Just before Monk pulled out of his parking space in front of Dr. Bell's office, his phone rang. He pulled it out, hoping it was Natalie, returning his call.

"Hello," he said, not even bothering to look at the contact name.

"Hello, Monk," came the voice on the other end. "Hey, it's Leland. Listen, after combing through Derek Sanders' phone records, we identified the woman with whom his wife thinks he was having an affair. She lives in San Mateo, so I put in a call to Randy to bring her in. Anyway, he just called me back, and she's going to be there in an hour. Dwayne and I are already out, so can you meet us down there?"

"Um sure," said Monk, a little deflated. "I'll be there."

"Are you all right, buddy?" came Leland's concerned voice.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm okay. I'll see you in San Mateo."

Thirty minutes later, Monk arrived at the San Mateo Police Department headquarters. He checked in and made his way to the captain's office. Walking in, he took a quick look around. It was smaller than Leland's office back in San Francisco, but it was similar, with its glass walls, file cabinets, and office furniture, which could have stood to be replaced a few years back. Monk noted the personal touches, from the guitar leaning in the corner to the abundant collection of framed photos, mostly of Sharona and Lilly. He smiled, happy for his friend's personal success, as well as his professional.

"Hey, Monk! Good to see you, man," said Randy, waving from his desk.

"Thanks for coming," said Stottlemeyer, who was seated in front of the desk.

"Where's Natalie?" asked Dwayne.

Monk's smile faded. "She's at home. She and Sophia aren't feeling well."

Stottlemeyer's eyebrow shot up. "Well, that explains your tone when I called you. It's nothing serious is it?"

"She says it's just a cold," said Monk.

"How's the baby?" asked Randy.

"Healthy and growing," said Monk with a smile.

"I still can't believe you two are having a baby," said Randy. "I leave town and look what happens: you get married, adopt a kid, and now you're having a baby. I better stick around. Who knows what might happen if I don't."

"Well, look who's talking," said Leland. "You basically did the same thing except for the adoption part."

"True, true. Hey, do you guys want to see some new pictures of Lilly?" The pride was evident as he pulled out his phone.

Monk stood behind the captain and lieutenant as they leaned over Randy's desk to see the most recent pictures of his four-month-old daughter. They all smiled at the enthusiasm in the voice of the once-single lieutenant turned family-man captain.

"She's beautiful," said Washington.

"Sharona says she has my eyes."

"Yeah, but she's got Sharona's smile," said Monk.

"She likes my singing," said Randy, bringing up a video of himself singing to his little girl.

"Well, at least someone does," said Stottlemeyer under his breath.

"What was that, Captain?"

"Oh um nothing, nothing…she's beautiful."

Randy smiled as he turned off the video and put his phone back in his pocket. He leaned back and rested his feet on his desk. "So, what's going on with this case of yours?"

"Well," said Stottlemeyer, "the victim is Derek Sanders, a 34-year-old dentist from San Fran. He was found stabbed to death in his home a few days ago."

"Yeah, in the house next door to Monk's dad and brother," said Washington.

"Really? That's interesting."

"Ambrose found him," said Monk.

"Uh oh. How's he doing?"

"Not too good," said Monk. "He was just getting comfortable with leaving the house, but I'm afraid this is going to cause a bit of a setback."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Randy. "So, you found some clues, and they led you to the woman we are calling in today?"

"Sort of," said Stottlemeyer. "The clues led Monk to believe the perp is a woman. We also found a wine glass with a benzodiazepine in it and evidence of a fight. When we talked to Marie Sanders, the victim's wife, she accused her husband of having an affair. Evidently, he was meeting someone at odd times, so we compared the days and times Mrs. Sanders gave us with her husband's phone records, and this is the woman he was meeting with."

"What about the wife?" asked Randy.

"It's not her," said Washington.

"Are you sure? You know what they say about a woman scorned. If she really believed her husband was having an affair, she may have decided to kill him. I mean if I did that to Sharona…." He clucked his tongue and shook his head.

"She was attending an online class at the time of the murder," said Stottlemeyer.

Washington leaned back in his chair in, trying to get comfortable. "Yeah, we confirmed that. She logged in just like she said."

