Adrian Monk: [surveying a crime scene] The stove.
Lt. Gitomer: Over here. It's in the kitchen.
Adrian Monk: No... I mean my stove. I-I think I left it on.
Sharona Fleming: It's okay. I, uh, checked it as we were leaving.
Adrian Monk: Are you sure? Did you turn the knob?
Sharona Fleming: Yeah.
Adrian Monk: The little knob, though?
Sharona Fleming: I turned all the knobs. The stove is off, Adrian.
Lt. Gitomer: We believe it was a burglary gone sour. She walked in, she surprised him, he panicked, he left there from the kitchen.
Adrian Monk: No. No. No, no. No. No. This-This was no burglary.
Lt. Gitomer: It wasn't?
Adrian Monk: He tried to make it look like one, but this guy was cold as ice. He wore her slippers to avoid leaving shoe prints - not something your neighborhood crackhead is prone to do.
Sharona Fleming: Adrian. Adrian. [she claps her hands to try to get Monk's attention]
Adrian Monk: [looking at the closet] He was in here. He was waiting.
Lt. Gitomer: Waiting for what?
Adrian Monk: You know, for her. He was here at least an hour. He was smoking. You can still smell it on the curtains. [sniffs the curtains] Menthols. Salems. Possibly Newports.
Lt. Gitomer: Maybe she was the smoker.
Adrian Monk: No. No, she was a Dutch Calvinist. They don't smoke. They consider their bodies to be a holy - a holy chalice of - [turns to Sharona] I'm sorry. I'm having trouble concentrating, because I think I smell gas. Did you hear the click? You gotta hear the click, not just feel the click. Hear it. [to the other detectives]

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