Everyone looked around confused, not sure what to say.

"This is ridiculous!" Natalie broke the silence. "Mr. Monk wouldn't be at a murder scene."

"I know what I saw," Johnny said.

"You said there was a murder," Monk said.

"You don't have to listen to this," Natalie said to him.

"Tell them exactly what you saw in your vision, Mr. Smith," Stottlemeyer said. "What you told me earlier. Just…wait a minute," he added to Natalie and Monk.

"Just humor me," Johnny said.

"Tha-that's not what I-" Stottlemeyer stammered.

"It's ok, Captain. I'm used to it." Johnny recounted his dream/vision.

"If this is actually going to happen, we have to do something to prevent it," Natalie insisted to Stottlemeyer.

"Like I said-"
"I know, but-"

"Why would I have been there?" Monk asked no one in particular.

"Well, there's one way to find out," Johnny said.

"Before we do anything, let's go back to the station," Stottlemeyer said inclining his head toward a small crowd of onlookers nearby.

III

"The nerve of that man," Natalie said for the third time as she gripped the steering wheel. "I mean to get everybody worked up like that. And to say you were there! At the scene of a murder!" She made a sound of frustration and unbelief.

"I don't think he was accusing me of anything."

"If you ask me, it was all a little too convenient."

III

"What do you think of Miss Teeger?" Bruce asked.

"She's very opinionated," Johnny replied.

"Confident and self-assured," Bruce emended.

"Oh yeah," Johnny said and paused then turned to look at Bruce.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"You like her." Johnny smiled.

Bruce laughed a little too loudly. "What are you talking about? She's pretty. I'll give her that."

"Don't forget 'confident and self-assured'," Johnny teased.

"Man, shut-up."

Johnny laughed.

III

"Psychics, murder and Monk," Stottlemeyer muttered in his car. "Oh my."

III

"What's going on?" Lt. Disher asked as everyone trooped back into the police station. He handed Stottlemeyer a folder.

"Lt. Disher, Johnny Smith and Bruce Lewis." Stottlemeyer opened the folder. "You know Monk and Natalie," he added under his breath.

"Nice to meet you," Randy said extending his hand to Bruce then Johnny.

As Johnny shook his hand…

A woman in a black dress sipped red wine and set the glass down. "So, how's work?" she asked.

"The usual," Randy Disher replied.

The couple sat at an intimate alcove table in a dimly lit restaurant with soft piano music playing in the background.

"Oh, I went on another car chase a few days ago," Disher said excitedly.

"Really?" The woman leaned forward with her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "Tell me about it. Did you catch the perp?"

"This one was much better than my first one. We actually drove ten blocks this time. And we did catch the guy. He had stolen some flowers from a roadside vendor for his girlfriend. Not terribly exciting, really."

"You're just being modest I'm sure," the woman said.

Randy blushed.

"I really want you to meet everybody. They'll love you," he said taking her hand and kissing it.

"The way you talk about them I feel like I know them already."

"A man came in today claiming to psychically know something about a murder."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Was he right?"

"I don't know. We didn't get a chance to find out. We had to investigate another case."

They looked into each other's eyes for a minute.

"So what's this after dinner surprise?" the woman asked.

"Oh!" Randy went to reach into his pocket and bumped his wine glass, spilling the wine across the tablecloth into the woman's lap.

She screeched and scooted her chair back.

"I'm so sorry," Randy said rushing to her side with his napkin.

"It's ok," the woman said using her own napkin to wipe up the small puddle in her lap.

"I'm so very sorry." He buried his head in his hands.

"It's ok, Randy." She put her napkin on the table, took his hands and smiled. "Really."

…"Be careful with the wine tonight," Johnny said releasing Disher's hand.

"Huh?"

"This is going to have to wait people," Stottlemeyer said to Bruce and Johnny as he closed the folder Disher had given him. "There's been a double homicide."

III

Monk followed Captain Stottlemeyer into the room.