"I also talked to the owner of the coffee shop and the barista who was working that night. They both confirmed she was there during the time frame of the murder," said Stottlemeyer.

"I'm still not sure, said Monk, resting his hands on the back of their chairs. "There was something about her, but she couldn't have worn high heels on that new, wood floor."

"What does that have to do with the murder?" asked Randy.

"Monk found a series of small dents in the brand new hardwood floors in Sanders' house," said Washington. "He thinks they were caused by a damaged stiletto heel, and Marie Sanders broke her foot before the floors were installed. She's been in an orthopedic boot ever since."

Randy removed his feet from the desk and leaned across it. "Maybe she's faking it."

"The broken foot or the online class?" said Stottlemeyer.

"Both," said Randy. "Maybe she put the boot on to fake the break, then sent a double to the coffee shop to do her class."

"A double?" asked Monk.

"Yeah, a double, a doppelganger, maybe a twin. Does she have a twin?"

A uniformed officer knocked on the door, interrupting the conversation.

"Come in," said Randy.

The officer poked his head in the door. "Kathryn Holbrooke is here, sir. She's in room number two."

"Okay, let's go," said Randy, leading the way out of the office.

The detectives made their way down the hall to the interrogation rooms. Disher, Stottlemeyer, and Washington entered the room while Monk watched on the other side of the glass. Disher introduced himself and his guests, then left Stottlemeyer and Washington to do their job. They each took a seat across from the woman they were about to question.

Kathryn Holbrooke, an attractive, young woman sat at the bare table twisting her hands, her hazel eyes darting back and forth between the detectives. "Excuse me. Could…could one of you please explain why I was asked to come down here? All I was told is that is in regard to Derek Sanders."

"Miss Holbrooke," said Stottlemeyer. "We understand that you are a patient of Dr. Sanders."

"Yes…yes that's right," she said as she twirled the diamond ring on her left hand. "Is something wrong?"

"Derek Sanders was found murdered two days ago," said Washington. "We have reason to believe you were with him the night before, when his murder took place."

"What!? Derek murdered?" She looked apprehensively into their faces. "Do…do you think I had something to do with it?"

Stottlemeyer leaned forward. "Miss Holbrooke, we know you were meeting Sanders at odd hours away from his office, and we know you spoke with him the morning before he was murdered."

Kathryn Holbrooke looked at her hands before she lifted her head to look at the detectives again. "Okay, I guess I have to tell you. I was not a patient of Dr. Sanders."

"So what was the nature of your relationship, Miss Holbrooke? Why were you meeting with him?"

"He…he was my client."

"Your client?"

"Yes, I'm an interior designer and decorator. He hired me to design a kitchen remodel for the house he inherited from his father. For the first couple of meetings, we met at my office so we could look at blueprints, computer mock-ups, samples, etc. Then, I met him at the house about a week ago to take a look at the existing kitchen."

"So, why the secrecy? He told his wife you were meeting for business, and she assumed he meant the dental business."

"That's the story he gave her because he wanted to surprise her. He didn't want her to know about the remodel until after it was done. It was going to be for her birthday or anniversary present or something."

"Miss Holbrooke," Washington began. "Where were you the night of the murder? We know that someone visited Sanders. Was it you?"

Kathryn looked down, twirling her ring again. "N…no," she said. She took a deep breath and looked up. "Yes, I was there, but I swear I didn't murder him. I didn't even see him!"

"You didn't see him?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"No, I tried, but he didn't answer the door." Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh, he was already dead, wasn't he? I would have called 911 if I had known, I promise."

The captain continued his questioning. "What time did you come to the house, Miss Holbrooke?"

"Um, it was just after 9:00 pm. I was with another client until 8:45, then I decided to drop by since it was on my way home. I knew he was going to be there, and I wanted to drop off my design prints. I…I knocked and rang the doorbell, but when he didn't answer, I just left them under the doormat."

"Were there any vehicles parked at the house when you arrived?"

"Just Derek's car. That's why I rang the doorbell and knocked, but when he didn't answer, I left."

"So the front door was locked?"

"Yes."

"Did you try the back door?"

