The next morning, Monk heard a knock on his hotel door. "Coming," he said, trying not to wake a still-sleeping Natalie. He opened it to find Leland on the other side.

"I'm going down to get some breakfast. You guys want to join me?"

Monk yawned and nodded. "Just let me get the key."

Leland noticed his friend seemed to be having a hard time waking up. "Is Natalie still sleeping?" he asked.

Monk yawned again. "Yes, we didn't sleep much last night. I'll bring her up something after I eat."

Leland raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "You enjoyed a night away with no kids, I see."

Monk narrowed his eyes as he looked at his friend. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Leland Stottlemeyer!"

"Oh, so that had nothing to do with your lack of sleep, then?"

"I never sleep well in a new place, then Natalie woke up and we had a good talk."

"A good talk, huh? Well, that's great, glad to hear it. And I suppose this talk lasted all night?"

Monk looked at Leland, whose mustache wiggled with the smile that was growing underneath it, and suddenly, despite his best efforts, he couldn't resist the growing smile on his own face. He looked down as his cheeks turned crimson. "I…I didn't say that."

Leland chuckled as Monk tried to regain his dignity, but both of their smiles faded when they entered the hotel dining room and saw U.S. Marshal Harris and Special Agents Sanchez and Lewis seated at a table near the end of the buffet.

"Well, if it isn't Captain Cool himself," chuckled Harris.

Stottlemeyer looked at Monk. "Berkeley?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Monk. "We were in several criminology classes together and lived in the same dorm. I didn't make the connection until we left the office yesterday. I brought my Berkeley yearbook with me and looked him up last night. It's him, all right."

"So, what's his problem?" asked Stottlemeyer as they picked up plates and silverware on their way down the buffet line. "Did you have some kind of rivalry?"

"Oh, I think he is just one of these guys who always has to be number one. I always had the highest grade in the classes we were in together, and it drove him crazy. He even accused me of cheating once, which of course I never did."

"I can't believe he would still hold a grudge over college grades after this many years. Are you sure there's not more to it?"

"Not that I know of. We didn't exactly run in the same circles, besides the classes and dorm. He was a football player and always had a lot of girls following him around."

Monk and Stottlemeyer got their food and sat down with the federal agents. As usual, Monk had each of his foods: his eggs, his toast, and his sausage all on separate plates. He took them off his tray and made sure everything was lined up to his liking, then carefully unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap.

Harris and the other agents were watching closely. "I see you still can't have your food touching," said Harris, getting in yet another jab. "I would have thought you'd be over that by now." Monk tried to ignore the man, but Stottlemeyer wasn't going to let Harris get away with it.

"Listen, Harris," he said, standing up. "Adrian Monk is just as important to the San Francisco PD as me or any other member of the force. If you want our continued cooperation, then I expect you to treat him with the respect he has earned. If you can't do that, we will pack up and go home now."

"My apologies," Detective Monk, sneered Harris. "No offense intended."

While the two detectives finished their breakfast, Special Agent Sanchez gave them some background on the Grants Pass murder victim and laid out their game plan for the morning. "Our murder victim is Don Balboa, born Angelo DeLuca of Las Vegas. He was Caprioli Sr.'s personal chauffeur and testified in his trial. He was moved here under WITSEC with his wife and two sons in 1990. He owned a local Jiffy Lube franchise. He was murdered at his shop, sometime late Thursday night, most likely after he closed. One of his employees found him when he came into work yesterday morning. The crime scene was very much like the other two. He was found face down with his hands tied behind his back. The autopsy showed his death was the result of a bullet wound to the back of his head. Also, like the other two, it didn't appear to be the result of a robbery since nothing was taken. The body was removed, of course, but we would like for you and Mr. Monk to take a look at the crime scene. It's been preserved as it was found. The CSI team that investigated yesterday will also be there in case you have any questions.

"Sounds good," said Stottlemeyer. "What time do you want us over there?"

