He sat in the living room with the case file, his notes and photographs scattered on the coffee table. In the kitchen, Trudy was finishing up with making dinner. Every few minutes she would look out from the kitchen, concern filling her eyes. Monk often brought work home with him, but this case was affecting him. On the surface it was open and shut, but she could see that he believed it went deeper than the surface. She placed the chicken on the table and walked into the living room, sitting on his left and wrapping her arm around him.
"Dinner's ready," she whispered in his ear. His eyes didn't leave his work.
"I think I've put a woman in jail who doesn't belong there," he said guiltily.
"You said her prints were on the syringe," Trudy commented. He nodded his head.
"It just doesn't feel right," he said. "Her motive isn't strong enough. Why would a nurse who has surely had hundreds of difficult patients suddenly start killing them?"
"Maybe she snapped," Trudy suggested. "Maybe this was the last straw."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "That wasn't a woman who snapped. That was a woman who cares about other people, a woman who cares about her patients. She wouldn't kill them."
"How can you be so sure?" Trudy asked.
"You know me," he said with a smirk. "I can't explain how. I'm just sure."
"Well, if she's innocent, you'll find a way to clear her name. You'll find the truth," Trudy said, rubbing his back. "You always do."
* * *
At nine in the morning, Monk entered the county courthouse and headed for courtroom 13. When he walked in, he saw Disher on the prosecutor's side of the room. Sharona's son and a woman in her late twenties—who he assumed was Sharona's sister, Gail—sat behind the defense table. There were a couple people Monk recognized as reporters. Then he saw Michael and Kathleen Shaw sitting a row behind Disher. In the last row behind the prosecution was a man Monk didn't recognize. He didn't look like a reporter.
Monk took a seat next to Disher just as a side door to the courtroom opened and Sharona was escorted in by a guard. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit, the kind always supplied by the state correctional system to new prisoners. Her hands were cuffed in front of her. Immediately her gaze went to her son as she was led to the table where her defense attorney was seated. The guard didn't remove the handcuffs. Moments later, the judge entered and everybody stood as the bailiff announced the arrival of the Honorable Judge Wallace.
"Maxwell Roberts for the defendant, Your Honor. Waive reading and enter a plea of not guilty," Maxwell said, standing and stepping forward. The prosecutor also stepped forward.
"The state opposes bail. The evidence suggests that this woman has no regard for others and certainly could kill again," the prosecutor said.
"If she's killed once, Mr. Norton," Judge Wallace commented. "She hasn't been convicted yet. Don't get ahead of yourself."
"My client poses no flight risk. She has a twelve-year-old son, who she's very devoted to," Maxwell said gesturing behind him to Benjy. "She has no intention of leaving the country, or even the city for that matter. She wants to prove her innocence."
The judge looked from Maxwell to Sharona to Benjy. "Bail is set at 1 million dollars," he said. He didn't notice and didn't care as Sharona's eyes widened and she gasped in shock. "Trial starts Monday at 10 a.m. Next case."
The bailiff began introducing the next case on the agenda as Maxwell went back to talk to Sharona. She stood. On the other side of the railing Benjy and Gail stood as well.
"One million dollars!" she exclaimed frantically. "I don't have one million dollars."
"Look, I told you. I'll set you up with a bail bondsman," Maxwell explained. The guard approached. "You'll just need some collateral. Something big."
"The most valuable thing I own is my car, and it's just a crappy old Volvo," she said in frustration. "I don't have anything worth enough."
"We'll figure something out, sis," Gail said. "We'll get you out."
"It'll be okay, mom," Benjy said. She looked down to him and managed a smile. She ran her hand through his hair and then kissed him on the forehead. The guard grabbed Sharona by the elbow.
"Let's go, Fleming," he said. She reluctantly went with him, not losing eye contact with her son until she was out the door.
Monk watched all of this, Disher standing beside him. He watched Sharona panic about the bail, and he watched her kiss her son. He saw the look in her eyes when Benjy told her it would be okay. And he knew. He knew he had to find the real killer and prove Sharona's innocence. He had to save her.
* * *
"I don't see the point," Disher said as the two of them walked up to the apartment of Richard Vernon. Monk had insisted on going to question him, even though they had Sharona in jail for the murder.
"He may have more information about his father and Sharona Fleming," Monk said, really wanting to question Richard to see if he could be the killer. 'We're going to question him for that information."
"Isn't that the D.A.'s job now?" Disher asked. He knocked three times on the door to Richard's apartment.
