Manny’s murder.”
“What’s that got to do with the Golden Rail Express and my dad?”
Kelton looked at me. It was a good question and he was as interested in the answer as Crystal DeRosso was.
“Nothing,” I said. “But Mr. Monk can’t let go of a mystery until he solves it. He’s not going to be able to give his full concentration to the investigation of Manny Feikema’s homicide while this is still on his mind.”
“It happened forty-seven years ago,” she said. “I wasn’t even two years old. What can I tell him that’s going to make any difference?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“He’s not going to figure out what happened anyway,” she said.
“Yes, he will,” I said.
“What makes you so sure he’s going to succeed where so many others haven’t?” she asked.
“Because he’s the best,” I said. “He never encountered a mystery he couldn’t solve.”
“I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d indulge his curiosity and answer whatever questions he has,” Kelton said.
“I always liked Manny.” She sighed in assent and took out her pad. “What’ll it be, Chief?”
“The usual.”
She glanced at me. “What would you like?”
“A cheeseburger and fries would be great,” I said. “With a chocolate milk shake.”
“Two usuals, coming up,” she said and walked away.
I shared a smile with Kelton. “You eat that every night?”
“I probably shouldn’t have a milk shake every night,” he said. “But I figure it’s got to be better for me than what I used to drink with dinner. Are you sure Monk won’t be in tonight to talk with her?”
“I doubt he’ll show up,” I said. “He’s busy cleaning his room.”
“The motel didn’t give you clean rooms?”
“Oh, they did, just not up to Mr. Monk’s standards,” I said.
“How clean does it need to be?”
“Totally sterile,” I said. “You should be able to lick the floor, which is a strange metaphor for me to use, since if you did lick the floor, Mr. Monk would have to start cleaning all over again.”
“How did he get this way?”
“I used to think it was his mother’s fault,” I said.
“That’s because you’re a mother, Natalie.”
“How did you know that?”
“It shows in your warmth and infinite patience with Monk,” Kelton said.
“And you checked me out,” I said.
“That, too.”
“So you know I’m single.”
“Why do you think I checked you out?”
“We’re getting off topic,” I said.
“I like this topic,” he said.
“I thought that Monk’s mom was responsible for his eccentricities because she was so unbelievably rigid and overprotective. But after what I’ve learned today, I’m beginning to think that his problems are a genetic predisposition that goes back generations.”
“What did you find out today that changed your mind?”
I took out the book that Doris gave me and set it on the counter.
“I discovered that Mr. Monk had an ancestor who was as smart and unusual as he is and was also a brilliant detective. His name was Artemis Monk and he lived right here in Trouble in 1855.”
“Monk didn’t know anything about him before?”
“He doesn’t want to know anything about him now,” I said. “He refuses to accept that they’re related.”
“What difference does it make whether Monk acknowledges it or not?” Kelton picked up the book and flipped through it. “It is what it is.”
“Because if he does, it might give him a new perspective on his life and a better understanding of himself,” I said. “It might help him overcome his problems.”
“Or not,” he said.
“You can’t run from your past,” I said.
“Now you tell me,” Kelton said.
“Is that why you came to Trouble?”
“Let’s just say that I needed to put some distance between me and the things that I’ve done.”
“Were they that bad?”
“I’m not proud of them. At least here I had a chance at a fresh start.”
“Had?”
The question hung in the air as
“What’s that got to do with the Golden Rail Express and my dad?”
Kelton looked at me. It was a good question and he was as interested in the answer as Crystal DeRosso was.
“Nothing,” I said. “But Mr. Monk can’t let go of a mystery until he solves it. He’s not going to be able to give his full concentration to the investigation of Manny Feikema’s homicide while this is still on his mind.”
“It happened forty-seven years ago,” she said. “I wasn’t even two years old. What can I tell him that’s going to make any difference?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“He’s not going to figure out what happened anyway,” she said.
“Yes, he will,” I said.
“What makes you so sure he’s going to succeed where so many others haven’t?” she asked.
“Because he’s the best,” I said. “He never encountered a mystery he couldn’t solve.”
“I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d indulge his curiosity and answer whatever questions he has,” Kelton said.
“I always liked Manny.” She sighed in assent and took out her pad. “What’ll it be, Chief?”
“The usual.”
She glanced at me. “What would you like?”
“A cheeseburger and fries would be great,” I said. “With a chocolate milk shake.”
“Two usuals, coming up,” she said and walked away.
I shared a smile with Kelton. “You eat that every night?”
“I probably shouldn’t have a milk shake every night,” he said. “But I figure it’s got to be better for me than what I used to drink with dinner. Are you sure Monk won’t be in tonight to talk with her?”
“I doubt he’ll show up,” I said. “He’s busy cleaning his room.”
“The motel didn’t give you clean rooms?”
“Oh, they did, just not up to Mr. Monk’s standards,” I said.
“How clean does it need to be?”
“Totally sterile,” I said. “You should be able to lick the floor, which is a strange metaphor for me to use, since if you did lick the floor, Mr. Monk would have to start cleaning all over again.”
“How did he get this way?”
“I used to think it was his mother’s fault,” I said.
“That’s because you’re a mother, Natalie.”
“How did you know that?”
“It shows in your warmth and infinite patience with Monk,” Kelton said.
“And you checked me out,” I said.
“That, too.”
“So you know I’m single.”
“Why do you think I checked you out?”
“We’re getting off topic,” I said.
“I like this topic,” he said.
“I thought that Monk’s mom was responsible for his eccentricities because she was so unbelievably rigid and overprotective. But after what I’ve learned today, I’m beginning to think that his problems are a genetic predisposition that goes back generations.”
“What did you find out today that changed your mind?”
I took out the book that Doris gave me and set it on the counter.
“I discovered that Mr. Monk had an ancestor who was as smart and unusual as he is and was also a brilliant detective. His name was Artemis Monk and he lived right here in Trouble in 1855.”
“Monk didn’t know anything about him before?”
“He doesn’t want to know anything about him now,” I said. “He refuses to accept that they’re related.”
“What difference does it make whether Monk acknowledges it or not?” Kelton picked up the book and flipped through it. “It is what it is.”
“Because if he does, it might give him a new perspective on his life and a better understanding of himself,” I said. “It might help him overcome his problems.”
“Or not,” he said.
“You can’t run from your past,” I said.
“Now you tell me,” Kelton said.
“Is that why you came to Trouble?”
“Let’s just say that I needed to put some distance between me and the things that I’ve done.”
“Were they that bad?”
“I’m not proud of them. At least here I had a chance at a fresh start.”
“Had?”
The question hung in the air as
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