"No, I figured he was either asleep or busy, so I just left. You do believe me, don't you?" Her eyes were wide with fear.

"We're just asking questions at this point, Miss Holbrooke," said Washington. "Do you know of anyone else who may have visited him at the new house that evening?"

"I don't know," she said, looking down and twirling the ring.

"How did Dr. Sanders come to hire you?" asked Stottlemeyer. "Did he just pick your name at random from a list of decorators?"

"No," said Kathryn. "Brian Hamilton, a real estate investor I know gave him my number. I work with him on almost all his flips. When he couldn't get Derek to sell to him, he gave him my card and suggested he call me."

"Miss Holbrooke," said Stottlemeyer, "do you take Xanax or any other prescription drug for anxiety?"

Her brow furrowed. "No, I know I may seem anxious right now. I mean, you can't blame me, can you?"

Stottlemeyer leaned back and crossed his arms. "One more question, Miss Holbrooke. Do you drive a Jeep Wrangler?"

"No, I drive a Toyota Camry, but a white Jeep Wrangler almost drove me off the road when I turned onto Sanders' street that night."

The detectives exchanged a glance, then Stottlemeyer shook her hand. "Thank you, Miss Holbrooke. We're going to let you go for now, but if anything else turns up, we'll be in touch."

Kathryn Holbrooke said a quick goodbye, and just as quickly, stood and crossed the room to the door, motioning for the uniformed officer to let her out. It was clear she did not wish to stick around. Stottlemeyer and Washington met Monk in the hallway.

"So, what do you think, Monk?" asked Stottlemeyer as they walked back towards Randy's office.

"I believe her, but I think she might be trying to protect someone."

"What makes you think that?" asked Washington, stopping at the water cooler for a drink.

"She has a tell."

"A tell. Like in poker?" Washington handed Stottlemeyer a cup of water, then offered one to Monk.

Monk shook his head. "Yes, like in poker. When she felt good about her answer, she would look directly at you and the captain, but when she lied about being his patient and started to lie about going to the house, she looked down and twirled her ring. Then, she looked down and twirled it again when she said she didn't know anyone else who would have visited Sanders that night. I wouldn't be surprised if the person she is protecting is someone close to her, possibly even her fiancé."

"Interesting," said Washington. "We did find the file of designs, under the mat as she said. There were also fingerprints found on the doorbell and doorframe, but none found inside or outside the back door, so if she wiped down everything else, why wouldn't she have also wiped down the outside of the front entrance?"

"Exactly," said Monk. "She was also too tall to be our stabber."

"Too tall?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"Yes," said Monk. "She is as tall as you, captain, in flats, so even without heels, the stab wounds would have been higher on Sanders' body."

"You're probably right, Monk, but let's run a DMV check anyway and make sure she doesn't have a white Jeep Wrangler registered under her name."

"You got it, Captain," said Washington. "Do you want me to run one on both of the Sanders, too?"

Stottlemeyer crumpled the paper water cup and threw it in the trash. "I saw a minivan in the Sanders' driveway and Derek drove some sort of sedan, but go ahead. It can't hurt."

"So, what's next?" asked the lieutenant.

"She mentioned a Brian Hamilton," said Stottlemeyer. "Isn't he the guy Jack wanted us to check out way back before Sanders' father died?"

"Yes, he is," said Monk.

"So, his name comes up again. That might be a coincidence, but I think it's time we pay Mr. Hamilton a visit."

"Captain, I think we should also order a toxicology report on those pills I took from Bob Sanders' house the morning my father found him."

"Bob? The father? Do you think there's a connection?"

"I don't know, but Hamilton really wants that house, and I'm beginning to wonder if that's what Derek Sanders was killed for, and possibly his father, too."

Randy greeted them as they entered his office. "Is she the one?"

"Probably not," said Stottlemeyer, "We need to check her alibi, but Monk doesn't think it was her."

"Oh Man," said Randy. "Well, sorry guys. If I can help you any further, you know how to reach me."

"Yeah, thanks," said Stottlemeyer. "Hey, when's the next time we're all getting together? It's been a while."

"I think the last time was the Monks' no gender revealed party," chuckled Washington.

"Well, I was going to throw Sharona a surprise birthday party next week. You guys should come," said Randy.