Natalie woke up just as she heard Adrian slide his key card into the door and open it. "What's this?" she asked when she saw him carry in a tray. Then she smelled the aroma of buttermilk pancakes, maple syrup, and coffee with cream. "Mmm, that smells good. Thank you, my love," she said as he set the tray in front of her. "Why didn't you wake me? I could have gone down with you."

"It's ok. Leland knocked on the door earlier and asked if I wanted to join him. I thought I'd let you sleep."

When Natalie finished eating, she removed the tray from her lap and smiled at Adrian, who was seated, facing her, his arm across her legs. "I love you," she said before leaning forward and kissing him.

Adrian sighed a very contented sigh. "I love you too, and I wish we could stay here and do this all day, but we have to check out, and I have a crime scene to investigate."

She had moved so she was leaning against his bent leg. She tilted her head and fingered a button on his shirt. "I wish we could play hooky instead."

"I know, but sweetheart…"

"I know. I know," she said, interrupting him. "Duty calls and I suppose I should let my sexy, brilliant husband do his job."

Adrian got off the bed, then took Natalie's hand and helped her off. "Sexy, huh."

"Yes, very," she said, swatting his backside before heading off to the shower.

As he watched her walk away, he shook his head and smiled to himself. Then, he began to whistle as he packed their bags.

One hour later, the Monks and the captain arrived at Don Balboa's Jiffy Lube location. Special Agents Sanchez and Lewis and U.S. Marshal Harris pulled in just behind them. The CSI van was already there. After introducing themselves, the CSI team led them inside the small lobby, which had been taped off. They passed under the tape and immediately noticed the differences between this scene and the one at Antonio's restaurant. Two of the lobby chairs were tipped over, there were torn magazines scattered around, and the floor was covered in a white, powdery substance, with a shoe print in the middle of it.

"What happened here?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"It looked to us like Mr. Balboa put up a bit of a fight before he was subdued," said Lieutenant Hill, the lead CSI.

Monk squatted down and wiped up a bit of the powdery substance with his handkerchief, quickly deducing it was powdered coffee creamer from the coffee station, probably thrown in the fight. He then looked at the large footprint in the middle of the powder. "That shoeprint," asked Monk, "is that from the victim or the perpetrator?"

"It matches the victim's shoe," said Hill.

"Was there any DNA or fingerprints found? How about ammo casings?"

"None," said Hill.

"That's why you're here, Mr. Monk, said Sanchez. We were hoping you might see something the local team didn't catch." Monk nodded and began to look around through his spread fingers.

While Monk began his search, Natalie waited in the parking lot with Special Agent Lewis. "How long have you and Mr. Monk been married?" asked Lewis.

"We've been married almost six months," said Natalie.

"That's not long," said Lewis. "Did you just start working with him after you were married?"

"Oh no," said Natalie smiling. "I actually came to work for Adrian, as his assistant, almost eight years ago."

"Really?" said Lewis, looking at her. "So, there weren't any rules against you dating when you were working for him?"

Natalie chuckled. "Well, we didn't date long before we got married, but there weren't really any rules since Adrian is an independent contractor. If he were a member of the San Francisco PD, that probably would have been different. Of course, I never would have been working for him in the first place." She paused, wondering if Lewis had a reason for her questions. "Do you have a beau?" she asked.

"No, but I'm hoping," said Lewis, "but it's um, complicated because of agency rules." She had a dreamy look in her eyes as she looked at the tall, dark-haired Sanchez standing in the doorway.

Natalie glanced at Lewis sideways. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe, and take it from me, don't give up."

"You had to wait for him to come around then?"

"Oh yeah, but it was worth it."

"I can tell. I see the way you look at each other."

Natalie smiled. "Yes, I suppose we're not very good at hiding our feelings for each other."

"It's sweet," said Lewis.

Natalie put her hand on the young agent's shoulder. "It will happen if it's meant to be."

