[surveying a crime scene] The stove.
Over here. It's in the kitchen.
No... I mean my stove. I-I think I left it on.
It's okay. I, uh, checked it as we were leaving.
Are you sure? Did you turn the knob?
Yeah.
The little knob, though?
I turned all the knobs. The stove is off, Adrian.
We believe it was a burglary gone sour. She walked in, she surprised him, he panicked, he left there from the kitchen.
No. No. No, no. No. No. This-This was no burglary.
It wasn't?
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.
Adrian. Adrian. [she claps her hands to try to get Monk's attention]
[looking at the closet] He was in here. He was waiting.
Waiting for what?
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.
Maybe she was the smoker.
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]
