Second Hand
a/n this is a response to The Great Monk Fanfic Challenge - a twice monthly challenge posted on he USA Networks Monk message board. The challenge is Monk spots an item in the window of a shop. He recognizes it. Here's the thing. I'm several days late on this fic. I'd like to apologize for that. I hope you enjoy it, especially since It was partially written during my brief but intense bout with 'The Yuck" I tried to put together a case, but I'm obviously not good at that. Please be patient while I learn.
by Ann Peek
Adrian Monk and his assistant Natalie Teeger walked past the window of a charity thrift shop, where Captain Stottlemeyer and Lieutenant Disher were already questioning the store employees. Monk paused in front of the window for a moment, as something caught his eye. One of the mannequins in the window was dressed in a light blue slip dress, which was covered with a flowing sheer dress embroidered with pastel flowers. Natalie pulled him toward the entrance, thinking that the pause was one of revulsion at going into a second-hand store.
As they walked through the store, Monk shied away from the second-hand clothes and items. "I can't believe that people would actually buy someone else's things and wear them. Is this what the world is coming to?"
"Hey, Monk" Stottlemeyer greeted his friend and Randy continued writing in his notebook.
Monk, ignoring the Captain, answered back. "I would never buy used clothing. I would die before I'd wear someone else's clothes."
"Well, you don't work for you, Mr. Monk. Sometimes people do what they have to, in order to make ends meet." Natalie shot back. "Mitch and I used to go to thrift shops and garage sales to buy furniture for our house." Natalie informed him, brightly. "I still buy some of my clothes from second hand stores. There's nothing wrong with it."
"I've been sitting on used furniture?" Monk asked, shocked.
"Is everybody ready to work now?" Stottlemeyer asked.
Monk rolled his shoulders as Natalie glared at him.
"This is Ross Dixon, the assistant manager of the Teen Hope Mission Thrift store". Lt. Disher introduced the balding, older man who held out his hand for Monk to shake it. Monk only looked at him, horrified. "Mr. Dixon was he one who discovered Agnes Wiehunt in the warehouse. She had been stabbed 5 times. We haven't located the murder weapon, yet."
"I want to thank you all for coming so quickly." Mr. Dixon said, as he removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. "We're all devastated my Mrs. Wiehunt's death. And I must say, I am ashamed, because we didn't take the precaution after two robberies last week, to have more security around. I feel like it's my fault. "
"Did she work here long?" Stottlemeyer asked.
"She has been volunteering here for 3 years, and she only became a paid employee a month ago."
"Was anything stolen from the store? From the safe or anything valuable from the floor?" Randy asked.
"Our manager, Arlene Dahl, is going over the records. I can get you a list of receipts, but I'm not sure how much help they'd be because of the way that donations are received, it would be pretty difficult to track down one specific item, and nothing very valuable would have been in the case before the store opened. It's all locked up. I could ask the other employees if they noticed anything missing."
"Do you have any suspects for the robberies?" Stottlemeyer asked.
"Arlene's son stayed at the Teen Hope Mission for over a year. He came to the mission with a criminal record, but he seems to have made a new start. He's been volunteering here under Arlene's direct supervision. He's the most obvious person, but our store and warehouse have been robbed several times over the years. In fact, its not that unusual."
"Does the son have access to the store?" Monk asked.
"As much as other volunteers do. Arlene hasn't said anything that would make me believe otherwise." Dixon replied
"Thank you, Mr. Dixon." Stottlemeyer said, as they left. "We'll get back to you, if anything else comes up."
On the way out Monk paused, again, at the window and gazed at the dress. It looked exactly like a dress Trudy had worn once college.
THAT NIGHT…
Monk was looking though a photo album, trying to find a picture of Trudy in the dress.
"Adrian!" Trudy called and waved to him, the skirt of her blue and white dress caught a gust of wind and blew back a little. She rushed into his embrace, and they kissed, tentatively. They walked for a short time before finding a clean bench, where they sat watched people. Monk was quiet, as usual, but pensive. "What is it, Adrian?"
Monk slid off the bench, and balanced himself in a kneeling position, although his knees never touched the ground, as he pulled a box out of his pocket. Trudy's eyes lit up. "I want you to be happy..." She said yes. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, sweetly. They sat on the bench, with his arm around her, and looked at the ring on her finger. She said yes. Yes…
"I'm afraid I have to say no." Natalie Teeger informed her daughter.
"I can't believe you won't let me get a new dress for the prom." Julie said, sullenly.
"Honey, I've already told you, we can't afford it. It's either a new dress or groceries."
"I'll go on a diet." Julie bargained.
"That's not an option." Natalie answered, sympathetically.
