"Captain!" Disher burst into Stottlemeyer's office the next morning, coffee mug in hand. "We finally found the third guy claiming ownership of the blue Suburban."

Stottlemeyer yawned. "That's great. Has he been contacted?"

"Don't you want to know why it took so long to locate him?"

Stottlemeyer sighed. "You're going to tell me anyway aren't you?"

"Well, not if you really don't want to know, sir. I mean, I'll tell you only what is pertinent to this case. Although, the rest is somewhat interesting."

"Ok."

"It's not like I went to a whole lot of trouble-"

"Randy! Just tell me."

"Ok." Randy sat down in front of the desk and leaned forward excitedly. "Well, this guy's got a pretty colorful past. And, when I say colorful, I mean-"

"Randy, it's 6:15 in the morning."

"Right. Sorry, sir."

"Another good night?"

"Great night."

"I'm happy for you."

Randy paused and swallowed. "Thank you, sir."

"I mean it. I really am happy for you. You put in a lot of time here; you deserve to have a life on the outside."

Randy was taken aback. "Wow. Um."

"Can I give you a little advice?"

"Of course, sir. That would be great."

"Treat her well. Pay attention to her. Remember her birthday and other important dates."

"Things not going so well with Karen?"

Stottlemeyer sighed and scrubbed his face. "Nope. She won't even talk to me. I thought maybe if I went ahead and signed the divorce papers, she might at least talk or let me talk."

"I'm sorry, sir. I wish there was something I could do."

Stottlemeyer waved a dismissive hand. "I screwed things up. I'm the one who has to try to fix them."

"Well, if you ever need to talk…"

"Thank you, Randy."

They sat in silence for a minute.

"The third 'owner' of the van?" Stottlemeyer asked finally. "Clint Simms was it?"

"Yes, sir. It took a long time to find him because we were looking for the wrong person. See, Clint Simms isn't his real name. Well, I guess it could be. He's got at least two other names, so who knows what his real name is. He also goes by Dean Carter and Eddie Oliver. He may have more than one name, but he uses the same cell phone. The same number was on the title for the Suburban and on the registration for his gun. If the names Clint Simms and Dean Carter hadn't shown up so close in the list, I might never have made the connection."

"Good work, Lt. What about the third name?"

"Clint Simms was the name listed as a reference on a job application for Dean Carter."

Stottlemeyer chuckled. "He put himself as a reference. Why didn't I ever think of that?"

"Yeah, he was sure to put in a good word for himself."

"Did he actually put the same cell phone number twice on the application?"

"Yes, sir. He did. I guess he counted on no one noticing."

"Lucky for him there aren't very many Adrian Monks in the world. What job was he applying for?"

"You're going to love this He was applying for a position at Oliver Enterprises."

"Oliver Enterprises. As in Eddie Oliver Enterprises?"

"Yep."

"And what is Oliver Enterprises?"

"A shipping company. Here's a list of the things they ship."

Stottlemeyer scanned the paper Disher handed him. "Variety is certainly the spice of life," he muttered.

"Sir?"

"This list includes everything from used furniture to insurance plans and pharmaceuticals."

"Oh, there's one other thing." Disher handed him another sheet of paper. "They recently made a shipment of cleaning supplies and lab equipment to one Marcus A. Malone. A as in Anthony."

"I doubt that's all they delivered."

III

"Any word on Vera Laney yet?" Monk asked.

"Good morning to you too, Monk," Stottlemeyer said.

"Morning, Captain."
"Morning, Natalie."

"Good morning. Any-"
"Not yet. Randy's got some intel though."

Randy brought them up to speed.

"Leon," Monk muttered.

"Monk?" Stottlemeyer asked.

"Clint Simms is Leon."

"How do you know that?" Randy asked.

"He took the letters from his names. L from Clint, e from Eddie, o from Oliver and n from Dean."

"I don't know, Monk," Stottlemeyer said.

"If we find him, we find Vera Laney. I'm sure of it, Leland."

"I'm not doubting you. I'm just not sure about the name thing."

"I know it sounds too easy, but it makes sense."

"Why two letters from the same name?"

"I don't know. Maybe he has a fourth alias."

'I can check, sir. He could be right. I mean, the guy did put the same cell phone number in two places on the same application."

"And applied to his own company," Natalie added.

Stottlemeyer thought everything over. "Do it."

"Were you able to find Mrs. Laney's husband?" Monk asked as Randy moved away.

"Yes," he replied stopping to shuffle through some papers. "His name is Jake Newman, and guess where he works."

"Oliver Enterprises," everyone else said.

III

"You ok/" Natalie asked Monk as she drove to Oliver Enterprises.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I'm fine."

"You're kind of quiet. Plus, you haven't said anything about my new decoration." She pointed to a pair of red and white dice hanging from the rearview mirror. "Julie and Samantha thought they were cool, so I bought them."