The air was foul with burnt flesh and recently dried blood.

"Oh!" he gasped and grabbed his handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth.

"Ew,' Natalie said entering behind him.

"Bodies are fresh," Disher explained.

"You think?" Natalie said holding her nose.

"How fresh?" Stottlemeyer asked the ME. He held his wrist in front of his nose and mouth.

"Within the last 45 minutes," the man asked standing. "Bag 'em," he ordered his team.

"Neighbor called 911 as soon as she heard gunshots," Disher said. "Guess the ambulance didn't get here in time."

"They couldn't have been saved anyway," the ME said. "The angle the bullets entered the skulls would have caused instant brain death. If they somehow survived, they probably would have bled to death. I'd like to take them now."

"You've got pictures of the bodies?" Stottlemeyer asked a man across the room taking pictures of something. Monk wandered over to him.

"Yes, sir. We're done with them here."

"Ok." Stottlemeyer nodded to the ME and went over to Monk and the photographer.

"This is strange," Monk was saying.

"What?" Stottlemeyer asked.

"Given the position of the bullet holes, the shots were fired from inside the apartment."

"Yeah."

"So, why is the window broken?"

"It may not be related to the homicide," Stotlemeyer said.

"I think it was," Monk said.

"Why?" Natalie asked as she and Disher joined them.

"Well, one of the men was turned slightly toward the window when he fell. Maybe something distracted him before he was shot."

"Or maybe he was desperately searching the room for a weapon or a way to escape," Stottlemeyer said.

"I don't know," Monk said.

"Well, we'll know more once all the evidence has been examined. Do you notice anything else unusual?"

Monk looked out the broken window. He saw four cars and a van parked across the street. The cars were empty, but two people were in the van. One person was wearing a blue hard hat and holding a newspaper up, presumably reading it. The man in the passenger seat was also wearing a blue hard hat and appeared to be dozing.

Besides the vehicles, there were people walking, jogging, skating and riding bikes. A man and a woman were sitting on a bench at a bus stop. They had their arms around each other and were leaning in for a kiss. The woman's scarf fell off her shoulder. They finished their kiss, but the woman didn't replace the fallen scarf.

"Anything?" Stottlemeyer called as he circled the room himself.

"She should fix her scarf."

"What?"

"Nothing," Natalie answered.

"No forced entry," Stottlemeyer was saying when Monk and Natalie joined him and Disher a few minutes later. "So the shooter was probably someone the victims knew."

"Did the neighbor who called 911 see anyone?" Monk asked.

"She's agreed to be questioned," Disher said.

"Why don't you question her, Monk?" Stottlemeyer said.

"Ok."

III

"Did you know the Ramone brothers well, Mrs. Stone?" Monk asked.

"Not well well. I mean, I knew their names, where they were from, what they did for a living. Rudimentary facts. We'd say hi whenever we passed each other in the hall or on the street. We exchanged Christmas gifts. Neighborly gifts. I baked them some cookies, and they brought me some flowers and muffins."

"So you were more like acquaintances," Natalie said.

"Yes," Mrs. Stone said.

"What did they do for a living/" Monk asked.

"They worked in construction. Contract work mostly."

"So they didn't work for one specific company?" Monk asked.

"They did several jobs for the same companies usually, but Tim said they preferred to keep their options open."

"Tim was the older one?" Monk asked.

"Mmhmm. Terry was eight years younger. His birthday was just a few weeks ago."

"Did they have a party?" Natalie asked.

"Oh yes. A very loud party. Several of our other neighbors threatened to call the manager or the police but I convinced them not to because these boys are hardly ever any trouble. Were hardly any trouble anyway," Mrs. Stone said and lowered her head.

"We're sorry, Mrs. Stone," Natalie said sitting beside her. "You must have really cared for them."