"Why can't I have a normal family that can afford normal things? Why are you so cheap?" Julie shouted, before picking up her keys and jacket.
"Where are you going?" Natalie asked.
"Window shopping. We can afford that, can't we?" she said as she stormed off.
"Be home by 11, and take your cell." Natalie called after Julie. Then she placed her hand on his, comfortingly. "I'm sorry about that, Mr. Monk."
"You could just buy her the dress, that's what I would do." Monk replied, nonchalantly. "It would save a lot of trouble."
Natalie muttered something under her breath that seemed anatomically impossible to do, before continued sorting old photos.
THE NEXT DAY…
The Captain answered his cell phone. "Stottlemeyer here…Monk? Are you all right? …Is Natalie okay? …So, why are you calling? …Monk, I'm busy here." He was silent for a moment, before the Captain closed his phone. "Randy!"
"Yeah." Randy jogged up to the Captain, as he put his notebook into his breast pocket.
"I have a special assignment for you."
LATER…
Randy's jaw was clenched as he drove back to the thrift store, with Monk sitting in the passenger seat. The older man was wiping down the dashboard, and adjusting the knobs and rearranging the glove compartment in his car.
"So, Monk, why couldn't Natalie take you to the thrift store?" Randy asked, curiously.
"She had a doctor's appointment." Monk said, as he tried adjusting the rear-view mirror.
"I thought you wouldn't mind a doctors office. It's nice and…disinfected."
"Natalie went to a doctor that specializes in lady parts." Monk informed Disher, cryptically. When Randy tried not to laugh, Monk tried to change the subject with, 'How about those San Francisco Forty-Niners?"
They arrived at the thrift-store while most of the staff were on lunch break. Monk stepped up to the counter. "I would like to buy the dress in that window over there." Monk said, pointing at the picture window which faced the street." The white haired woman with the name tag that read Arlene Dahl had one of the volunteers take the dress off of the mannequin and brought it to Monk, who insisted that the dummy be taken into the back and redressed, and not left out for all the world to see her 'naked-ish-ness."
"That will be forty-five dollars, with tax, sir". The Arlene said, with a smile.
Monk looked uneasy. "How about Fifty dollars, just to make it even." Monk offered. "It's for charity."
The Arlene hit no sale, and then rang up fifty dollars, at which point Monk rolled his shoulders and said, 'Let's make it an even hundred. It's for charity."
"It is for charity", the saleswoman said, before hitting no sale again, and then ringing up one hundred dollars. Monk, grinning broadly, opened his wallet…then looked at Randy. "Have you got 100.00, Randy? It's for charity."
Randy glowered at Monk and opened his wallet, and paid the woman.
"Thanks, I'll pay you back."
"No, Monk," Randy answered, gritting his teeth. "I'll never see that money again, but it's for charity."
Mrs. Dahl neatly folded the dress and put it into a bag, then handed it and the receipt to Monk. As they were walking to the entrance Monk spotted something in the lighted display case. "Ma'am, could I see that brass letter opener?" Monk asked, politely.
"You have a good eye, sir," Mrs. Dahl smiled as she pulled out the shelf that the letter opener was on.
"Lieutenant, do you have an evidence bag?" Monk asked.
An hour or so later, an officer had Mrs. Dahl in handcuffs and was leading her to the back of a patrol car. Here's what happened: Agnes Wiehunt, the new employee, had discovered that the assistant managers' son had been stealing money from the safe, and from the donation drop boxes using her key. He was on the cusp of the 'three strikes' law, and Mrs. Dahl couldn't have that. She killed Mrs. Wiehunt with a letter opener before the older woman could make a report. The letter opener had just been donated, and then, after cleaning it, Agnes put it on display to be sold. Then she set up the store to make it look like robbers had hit it.
THAT NIGHT…
Monk had Lieutenant Disher drop him off at Natalie's house. She was surprised when she saw her boss at the door. 'Mr. Monk, what are you doing here?"
"May I come in?" Monk asked.
Natalie stepped aside to let her boss in.
Julie was sitting at the dining room table, picking at her dinner. "Hi, Mr. Monk." Julie said, sadly.
"I brought something for you, Julie." Monk handed her the box, hoping that the young woman wouldn't hate it. "I'm sorry that your mom can't afford all of the things you'd like to have. She works for me, you know. But she does the best she can."
Julie's eyes lit up when she saw the delicate dress and she smiled. "Oh, Mr. Monk, it's beautiful. Thank you. I'm going to try it on now!" She ran upstairs to try the dress on.
Monk smiled his a tight-lipped smile and was relieved that Julie seemed to like her present.
Natalie sat next to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Mr. Monk. That was a wonderful gift."
The End