Monk, Season 8

Monk redirects here. For the religious orders, see Monasticism

[Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher are at Winberrie's, questioning a colleague of Callie Esterhaus]

Lt. Disher:
We, uh, found a date book in her apartment. She referred to a man by initial - J. Does that mean anything? [He starts to write something down in his notebook]

Miranda:
Maybe his name began with a J?

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Did you just write that down?

Lt. Disher:
I put a question mark after it.

[A few feet away, Natalie is grousing about Hannigan's review of Julie's play]

Natalie:
"A corny-cliche filled performance"?! How can he say that?! It's just not true! [Monk walks over]

Monk:
I thought you threw that out!

Natalie:
I bought another one!

Monk:
Natalie, stop torturing yourself! You've become obsessed with this review!

Natalie:
Look who's talking!

Monk:
That's true. Okay, I get obsessed too, but I can handle it. I've had years of experience.

Natalie:
How can he call her forgettable?! My daughter is not forgettable! [Monk tries to shush Natalie as Stottlemeyer, exasperated, comes over]

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Excuse me! I'm sorry to interrupt you, but what homicide case are you working on? Because we're working on the Callie Esterhaus case. Maybe you remember that? Natalie, forget the review!

Natalie:
He broke my little girl's heart! [snatches the newspaper from her]

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Julie's a tough kid!

Natalie:
He called her forgettable!

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Well don't just stand here whining about it! Why don't you go yell at what's-his-face, the critic? His office is five blocks up the street! Go on. [Natalie takes off] Sorry about that. She's had a tough day.

Miranda:
Did she know Callie too?

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Uh, yeah. She did. [Monk turns when he hears the newspaper vending machine open]

Monk:
Natalie, what are you- [It's just another man purchasing a newspaper] Where did she go?

[Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher are trying to figure out what really happened to Martha Murphy]

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Whaddaya think, act of God? [Monk nods] So how do you explain the doll?

Monk:
I can't explain it, yet.

Lt. Disher:
What, you want me to start rounding up witch doctors?

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
That'd make a hell of a line up. [Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher chuckle to themselves, but Natalie is not impressed]

Natalie:
You know what? It's not funny! I used to laugh about it, too.

Monk About what?

Natalie:
Voodoo. Black magic.

Monk:
Wait, you don't actually believe in that stuff?

Natalie:
Somebody predicted that that poor woman would get hit by a baseball three days before it happened! How would you explain it?

Monk:
I don't know-

Lt. Disher:
Oh, I've got it. Well she came by here every day. Right? So maybe the killer was waiting, behind that tree with a baseball gun.

Natalie:
A baseball gun? There's no such thing!

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Yeah, but there are pitching machines.

Natalie:
All right, how would your baseball gun killer-

Lt. Disher:
That's a good name for him actually.

Natalie:
...how would he know that a home run would be hit at exactly that moment? And what happened to the other baseball? [no response from Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher] It's voodoo, it's real, and it kills people!

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Okay, how 'bout this? She had an insurance policy with a no-suicide clause. So she had to make it look like an accident. She came here, she waited for a home run to be hit. She grabs the ball... and cracks her own cranium. [mimics hitting his head with a ball]

Natalie:
[incredulous] With a baseball? She fractured her cranium?

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
[matter-of-factly] Yeah.

Natalie:
Was she that strong?

Monk, Stottlemeyer and Disher:
Yeah, she exercised.

Natalie:
I think voodoo's looking better and better.

Monk:
All right, let's be rational! We live in the real world. It is governed by science, physics, laws of nature. There is always, always a non-voodoo explanation for everything!

Natalie:
Except voodoo. [Randy takes a call on his cell phone]

Monk:
I don't understand! Did some gypsy put a curse on you when you were a child?

Natalie:
I don't wanna talk about it!

Lt. Disher:
[on his phone] We'll be right there. [hangs up]

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Randy, what is it?

Lt. Disher:
There's been another doll.

[The police station is swarming with activity. A detective drops a box on Stottlemeyer's desk as Stottlemeyer talks on the phone]

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
No-no-no-no, no toche la muneca ["Do not touch the doll"], you understand me? Do not touch la muneca! Don't touch anything! [he listens] Look, we'll have an officer there in 20 minutes! [He hangs up and turns to Monk] I told the Mayor not to go public; now we've got fifty copycats out there, half the town is getting voodoo dolls in the mail and all of them want a squad car in their driveway!

Monk:
Yeah but these are the four; the only four that count. [He walks over to a bulletin board containing photos (from left to right) of Natalie, Martha Murphy, Robert Boyd, and Ralph Farris, with each person's respective doll being placed underneath their head shot] The same wrapping paper, same handwriting. That's strange: he doesn't write the address on the boxes. He uses these labels. [He scans the address labels]

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
It's the damndest thing, huh?

Monk:
What about the victims? Is there any connection?

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
No. No, the FBI's been running their names all day. There's no connection. Oh, and here's some more bad news: our primary suspect - our only suspect - is not gonna fly. [Takes a surveillance photo of Jorgensen off the board]

Monk:
Hmmm, the guy who was selling all the dolls?

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Reverend Jorgensen. He's got an alibi for all three victims.

Monk:
And now Natalie.

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
And now Natalie. How's she doing?

Monk:
Uh, scared to death. I just talked to Randy; she hasn't gotten off the couch all day. Now he says she's wearing one of those plastic dog funnels around her neck!

Capt. Stottlemeyer:
Well that can't be good.

Trudy Monk:
[on a farewell message] Hello Adrian. If you're watching this, it means I'm dead. I know we said we'd never have any secrets but... there's something I never told you. Something happened, something terrible... years ago, before we met. I know you've always idealized me, you think I'm some sort of saint. But sweetheart I am not perfect. I made a mistake, a big mistake. It was fifteen years ago. Before we met, I had an affair, with my law professor. He was married at the time, I swear I didn't know that. We... well, I was pregnant... I know you're disappointed. I didn't love him, I didn't... even really know him, but I loved being pregnant. It was a girl. She was born January 2nd, 1983... She died the same day. She lived for nine minutes. I never... saw her. I never even saw her. Anyway, the father, the professor, his name is Ethan Rickover and he's a judge now, he's just been nominated to the Court of Appeals which is why I'm making this tape because the woman who's been missing all week, Wendy Stroud, is the midwife who delivered my daughter. And Ethan called me, yesterday. And just, out of the blue, I mean, I haven't talked to him in over ten years and he- he wants to meet me tomorrow. And I don't know, maybe I'm just being paranoid, but... there was just something in his voice, it just... it scared me, you know? And Ethan has a- he has a dark side, I mean, I know it I've seen it. I know what he's capable of and... anyway. That's why I'm making this tape. And if I'm wrong, which I'm sure I am, and... nothing happens, then I'll just switch it out for that digital watch that you've been asking for. But if I'm right, and something happens, I wanted you to know everything. Cause you deserve to know everything. Adrian... you are more than the love of my life. You are my life. You are... my life.


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