by Lee Goldberg
“It suggests a conspiracy,” Monk said.
“To you,” Stottlemeyer said.
“And me,” I said.
“But it won’t convince a judge,” Stottlemeyer told us.
“The bomber who killed Trudy said in a deathbed confession that the man who hired him had six fingers on his right hand,” I said. “So does Dr. Rahner.”
“The last time I checked,” Stottlemeyer said, “having an extra finger isn’t a criminal offense.”
“You checked?” Monk said.
“I was being facetious, Monk. I didn’t check.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I didn’t check because I know it’s not a crime and so do you,” Stottlemeyer said. “Maybe it is in Germany. Ask the cops over there.”
“I will,” Monk said.
“Let me know how things go. I’m here if you need any more help,” Stottlemeyer said. “Within reason.”
I spoke up. “Could you find out why those hot dog places in America are called Der Wienerschnitzel when in German the words actually mean ‘fried and breaded veal cutlet’?”
“I believe I said ‘within reason,’ ” Stottlemeyer said.
“That’s what I am looking for,” I said. “The reason. And it better be a good one.”
“I must have a bad connection,” Stottlemeyer said. “Is that Natalie Teeger talking or Adrian Monk?”
“Adrian Monk here,” Monk said.
“I thought so,” Stottlemeyer said.
“No, the ridiculous request was Natalie’s. Here’s mine: I want to talk to Dale Biederback.”
“I liked her request better. It made more sense.”
“He knows the truth,” Monk said.
“You don’t want to do this, Monk. Dale is a monster. He’s just going to toy with you and take pleasure in your pain. He’s got nothing better to do.”
“Can you arrange the call or not?” Monk insisted.
Stottlemeyer sighed wearily. “I’ll talk to the warden and see what I can do. Now get some sleep. You both sound like you need it.”
We said our good-byes and then we sat there in silence. There was a lot for us to think about.
Was this another perfect storm of coincidences? Or were Dale the Whale, Dr. Rahner, and Dr. Kroger involved in Trudy’s death and a plot to keep Monk off the police force?
If so, why?
I looked at Monk. He appeared numb. Neither one of us was going to get any sleep now.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him.
He sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of all that he’d learned.
“I’m glad that I’ve got an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow,” he said. “I really need it.”
“But he could be involved in all this,” I said.
“So it will be a very productive session,” Monk said. “One way or another.”
“I wish I could be there,” I said.
“You will be,” he said.
“Really?” I said. “Why?”
“I need someone there I can trust,” Monk said. “And the way I’m feeling right now, I’m not sure I can even trust myself.”
In a way, it was the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and left his room before he could ruin the moment by asking me for a wipe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mr. Monk and Dr. Kroger
After breakfast, I called the Franziskushohe and asked the receptionist to connect me to Dr. Kroger’s room. I could tell from his sleepy voice when he answered that I’d awakened him. It seemed like I couldn’t call anyone lately without disturbing their rest.
“You have an appointment with Mr. Monk today,” I said.
“I haven’t forgotten. Frankly, I’m relieved that Adrian still wants to see me,” Dr. Kroger said. “It means he’s open to resolving the misunderstandings that came up yesterday through positive interaction.”
Rather than getting punched in the nose by Monk’s lovely assistant, though I wasn’t ruling out that approach again.
“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable by asking him to meet me here,” Dr. Kroger continued, “considering this hotel’s history as a sanitarium for people with lung diseases.”
“And you’d rather not take a chance that we’ll cause another embarrassing scene in front of your colleagues.”
“That too,” Dr. Kroger admitted.
At least he was honest about that, though it could have been a trick. Maybe he thought if he was honest on the small things, we’d be convinced that his candor extended to the big things, too.
I gave him directions to our bed-and-breakfast and told him to be there in an hour. I expected an argument but I didn’t get one.
Monk used the time to rearrange his room into a rough approximation of Dr. Kroger’s office. We moved the bed and angled two chairs in front of the window in the same position as the doctor and patient chairs.
