Mr. Monk Goes to Germany Lee Goldberg (my reading book .txt) 📖

more help,” Stottlemeyer said. “Within reason.”

I spoke up. “Could you find out why those hot dog places in America are called Der Wienerschnitzel when in German the words actually mean ‘fried and breaded veal cutlet’?”

“I believe I said ‘within reason,’ ” Stottlemeyer said.

“That’s what I am looking for,” I said. “The reason. And it better be a good one.”

“I must have a bad connection,” Stottlemeyer said. “Is that Natalie Teeger talking or Adrian Monk?”

“Adrian Monk here,” Monk said.

“I thought so,” Stottlemeyer said.

“No, the ridiculous request was Natalie’s. Here’s mine: I want to talk to Dale Biederback.”

“I liked her request better. It made more sense.”

“He knows the truth,” Monk said.

“You don’t want to do this, Monk. Dale is a monster. He’s just going to toy with you and take pleasure in your pain. He’s got nothing better to do.”

“Can you arrange the call or not?” Monk insisted.

Stottlemeyer sighed wearily. “I’ll talk to the warden and see what I can do. Now get some sleep. You both sound like you need it.”

We said our good-byes and then we sat there in silence. There was a lot for us to think about.

Was this another perfect storm of coincidences? Or were Dale the Whale, Dr. Rahner, and Dr. Kroger involved in Trudy’s death and a plot to keep Monk off the police force?

If so, why?

I looked at Monk. He appeared numb. Neither one of us was going to get any sleep now.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of all that he’d learned.

“I’m glad that I’ve got an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow,” he said. “I really need it.”

“But he could be involved in all this,” I said.

“So it will be a very productive session,” Monk said. “One way or another.”

“I wish I could be there,” I said.

“You will be,” he said.

“Really?” I said. “Why?”

“I need someone there I can trust,” Monk said. “And the way I’m feeling right now, I’m not sure I can even trust myself.”

In a way, it was the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and left his room before he could ruin the moment by asking me for a wipe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Mr. Monk and Dr. Kroger

After breakfast, I called the Franziskushohe and asked the receptionist to connect me to Dr. Kroger’s room. I could tell from his sleepy voice when he answered that I’d awakened him. It seemed like I couldn’t call anyone lately without disturbing their rest.

“You have an appointment with Mr. Monk today,” I said.

“I haven’t forgotten. Frankly, I’m relieved that Adrian still wants to see me,” Dr. Kroger said. “It means he’s open to resolving the misunderstandings that came up yesterday through positive interaction.”

Rather than getting punched in the nose by Monk’s lovely assistant, though I wasn’t ruling out that approach again.

“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable by asking him to meet me here,” Dr. Kroger continued, “considering this hotel’s history as a sanitarium for people with lung diseases.”

“And you’d rather not take a chance that we’ll cause another embarrassing scene in front of your colleagues.”

“That too,” Dr. Kroger admitted.

At least he was honest about that, though it could have been a trick. Maybe he thought if he was honest on the small things, we’d be convinced that his candor extended to the big things, too.

I gave him directions to our bed-and-breakfast and told him to be there in an hour. I expected an argument but I didn’t get one.

Monk used the time to rearrange his room into a rough approximation of Dr. Kroger’s office. We moved the bed and angled two chairs in front of the window in the same position as the doctor and patient chairs.

That was the intention anyway. Actually accomplishing it was an exasperating experience. Monk kept sitting down in his chair and getting up again to make subtle adjustments in its position right up until the moment Heiko called to say that Dr. Kroger had arrived.

I went downstairs to find Dr. Kroger standing awkwardly in the entry hall, clearly self-conscious about the way he looked, which was awful. His nose was swollen and the bruising had spread to his eyes. It didn’t help that Heiko was staring at him.

“It looks worse than it is,” Dr. Kroger said.

I don’t know whether he was trying to downplay his injury to appear tougher or if it was a gesture to relieve my guilt, not that I felt any. Either way, the comment was wasted on me.

“I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee,” I said and then glanced at Heiko. He was wearing Monk’s old shoes, cleaned and buffed. “Very stylish.”

Heiko beamed. “Danke.”

I led Dr. Kroger upstairs.

“Those looked like the shoes that Adrian wears,” he said.

“Mr. Monk has always been a trendsetter,” I said.

We’d climbed only a few steps when Dr. Kroger smacked his head against one of the low beams. He cursed and clutched his forehead. That had to hurt.

“Watch your head,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said, glaring at me. “I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

Monk was sitting straight in his seat, his arms on the armrests, when we came in. His eyes widened when he saw Dr. Kroger’s face.

“What happened to your face?” Monk asked.

“Natalie hit me,” Dr. Kroger said like a child ratting out a sibling to a parent.

Monk