Monk, Stottlemeyer, and Carolyn sat in the observation room, watching their
suspect through the one-way mirror as he sat alone with Disher. He was a
match for the sketch, though they hadn't seen his hands yet. "That's him,"
said Carolyn. "Terry Johnson Jr.," said Stottlemeyer. Carolyn looked
surprised. "That's not the name he told me. Same initials, though. Oh my
god..." The others could see the reason for her exclamation. Johnson had
started idly rapping his fingernails on the table, and the six fingers were
clearly visible.
Stottlemeyer left the room, then reappeared on the other side of the wall. "This is total crap," Johnson said. "You don't have anything on me; if you did I'd be in a cell right now." Stottlemeyer, a veteran of many tough interrogation cases, wasn't flustered. "I know you want to get out of here as quickly as possible, and I suggest you cooperate." "We're not asking much, just read the line on this piece of paper," said Disher. Stottlemeyer slid a small sheet across the table. Johnson looked at it and smirked. "Give me your purse, lady," he said calmly.
"All right. I'll be back soon." Stottlemeyer left the room and reappeared where Carolyn was waiting. She shook her head. "That wasn't the voice." Monk interjected, "But there's still the six fingers. Remember, he might be disguising his voice. You might have to catch him off guard." "All right, I have an idea," said Stottlemeyer as he left.
As he reentered the interrogation room, Stottlemeyer told Johnson, "What if I were to tell you that what you just said implicated you in a murder case we've been trying to solve for a long time?" Johnson clearly was surprised. He blurted out, "What? That's impossible!" and his voice had a noticeably higher pitch. "Well, you may be right. I'll go double check."
As soon as Stottlemeyer got into the observation room, Carolyn said, "That's it. That's the voice. Oh god, it was him!" "Easy, easy," Monk said. Stottlemeyer continued, "This is our big chance to nail this guy. Monk stay in here. Carolyn, come with me."
The two of them entered the room, and Carolyn seemed to snap, screaming at Johnson about stealing her purse. "I'd say you're pretty well caught," said Stottlemeyer. "Why don't you tell us about it?" Johnson glanced at the two cops. "You'll be lenient if I plead guilty, right?" "Yes," said Stottlemeyer. "And if I can tell you about some other bad stuff, that's more time off, right?" "That's right," said Disher. "Well, open your ears, here we go."
Stottlemeyer and Disher leaned forward expectantly. In the observation room, so did Monk. "I asked this chick here out, and we went to dinner. I impressed her with my monogrammed handkerchief. It's actually my father's, we have the same name. We have a great time, but I want to be sure I'll see her again, so I slip the handkerchief into her purse, so she'll call me up about it. Amazing the stuff you can learn from Seinfeld. I get home, I brag to my dad about it, and he gets all on my case because the handkerchief has his address on the other side, and he's kind of paranoid about that sort of thing. He tells me to get it back by any means necessary, though a little less politely than that."
"Seems a little excessive to use two muggings to do it," said Disher. "You don't know my dad. You sure don't want him mad at you. He's been dealing drugs on the side for quite a while now, always bragging about how he's gotten away with it for so long. He's pretty well off from it, but I never see much of that money. He says I should earn everything I get, like he did. The only things he ever really gave me were an extra finger and gigantism. You know, after I didn't get the handkerchief the first time, he actually kicked me out until I could get it? I spent that night on the street." Johnson chuckled to himself. "Heck, I'll give you the address right now. It's around Lombard Street." Stottlemeyer and Disher listened to the street name and apartment number. Just as they were leaving, Johnson said, "Just do me one favor. Tell him his son sends his regards."
"One screwed up kid, said Stottlemeyer as he and Disher crossed to the observation room. When they opened the door, no one was inside. Both rushed to the front room, where Disher noticed one of the drawers of his desk was open. He looked inside and made a bad discovery: "Captain, my gun is gone." Stottlemeyer didn't quite want to believe what was happening. "Are you sure? Maybe you just didn't put it there." "No, I don't think so. Look." The inside of the drawer was far neater and more organized than it had been the entire time Disher had been using it. Stottlemeyer was stunned. "We'd better get a team to that address before he does anything he'll regret. Come on!"
