went to his car.
    Monk looked at me. “You knew about the Diaper Genie before?”
    “Yes,” I said. “I raised a daughter, you know. She wasn’t born a teenager.”
    “Why didn’t you ever tell me about them?”
    “Because you aren’t interested in babies or their diapers,” I said. “They scare you.”
    “Didn’t it occur to you that the Diaper Genie is a revolutionary device with many more uses for humanity than only diaper disposal?”
    “Millions of people own Diaper Genies, Mr. Monk. It’s not like I’ve been keeping them a

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