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

me if the question I am about to raise is an indelicate one,” I began.

“It can’t be more indelicate than his last comment.” Katie glowered at Monk.

“You said that only people with physical anomalies are allowed to stay here,” I said.

“That’s our one ironclad rule,” she said, “so we can maintain our unique atmosphere.”

“Of horror,” Monk mumbled.

“But you live here full-time,” I said, “and yet you appear to be, for lack of a better term, physically normal.”

“That’s why you should never judge people on appearances, ” she said, “but on their character.”

“You’re the only normal person in this place,” Monk said.

She smiled. “I’m a hermaphrodite.”

Monk squeaked and turned his eyes skyward again. I also looked away, because I was afraid my eyes might inadvertently drift to places they shouldn’t, looking for signs to confirm her declaration.

I didn’t want to imagine what her resident’s interview was like. But I did anyway. I almost squeaked, too.

As Katie started to lead the group away, Dr. Rahner pulled Monk aside. Dr. Kroger and I followed.

“Excuse me, Mr. Monk. Here comes someone I’d like you to meet.” Dr. Rahner gestured to a man who was walking by, carrying a plate of meat from the barbecue. “This is Hubert Bock, a lawyer from Munich. Hubert, this is Adrian Monk, a famous detective from San Francisco.”

“That’s a very lovely city.” Bock reached out for a handshake. He had six fingers on his right hand.

Monk shoved both of his hands into his pockets. “Yes, it is. Everything is so symmetrical.”

“I’ve been there a lot,” Bock said, “but I’ve never noticed that.”

“You’ve been there?” Monk said.

“Probably a dozen times in the last ten years. I’m in-house counsel for a German pharmaceutical company that has offices there,” he said. “I think it may be the most European city in America. What sort of detective work do you do?”

Monk glanced at Dr. Rahner, who bent over to tie his shoe and gave him a smug smile. The doctor had made his point.

“I catch murderers,” Monk said.

“That’s great,” Bock said with a forced smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy your visit to Germany and that you find some symmetry here, too. It was nice meeting you.”

Bock went to a table and sat down.

“You see, Mr. Monk, polydactylism is far more common than you thought,” Dr. Rahner said, straightening up again. “Maybe Hubert is the man you have been looking for.”

“Maybe he is,” Monk said.

I was as surprised by the admission as Dr. Rahner and Dr. Kroger appeared to be.

“I’m proud of you, Adrian,” Dr. Kroger said. “I had my doubts about you being able to see past your own preconceptions, but you proved me wrong. This is a significant step forward.”

“I think it is, too,” Monk said, and turned to Dr. Rahner. “I let myself become blinded by what I saw in my head rather than observing what was right in front of my eyes. But after what I have seen here today, I am certain of one thing.”

Dr. Rahner looked pleased with himself and added, “That not all men with six fingers on their right hand are murderers.”

“They aren’t,” Monk said. “But you are.”

“I’m confused,” Dr. Rahner said. “I thought that I’d just successfully demonstrated that Hubert or any one of hundreds of other men with an extra finger on their right hand could have arranged your wife’s murder.”

“You did,” Monk said.

“Now I’m very confused,” Dr. Rahner said.

“Let me make it clear for you.” Monk took a step forward and looked Dr. Rahner right in the eye.

I’d seen that expression on Monk’s face before and I knew exactly what it meant.

It was the outward reflection of the inner peace that Monk found only when the chaos of facts swirling around in his mind coalesced into perfect order.

He’d solved the mystery. But which one?

When Monk spoke again, it was in a low voice that only Dr. Rahner, Dr. Kroger, and I could hear.

“I don’t know whether you were involved in my wife’s murder or not,” Monk said, “but you killed Bruno Leupolz, and I’ll get you for it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mr. Monk and the Guy

Monk didn’t stick around to explain himself or to hear whatever Dr. Rahner had to say. He simply turned and walked back to the car. I lingered a bit out of curiosity. I wanted to see the effect Monk’s surprising accusation had on Dr. Rahner.

There was a moment, lasting not much longer than the time it takes to blink, when Dr. Rahner looked as if he’d been doused with ice water.

It happened so fast that maybe I didn’t see it at all. Maybe I imagined it.

But I knew I didn’t.

Then Dr. Rahner turned to me, frowning with befuddlement, and asked, “Who is Bruno Leupolz?”

Dr. Rahner knew who Bruno Leupolz was. Because Dr. Rahner killed him. I was sure of it. Dr. Rahner could see that as clearly on my face as I’d seen the truth on his.

What I didn’t know was how Monk had figured it out or why Dr. Rahner had done it.

I shook my head and glanced at Dr. Kroger, who seemed truly baffled.

“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Dr. Kroger said.

“Mr. Monk just solved a murder,” I said. “And Dr. Rahner is going to prison.”

“You’re delusional and so is Monk,” Dr. Rahner said.

“I have treated Adrian for years and he most certainly is not delusional,” Dr. Kroger said.

“He is now,”