Read Online Mr. Monk is Cleaned Out by Lee Goldberg - Free Book Online Page B

do is be there. Everything is changing around him. But he knows you’re the one thing he can always count on.”
    “He said that?”
    “He doesn’t have to,” Dr. Bell said. “And I suspect you feel the same way about him.”
    “Don’t start psychoanalyzing me. I can’t afford it. Let’s concentrate on Mr. Monk.”
    “Fair enough. This crisis could ultimately turn out to be a very positive experience for him. He can learn that change often is another word for opportunity.”
    “That sounds nice on a fortune cookie but I’m not sure it’s true, at least not in my life.”
    Monk emerged from the office, still clutching the bottle of water. “I think it would be a good idea if I spent the night here. Perhaps the entire week.”
    “I have other patients, Adrian.”
    “They won’t mind,” Monk said.
    “Yes, they will,” Dr. Bell said.
    “Then it’s too bad for them,” Monk said. “I’m more important to you than they are.”
    “I care equally about all of my patients.”
    “But me more equally.”
    “I also have a life of my own,” Dr. Bell said.
    “You can go on with it,” Monk said. “You won’t even notice I’m there.”
    “You don’t need me now, Adrian.” Dr. Bell stood up. “I’m confident that you can handle this on your own until our next appointment.”
    “You’re probably right,” Monk said. “I can hold on until five.”
    “Our next appointment is the day after tomorrow.”
    Monk made a little squeaking sound. Dr. Bell walked to the front door and held it open for us.
    “Think of this as an investigation,” Dr. Bell said. “But instead of solving a crime and looking for the perpetrator, you’ll be looking for new opportunities and, ultimately, finding yourself.”
    We walked outside onto the street. We stood side by side for a moment in silence. Then Monk looked at me.
    “Did that make any sense to you?”
    “None at all,” I replied.
    “It’s nice to know I’m not alone on that.”
    “You’re definitely not alone, Mr. Monk.” I slipped my arm around his and we walked to my car.
     
    As soon as we got back to Monk’s house, he immediately started cleaning. He scrubbed the floors and countertops, dusted every shelf, washed every window, disinfected all the doorknobs, shined the lightbulbs, and vacuumed the ceilings. It was how he handled stress. He found all the cleaning very calming.
    While he occupied himself with that, I called anybody I could think of who did any kind of investigating, from insurance companies to home inspection services. I called the city editor at the San Francisco Chronicle and told them that they ought to put Monk on the Sebes case, but they weren’t interested in his services.
    Nobody was.
    So I followed Dr. Bell’s advice and widened my job search outside of detectives. I called the folks at Diaper Genie and urged them to hire Monk, their biggest fan, to market their innovative product. He was, after all, the one who nominated the inventor of the diaper disposal unit for a Nobel Prize.
    As much as the Diaper Genie people appreciated Monk’s enthusiasm, and his fervent belief that their dirty- diaper-bagging gizmo should be used for disposing of all household trash, they just didn’t have a position for him.
    By the time I finished that call, it was already six p.m. and, with no murders to investigate, my workday was over.
    Monk joined me at the dining room table carrying two teaspoons of water and offered me one.
    “No, thanks,” I said.
    He sipped from one spoon and then the other. “Have you found us any work?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “Well, you can stop now. I’ve come up with a plan of action.”
    “What is it?”
    “I’m going to volunteer to consult for the police for free until they can afford me again.”
    “We talked about that the last time they fired you,” I said. “What’s their incentive for paying you if they know you’ll do it for nothing?”
    “I’ll take that chance. I have some money saved