[Monk is searching Danny Bonaduce's car when Dexter Larsen spots him]
Detective, caddie, car thief. You wear many hats, Mr. Monk. You, uh…you looking for something?
Did you drive this car, Mr. Larsen? Maybe Sunday morning?
Why would you think that?
Somebody was smoking a cigar in here.
Well, a lot of people smoke cigars, Mr. Monk.
Right, but the texture and size of this cigar ash are consistent with those from your precious Cubano de Oros.
You mean how did I, uh, rise from humble beginnings to achieve all of this?
No, no. I mean. How did you murder Elliot D'Souza?
What are you talking about? There was no murder. Elliot was alone. The door was locked.
Right. How did you do it?
You've taken a great interest in me, and the truth is I've taken an interest on you too, and your friend Sharona. May I show you something? [produces a photograph from an envelope] My research staff is first rate. She must have been nineteen, maybe twenty. You know what? Th…that's…that's my favorite age. Hungry with no inhibitions. These were taken in Atlantic City. She was using a different name, but my lawyers assure me that the release that she signed is solid. I can publish them anytime I want.
What kind of man are you?
I told you on the golf course, Mr. Monk. I do not lose. Now Sharona, she has a son, how old is he now?
Twelve. That's an impressionable age. I think we understand each other, don't we? Any more questions about what happened to Elliott?
You can let yourself out.
[Monk and Sharona go to Noelle Winters' apartment]
Noelle. Do you remember me?
NWNoelle Winters
Oh, yeah. From the party. Uh, Mr. Monk.
This is my assistant, Sharona.
Do you mind if we come in?
NWNoelle Winters
Uh, sure. Well, you'll have to excuse the mess. I'm still unpacking from my trip.
Noelle, did you know that you were directly below Elliot D'Souza's apartment?
NWNoelle Winters
No. No, I knew he lived in the building.
At the party, you mentioned that Dexter Larsen found this apartment for you.
NWNoelle Winters
Yeah, that's right.
NWNoelle Winters
Uh, about a month ago.
And then he sent you out of town?
NWNoelle Winters
Yeah, that's right. To London and Paris on a promotional tour. So, what's all this about anyway? [Monk spots some indentations in the carpet]
These indentations on the carpet.
NWNoelle Winters
Uh, maybe. I might have or maybe they came from that chair.
No. No, they're not from the chair.
[Dexter finds the police at his house; Stottlemeyer, Monk and Sharona are waiting for him in his dining room]
What the hell is going on? [Stottlemeyer gives him a search warrant]
Dexter Larsen, that's a warrant, duly sworn, authorizing us to search your house.
BBimbo
Dex, I tried to call you. They've been here an hour. They've been looking everywhere!
Looking... for proof that you killed Elliot D'Souza.
Mr. Monk, are you serious? [notices that his Carvasia is lying on the dining room table] My Carvasia. I told you not to touch that!
Sorry, I'll get it. [He starts to grab for it]
No! No! Don't touch it. I'll do it. It's very valuable. [He tries to pick it up off the table, but it doesn't budge; Sharona stares at Dexter oddly]
What's wrong? Pick it up. Can't weigh more than fifteen pounds.
All right. What did you do? Did you glue it down?
Excuse me, if I may. [He picks it up with ease] No, not glued. Your turn. [Dexter tries to pick it up again, but it is stuck to the table] We found it, Dexter.
The magnet that you built. [Stottlemeyer moves aside a dining table chair, revealing that Randy is holding a large magnet to the underside of the table]
Randy, you can come out now, unless you're enjoying yourself down there. [Randy gets up, carrying the large magnet with him]
What's this supposed to be?
What, you don't recognize that? We found it in your workshop. It had fingerprints all over it. [to Monk] Go ahead.
LMrs. Ling
You come back anytime, Mr. Babcock. You good customer, 'cause you don't complain.
Ma'am, he just killed eleven people.
Twelve. Let's not forget about the first Mrs. Babcock, who I'll bet is buried under that new porch.
LMrs. Ling
Yeah, well... he still good customer. Not crazy like that Mr. Monk over there.
[Monk and Sharona talk to handyman Ian Agnew about his lawsuit against the Babcocks]
IAIan Agnew
Oh, I don't mind. I don't get many visitors. So what can I do for you?
Mr. Agnew, we were wondering about your accident.
IAIan Agnew
Please, sit down. [he appears to have a rather sudden pained reaction, possibly from the pipe]
[concerned] Ian, I used to be a nurse. Is there anything I can do?
IAIan Agnew
No, thank you. Comes and goes. It's the pipe. [points to the protruding piece of metal pipe] I have a piece of pipe in my head. [pauses] I don't get many visitors! Please sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit!...
Sir, about your accident.
IAIan Agnew
Ah, the accident. I really don't remember much about it. We were building a cabana near the pool for the Babcocks. And I was working on the roof and there was a tile loose. And the next thing I knew, I woke up and I was a human smokestack. [laughs] I'll get it! [picks up the phone] Hello! Hello! Must be the wrong number. [to Monk and Sharona] HOW'S THAT COFFEE? [turns to an empty spot on the floor] BAD DOG!