That was the intention anyway. Actually accomplishing it was an exasperating experience. Monk kept sitting down in his chair and getting up again to make subtle adjustments in its position right up until the moment Heiko called to say that Dr. Kroger had arrived.
I went downstairs to find Dr. Kroger standing awkwardly in the entry hall, clearly self-conscious about the way he looked, which was awful. His nose was swollen and the bruising had spread to his eyes. It didn’t help that Heiko was staring at him.
“It looks worse than it is,” Dr. Kroger said.
I don’t know whether he was trying to downplay his injury to appear tougher or if it was a gesture to relieve my guilt, not that I felt any. Either way, the comment was wasted on me.
“I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee,” I said and then glanced at Heiko. He was wearing Monk’s old shoes, cleaned and buffed. “Very stylish.”
Heiko beamed. “Danke.”
I led Dr. Kroger upstairs.
“Those looked like the shoes that Adrian wears,” he said.
“Mr. Monk has always been a trendsetter,” I said.
We’d climbed only a few steps when Dr. Kroger smacked his head against one of the low beams. He cursed and clutched his forehead. That had to hurt.
“Watch your head,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said, glaring at me. “I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
Monk was sitting straight in his seat, his arms on the armrests, when we came in. His eyes widened when he saw Dr. Kroger’s face.
“What happened to your face?” Monk asked.
“Natalie hit me,” Dr. Kroger said like a child ratting out a sibling to a parent.
Monk looked at me. “You did?”
“I did,” I said proudly.
Monk smiled a little. I think he was flattered.
“But I’ve forgiven her,” Dr. Kroger said, taking his customary seat to Monk’s right. “I’m glad you wanted to see me, Adrian.”
“I’ve never missed an appointment,” Monk said.
“That’s true. You haven’t.”
“Though now I’m not so sure I needed them as much as I thought,” Monk said.
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve felt for some time that you could see me just once a week, but you’re the one who has insisted on seeing me more often, daily if possible. You even followed me here for sessions.”
Dr. Kroger glanced at me as I took a seat on the edge of the bed. If he had any questions about me being here, he kept them to himself.
“You must be so pleased,” Monk said.
“Why would that make me happy, Adrian?”
“Hasn’t it always been part of your plan to keep me dependent on you?”
“My goal is to help you control your anxieties so that you can become as self-sufficient as possible and enjoy a normal life.”
“And return to the police force,” Monk said.
“If that’s what you want,” Dr. Kroger said.
“But you don’t,” Monk said.
“And yet you haven’t written a report to the police that declares me fit for duty and recommends my reinstatement.”
“Because I don’t think you’re ready yet,” Dr. Kroger said. “But I am confident that you will be soon.”
“What does Dr. Rahner think?” Monk asked.
“I haven’t discussed your therapy with Dr. Rahner,” he said.
“How about Dale Biederback?” Monk asked.
“I haven’t discussed your therapy with anyone, Adrian. What goes on between us is private and I won’t talk about it without your consent.”
“How long have you known Dr. Rahner?”
“I’ve been aware of his work for over a decade,” Dr. Kroger said, “but I met him for the first time a few years ago at one of his lectures.”
“In Berkeley,” Monk said.
“Captain Stottlemeyer has been working overtime,” Dr. Kroger said, shifting his position in his seat. “Yes, it was in Berkeley.”
“Two weeks before Trudy’s murder,” Monk said.
Dr. Kroger looked at me. I glared right back at him. I think he was checking to see if I was about to hit him again.
“I was not aware of that,” Dr. Kroger said softly.
“I suppose that you also weren’t aware that Dr. Rahner’s visit to the Bay Area was underwritten by Dale Biederback,” Monk said.
“Oh God, this keeps getting worse and worse,” Dr. Kroger said. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he spoke in a calm and measured voice. “Things aren’t what they appear to be.”
