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

“Then you’re cheating yourself out of the subtle thematic arcs and little touches of character,” Disher said, “not to mention the raw, emotional resonance.”

“Is that what it was?” Stottlemeyer said. “I thought it was my acid reflux.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t call me on this,” Ludlow said to Monk.

“Why would I?” Monk said.

“Because of the startling similarities between this murder and an incident in my latest book,” Ludlow said, shifting his gaze to me. “I signed a copy of Death Is the Last Word for you when we met in Los Angeles.”

“I haven’t had a chance to read it,” I said.

“I didn’t get past the first two pages,” Monk said, “since it was blatantly obvious at that point who the killer was.”

“I was totally taken by surprise,” Disher said, almost reverently, to Ludlow. “In fact, I thought it was brilliantly done.”

“The murderer in all his books is always the least-likely suspect who is undone by a personality quirk,” Monk said.

“It is?” Disher said.

“I thought you’d studied his work,” Monk said.

“So you’ve read all my books?” Ludlow asked. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. If you’ve read one,” Monk said, “you’ve read them all.”

“This isn’t a reading group,” Stottlemeyer said impatiently. “We aren’t here to discuss Mr. Ludlow’s books. We’re here to learn about what happened to Ronald Webster. Can we please get to it? What have you got for us, Dr. Hetzer?”

The medical examiner cleared his throat and took out a tiny, telescoping pointer, which he waved over the body like a magic wand. I don’t know if he thought he was making the body appear or disappear.

“It’s not as easy as you might think to determine whether a person has drowned or not,” Dr. Hetzer said. “It’s a best-guess situation. But I believe that is the cause of death. That said, did he drown in the ocean or somewhere else?”

As Dr. Hetzer spoke, he kept waving that pointer over Webster’s naked body, drawing our attention to it. The corpse wasn’t any nicer to look at than it had been before. In fact, it was worse, since in addition to the alligator bite, he’d also been vivisected and sewn back together.

And yet somehow I didn’t find it so hard to look at him this time. Perhaps it was the clinical nature of the surroundings and the proceedings. Or perhaps I was just getting used to it.

“The salinity of ocean water is usually about thirty-three to thirty-seven parts per thousand,” Dr. Hetzer said. “However, the salinity of the water found in the lungs may not reflect the actual salinity of the water in which the victim drowned. It has to do with the physics of osmosis, which you probably don’t want me to get into.”

“You’re right,” Stottlemeyer said. “In fact, I’d really appreciate it if you just got to the point.”

But Dr. Hetzer wasn’t going to do that any more than Monk would during one of his summations. This was Dr. Hetzer’s chance to show off his smarts and he wasn’t going to rob himself of that pleasure.

“There are microorganisms that live in freshwater and salt water, but you find very few of them in tap water,” Dr. Hetzer said. “You certainly don’t find measurable traces of bath oil in an ocean tide pool.”

“You’re saying that Ronald Webster drowned in a bathtub and was dumped at the beach,” Stottlemeyer said.

“It would appear so,” Dr. Hetzer said.

“You could have saved us a lot of time by saying that to start with,” Stottlemeyer groused.

“What were his stomach contents?” Ludlow asked.

“Who cares?” Monk said.

“Every fact is significant,” Ludlow said.

“Two or three slices of pepperoni pizza,” Dr. Hetzer said.

“See?” Monk asked. “Pointless.”

“The details of what Webster ate can help us determine where he was before he died, who he might have been with and when they were together. The rate of digestion can also help us pinpoint the time of death,” Ludlow said, turning to Dr. Hetzer. “And what do his stomach contents tell you, Doctor?”

“He was killed within a half hour of consuming his last meal,” Dr. Hetzer said.

“Interesting,” Ludlow said.

“Meaningless,” Monk said.

“Were there any drugs in his bloodstream?” Ludlow asked the medical examiner.

“Nope,” Dr. Hetzer said.

“So we know he wasn’t drugged,” Ludlow said.

“Brilliant deduction,” Monk said, theatrically rolling his eyes. “Next you’re going to tell us that he’s dead.”

“What about signs of a struggle?” Stottlemeyer said. “He looks pretty beaten up to me.”

“There are bruises and abrasions on his head, arms and shoulders, but I can’t determine whether he sustained them fighting an assailant before he drowned or while struggling with the alligator.”

“Wait a minute,” Stottlemeyer said. “You’re telling me that you still think he was attacked by an alligator?”

Dr. Hetzer nodded. “I asked a zoologist to examine the wounds and a tooth that I found imbedded in one of his ribs. She concurred with Monk’s observations.”

“She concurred with me,” Monk said, clearly for Ludlow’s benefit, “because I saw it first.”

“My official determination is that an alligator dragged Ronald Webster underwater and held him there until he drowned,” Dr. Hetzer said.

“In his bathtub?” Stottlemeyer asked.

“I’m only telling you what the evidence indicates,” Dr. Hetzer said. “Based on the size of the bite, we’re looking for a big sucker. A ten footer at least.”

Stottlemeyer grimaced and looked at Monk. “I knew this was a case that cried out for you.”

“For me,” Monk said, underscoring a self-serving point once again for Ludlow’s benefit, “because I handle the tough ones.”

“Couldn’t the bite have been faked?” I asked.

"It’s far more difficult to do than you might think,” Ludlow replied.

“How would you know?” Monk asked dismissively.

“One of the characters in Death Is the Last Word tried to make a murder look like an alligator attack,” Disher said. “That’s why I