[He turns back to Monk and Sharona]
IAIan Agnew
I haven't worked since.
Huh. How did you get the job?
IAIan Agnew
Mrs. Babcock hired me. Although by the time I had started, she wasn't there anymore. They split up, she ran off, I never got the full story. I dealt mostly with her husband, Stew. I'll get it. [He picks up the phone again, about to talk to another imaginary caller] You know, I just changed my phone number, and it doesn't seem to help. I don't get many visitors!
Did you spend any time with the jury?
IAIan Agnew
No, ma'am. I wish I had. I wanted to thank them, they were very generous. I don't get many visitors! [singing] Daisy, Daisy, tell me your answer true! [turns back to the empty spot on the floor] BAD DOG! [then back to Monk and Sharona]
IAIan Agnew
You know what I think I miss the most? [points to the pipe] Not having this pipe in my head. I have to take this. [picks up the phone again]
IAIan Agnew
Hello. Hello.
[to Monk] I believe you're not the craziest man in the world.
IAIan Agnew
[talking to the imaginary caller] How did you get this number?
IAIan Agnew
Tell me who this is right now! [Monk and Sharona walk out] Well I don't believe that for a minute!
[about Kenny Shale] You called him a weasel.
Yeah, you did. Three weeks ago.
I never said "weasel." I said he was a... "woof." Oh, yeah, I said "weasel." I called him a weasel, but you see, that's not a bad thing. I had a weasel. A weasel is a noble animal, all right? It's a term of endearment. [to a passing cop] Jerry, hey, how are you doing, you weasel? Good to see you! [turns back to Sharona] See, I call everybody a weasel.
Captain! [hands a file to Stottlemeyer] Washington just sent this down. It's a prelim psych profile. [Stottlemeyer holds the file to his forehead]
Let me guess: the killer is between 30 and 45 years old, white male, does not work in an office, probably spent time in the military, and definitely hates his mother. [hands the file back to Disher]
'Cause that's what they always say, Lieutenant. That's scrap paper.
[Monk and Sharona have arrived at the toll plaza]
Handcuffed to one wrist and tied to seventy-feet of rope.
And then he was dragged west seven-tenths of a mile. I just saw the body. Or what’s left of it.
The M.E. said he’s never seen anything like it. There’s no end to it.
I mean, this is number nine. Nine bizarre murders in the past two weeks. Every time my beeper goes off, my heart skips a beat.
No. No connection at all. I mean, four have been men, five women, all different ages. Latino, white, black.
' All different. There’s been a couple of shootings, different weapons, a hit-and-run, a drowning, an electrocution. I mean, it’s, it’s like a full moon every night!
And you’re sure that the cases have absolutely nothing in common?
Well, they have one thing in common, Monk. We can’t solve them. I swear, there’s something in the water.
[Noticing that the officers have all gathered around Sharona] Hey! Hey, guys. What is this, a high school dance? Give the girl some room. Let her breathe. [Sharona comes over] Come here. I want to talk to you. I understand that you are seeing Kenny Shale.
Oh, it’s nothing serious.
Yes, it is. I wanna tell you something, Sharona. Your life is about to change. Everybody you know is gonna want a piece of you. You’re not gonna know who to trust. Monk can’t help you with this, all right?
He’s, he’s brilliant, but he’s Monk. He’s lost in Monkland.
Now, I’ve been where you are. I’ve been in the spotlight. And, well here. I want you to take that. [Hands Sharona a card]
That’s my cell phone number, okay? You call me 24/7 if you need anything. Yeah, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.
Oh, thanks a lot. Thanks.
Yeah. Oh, I was thinking, um, maybe we could get together, do a double date kind of thing. Me and Karen, you and Kenny? I’ve always liked Kenny. Kenny, he’s—he’s a good guy. He’s good people.
Yeah, you did. Three weeks ago.
I never said "weasel." I said he was a... "woof." Oh, yeah, I said "weasel." I called him a weasel, but you see, that's not a bad thing. I had a weasel. A weasel is a noble animal, all right? It's a term of endearment. [To a passing cop] Jerry! Hey, how are you doing, you weasel? Good to see you! [Turns back to Sharona] See, I call everybody a weasel.
Captain! [Hands a file to Stottlemeyer] Washington just sent this down. It's a prelim psych profile. [Stottlemeyer puts the file folder to his forehead]
Let me guess: the killer is between 30 and 45 years old, white male, does not work in an office, probably spent time in the military, and definitely hates his mother. [Hands the file back to Randy]
'Cause that's what they always say. That's scrap paper. [Monk is looking at a board of victims' photos] What about the ten dollar bills? Anything on them?
They’re from a bank in San Mateo, Wells Fargo, untraceable.
Of course they are. [Addresses the other detectives] All right, everybody, listen up! Listen up! We’re not gonna find him flailing in the dark. Let’s communicate, keep each other briefed. We’re going dumpster diving. We’re gonna- [stops as he notices Randy putting up a sheet of paper on the crime board]
What are you doing? What is that?
