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

I split up again. Benji and I moved back here.”

“Why San Francisco?” I asked. “Why not go back to New Jersey?”

“Because I knew I couldn’t hold down a job and raise Benji alone. I needed help and my sister lives here.”

“I do, too,” Monk said.

“I know that, Adrian,” Sharona said. “But you need more help than you’re capable of giving.”

“You were there for me,” Monk said. “I would have been there for you. I still can be.”

I wanted to grab him and shake him hard.

Why was he mewling like that? Sharona walked out on him. Where was his anger? He sounded like it was all his fault that she left. And then it hit me that he probably thought that it was.

“I was going to call you, Adrian. Honestly I was. But I just wasn’t ready for you in my life again. Things are too complicated as it is.”

I took some comfort in that.

“What drove you and Trevor apart this time?” Monk asked.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He murdered someone,” Sharona said.

Everyone within earshot who wasn’t Sharona gasped at once. That would be me, Monk, Julie, and an orderly who happened to be walking by.

I don’t know what was more astonishing: that Sharona’s husband was involved with a murder or that she didn’t call Monk, the world’s best homicide investigator, about it the day Trevor was arrested.

Sharona gave the orderly a look and he hurried along to spread the gossip to the rest of the hospital staff.

“Your husband is accused of murder,” I said, “and you still didn’t call Mr. Monk?”

Sharona turned to him. “You couldn’t have helped me.”

He nodded.

Why did he nod? He couldn’t possibly have agreed with her. Monk was insecure about everything except his detective skills. On that point, he was in complete agreement with everyone else that he was the best of the best at solving homicides.

She had to know that, too. But I decided to rub it in anyway, if only to get a rise out of Monk.

“Solving murders is what Mr. Monk does,” I said. “It’s like a superpower.”

“He found out who killed the firehouse dog for me,” Julie said. “He’s a great detective.”

“I know he is, honey, but it wouldn’t make any difference this time,” Sharona said to Julie, beginning to apply the wet strips to her left arm, “because my husband is guilty.”

“Did he confess?” I said.

“Of course not,” Sharona said. “Trevor says he’s innocent. He always says that and he never is. That’s why I divorced him before.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth this time and you’ve abandoned him when he needs you the most,” I said. “You seem to be pretty good at that.”

“Maybe,” Sharona said, ignoring my cheap shot. “But I’ve run out of trust where he’s concerned. I won’t put myself or Benji through the ordeal of a trial. I’m done. I never should have remarried him.”

“So now you’re living in San Francisco again and working in a hospital,” Monk said, finally speaking up to state the obvious. “How can you stand it?”

“It’s a job,” Sharona said.

“Is it better than the one you had?” he said.

“You mean with you?”

“Don’t you miss it?” he asked.

“My life has changed, Adrian.” Sharona glanced at me, and then back at him. “And so has yours.”

That was the end of the conversation, at least between us adults.

Sharona made some small talk with Julie about school as she completed the casts and let them dry. Then Sharona cut the left cast off with a plaster saw and fitted it on her arm again with Velcro tabs. She put Julie’s arms into slings, adjusted the straps and then admired her handiwork.

“How’s that look to you, Adrian?” Sharona asked.

“Balanced,” Monk said.

“Wow, there’s no higher praise than that in your book,” Sharona said. “That may just be the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

I resented Monk for making my daughter even more uncomfortable than she had to be and I resented Sharona for just being there.

“Can I play soccer next weekend?” Julie asked.

“With your arm in the cast?” Sharona said.

“Arms,” Monk corrected.

“Why not?” Julie said. “You’re only supposed to use your feet, not your hands.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Sharona said. “But I like your attitude. You’re tough.”

“I’m a Teeger,” Julie said. “We don’t give up.”

I don’t know whether Julie was sending a message to Sharona on my behalf, but I loved her for it anyway.

“I believe you.” Sharona looked at me. “It was really nice meeting you both. I’m just sorry it was under these circumstances.”

“Me, too,” I said.

Sharona turned to Monk. “It was good to see you, Adrian. You seem to be doing just great.”

“I was,” Monk said forlornly.

I was so angry with Monk that I was tempted to leave him at the hospital. Let Sharona take him home if he missed her so much.

But in the end, I just walked out with Julie and he followed along with us to the car, like nothing had ever happened. Like we hadn’t just run into his former assistant and he hadn’t practically offered her my job in front of my face.

How could he be so insensitive? So selfish?

So Monk?

We rode in silence. Nobody said a word.

I dropped him off at his house and sped off, not even waiting to see if he got to his door. He was a grown man; if he couldn’t handle the journey from the sidewalk to his living room, too bad for him.

“Are you angry?” Julie said.

“What makes you say that?” I snapped.

“You’re grimacing and your face is red,” she said. “Is it because of me? Because of the medical bills?”

“No, dear, of course not,”