"Oh, call me Molly. They were always nice to me. They treated me kind of like a grandmother. I remember once my kitchen pipe was leaking. I'd called the manager twice, and all he could say was he'd get to it as soon as he could. Terry asked me how I was doing one day when we were both collecting our mail. I mentioned the pipe, and he said not to worry about it. Ten minutes later, he came over with some tools and fixed me right up. Pipe hasn't given me any problems since."

"So besides construction, Terry had some plumbing skills too?" Monk asked.

"They both seemed to have a variety of handyman skills. Their father ran some kind of shop back in Arizona where they grew up."

"Why did they move here?" Monk asked.

"They were having trouble finding work, Tim said. Then, when their father died, they sold the shop and wanted to get far away from old memories."

"What about their mother?" Natalie asked.

"Never said anything about her, and I didn't feel it was my place to ask."

"You heard gunshots," Monk said. "That's why you called 911."

"Yes."
"Did you know the shots were coming from Tim and Terry's apartment?"

"No, but I figured somebody was going to need help."

"Did you see anyone come to visit them this morning?"

"I'm not the type to watch the comings and goings of her neighbors, Mr. Monk. If I happen to be in the hall when someone has company, then I see who the company is but I don't spy."

"We're not accusing of spying, Molly," Natalie reassured her. "We're just trying to solve a murder."

"Well, I hope you find the person who did this and lock him up for good. Those boys didn't deserve what they got."

"Did you hear anyone walk by in the hall this morning?" Monk asked. "Someone who may have knocked on Tim and Terry's door?"

"I thought I heard footsteps at one point, but I don't know where they were going?"

"What were you doing when you heard the gunshots?" Monk asked.

"Watching television. I was so surprised at first that I don't know if I heard footsteps leaving or not."
"Of course," Natalie said sympathetically.

"Did Tim and Terry have company often?" Monk asked. "That you noticed," he added quickly.

"Sometimes they'd have a few friends over after work for a few beers. But like I said they weren't any trouble. Just that party a few weeks ago and one other time."

"What happened the other time?" Monk asked.

"There used to be a lady down the hall, a Mrs. Prescott. She claimed that they broke into her apartment and robbed her."

"What happened?" Natalie asked.

"Well, apparently one of the boys Tim and Terry had over after work one evening had a little too much to drink. They let him sleep on their couch so he wouldn't have to drive home. Some time in the night, he got up and broke into Mrs. Prescott's apartment and stole her late husband's coin collection and some small antiques she had displayed."

"Was the man ever caught?" Monk asked.

"Sure was. He went to jail for a spell, and Tim and Terry stopped being his friend."

"Are you sure?" Monk asked.

"Well, they told me he'd never be around here again."

"Where's Mrs. Prescott now?"

"She died a few years ago. She was about 100 and complained so much nobody misses her. Not like Tim and Terry will be missed."

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Stone," Monk said.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"We will," Natalie said.

III

"Nice lady," Natalie said outside the apartment building.

"Very neat," Monk said as Natalie unlocked her car. "Did you see how her books were lined up? The magazines on her coffee table were in a perfect fan. You could see the first three letters of the title of each magazine."

"You're kidding," Natalie deadpanned

"And her newspapers. Oh the stacks were beautiful."

"Yes, beautiful. What about what she said? Did you hear anything that will help?"

"She said they worked in construction."

"Yep."

"There was a van parked across the street. Two men wearing construction hats were sitting inside."

"Where?"

"On the other side of the building."

Natalie drove around the apartment building twice.

"It's gone."

"Didn't you get the plate number?" Natalie asked.

"I couldn't see it because of the way it was parked."

"Well, we'll tell the Captain what we have then I have to get home."

"What about the other case?"

"What other case?"

"The murder Mr. Smith saw."

"Oh, that. It's probably not worth pursuing."

"But what if he's telling the truth?"

"That's the question isn't it? Is he telling the truth?"

IIII

AN: Thanks for the reviews. : Sorry I took so long updating.

Please keep reading, reviewing and offering suggestions.

Lauren: I hope you like Disher's part.