When the door opened they were greeted by a man in his mid to late forties. He had dark brown hair, was tall and muscular. His face was tan, square and his eyes were deeply set. Monk recognized him from the courtroom earlier in the day. He was the man that he hadn't recognized.
Monk pulled out his badge and began the introductions, "I'm Adrian Monk and this is Randy Disher, my partner. We're homicide inspectors investigating the murder of Mitchell Vernon. I assume you're Richard Vernon."
"In the flesh," Richard said with a small smile. "Come on in. Mi casa es su casa."
The apartment was certainly nice, and was even more spacious. It was a loft apartment. Hardwood floors, expensive furniture, and a high tech entertainment system made it the perfect bachelor pad. There weren't many decorations other than a couple pieces of modern art. Monk and Disher sat on the black leather sofa in the living room and Richard sat in the matching recliner.
"So, I guess you want to ask me some questions about dear old dad," Richard said sarcastically. "Kathy said you talked to her already."
"Yes," Monk said. "She mentioned you weren't very close to your father."
Richard laughed deeply at that statement. When he stopped he noticed the serious looks on their faces. "Sorry. It's just that sentence was a little bit of an understatement. I haven't talked to dad in five years. If I needed to tell him anything, I would tell Kathy, and vice versa."
"Is there any particular reason you didn't get along?" Monk questioned. He leaned forward on his knees, intent on memorizing every word that escaped Richard Vernon's lips.
"Lots of reasons. He thought I was a deadbeat. I thought he was a tyrant," Richard said. "Oil and water."
"Your sister mentioned that your father felt you married your late wife because of her money," Monk said. "Excuse me for asking, but is there any truth to that at all?"
"Kathy tended to take dad's side when it came to Karen," Richard said, skirting the question. "They just couldn't believe that I would truly love a woman ten years older than me who just happened to be rich. But I loved Karen more than life itself, and I know she felt the same way about me. I don't know how they could even think I caused her heart attack."
Monk could hear both sadness and resentment when talking about his wife. Disher took over the questioning.
"What about the money? You obviously inherited, right? Why live in this apartment instead of a house?"
"Karen loved me, but her fortune was and always will be handled by trustees," Richard explained. "She got a monthly allowance, and so do I. Granted it is a very comfortable sum, but I won't be living in any expensive mansions in this lifetime unless I make my own fortune."
"So, how do you spend your time?" Monk asked.
"I was a programmer before I met Karen," he replied. He gestured to a large L-shaped desk on the other end of the room. On one side it had a desktop pc monitor and on the otherside there was a laptop. The desktop pc's hard drive was under the desk. He had plenty of other computer accessories. It was a very elaborate setup. "Did IT support for an investment firm for a while. But after I married Karen I quit working. I still do some free-lance work just for the hell of it."
"Have you ever met a woman named Sharona Fleming?" Disher asked, glancing at Monk. He wasn't quite sure what Richard's personal life had to do with Sharona. Richard shook his head to Disher's question.
"No. I never visited dad in the hospital so I never met her," he said. "Although I saw her in the courtroom today. I can sympathize with anybody who had to deal with my dad on a daily basis, but she didn't really strike me as a killer when I saw her." He shifted in his seat. "Do you really think she did this?"
"She is our prime suspect," Disher replied. "Did your sister mention Sharona to you?"
"Nope. Today was the first time I've talked to Kathy for a couple months. Dad wasn't in the hospital then."
"What about your sister? She said she was extremely close to your father," Monk said. "Has she always been that close to him?"
"No, not until she was sixteen," Richard said. There was a bitter tone to his voice.
"Why not until then? What changed when she was sixteen?" Monk asked.
Richard hesitated, stood and walked to the kitchen. "She was mugged, raped and severely beaten." In the kitchen he pulled a bottle of scotch out of a cupboard and poured himself a glass. "Nearly died. That's how she became a deaf-mute. Brain damage." He gulped down the scotch in one swallow.
For some reason, Monk didn't believe that story. He looked at Disher, not surprised that he did believe it. "Did they ever catch who did that to her?"
"No," Richard said sharply.
"That must have been very traumatic for all of you," Monk commented.
Richard scoffed. "Yeah, it was. Dad sent Kathy to a shrink. She's repressed everything about the attack. All she knows about it is what we've told her. She still doesn't remember any of it."
"Who's her psychiatrist?" Monk asked. He pulled out a notepad to take down a name and hopefully a phone number.
"If you've talked to Kathy, you've already met him," Richard said. "Her husband is her psychiatrist."