"She won't like that," said Monk.

"You're the only one who doesn't like surprise parties, Monk," said Stottlemeyer.

Monk shook his head as the friends said their goodbyes and the detectives walked back to their cars parked outside the San Mateo precinct.

"Hey Monk," Stottlemeyer called after him. "You got any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"

Monk turned his head but kept walking. "I just want to get back home and see how Natalie and Sophia are doing."

"Do you have time to swing by Sanders' office? It's on the way back into town. I'd like to try and talk to his partner and maybe have a look around his office."

Monk pulled out his cell phone and checked for any missed calls or texts from Natalie. She did say she would call him if she got worse….

"Okay, Captain, I'll go."

Monk met Captain Stottlemeyer and Lieutenant Washington at Derek Sanders' dental office in the heart of San Francisco's Mission District. They found parking along the street and entered the two-story building. The dentist's office occupied most of the first floor. The captain introduced himself, Washington, and Monk to the receptionist, and asked to speak to Dr. Mike O'Malley, Derek Sanders' partner.

"Dr. O'Malley is with a patient right now," said the receptionist. I will let him know you are here, and I'm sure he will see you as soon as he can. Please have a seat," she said, gesturing to the waiting room.

The captain and the lieutenant took their seats, but Monk paced. He recognized the unmistakable antiseptic smell of a doctor's office and was certain he could hear the buzz of a dental drill coming from the back. Even though the waiting room was warmly appointed with its mission-style furniture and Southwest-inspired décor, it did little to chase the chill he was feeling. He passed the time touching lamps, organizing magazines, and eventually finding a wall of diplomas to straighten.

Washington leaned over to the captain. "What's his problem?" His compulsions are off the charts.

"It's the dentist," said Stottlemeyer, crossing his arms in front of himself. "They're pretty high up on his list."

"His list?"

"Yes, his list of phobias. If Natalie was here, that would help."

"Hey Monk," said Washington. "Come sit down and relax. You're making me nervous just watching you."

Monk turned his head towards him. "I…I think I'll just go home now."

Washington crossed the room and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You want to know a secret?"

"What?"

"I'm scared of dentists, too."

"You?"

"Yes me, and a lot of other people, but this dentist isn't going to lay a finger on you or your teeth. I promise. We're just going to go into his office and sit down and ask him some questions, just like we always do. You can handle that, right?"

Monk twisted his hands. "I think so."

Stottlemeyer looked up from his phone just in time to see Monk take a seat next to the lieutenant. His jaw dropped as his friend began to even smile a little while Dwayne told him the most recent antics of his five-year-old twin girls, Jordan and Jada. He shook his head as a smile formed on his own lips. He had never seen anyone other than Sharona or Natalie effectively calm Monk as well. He didn't know what Washington said to him, but he was once again glad to have the big lieutenant on their team.

Moments later, an older man with salt and pepper hair entered the waiting area. "Are you Captain Stottlemeyer?" he asked, approaching the detectives.

"Yes," responded the captain as he stood.

"I'm Dr. O'Malley," he said in a lilting Irish accent. "Will you join me in my office?"

He showed them into his small office where Stottlemeyer and Washington took the two seats in front of his desk. Monk stood and paced behind them.

"Dr. O'Malley," began Stottlemeyer, "we would like to talk to you about the death of your partner, Derek Sanders."

The dentist shook his head. "Terrible, terrible thing. He was a good dentist and a good friend."

Monk stopped pacing and turned to face him. "I'm sorry for your loss. How long did you and Dr. Sanders work together?"

O'Malley looked up at him. "Let's see…it's been just over three years now. I joined the practice when Marie went out on maternity leave, shortly before their wee lad was born. I practiced dentistry in Ireland for twenty-five years before that."

"What brought you here?" asked Washington.

"Oh, well, my daughter married an American businessman and moved here. My wife and I decided to join them after our first grandchild was born. We didn't have any relatives left over there, nothing really to keep us."

"How well did you know Dr. Sanders personally?" asked Monk.

"Quite well. We all became fast friends."

"Dr. O'Malley," said Monk. "Are you familiar with either the name Kathryn Holbrooke or Brian Hamilton?"