Stottlemeyer left the room, then reappeared on the other side of the wall. "This is total crap," Johnson said. "You don't have anything on me; if you did I'd be in a cell right now." Stottlemeyer, a veteran of many tough interrogation cases, wasn't flustered. "I know you want to get out of here as quickly as possible, and I suggest you cooperate." "We're not asking much, just read the line on this piece of paper," said Disher. Stottlemeyer slid a small sheet across the table. Johnson looked at it and smirked. "Give me your purse, lady," he said calmly.
"All right. I'll be back soon." Stottlemeyer left the room and reappeared where Carolyn was waiting. She shook her head. "That wasn't the voice." Monk interjected, "But there's still the six fingers. Remember, he might be disguising his voice. You might have to catch him off guard." "All right, I have an idea," said Stottlemeyer as he left.
As he reentered the interrogation room, Stottlemeyer told Johnson, "What if I were to tell you that what you just said implicated you in a murder case we've been trying to solve for a long time?" Johnson clearly was surprised. He blurted out, "What? That's impossible!" and his voice had a noticeably higher pitch. "Well, you may be right. I'll go double check."
As soon as Stottlemeyer got into the observation room, Carolyn said, "That's it. That's the voice. Oh god, it was him!" "Easy, easy," Monk said. Stottlemeyer continued, "This is our big chance to nail this guy. Monk stay in here. Carolyn, come with me."
The two of them entered the room, and Carolyn seemed to snap, screaming at Johnson about stealing her purse. "I'd say you're pretty well caught," said Stottlemeyer. "Why don't you tell us about it?" Johnson glanced at the two cops. "You'll be lenient if I plead guilty, right?" "Yes," said Stottlemeyer. "And if I can tell you about some other bad stuff, that's more time off, right?" "That's right," said Disher. "Well, open your ears, here we go."
Stottlemeyer and Disher leaned forward expectantly. In the observation room, so did Monk. "I asked this chick here out, and we went to dinner. I impressed her with my monogrammed handkerchief. It's actually my father's, we have the same name. We have a great time, but I want to be sure I'll see her again, so I slip the handkerchief into her purse, so she'll call me up about it. Amazing the stuff you can learn from Seinfeld. I get home, I brag to my dad about it, and he gets all on my case because the handkerchief has his address on the other side, and he's kind of paranoid about that sort of thing. He tells me to get it back by any means necessary, though a little less politely than that."
"Seems a little excessive to use two muggings to do it," said Disher. "You don't know my dad. You sure don't want him mad at you. He's been dealing drugs on the side for quite a while now, always bragging about how he's gotten away with it for so long. He's pretty well off from it, but I never see much of that money. He says I should earn everything I get, like he did. The only things he ever really gave me were an extra finger and gigantism. You know, after I didn't get the handkerchief the first time, he actually kicked me out until I could get it? I spent that night on the street." Johnson chuckled to himself. "Heck, I'll give you the address right now. It's around Lombard Street." Stottlemeyer and Disher listened to the street name and apartment number. Just as they were leaving, Johnson said, "Just do me one favor. Tell him his son sends his regards."
"One screwed up kid, said Stottlemeyer as he and Disher crossed to the observation room. When they opened the door, no one was inside. Both rushed to the front room, where Disher noticed one of the drawers of his desk was open. He looked inside and made a bad discovery: "Captain, my gun is gone." Stottlemeyer didn't quite want to believe what was happening. "Are you sure? Maybe you just didn't put it there." "No, I don't think so. Look." The inside of the drawer was far neater and more organized than it had been the entire time Disher had been using it. Stottlemeyer was stunned. "We'd better get a team to that address before he does anything he'll regret. Come on!"