Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant by Hy Conrad Page B

make it work, Natalie.”
    â€œYour life is out there now,” I agreed. “You have a house. And Sharona . . . Oh, how is her cold? I forgot to ask.”
    â€œHer cold is doing great. But my baby girl is cranky times ten. It’s good to be away.”
    â€œWell, at least her family is nearby. And all her friends in Summit.”
    â€œOh, Sharona hates Summit. She’s constantly talking about moving back here. And the house is a rental.”
    â€œThis is only temporary,” I reminded him.
    â€œAbsolutely. As soon as we solve the captain’s case . . . Look at this.” He unzipped his duffel. “I keep a journal, ever since I started on the force. I brought the one from two thousand eight. It’s got both cases fully outlined. I think it’ll be a great help.” He pulled out a thick blankbook with “2008” handwritten on the cover and doodles of what looked like dinosaurs surrounding the numbers.
    â€œGreat,” I said, and handed him the armload of fresh towels I’d been holding. “I’ll let you get settled.”
    Randy and I had an early lunch of PB&J sandwiches in my—make that our—kitchen and we caught each other up on all the gossip. I knew many of the players in Summit politics, having worked there for a short time as a police officer. It was hard to believe they were still giving him such a hard time about arresting the mayor, although if they ever caught a glimpse at his journals, it wouldn’t help his credibility.
    We picked up my partner on Pine Street in front of his building. “Good to see you, Lieutenant,” said Monk as they automatically changed seats. Monk will only ride shotgun, which Randy knew, of course. It was just like old times.
    â€œPolice chief,” Randy corrected him. Okay, not quite like old times.
    I was glad not to see Trudy at the captain’s bedside. Shehad been on duty almost nonstop and was taking the afternoon off to go home, treat herself to a shower, and take the other male in her life on a long walk to the park.
    I was not glad to see A.J. The bulky lieutenant had a folder full of papers strewn over the bed and together, with the captain raised to a sitting position, they were reviewing something or other. I didn’t ask.
    â€œMy God, Randy.” Stottlemeyer nearly jumped to his feet. With everything that had been happening, neither Monk nor I had thought to inform him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    â€œI came to help track down your killer.” Randy stammered, “No, I didn’t mean that. I mean your would-be killer. Not that I wouldn’t come back to track your real killer. I’d do that in a heartbeat. Next time.”
    â€œGood old Randy.” The captain laughed and this time did get out of bed, hugging his old partner to the front of his hospital gown. There were no wires connecting Leland to a heart monitor and he no longer looked like he needed one. “Police Chief Disher, I’d like you to meet my partner, Lieutenant A.J. Thurman.”
    The two men shook hands and I couldn’t help noticing the difference—Randy’s sweet, open expression going face-to-face with the lieutenant’s pinched and suspicious one. “Good to meet you, Chief. I joined the force the year after you left. But I’ve certainly heard enough stories about Randy Disher.” There was a hint of ridicule in his tone that I’m not sure Randy caught.
    â€œYou’re a sight for sore eyes, buddy.” Stottlemeyer easedhimself back down. “But what makes you think you can help?”
    This is where Monk took over, explaining his theory that the killer must have been referring to one of the two cases that happened during our extended European jaunt. “I worked on all the other cases involving the captain and Judge Oberlin. And since no one is sending any death threats my way . . .”
    â€œHey, what