"Michael Shaw?" Monk asked, surprised. "But if she started seeing him when she was sixteen…"
"He ages well, inspector," Richard said with a small laugh. "He's ten years older than her. Fresh out of med school when they met. He married her once she turned eighteen, although I'm sure he would've done it sooner if it had been legal."
"And your father didn't object to that?" Monk asked, surprised that someone as seemingly disagreeable as Mitchell Vernon would allow her daughter to carry on with her psychiatrist like that.
"Dad loved Michael. Not sure why. I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but I never really liked the fact that he and Kathy got married. Didn't seem right to me."
"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Vernon," Monk said. He stood, thinking he should talk to Michael Shaw again. "If we have any more questions, we'll call you."
"Sure, whatever," Richard said. He followed them as they headed for the door. "See ya around."
Monk and Disher left the apartment and walked to their car. Disher got in the driver's side and waited for Monk to get in before starting the ignition.
"So, did we learn anything in there?" he asked sharply. He knew Monk didn't believe Sharona was the killer. He resented it.
"A little something," he replied. "I want to talk to Michael Shaw again."
Disher said nothing as he put the car in drive and headed for the Shaw's home.
* * *
The rumble of voices filled the room as Sharona sat in the metal folding chair. She looked through the glass at her sister and son. They all picked up a phone receiver. Sharona then noticed in addition to his black eye, Benjy now had a fat lip.
"What happened to your lip?" she asked immediately. Benjy looked down without a word. "Benjy."
"I got into a fight with Jason Hodges," he admitted.
"Benjamin Fleming, if this glass wasn't here…" Sharona said angrily. She stopped herself and tried to calm down. "This was your first day back at school."
"I know, I'm sorry, mom," he said, finally making eye contact with you, pleading for forgiveness. "He was saying bad things about you. I couldn't let him get away with it."
"Bad things? What kinds of things?" Sharona asked, still angry but now curious.
"Like you go around killing patients at the hospital, and that you like to kill people," Benjy explained.
She shook her head and sighed. She knew this was coming. "Listen, kiddo," she said, lightening up a little. "While this is going on, people are going to say things that you're not going to like. It doesn't mean they're true. You need to ignore them. You can't fight everybody who says bad things about me. Got it?"
He nodded his head. Then Gail began to speak. "He got a five day suspension. I was actually there when it started and managed to break it up with the help of Jason Hodges' mom. The principal wanted to expel Benjy considering the fight the other day, but I talked her out of it because Jason started the fight. Jason's mom actually helped with that too."
"Good," Sharona said. "Now, what about bail?"
"I'm sorry," Gail said. "We tried, but we just didn't have enough for collateral. I even tried calling on another favor."
"That's okay. Thanks for trying," Sharona said. "Speaking of favors, thanks for getting that lawyer. I don't know if I could trust someone who was assigned to me by the court. I really owe you."
"Hey, I wasn't about to let you rot in jail while some court-appointed flunkie sat back and let you get convicted," Gail said. "How are you holding up in there?"
"Okay, I guess. I've been keeping to myself and nobody's bothered me yet," she replied. "Hopefully it stays that way."
"Um, I actually need to pass a message on to you…from your work," Gail said hesitantly.
"Oh god, here we go," Sharona said. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her right hand. "I'm fired, right?"
"Dr. Parchman said he fought for you, but the board of directors voted unanimously," she explained. "They said this case was generating too much bad publicity."
"I haven't even been convicted yet," Sharona said sharply. "How can they do this to me?"
"I don't know. Max is actually fighting it, but he's obviously concentrating more on the murder thing first."
Sharona suddenly realized that her eyes were starting to fill with tears. She wiped at them and sniffed. The frustration was certainly getting to her. She had to get out of this, and it had to happen soon.
"It's going to be okay, Sharona," Gail said, noticing how upset her older sister was.
"Everybody keeps saying that, but I'm not so sure if I believe it," she said quietly. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
"What if I talked to the police and told them you couldn't do this?" Benjy asked. Sharona's heart melted, knowing that he had all the best intentions, even though it certainly wouldn't work.
"Don't talk to the police Benjy," she instructed. "They don't believe me. It's up to the court now."
"Fleming, time's up," a guard called. She glanced over her shoulder and then looked back to Benjy and Gail.
"We'll come by tomorrow," Gail said. "Hang in there."
"I love you, mom," Benjy said quickly as Sharona stood. The guard was there to escort her away.
"I love you, too, kiddo," she said. She put the receiver back in its place as the guard led her away. She couldn't help a few stray tears from escaping down her cheeks as Benjy and Gail were out of sight.