I’m leaving a space for the next victim.
Take that down. Take it down! [Randy does so] There is no "next victim". We’re stopping the son of a bitch at ten.
[Monk refuses to reveal his intimacies with his late wife to his psychiatrist.]
Adrian, we can talk about your sex life with Trudy or we can sing show tunes until this session is over. It's your choice.
[pause]
[singing] If ever would I leave you...
...
[Eventually, Monk stops singing. He looks at his watch and stares at Dr. Kroger for a while, then...]
[singing] If ever would I leave you...
[Monk solves a murder in France, just by reading the newspaper]
Listen to this: this is "News from Around the World," Paris, France. There is an unsolved murder; a woman was found strangled, and both of her hands were cut off.
That happens all the time: no fingerprints. Makes it harder to ID the body.
Now here's the thing: they found the hands. They were a couple of meters away from the body in the grass.
The killer cut off both hands, but then left them near the body?
Yeah. She and her husband both worked as curators at the prison museum in the Bastille.
[cuts to a Paris police prefecture. A police lieutenant comes into his captain's office]
LLLieutenant Lafitte
[in French] Captain Dupres, there is a detective calling from America. He has solved the murder of Madame Beaudreau.
DCaptain Dupres
[in French] He solved it?
LLLieutenant Lafitte
[in French] By reading a newspaper, from 9,000 kilometers away! [Dupres sighs and picks up the phone]
DCaptain Dupres
Captain Dupres, Prefecture de Police. [cuts to Monk's apartment]
Bonjour. Je m'appelle Captain Leland Stottlemeyer. Je travaille avec le department de police de San Francisco. Uhhhh, parlez vous English? ["Hello, my name is Captain Leland Stottlemeyer. I work for the department of police of San Francisco. Do you speak English"]
DCaptain Dupres
I speak enough. What can I do for you?
Uh, hi, I've got a friend. His name is Adrian Monk.
[into the phone] Bonjour.
He has a theory about an unsolved case of yours. Here, I'll put him on. [hands the phone to Monk] He speaks English well enough. [Monk wipes down the phone, pressing several of the other buttons]
Yes, yse, hello. I think I know who killed Madame Beaudreau.
DCaptain Dupres
[skeptically] Oui, Monsieur Monk, what is your theory?
I think her husband did it.
DCaptain Dupres
Well, we suspected him from the beginning. But why did he cut off her hands?
He must have used a pair of handcuffs from the museum to restrain her.
DCaptain Dupres
I do not follow you.
They were antique handcuffs, very distinctive, so they could easily have been traced back to him.
DCaptain Dupres
Mon Dieu...
He must have lost the key. So he was desperate, he had to get them off the body.
DCaptain Dupres
Well, that makes sense! Lafitte, why didn't I think of that? Monsieur Monk, you are a genius! Perhaps someday, you will come to Paris so I can thank you in person.
[Monk, Sharona, Stottlemeyer and Disher arrive at a body shop to arrest a businessman named Malcolm Cowley for a hit-and-run death]
MCMalcolm Cowley
Is there a problem?
I was reading about you in the newspaper. [Shows the copy of the paper to Cowley] That's you, isn't it? "It Just Wasn't His Day." It says here that you had two accidents in the course of ten minutes: first you hit a little tree, and then you drove another half a mile and hit a lamppost.
MCMalcolm Cowley
That's right. Is that a crime?
Uh, yeah, it is if you were intentionally damaging your car so you wouldn't have to explain a smashed-in grille. See, Mr. Monk found this other article. [turns to a front page article] "Hit-and-Run Driver Kills a Grandmother." Same neighborhood. Same approximate time. We thought there might be a connection.
[looking at Cowley's car's headlights] Captain. Blood.
Turn around. Put your hands on the car. [Cowley complies and Stottlemeyer handcuffs him] You sir, are under arrest, for vehicular manslaughter, leaving the scene of a crime, and for the murder of Nestor Alvarez. Come with me. [He starts to lead Cowley away]
What? Monk, we've got him dead to rights.
He is guilty of the hit-and-run, but he didn't kill the paperboy. He didn't know who I was. There is something else in this newspaper, something I'm missing. [He drops the newspaper, disgusted, realizing that he has accidentally wiped his hands with a garage rag, smearing them with oil.] Oh, my God! Oh, the humanity!
[Disher walks into Stottlemeyer's office while Stottlemeyer does work on his laptop]
Captain, I have a thought. [Stottlemeyer doesn't look up, and waves his fingers] About paperboy. [Stottlemeyer continues gesturing with his fingers]
It was a burglary; the paperboy interrupted a B&E in progress. It fits: there were five break-ins on that block last year alone.
[stands up] Nope. I already looked into that. All of those break-ins were hot prowlers - forced entry with a crowbar.
Our guy was empty-handed.
Well, that doesn't explain the taking of the newspapers, doesn't it? [He puts on his overcoat]
Right. So we're back to Monk's theory?
I'm afraid so. [shows Randy the door] And this means "we're leaving".
