Adrian had never been comfortable at funerals. His life was usually miserable enough without them. As such, the two he had attended—his mother's and Trudy's—had been almost unbearable, especially the latter. He'd spent the duration of that one staring blankly at the ground and wishing there was some way he could trade places with his wife in the coffin.
Thus, as he stood in the middle of the cemetery as a brisk rain fell, along with almost fifty Sutter Middle Schoolers who come to bid Clarissa farewell, he sincerely wished he could be anywhere else at the moment—including a dump. Not that this was his only concern; the rain had been falling steadily all day, and mud seemed to be springing up everywhere. He glanced uneasily at his pant legs, checking their cleanliness.
"Tell me," he asked Sharona next to him, "You don't see any mud here, do you?"
"No," she said without looking at him.
"You're just trying to keep me from panicking; I just know it's here," he said, fidgeting wildly.
"Mr. Monk, please!" Natalie took his arm, "You're not helping."
She pointed to her daughter near the front of the crowd watching the priest give the final eulogy with the most somber of expressions. "Funerals aren't the places to worry about mud."
"Well I wish that Mother Nature would call me in advance if she plans to bring up one of these," Adrian pointed at the rain pouring down form the sky, "If I had my way, we'd…"
His gaze abruptly caught a familiarly figure standing on the other side of the cemetery, watching the burial proceedings. "What would Jerry Malcolm be doing here?" he wondered, pointing to the lab technician, who perked up once he realized he'd been spotted and started walking briskly away. Adrian weaved his way through the crowd, being careful to stay on the mud-free areas. "Mr. Malcolm," he called loudly, interrupting the priest, "Mr. Malcolm, I'd like a word with you."
The technician took off running to his car. Adrian hustled as best he could, but his adversary had too much of a head start on him. He was in his car and off before the detective could reach him.
"Now he was rather jumpy," Natalie commented once she'd joined him.
"I know," Adrian watched the car disappear around the corner, "I must admit, I haven't been thinking that…"
But then he noticed Natalie wasn't paying attention again. He followed her gaze to see a figure standing about ten rows away looking at them. Although he couldn't be made out clearly—especially with the rain as hard as it was—Adrian recognized him as the figure they'd seen near Ambrose's yesterday. It couldn't be…
"Mitch?" his assistant called toward the figure. She broke into a run toward him, prompting him to take off running himself. "Mitch, is that you?" she shouted after him, "It's me, there's no need to run!"
"You can say that again!" Adrian huffed, clutching a stitch in his chest. Despite his tenure as a member of the track team in high school, he was now badly out of shape. When they reached the spot they'd last seen the figure, however, he was nowhere to be found. "We could he have gone?" Natalie asked desperately scanning the trees in every direction, "He couldn't have vanished that fast."
Adrian didn't answer. Several thoughts were roaming through his mind. He was trying to remember one of the pictures of Mitch he'd most recently seen. Once he had, he mentally placed it over the image of the phantom figure. As far as he could tell, it was a pretty close match. But not enough to completely convince him. And it definitely hadn't been Mitch's ghost; he'd had enough encounters with Trudy's spirit to know a ghost's exact composition.
"I don't understand why he'd run," Natalie continued to point out as they walked back toward the rest of the funeral party, "We had no quarrels. Why doesn't he come to me?"
"Well, Natalie, not to burst the bubble, but what if it isn't him?" Adrian told her, "After Trudy died, I saw her everywhere before I crawled into a shell for three years."
"Mr. Monk, we dated for almost three years; there's no way on Earth I could mistake him," Natalie said emphatically, "That was definitely him, there's no mistake. If only I could figure out…"
"Excuse me you two!" snapped the priest to their right, "I am trying to conduct a funeral here! If you'd be so kind, perhaps you'd like to be quiet so I could have everyone's UNDIVIDED attention!"
"We're discussing something here that deals with the undead," Adrian told him.
"Well perhaps the undead should take a backseat here to the…!" the priest started to say, but at that moment he abruptly sneezed. Adrian let out a loud shriek and jumped backwards away from him…right into the coffin. Both he and it abruptly tumbled into the grave. The funeral guests rushed to the lip of the opening, but all jumped back as an unearthly cry rose up from below. "EEEEEAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!" the detective was screeching, "Oh my GOD! Oh my GOD!" It's everywhere! Mud, mud, mud! AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Stop staring at me, Clarissa! Somebody get me out of here! SHAAARROOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The nurse sighed in resignation. "Why am I always the one who has to go down into the dirty areas for him?" she confided in a bystander as she rolled up her pant legs and strode toward the grave.
