Goodbye Mr Monk

by Stretch Snodgrass

Years have passed. Mr. Monk is old and dying. However, a brutal murder ignites the city's rage. Mr. Monk is on the case, for the last time. This story was written before the series ended. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

11. Mr Monk Plays the Piano

Mr. Monk Plays the Piano

Mrs. Fernandez had already left.

"Oh my God," said Sharona.

The plump, Hispanic woman had just driven up in an ancient, battered Volvo station wagon.

"That's my car," she said.

"How do you know it's the same," said Natalie.

"It is," said Monk. "I recognize the dent."

"I don't think . . . ."

While Sharona and Natalie argued about the Volvo, Monk greeted Mrs. Fernandez.

Natalie rushed out to hand her employer a wipe.

"SI, Mr. Monk," said Mrs. Fernandez, "I work for both of them. A nice lady, but a very strange gentleman.

Mrs. Fernandez, it seems, was there yesterday, cleaning Miss Bream's house first, then going to Professor Towers. The last he saw of Miss Bream, she went in for lessons.

"How do you know they were there the whole time," Sharona asked.

"Miss Bream, I hear her play, she play terrible. Professor Towers, he talk to her. Play like angel, to teach her. Instruct her, come out every so often to drink water - and cry a little."

Professor Towers was leaving his house that very moment. Wearing a fedora hat, black gloves, a threadbare coat, and sporting long, unruly grey hair; he was the very picture of eccentricity.

"Mrs. Fernandez," said he, as he made for an elderly Buick in a tumbledown garage. "I suggest you begin immediately, instead of chatting on the sidewalk. Remember, go in the back way."

"There's a nice girl," said Towers pompously, as Mrs. Fernandez did as she his bidding.

"You must keep the servants in their place," he added.

"It's too bad you're leaving," said Mr. Monk.

"Ah, but it is a nice day for an automobile tour, is it not?"

"I was wondering if I could take some lessons?" asked Mr. Monk. "I heard you were the best teacher . . . .

"Professor, my good man," said the Professor graciously, puffing up like a bullfrog, "I have a Ph. D. in Music."

"I have, of course, no qualms in putting aside my trip for the benefit of a music lover - no matter what the age, it is never too late."

The Professor named his price. Monk balked, but Sharona met it.

"Then it is agreed, we'll start with an intense six hours of preparatory lessons."

Sharona and Natalie decided to follow the Monk in.

"WE MUST be alone," said the Professor.

"It's okay," said Monk.

Sharona and Natalie departed - ever so reluctantly.