[The four convene at Amanda Babbage's house]
Adrian Monk, old buddy, old pal, old chum.
“Old buddy”? What have you done with the real Captain Stottlemeyer?
What do we have?
Mail bomb. An ounce and a half of plastique with a magnesium charge.
There were two triggers: a chemical detonator wired to the wrapping, and a motion detector--so when you opened it and moved it, "boom".
Not hard to make.
Crude and unpredictable, actually.
Who's the victim?
Amanda Babbage, thirty-five years old. She lived here alone.
Nice house.
It was a lot nicer two hours ago.
[notices the ATF agents] The Feds are here?
Yes, up the wazoo -- Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. They're in charge, and they're not shy about saying so. Monk, if you can make me look good here, I would really appreciate it. I'd love to show these bastards up. Wouldn't hurt our careers either.
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