"They look nice," Monk said and turned to look out the window.

Natalie glanced at him. "Ok, what's wrong?"
"Why do you say-?"
"Because the dice are uneven."

Monk studied the dice. "Oh." He adjusted the strings so they were hanging evenly. "That's better."

"Tell me what's going on with you or I'll put them back the way they were."

"You wouldn't do that." Monk said with an uncertain smile.

"Oh yeah?" Natalie reached for the dice.

"Ok, ok." Monk held up his hands. "That's not funny," he said when he was sure Natalie's hand was firmly on the wheel again.

"I know. I'm sorry. But you're kind of scaring me."

"I was just thinking about what the Captain said."

Natalie waited quietly for him to continue.

"He didn't want to believe me about Leon. I think he thinks I'm trying too hard to see something because I want to find Vera Laney so much."

"Why do you want to find her so much? I mean, I know she needs help, and you're job is to help her. And I'm sure you want to help her. But it seems like there's more to this woman than other people we've helped."

"Because of what she's doing for her husband. She's going through so much to protect him."

Natalie sensed there was something else he wanted to say and held her breath.

Monk turned to the window again, not really seeing anything beyond it. After a deep sigh, he said, "Trudy would have done that for me."

III

"Nothing?" Bruce asked.

Johnny rested his head against the lamppost and sighed. "I feel so useless." He pushed away from the post.

Bruce moved to lean his back against the post, stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched his friend pace the sidewalk. "Why don't you take a break? We've been here for over an hour, and you skipped breakfast. Let's go grab a bite. You can clear your head for a while."

Johnny shaded his eyes and looked at the post. "Maybe after one more try."

As he reached the post, Bruce grabbed him and steered him toward the street. "You said that last time."

"I know, but-"

"There's a café over there." Bruce pointed across the street. "We'll sit outside, and you can stare at that post 'til your eyes pop out of your head as long as you're resting and getting something in your gut. Therapist's orders."

Johnny studied his friend for a moment then stepped onto the street. "You're not my therapist anymore," he said petulantly.

"Got you to move though didn't I?"

Johnny didn't answer, but stopped in the middle of the street.

"Johnny?"

"Stay away from me!" Vera Laney shrieked and ran.

"Wait!" Monk cried and started after her. "You don't understand."

The woman rounded the building, ran into the street and was hit by the Suburban.

Johnny looked into the vehicle as it kept going.

Vera was moaning on the ground. Johnny knelt and touched her cheek. Her neck was broken, one arm was shattered and the blood all over the front of her shirt almost obscured the words Oliver Enterprises.

"Somebody call an ambulance," Monk shouted rushing over.

Vera Laney stopped moaning, and her head rolled to one side.

Johnny felt for a pulse. "We're too late."

"Johnny!" Bruce was tugging on Johnny's arm.

Horns were blaring. Drivers were shouting.

"I saw them," Johnny said.

"Saw who?"

"The men in the van. I got a good, clear look at both of them."

A horn blasted in Bruce's ear. "Get out of the damn street!"

"Come on," Bruce said pulling Johnny toward the sidewalk.

"We have to go to the police station."

"Right now, we have to get out of the middle of the street."

III

"Here we are." Natalie parked in front of Oliver Enterprises.

She and Monk approached the glass door. The blinds were closed, but the door was unlocked.

Inside, there were two desks facing each other across the small room. The desks were neat and orderly. Each had a lamp in a far corner, a stack of catalogues in the near corner and a schedule book and receipt book in the middle. Each desk also had a container of pens, a phone and a computer. Under each desk was a trashcan.

There was a small table near a door at the back of the room. On this table was a printer/fax machine.

In each front corner of the room, a small tree stood in front of the window.

"This isn't Oliver Enterprises," Monk said.

"This is the address from the database."

"Oliver Enterprises may be at this address, but it's not in this room. This room is just for show. A façade."

"How do you figure?"

"Look at the desks."

"Maybe they value neatness. You can certainly identify."

"But everything is too neat."

Natalie gave him a sidelong glance. "That's something I never expected to hear from you."

Ignoring her comment, Monk explained. "The desks are exact mirror images."

"So?"

"So there's nothing personal about the arrangement of the things on them. For instance." He walked past Natalie to the desk on the left. "Look at the contents of this container."

"A blue pen, two black ones, a red one and a pencil."

"Now look at that container." He pointed across the room.

"A blue pen, two black ones, a red one and a pencil."

"With the blue pen facing the wall, the black pens on either side, and the red pen and the pencil facing out. The pen on the right; the pencil on the left."

"Just like that one," Natalie said awestruck, pointing to the container by Monk.

"Even if two people were required to be this neat and orderly, it's unlikely that each person would arrange his or her writing implements in the exact same order."

"Or have their computers pointing in the exact same angle."

"Right."

"I knew you'd rub off on me eventually," Natalie congratulated herself.

"Notice the stack of catalogues."

