[Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher are trying to figure out what really happened to Martha Murphy]
Whaddaya think, act of God? [Monk nods] So how do you explain the doll?
What, you want me to start rounding up witch doctors?
That'd make a hell of a line up. [Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher chuckle to themselves, but Natalie is not impressed]
You know what? It's not funny! I used to laugh about it, too.
Monk About what?
Wait, you don't actually believe in that stuff?
Somebody predicted that that poor woman would get hit by a baseball three days before it happened! How would you explain it?
Oh, I've got it. Well she came by here every day. Right? So maybe the killer was waiting, behind that tree with a baseball gun.
A baseball gun? There's no such thing!
Yeah, but there are pitching machines.
All right, how would your baseball gun killer-
That's a good name for him actually.
...how would he know that a home run would be hit at exactly that moment? And what happened to the other baseball? [No response from Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher] It's voodoo, it's real, and it kills people!
Okay, how 'bout this? She had an insurance policy with a no-suicide clause. So she had to make it look like an accident. She came here, she waited for a home run to be hit. She grabs the ball... and cracks her own cranium. [Mimics hitting his head with a ball]
[Incredulously] With a baseball? She fractured her cranium?
MSMonk, Stottlemeyer and Disher
Yeah, she exercised.
I think voodoo's looking better and better.
All right, let's be rational! We live in the real world. It is governed by science, physics, laws of nature. There is always, always a non-voodoo explanation for everything!
Except voodoo. [Randy takes a call on his cell phone]
I don't understand! Did some gypsy put a curse on you when you were a child?
I don't wanna talk about it!
[On his phone] We'll be right there. [Hangs up]
There's been another doll.
[Jorgenson does a cleansing ritual on Natalie]
RJReverend Jorgensen
Mr. Monk, if you would be so kind as to reattach it's head. Here's some adhesive. [He hands the two materials to Monk as he adds ingredients] Some witchgrass. Some coltsfoot. [He adds Mandrake root] Ah. Mandrake root. Smidgen more. [Adds a little more] All I need now is the doll. [Monk continues trying to get the doll's head centered]
RJReverend Jorgensen
It doesn't have to be perfect.
RJReverend Jorgensen
It's symbolic, really.
RJReverend Jorgensen
The forces of darkness are gathering.
RJReverend Jorgensen
It doesn't have to be perfect!
RJReverend Jorgensen
It doesn't have to be perfect.
RJReverend Jorgensen
Doesn't...
Mr. Monk, please, just let him finish!
RJReverend Jorgensen
She's suffering, Mr. Monk! It doesn't have to be... okay, that's close enough. [Grabs the doll from Monk]
[Natalie accidentally drinks the potion]
RJReverend Jorgensen
What did you do?!?
RJReverend Jorgensen
Did you drink that?
Yeah, you said it was ready.
RJReverend Jorgensen
You're supposed to rub it on your neck. What, are you mental?
RJReverend Jorgensen
What? 911. 911! 911!
RJReverend Jorgensen
No! Call 911!
[Stottlemeyer notices that Monk is less superstitious about voodoo than Natalie is]
Wait, let me get my head around this: you are the level-headed, brave one now?
[Looking out the window] She's shaking her head.
It's this voodoo stuff. She believes it.
Well, I can't really blame her. We've all got the heebie-jeebies. Say hello to Doll #3. [Monk looks at the doll]
Victim #3, Robert Boyd, 64. Guy was a big fish, he owned Boyd Teletronics, you know, the cell phone company? [He points to Angeline a few feet away] According to his niece, Angeline Dilworth - that's her over there - she's been worried about him, especially this past week.
Apparently he was obsessed with the voodoo killings. He was watching the news, following the case...
So this morning, he goes to collect the mail, including this box-
Same as the others - it was postmarked three days ago, no return address. He opens the box, sees the doll, Bob's your uncle, his heart just stopped.
"Bob's your uncle"? That doesn't sound right.
[The police station is swarming with activity. A detective drops a box on Stottlemeyer's desk as Stottlemeyer talks on the phone]
No-no-no-no, no toche la muneca ["Do not touch the doll"], you understand me? Do not touch la muneca! Don't touch anything! [He listens] Look, we'll have an officer there in 20 minutes! [He hangs up and turns to Monk] I told the Mayor not to go public; now we've got fifty copycats out there, half the town is getting voodoo dolls in the mail and all of them want a squad car in their driveway!
Yeah but these are the four; the only four that count. [He walks over to a bulletin board containing photos (from left to right) of Natalie, Martha Murphy, Robert Boyd, and Ralph Farris, with each person's respective doll being placed underneath their head shot] The same wrapping paper, same handwriting. That's strange: he doesn't write the address on the boxes. He uses these labels. [He scans the address labels]
It's the damndest thing, huh?
What about the victims? Is there any connection?
No. No, the FBI's been running their names all day. There's no connection. Oh, and here's some more bad news: our primary suspect - our only suspect - is not gonna fly. [Takes a surveillance photo of Jorgensen off the board]
Hmmm, the guy who was selling all the dolls?
Reverend Jorgensen. He's got an alibi for all three victims.
And now Natalie. How's she doing?
Uh, scared to death. I just talked to Randy; she hasn't gotten off the couch all day. Now he says she's wearing one of those plastic dog funnels around her neck!
