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[Monk is searching a car when Dexter Larsen spots him]Dexter Larsen: Detective, caddie, car thief. You wear many hats, Mr. Monk. You, uh…you looking for something?Monk: Did you drive this car, Mr. Larsen? Maybe Sunday morning?Dexter Larsen: Why would you think that?Monk: Somebody was smoking a cigar in here.Dexter Larsen: Well, a lot of people smoke cigars, Mr. Monk.Monk: Right, but the texture and size of this cigar ash are consistent with those from your precious Cubano de Oros.Dexter Larsen: Hmmm.Monk: How did you do it?Dexter Larsen: You mean how did I, uh, rise from humble beginnings to achieve all of this?Monk: No, no. I mean. How did you murder Elliot D'Souza?Dexter Larsen: What are you talking about? There was no murder. Elliot was alone. The door was locked.Monk: Right. How did you do it?Dexter Larsen: 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.Monk: What kind of man are you?Dexter Larsen: I told you on the golf course, Mr. Monk. I do not lose. Now Sharona, she has a son, how old is he now?Monk: He is twelve.Dexter Larsen: Twelve. That's an impressionable age. I think we understand each other, don't we? Any more questions about what happened to Elliott?Monk: No.Dexter Larsen: You can let yourself out.

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