Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant by Hy Conrad

her.”
    â€œWe could do a DNA test, but since there’s nothing to compare it to, it’s pretty useless.” He held up the second baggie with something barely visible in it. “Also the cut end of a fingernail. Even though it has your shade of polish on it, I know it’s not yours, since I strictly forbid anyone in this office from cutting fingernails except over a wastebasket on top of a double-ply tarp.”
    â€œThat’s mine,” I said, and took the baggie.
    â€œI know. I’m just making a point. Speaking of wastebaskets, I found this in yours.” In the third baggie was a slip of paper. “I’m no geologist, but from the layers of trash and the depth, I estimate it’s from that same day, early afternoon. It doesn’t match the notepad on your desk, so she brought it with her.”
    I took the baggie and held it up to the light. There were eighteen rows of numbers or letters. The first row said “0-0,” the second row “1-2,” the third row “A-B,” the fourth “P-W,” the fifth “1-A,” the sixth “A-1.” I forget the others, but they all seemed like gibberish. All were written in pen and all were crossed out in the same kind of ink.
    â€œI have no idea,” I said. “Is it some kind of code or secret writing?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Monk admitted. “But it can’t be too important if she left it in your wastebasket.” Monk took back the baggie and slipped it into his jacket. “At least we have something.”
    â€œAnd that’s it?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “You did your whole Monk thing and came up with one piece of paper?”
    â€œNatalie, it’s been days. If I’d been in the loop from the beginning, this woman wouldn’t have done whatever she did. Probably. I’m not a magician. You can’t hide things from me, then expect me to solve it all instantly.”
    â€œYou’re right.” He was totally right. “I’m sorry, Adrian.”
    He shrugged, accepting my apology. “There are times when you’re right and I’m wrong. There are killers who would still be free if you weren’t part of team Monk. But on the whole, I think we’d be better off if you just read the rule book and obeyed the rules.”
    â€œWhat rule book?”
    â€œThe one I’m going to write this evening. We definitely need a rule book. And the first rule, no divorce cases.”
    â€œGot it,” I said. “Do you need a ride home?”
    â€œI’ll walk. You need to stay for Julie and her friend. Besides, it’s not raining for once and I need the exercise.”
    â€œIf it does rain, be sure to check your umbrella.”
    â€œI always do,” he said, and was out the door.
    Julie and Trevor arrived a short time later. I hadn’t told them the whole embarrassing story, merely that our offices might be electronically compromised. Trevor—a tall boy, impossibly young and thin, with some remnants of acne on his chin—took some mysterious black boxes out of his backpack and began with my desktop computer. He didn’t ask questions, but treated it as he would any school project. Julie, on the other hand . . . “How did your office get compromised?”
    â€œ
Might
be compromised. It’s a long story,” I said, even though it wasn’t.
    â€œI’ll bet if I was your intern, this wouldn’t have happened.”
    Julie has gotten it into her head that after she obtains herdegree from Berkeley this spring, she should throw it all away by becoming an unpaid intern at the flourishing firm of Monk and Teeger. This is instead of going to law school, which used to be my daughter’s dream. So far, I’ve managed to say no and make it stick. “No,” I said again, for good measure.
    â€œDoes this have anything to do with the poison attack on the