Lewis smiled at her and nodded. "Thanks."

Back in the Jiffy Lube lobby, Monk had just about given up finding anything the CSIs hadn't already found when he saw the light reflect off an object, just under the edge of the cart serving as the coffee station. He got down on his knees and took a closer look, then he pulled out his tweezers. He picked up the golden object and held it up to the light.

"What did you find, Monk?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"I think it's something dental," said Monk, "a gold cap perhaps?"

Stottlemeyer took it from him and said, "Yep, that's what it looks like. Hopefully, Balboa knocked this out of the perpetrator's mouth during the fight. Can I get a bag for this?" he shouted. One of the CSIs came forward with an evidence bag, and Lieutenant Hill mumbled something about not knowing how they missed it.

Monk stood and pulled out one of his wipes. As he bent over to brush some of the coffee creamer off his pants, he noticed something he hadn't seen before, under the edge of the counter. He walked over and squatted down to get a closer look.

"Whatcha got Monk?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"A partial shoe print. Did you guys catch this?" he asked Hill.

"Uh oh," she said. "We didn't see that one." It was a small sliver, probably just the tip of the shoe got into the coffee creamer, then was pressed against the baseboard under the counter.

"It's not much," said Monk, "but it looks different from the victim's shoe. If I'm not mistaken, that looks more like the tip of a boot, maybe some kind of work boot."

"Showing off again, I see," said Harris, walking away."

"Hey," said Sanchez, putting his hand on Monk's shoulder. "Don't let that guy get to you. I'm grateful for your help."

Monk nodded a silent thank you, then asked. "Did anyone interview the guy who found Balboa, or were any of the other employees interviewed?"

"The local PD would have done that. We can go down to the station and go through the notes if you think it would help."

"Yes, I would like to do that," he said.

Down at the Grants Pass police station, the Monks, Stottlemeyer, and the Special Agents sat going through the interview notes from the day before. "What are you looking for Monk?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"I'd like to see if anyone noticed anything unusual, or perhaps a suspicious customer."

"We didn't have any luck with testimonies on the other two cases," said Sanchez. "Why do you think this might be different?"

"This is a different type of business," said Monk. "Restaurants and Grocery stores have many different customers at the same time. It would be hard for an employee to pinpoint any one customer unless someone really stood out, but at this kind of place, the customers come through one or two at a time, so fewer customers per day, in general, and each one would be easier to remember."

"That makes sense," said Sanchez. "Here are some notes from the employee who worked the day of the murder." He handed them to Monk, who preceded to scan through them. After reading through them, he rubbed his forehead, then pointed at the paper.

"Did you find something?" asked Lewis.

"Listen to this," said Monk. "The employee, Ashley Cook was working the counter the day Balboa was killed. A man came in and wanted his oil changed, but his car had an oil change done on it less than 500 miles before that. He became belligerent when Ms. Cook told him it wasn't necessary after so few miles. One of the mechanics had to come in and calm him down. He eventually agreed, but then insisted on speaking with Mr. Balboa personally. When he was told he wasn't in, he insisted on knowing when he would be in. Ms. Cook then described the man as being of medium height, medium build, caucasian, brown hair, nothing that really stands out except for, get this, he had a gold tooth."

"A gold tooth," said Sanchez. "That's what you found under the coffee cart in the lobby."

"Right," said Monk. "Do they have surveillance cameras over there?"

"We'll look into it," said Lewis.

"If you can get a positive ID on this guy from Ms. Cook, then you can pull tapes from the grocery store in Greenville and see if you can spot him there, as well."

"Great work Mr. Monk," said Sanchez as they stood. "I can't thank you enough for your help with this."

"We'll be around if you need us again," said Stottlemeyer.

Sanchez and Lewis gratefully shook hands with the Monks and Stottlemeyer and thanked them again, but Harris, as Natalie noted, only shook Stottlemeyer's hand. He then left quickly and returned to his car.