“That much I know,” Monk said.
“I didn’t mean it that way, Adrian.”
“Why did you do it?” Monk demanded, leaning forward in his seat. “What leverage could Dale possibly have against you that would make you do this to me?”
“I haven’t betrayed your trust and you aren’t the victim of a conspiracy,” Dr. Kroger said. “Contrary to the way things appear, nothing nefarious has occurred. Everything can be explained.”
“I’m listening,” Monk said.
“I’ve never met Dale Biederback and I had no idea he financed Dr. Rahner’s lecture series,” Dr. Kroger said. “But I’m not surprised that he did.”
“Why not?” Monk asked.
“Biederback was an extraordinarily wealthy and influential man with a tremendous ego and lust for power. Before he went to prison, he underwrote hundreds of social, cultural, and educational programs and construction projects in the Bay Area. You could theoretically connect him to thousands of people just through the events they attended that he supported. Some of them are bound to be people you’ve met, even Natalie.”
I didn’t like him using me as part of his defense, so I spoke up.
“But this wasn’t just any event. This one happened right before Trudy Monk’s murder. And it brought together an eleven-fingered man, who matches the description of the person who arranged the murder, and you, the psychiatrist who would later treat Mr. Monk.”
“It’s a cruel trick of fate,” Dr. Kroger said. “That’s all.”
“I agree that it was a cruel trick,” Monk said. “But I am not ready to blame fate for it just yet.”
“I wouldn’t either if I were you,” Dr. Kroger said. “There’s only one way you will ever accept it. You have to do what you do best.”
“Sit alone in the dark in abject misery?”
“Investigate,” Dr. Kroger said. “You’ll get to the truth, as you always do. You should start by getting Dr. Rahner to answer your questions.”
“What makes you think he’ll talk to me?” Monk asked.
“Because he’s a psychiatrist and he’s devoted his life to helping people,” Dr. Kroger said. “Which is why he’s waiting for you right now at the café across the street.”
Dr. Rahner was sitting at a tiny table in front of the café, sipping an espresso and picking at a piece of streusel. He smiled and gestured to us to sit with a sweep of his six-fingered hand.
“Thank you for coming, Martin,” Dr. Kroger said as we took our seats.
“It’s the least I can do,” Dr. Rahner said, and turned to Monk, who sat directly across from him. “Charles has filled me in on the unfortunate series of coincidences and what they mean to you. I’d like to help ease your pain in any way I can. Feel free to ask me anything.”
“Do you know Dale Biederback?” Monk asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Rahner said, “I do.”
“You do?” Dr. Kroger said, unable to hide his surprise.
“Of course. He underwrote my lecture series in Berkeley and invited me to his home for dinner.”
“Whenever you visit Dale, it’s dinnertime,” Monk said. “The man never stops eating.”
“That’s why I was eager to meet him. I’d heard that he was so obese that he couldn’t leave his bed. His physical condition fascinated me.”
“Most people are disgusted,” I said.
“That’s what made him so compelling. I study people with physical anomalies and how they interact with a society that considers them outsiders and ‘freaks.’ He was a very special case because he was so rich and powerful. I was especially interested in how he treated others.”
“With enormous cruelty,” Monk said. “That’s how.”
“Which, sadly, is also the way most people with physical anomalies are treated by society. But Biederback amassed the wealth, power, and influence to strike back.”
“By ruining lives and killing people,” Monk said.
“He is a horrible person. I am in no way condoning what he did. But as a psychiatrist and researcher, I can understand the psychological and societal forces that made him who he is. He was born abnormally overweight, and as he grew, he got fatter and fatter. You can imagine the cruelty he endured, and I believe that’s what drove him to become so rich.”
“So Dale was just a benefactor and a research subject to you,” Monk said.
“He wasn’t my direct benefactor; his money went to the university that invited me to speak. But otherwise, yes, I’d say that’s a fair assessment.”
