"Somebody, somebody definitely put this prison together all wrong," Adrian complained, tapping of the walls of the jail cell he and Stottlemeyer were being held in, "They put the bricks in the walls completely uneven. Just take a look, every other's completely off-kilter."
"I don't want to look, Monk," Stottlemeyer growled from his station by the cell's window. He was clutching the bars on the windows hard. "I just want to figure out how I'm going to get a court to convict those two for killing Schmidt now that they've got..."
"She didn't do it," Adrian spoke up. Stottleeyer spun around. "What?" he inquired.
"Karen did not kill anyone," the detective told him firmly, "There was a signed invoice for more film equipment on the coffee table; her handwriting doesn't match the note left on Marilyn Schmidt's body."
"No?" Stottlemeyer looked stunned, "What about Marshall, Monk?"
"You saw the man in the interrogation room; do you think he actually would have the ability to stand around in a filthy, dirt-ridden warehouse waiting for Arthur Schmidt to come in!?" Adrian found himself bellowing at his boss, "And I COULD have brought that up at Karen's if SOMEBODY hadn't completely gone insane!"
"Well, Monk, she was being completely evasive; how did I know she wasn't withholding evidence!?" Stottlemeyer shouted back, more out of surprise that Adrian of all people was yelling at him, "And don't tell me you support what she did to me--to us!"
"No, I don't, but that still doesn't excuse your conduct, Leland!" Adrian yelled, causing the captain to flinch in a major way; Adrian had almost never referred to him by his first name before. The detective set about straightening the sheets on both of the cells bunks before growling, "I hope you're proud of the fine example you've set for your children!"
"Well I'm sorry, Monk," Stottlemeyer groused, not sounding like he especially meant it, "I'm sorry things had to come to this, and I'd take it all back, but the fact is she threw the first punch, not to mention the last and worst one!"
Adrian gave him a hard glare that clearly telegraphed his opinion on this assessment: not even remotely good enough. Tremendous guilt swept Stottlemeyer's face. "Yeah, yeah, I have a lot to be sorry about, Monk," he whispered softly as he slumped down on the lower bunk, "You're right, I did get carried away. Did you see the looks on their faces, that...I just...I loved her, Monk, I loved her from day one, and all I got in return over all these years was verbal abuse and every single criticism in the book. I couldn't take it any more, not after being put through what I have in court..."
"So you thought if you could get her for this you'd get even for everything you think she's done against you," Adrian finished his thought for him, "You remember what happened last Christmas, Captain? We were all almost killed because somebody thought revenge would make everything right."
Stottlemeyer nodded, remembering that incident well. "You know what's going to happen now, don't you?" he mumbled, "The commissioner's going to file formal charges against us once this all goes through. We'll each be facing at least thirty years; I'll never see my kids again...how can I make it without...?"
He sniffed loudly but managed to keep from actually crying. Adrian stepped toward him. "If we just tell the truth," he said softly, "Things might not be as bad."
"What does it matter, Monk?" the captain grumbled, "Whatever Karen wants, Karen gets, and right now what she wants is our heads on a platter. The court'll believe anything she tells them about me."
"Not necessarily, Captain, if..."
"You see it all the time on television and film, Monk; as far as society's concerned, wives are above blame for anything," Stottlemeyer muttered, "Whereas every single problem a family has is the husband's fault. They're going to exploit it for all it's worth and make me out as monster, especially once they drag out that I hit that guy. They don't care about the truth; I'm the husband and I need to be made another example of."
Adrian had no response to this. There came the sound of footsteps from up the hall. "OK, Adrian Monk, your bail has been posted," announced the guard as he hefted his keys and unlocked the cell's door, "You're free to go for now. Not you," he told Stottlemeyer as the latter started following Adrian toward the door, "The department's ordering an inquiry; you're facing felony charges of assault. So no bail for you."
"He didn't hit Karen," Adrian told the guard as he stepped out of the cell and spun his neck in relieved circles; the cell had been too claustrophobic for his liking. "Could, could you get a cleaning crew in this cell soon; it clearly hasn't been washed in..."
"She claims he threatened to beat her; that qualifies as assault under the law," the guard informed him. A low and sad sigh came from Stottlemeyer. "Monk's innocent," he said, "Just drop whatever charges are against him and let him be." He glanced at the detective. "Thanks Monk, for what it's been worth."
"I'll have to tell the court that you were out of line at Karen's," Adrian told him firmly, "But hang in there. I'll try and finish this case."
"Not now you won't," the guard told him, "Commissioner's orders, you're not to handle any case until the inquiry's finished. Let's go."
It was Adrian's turn to sigh sadly. He trudged out toward the waiting area, where Natalie was waiting for him. "I posted it for you," she informed him, not sounding all that happy, "Two thousand dollars, which makes me wonder why every cent I make seems to go back into your..."
"Please, please, no griping now," Adrian grumbled, holding up his hand, "I'm not really in the mood. You've heard about everything, I guess?"
Natlaie nodded. "The captain was right about one thing, I'm glad I wasn't there," she commented, "Did he really...?"
"He never touched her or threatened to harm her," Adrian reiterated, "But he's right; it probably doesn't matter now. Unless we can talk sense into Karen about not pressing..."
"I already tried," his assistant sighed, "I stopped by her place once I heard; she opened the door a crack and told me I was a traitor too, and that she'd prosecute me as well if I didn't get off her property. Then she slammed the door in my face."
"Well, that's that, it's over, everything's over," Adrian put his face in his hands, "I failed."
"I failed, I completely failed," the detective was still lamenting by himself back at his apartment. He lay listlessly on the sofa, looking up into the vaporal face of Trudy's spirit. "Now Adrian, you did what you could," his wife's ghost tried to tell him.
"I promised Linda I wouldn't let anything happen to the captain, and I let her down," her husband grumbled, putting his hand over his face, "I let everyone down. Including him."
"Well I think what you did back there was very noble," she reassured him, stroking a hand through his hair, "That's what I appreciate about you, Adrian. What I still appreciate about you. You always know what's right."
"What good will that do me if I can't work on this case, on any case?" he reasoned. He glanced longingly up at her. "One, one thing now, I'll always appreciate what we had together even more," he told her, "Seeing how miserable everyone else I know have been there relationships. We were so lucky."
"I knew that from the day I met you," she told him, "I always told you to see the brighter side, Adrian. Even if the rest of the world is icy cold, there's always some degree of warmth to be found in..."
"Wait a minute," Adrian bolted upright, making hand gestures. A loud laugh escaped him. "Oh yes, yes, yes! Have I told you lately I love you?" he jubilantly told Trudy.
"Every day since I died," she was smiling, "You've got it, haven't you?"
"Of course I...oh, wait," Adrian expression fell as rapidly as it had risen, "I can't, I'm off the case, remember?"
"When you didn't do anything wrong in the first place?" she inquired, "That wouldn't stop the Adrian Monk I know."
Adrian looked her in the eye. Determination came over him. "Wish me luck, then," he told her.
"That's what I've always done," she patted him on the shoulder, "Go get them."
"Right," Adrian ran to the phone and dialed a familiar number. "Lieutenant, it's me," he told Disher on the other end, "I know who killed Arthur Schmidt and how they did it."