"Clean enough yet, Mr. Monk?" Natalie called in through her bathroom door. Her boss had been usurping her bathroom for almost three and a half hours now.
"Almost," came his response, "I still need to clean down the tub."
"Leave it!" Sharona called in, still covered with mud herself, "I still need a shower of my own! I can't believe you slipped that many times!"
"It was a steep grave, and it was wet," Adrian protested as he finally emerged fully reclothed from the bathroom. Sharona brushed by him and practically dove into the tub. "I wonder what her problem is?" the detective wondered.
"Well, at least you did make today at least a little bearable, Mr. Monk," Julie told him from the living room floor where she and Benjy were playing Mrs. Pac-Man on the TV.
"Oh, well, good to know I helped ease the pain of never seeing your friend again," Adrian said. Immediately he regretted saying it, as it made the girl break down again. Natalie shot him a very ugly look. "It's all right, honey, it's all right," she bent down and embraced her daughter, "He didn't really mean it. If there's anything you want today you can have it."
"How about the movies?" Benjy suggested, "There's one at the Cinemark we'd both like to see."
"If that's what you want, that's what we'll do," Natalie stroked Julie's hair reassuringly.
"And leave him here alone?" Sharona had been listening in on the conversation from the bathroom, "Do you want your house to be completely rearranged?"
"Hey, I'll go too," Adrian proposed.
"Now think this over Adrian; would you really last for ten minutes inside a movie theater, especially if the film's a hit?"
"Hey, I've gone to the movies lately, Sharona."
"Oh yeah?" Sharona was skeptical, "What did you see?"
"Oh, it was the one with the…guy being chased by the…bad guys in their tanks and jets and…battleships, and he dumped gas all over the ground and threw a match on it when they drove over it, and they all blew up really…big. You see it?"
"No, I think I missed that one," she said, sounding utterly confused.
The doorbell abruptly rang. "It's us, we've got something," came Stottlemeyer's voice form the other side. Natalie unlocked it and let them in. "What've you got, Captain, Lieutenant?" she asked them.
"For once, we've lucked out," Stottlemeyer said, shaking off the rain from his umbrella into the nearest garbage can, which nonetheless made Adrian cringe, "It would have taken us at least five days to interview all those police chiefs at the convention, but one of them just keeled over dead last night, and he's right across the bay in Oakland. And this one's right up our alley; it's a really strange death. We have to get going now if we want to beat rush hour traffic."
"Wait, we can't go now, I just promised I'd take Julie to the movies," Natalie protested, placing her arm around her daughter.
"I'll take them," Sharona called from the bathroom, "You go with him; you'd be doing me a huge favor, saving me the agony."
"That works out well, actually," Disher approached the bathroom door, "I think Natalie can help in a bizarre case like this."
The running of water in the bathroom abruptly stopped. "What are you saying?" Sharona demanded, "That I wasn't up to par with you and she is?"
"Uh, well, um, no, I'm just…are you really naked in there?" Disher made a half-hearted attempt to change the subject, which landed him a slap on the shoulder by his boss and a stern look. "As I was saying, boys and girls," Stottlemeyer continued, "Traffic's going to be heavy, so whoever's coming better come along now."
"Okay sweetheart, just stick with Mrs. Fleming, she'll take good care of you," Natalie kissed Julie goodbye, "Call me if you need anything. And Mr. Monk," she turned to the detective, "May I remind you that when we're out in the field, if you feel the need to make an insensitive comment, please, keep it to yourself."
"Trust me, I had no idea that was going to slip out, really," Adrian said as they left the house, "And I am sorry, believe me I am."
"Sure you are."
"Really I am, and I can deduct from your paycheck if you get sarcastic."
"We're partners, remember, you can't just deduct me off."
"Yes I can. Partnerships are the same thing as assistants."
"Then I can deduct your pay if I want, Mr. Monk."
"I don't think so."
"And why not?"
"Because I keep my pay safe where no one can touch it, and you don't."
"They're going to have loads of fun together today," Benjy remarked as the door closed behind the two adults.