They were back in Leland's car, heading home. This time, Monk sat in the back with Natalie. "Are you sure you don't know that Harris guy from somewhere Adrian?" Natalie asked. "He seems to be holding a grudge against you."

"I haven't had a chance to tell you," said Adrian. "I figured out that I know him from Berkeley. We were in some of the same classes, and we lived in the same dorm. He didn't like me, but then again, most people don't."

"I don't think that's true," said Natalie. "I think they just don't really know you. If they took the time to get to know you, they would like you."

"I suppose," said Adrian, shifting in his seat a little, "but he didn't like that I always made better grades than him."

"Oh, so he was jealous, but that seems like an awfully big grudge just over better grades. Are you sure there wasn't more?"

"That's what I asked," said Leland.

"What about Trudy?"

"What do you mean?" Adrian asked.

"Well, maybe there was some rivalry there. Maybe he had his eye on Trudy and she chose you instead."

"I don't know. She never mentioned him."

"I wouldn't have either," said Natalie. "He's not worth mentioning."

Adrian smiled at his wife and took her hand. "Well, it doesn't matter. We won't see him again."

After a little more conversation, the three friends quietly enjoyed the scenery passing them by as they drove through forested mountains on their way back to San Francisco. Light snow began to fall on the windshield, and Leland was about to point it out when he looked in the rearview mirror and noticed his two passengers were both asleep. Their hands were entwined as Natalie slept with her head on Adrian's shoulder, and he slept with his dark head resting against her blonde one. Leland sighed. "Oh fine, go ahead and sleep," he muttered to himself. "I can drive. My wife isn't here. She's home taking care of your baby, so I got plenty of sleep last night." He breathed deeply as he suddenly realized how much he missed her. He picked up his phone, about ready to press T.K.'s number, but then put it down, deciding not to wake the lovebirds. He did, however, begin to make plans for a weekend away for himself and T.K. as soon as possible.

The trio arrived back at the Monk's house a few minutes after 9:00 pm, and T.K. met them there with a tired Sophia, who was overjoyed to see her parents. After giving Natalie a long hug, she settled into Adrian's arms, laying her head on his shoulder and finding her thumb, as she so often did when tired or seeking comfort.

"All right baby girl," he said. "Let's go get you into bed."

"She's a daddy's girl, isn't she?" T.K. asked, watching Adrian climb the stairs.

"Oh yeah," said Natalie. "She chose him before he even thought of adopting her."

T.K. smiled. "Well, I should let you folks get settled in."

"Thank you again for watching her," said Natalie. "It was really good for me to go with Adrian this time."

"Anytime," she said, giving Natalie a hug. "She's a sweet girl. You guys are doing a great job with her."

"Thank you," said Natalie quietly, surprised at the compliment, which meant more than T.K. could know. Despite their recent struggles, she and Adrian loved each other, and they loved their girls. That was what was most important. She smiled, knowing that whatever else came along, they could face it together.

After Sophia was in bed, Adrian and Natalie took their bags to their room and began unpacking. Adrian emptied his pockets in preparation for changing into his pajamas. When he pulled out his cell phone, he noticed that he had several voicemail messages, so he pushed the necessary buttons and put the phone to his ear to listen to them. Natalie looked up from her unpacking just in time to see Adrian drop to the edge of the bed, his phone falling from his hand onto the floor.

"Adrian! What is it?" In a moment, she was kneeling beside him. She picked up the phone and pressed the button to end the call.

He put his head in his hands, a look of fear spreading across his face. She took his hands in hers. "What is it, babe? Please tell me."

"It was Ambrose," he said quietly. "He…he's been trying to reach me all afternoon, but we were out of cell range."

"Is he okay?" asked Natalie.

"It's not him," he said, looking at her. "It…it's my father."

"Your father? What happened?"

"He…he had a stroke."