The dentist rubbed his chin. "Kathryn Holbrooke…yes, that's the interior decorator Derek hired to remodel the kitchen in his father's house, is she not?"

"Yes," said Monk. "What do you know about their relationship? Marie thought Derek and Miss Holbrooke might have been involved in more ways than just professional."

O'Malley's jaw dropped. "Derek?! Oh no! He loved his wife, Mr. Monk. It grieves me to think Marie misunderstood his intentions. He was keeping his meetings with Miss Holbrooke a secret because he wanted to surprise Marie with a new kitchen for her birthday."

"So, they planned to move into the old house at some point?" asked Washington.

"Yes, after the remodeling projects were complete."

"It is my understanding they were offered a good deal of money for the home," said Monk, "even more than it was valued at."

"Derek told me about that, but he didn't seem to trust the man who was offering him the money. He also loved the old house. He was raised there and wanted to raise his own children there."

"Was Marie resistant to the idea?" asked Monk.

O'Malley smiled. "Oh, I think she was tempted by the money. Who wouldn't be, but I think she was willing to go along with her husband's wishes. She knew it would be a good investment for their family."

"Dr. O'Malley," said Stottlemeyer, "do you know of anyone with whom Dr. Sanders had a conflict, a patient, or anyone else he was associated with?"

The dentist leaned back and put a finger to his temple. After a moment, he said, "No, I can't think of anyone at all. He was well-liked by his patients, and other than the practice here, he led a fairly quiet life. He was a family man first and foremost."

"How about the house he inherited," said Monk. "Do you know of anyone who might have had a reason to kill Dr. Sanders in order to have access to it, anyone other than Kathryn Holbrooke or Brian Hamilton, the real estate investor who wanted to buy it?"

Dr. O'Malley's brow creased at the question. "The house? Do you think that's why he was killed?"

"Possibly," said Monk.

"No, I don't know of anyone else who had any interest in it. Derek never mentioned anyone."

Stottlemeyer stood and extended his hand. "Thank you for your time, Dr. O'Malley. If it is okay with you, we would like to take a look around Dr. Sanders' personal office before we go."

"Of course," he said, shaking the captain's hand, "and if there is anything else I can help you with, just ring me up."

"Well, that didn't get us anywhere," said Stottlemeyer as the detectives walked back to their cars. "Nothing out of the ordinary at all."

"Just dental stuff," said Monk, adjusting his neck and rolling his shoulder.

"You did good in there, man," said Washington, clapping Monk on the back hard enough to cause him to stumble.

"So where does this leave us?" asked Monk, regaining his balance.

"Hamilton," said Stottlemeyer, stopping in front of his parked car.

"Yeah, maybe," said Monk, "and if not, he might at least have a lead."

"I think we'll pay him a visit tomorrow," said the captain. "Can you come, Monk?"

"As long as Natalie and Sophia are feeling better," he said, opening his car door.

"Okay great. See you tomorrow."

Tell Natalie I hope she's feeling better," said Washington, out the window, as he and the captain pulled away.

Just before Monk put his key in the ignition, he heard his phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Adrian?" came the voice on the other end.

"Peggy?"

"Yes, it's Peggy. Will you be home soon?"

He couldn't help but notice the concern in her voice. "I'm heading there right now. Why?"

"Natalie is sick, and I am becoming quite concerned."

Adrian gripped the steering wheel as he fought the panic rising within. "Are you at the house? What about Sophia?"

"Yes, I'm here. I came by this morning to bring a box of things for Natalie. I could tell she wasn't feeling well then, but I had a luncheon…anyway, I never made it to the luncheon. I came back because I was worried about her and the baby. Sophia is getting better, just some sniffles, but Natalie won't get off the couch. She's running a fever and has a terrible cough, but I can't get her to eat or even hardly drink anything. She just wants to sleep."

"I'll…I'll be there as fast as I can, Peggy," said Adrian, trying to control the emotion in his voice.

He touched the button to end the call and took a few deep breaths. It was one of the coping mechanisms Dr. Bell had given him to control his fear, but as the lump formed in his throat, he knew it wouldn't help much this time.