Mr. Monk and the Two Assistants by Goldberg, Lee (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗

Julie sat down at the kitchen table. I took out two spoons and a quart of Häagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream. Then I sat down next to my daughter. We caught up on each other’s lives while we ate ice cream out of the carton.

Yeah, I know, health-wise and nutrition-wise I might as well have been feeding Julie rat poison, but somehow you just can’t bond with your daughter over rice cakes.

Julie had some good news for me.

“The cast-vertising is a hit,” she said. “The sales have triggered the escalator clause, so I’m going to get the fifty-dollar rate next week.”

“That is great,” I said. “You may end up being sorry when your arm has healed and that cast has to come off.”

“Not really,” Julie said. “I’ve decided to franchise the cast-vertising concept.”

“Franchise the cast-vertising concept? What does that mean?”

My adorable daughter was beginning to sound like one of those precocious kids on bad TV sitcoms. I didn’t know if I could stand that.

“Kids my age break their bones all the time,” she said. “You ought to see all the kids with casts at my school. So I’ve contacted Sorrento’s and other Noe Valley merchants about advertising on other kids.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“I find the kids with the casts, arrange the cast-vertising and get a twenty-percent commission,” she said. “Plus we get a ten-percent discount on any purchases we make with the advertisers. I’m incentivizing other kids by giving them referral fees for recommending people with casts to me.”

“Who helped you come up with this?”

“No one,” she said.

“You’ve never used words like ‘franchising’ and ‘incentivizing’ before in your life.”

“Did you expect me to speak ga-ga-goo-goo for the rest of my life?” she said. “I’m growing up.”

“You won’t be if you don’t tell me who is coaching you.”

She sighed. “Sharona’s sister is dating an accountant. Larry and I talked a little bit about my venture.”

“Your venture?” I said.

“Why do you keep repeating everything I say?”

“I’m just trying to keep up. The vocabulary is a little over my head,” I said. “So what does he want out of this?”

“Nothing,” she said. “At least not until we incorporate.”

“I’ve been gone almost two days,” I said. “Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet.”

“How did it go in Los Angeles?”

“Mr. Monk solved a murder and caught a shoplifter,” I said. “But he hasn’t figured out who really killed Ellen Cole.”

“So Benji’s dad is still in jail,” she said.

“I’m afraid so,” I said.

“I like Benji,” Julie said. “We have something in common.”

“Mr. Monk,” I said.

She shook her head. “Overbearing mothers with control issues.”

“Is that another phrase you learned from good old Larry?”

“Dr. Phil,” she said.

“You are watching way too much TV,” I said.

“I hope Mr. Monk finds whoever killed that lady,” Julie said. “I don’t want to have something else in common with Benji.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“That we’ve both lost our fathers.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Mr. Monk Takes a Breath

It was Thursday morning, October 20, and my horoscope in the San Francisco Chronicle predicted that my life was about to become unpredictable. That was a big help.

On those rare occasions when I read my horoscope, I’m looking for reassurance, some sense that I’m gaining a little edge over fate. The last thing I want is my uncertainties reinforced.

What I really needed to ease my anxieties was for Monk to solve Ellen Cole’s murder and get Sharona’s husband out of jail. I didn’t see how Monk could do that from San Francisco. Somehow, I had to convince him to go back to Los Angeles.

It wasn’t just about saving my job now. It was about seeing that justice was served and that my daughter didn’t have anything more in common with Sharona’s kid.

I didn’t know how to pull that off except to nag Monk to go back to LA until he finally gave in. But before I could do that, I needed a day to decompress from our last trip and to do some basic household tasks, like laundry and grocery shopping.

So I called Monk and told him I wouldn’t be coming by that day. He was absolutely fine with that. He needed at least a day to either clean, disinfect or burn everything that he’d taken with him to Los Angeles.

I took Julie to school, and when I came back, I saw a familiar fire engine red pickup truck parked in front of my house. It belonged to Joe Cochran, the firefighter I’d dated not so long ago. We’d met when Julie convinced Monk to investigate the killing of Joe’s firehouse dog, who had been murdered while the company was away fighting a fire.

Joe and I went on only a couple dates, and just when I began to feel the chemistry between us, I dumped him.

It wasn’t because I wasn’t attracted to Joe. It was because I was too attracted to him. I couldn’t risk my heart and Julie’s getting involved with another man in a life-and-death profession.

But just seeing his truck made my heartbeat quicken, and I had to consciously force the smile off my face as I steered my car into my driveway.

If I’d known I was going to see him, I would have put on something nicer than sweats, a wrinkled tank top and a hooded fleece jacket.

Joe got out of his truck to greet me, with a big, affable grin on his face. He had round, lovable cheeks that softened his natural brawniness and made him seem strong and cuddly instead of muscular and tough. His big arms looked like they could snap a tree trunk or keep a woman very snug and warm against his chest.

I did such a wonderful job of controlling my emotions that when I