AN: Ok, somehow I selected the wrong button for the rating on this story. It will eventually become a PG-13 rating, so readers beware. It is a murder investigation, although not as gruesome as CSI is, but nonetheless, language and some suggestive content will put it at that rating. Anyways, thanks to Rosie for sticking with us and reading and reviewing. Enjoy.
Chapter 2
After the incident with Joy, Randy turned off the light and walked back to his bedroom, trying to make sense of her behavior and how he could reach her. Returning to his bed, Randy laid awake for quite some time, his thoughts chasing themselves in his head, until exhaustion overtook him.
The next morning, Randy went through his usual routine of getting ready for work. However, he left a note on the bathroom door for Joy, giving her his cell phone number and his desk phone, but asking that she only call him in an emergency. He also explained to her the reason for not taking her--- that it was too early to wake her and that because she would be with him until September, she needed to be self-sufficient.
As he passed the loveseat, he spotted the book that Joy had dropped in her haste. His curiosity piqued again, he picked up the book. Not wanting to get caught holding it, by Joy, he quickly decided to take it to the station with him.
Deciding to get an early start on the cases on his desk, Randy placed Joy's book in his drawer. It wasn't until after everyone had gone out for coffee, that Randy pulled Joy's book from his drawer. Turning to the first page, he saw a picture of Joy, with two other women, the older one being her mother and the younger one, Julie. Joy must have been nine at the time of the photo. Turning the next page, there were a few pictures of the whole family, just months before Trent's father died. A few showed a baby Joy, clearly after her father's death. Randy got a little nostalgic as he saw pictures of Trent, standing there with his mother and sisters. The third page, however, was of newspaper articles from different newspapers, all proclaiming the same headline: 26 year old Woman, Found Dead in Home! The next ten pages were filled with articles dating from a year ago. The last, stating that police had closed the case, due to the lack of clues.
The rest of the book's pages were blank but, on the inside of the cover, in cursive, was a note scribbled. It stated—Going to live with Trent's best friend, a police lieutenant. Maybe he can solve Julie's murder, since no one else has.
Dumbfounded, Randy closed the book. Dazed and in shock, he started to get up to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he ran into Sharona, literally.
"Hey, watch where you're going, Randy!" exclaimed Sharona, as Randy grabbed hold of her before bowling her over.
"Sorry, Sharona, didn't see you standing there," stammered Randy, embarrassed.
"So I could tell," replied Sharona, "it looked like you were off in la-la land."
"Huh?" questioned Randy, still distracted.
"Hello, Earth to Randy, come in Randy," snapped Sharona, "ya know, you might wanna close your mouth, it's fly season."
"Oh, um, yeah," replied Randy, turning redder. He was embarrassed that Sharona, of all people, caught him unaware. It was no big secret that Randy had a major crush on Sharona. However, he'd never had the nerve to ask her out. It seemed every time he would get the nerve to approach her, she would be dating the new flavor of the month. Then, he would stand back and watch her be crushed, when the "flavor" dumped her. He had to even, one time, break her heart, when she fell for that mobster's nephew, Fat Tony, only to find out that he was really using her. Randy felt really bad for a while after that but, in typical Sharona fashion, she bounced back. If only he didn't look like a major dweeb around her. He wanted to show her that he was intelligent, ok, so not as intelligent as Monk, but, he was smarter than all those guys she dated.
Bringing his mind back to the present, he gave Sharona, what he hoped was a smile, then looked around. "Where's Monk?" Randy asked.
"He's in with the captain. Are you alright? You seem a little distracted," said Sharona, a little concern showing through her voice. True, she and Randy didn't always get along; sometimes, one could swear that they were related, with as heated arguments they got into. That didn't mean that Sharona didn't care about Randy. After all, he had been compassionate during her breakups with those losers she dated, not rubbing it in. Sharona just wished that she could find a nice guy, like Randy. 'Whoa!!! Hold on, when did I start thinking of Randy like that?!?!' thought Sharona.
Bringing her mind back to the present, she heard Randy say, "coffee."
"Excuse me, what did you say?" asked Sharona.
Looking patiently at her, Randy repeated, "I'm ok, just not enough coffee."
"Oh, ok," said Sharona and before she could ask him another question, Stottlemeyer and Adrian came out.
"Lieutenant, we need to go back to the Clanton residence. Monk would like to view the house before rendering a judgment," said Stottlemeyer, through clenched teeth.
Nodding, Randy walked out to the car with Stottlemeyer, Sharona and Monk following. On the drive over to the Clanton residence, Randy was unusually quiet. Leland Stottlemeyer noticed that something was bothering his young lieutenant but, wisely chose not to say anything yet.
Pulling up to the Clanton residence, Randy, Stottlemeyer, Monk and Sharona got out of their cars. Ringing the doorbell, Stottlemeyer waited for Mrs. Clanton to answer, with Monk beside him. Randy and Sharona stood behind them. When Mrs. Clanton answered the door, she looked a little surprised to see the foursome.
"May I help you?" Mrs. Clanton asked.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Captain Stottlemeyer and this is Lieutenant Disher, if you remember, we are investigating your husband's death," began Stottlemeyer.
"Well, the coroner's office ruled it a suicide," stated Mrs. Clanton.
"Well, ma'am, we're not sure that's what happened, that's why I've asked a private consultant to look over the case," said Stottlemeyer, "This is Adrian Monk and his assistant, Sharona Fleming. Do you mind if they come in and look around?"
"No, of course not," said Mrs. Clanton, stepping aside to let them in.
"Where did your husband die?" asked Adrian, timidly.
"In the upstairs bathroom," claimed Mrs. Clanton.
"Can you tell me what happened," asked Monk.
"Well, like I told the police, James was in the bathroom, getting ready for work, as usual. I heard the water running and the shower turn on. After thirty minutes and James hadn't gotten out, I went up to check on him. Sometimes he takes long showers for his arthritis but, when he hadn't appeared, I began to worry. That's when I noticed the water running out from under the door. I panicked and called 911. When the paramedics came, they broke down the door and found James lying facedown in the water. They said that he had drowned in apparent suicide," said Mrs. Clanton, getting a little teary-eyed.
Leading the group upstairs, she showed them where the bathroom was. Monk looked around the bathroom, taking in every little detail, as if committing the whole scene to memory.
"What's he doing?" questioned Mrs. Clanton, puzzled by this man's behavior.
"He's thinking," replied Sharona, a little proudly.
Circling around the bathroom one more time, Adrian stopped, touched the bathroom window and turned to face the group, declaring, "It wasn't suicide."
"What?" exclaimed, a shocked, Mrs. Clanton, "What do you mean it isn't suicide?"
"This is how," explains Monk.