"The same one's on top."

"Not only that. The catalogues under the top one are in the same order."

"You're right. If two people were trying to look the same to the public, they'd at least have the same catalogue on top, but they wouldn't necessarily worry about the rest of the stack."

"Exactly."

"Because nobody would notice. Well, you would, but you're not like most people."

"Right. So to the normal public eye this just looks like a very neat and orderly office."

"With no one working today apparently."

Monk walked to the door in the back and put his ear to it.

"What?"

"I thought I heard something."

Natalie knocked. "Hello!"

There was no answer.

Natalie knocked again. "Hello. We'd like some service please. We're paying customers."

"We don't have anything to order or to ship," Monk whispered.

"Relax. I'll make something up," Natalie whispered back.

When there was still no answer, Natalie tried the knob. "It's unlocked.

She eased the door open.

"You're sure you heard something?"

"Yeah," Monk said confused as he stared at the brick wall. He touched the wall. "It's fake."

"What?" Natalie touched the wall. "Feels like brick."

"All the lines of cement are even. Each brick looks exactly the same."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "You know, containers of pens is one thing, but-"
Monk tapped the wall. "That's not what a brick wall should sound like."

Natalie tapped the wall. "Or feel like. It's fake."

III

Monk and Natalie arrived at the police station at the same time as Johnny and Bruce.

They all walked in together, and Randy rushed over to them.

Randy, Natalie and Johnny spoke at once.

"Jake Newman is the same man as Eddie Oliver and the others," Randy said.

"Something's going on at Oliver Enterprises," Natalie said.

"I can identify the men in the Suburban," Johnny said.

"What?" everyone asked.

"What?" Stottlemeyer asked joining them.

Randy, Natalie and Johnny repeated themselves one at a time.

"Well," Stottlemeyer said. "Looks like Oliver Enterprises has been busy. I got a call not too long ago from the complaints department. Several people have called in this morning about shipments that haven't shown up. Important shipments apparently."

"They suspect we're onto them, and they're hiding," Monk said.

"Probably getting ready to skip town," Bruce added.

"Probably," Stottlemeyer agreed with both men.

"Well, let's get over there," Natalie said.

"And accuse them of what?" Stottlemeyer asked. "The only solid lead we have is they've been missing shipments. We can't arrest anybody for that. And for that matter, who would we arrest?"
"Leon," Monk said.

"For what?" Stottlemeyer said. "Besides, we can't prove who Leon is."

Everyone stood silently.

"Randy, take Mr. Smith to where he can identify the men in the Suburban."

"Yes, sir. This way."

Johnny followed Disher.

"I was wrong," Monk said to himself.

"Huh?" Natalie asked.

"I'm right, but I was wrong."

"What?" Bruce asked.

"I'm right about Leon, but I was wrong about how he formed the name.

Bruce, Natalie and Stottlemeyer exchanged looks.

"He took one letter from each name. The L from Clint, the e from Dean, the o from Oliver and the n from Newman."

"What if he has more than four names?" Stottlemeyer asked.

Monk looked at him. "That would be uneven."

Stottlemeyer chuckled and went back to his office.

III

"You're positive?" Disher asked Johnny.

"Those are the guys."

"Ok. I'll go inform the Captain."

Johnny headed back to join the others. He stopped when he saw Bruce and Natalie laughing together. Johnny sighed. He hated to spoil their fun.

"Hey," he called.

"Hey," Natalie said.

"Find the guys?" Bruce asked.

"Yep." Johnny stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"And," Bruce said.

"Charlie Miller and Spin Cooley."

"They guys who murdered Anthony Malone?" Natalie asked.

"The same. Where's Mr. Monk?"
Natalie pointed. Monk was busily straightening the various papers and photos on a bulletin board. He was arranging them in straight rows and columns then double and triple checking for straightness.

Johnny raised his eyebrows.

"It helps him relax," Natalie explained. "Mr. Monk."

He was too engrossed to hear her.

"I'll go get him."

Johnny sat on Bruce's other side. "So." He smiled teasingly. "When's the big day?"

"Big day?"

"The wedding. I want to check my calendar. Make sure I'm free."
"Ha ha." Bruce glanced at Natalie.

She was helping Monk finish the last section of the bulletin board, and he was busily adjusting her efforts.

"She nice. And funny."
"But."

"Did you know she has a kid? Julie. Eleven years old. Very pretty."

"Hey, what are you worried about? You're great with kids."

"I just don't think it would work out. I mean, she lives here. I live across the country. She's not gonna want to move the kid. Not that I'd ask her to."

"You could move here."

"You tryin' to get rid of me?"
"Now that you mention it."

"We are at least going out for coffee after all this is over."

"Good."

They watched Monk push Natalie's hands away and straighten a photo.

"She couldn't leave him either," Johnny quipped.

"Yeah, without us assistants, you guys wouldn't survive."

"Us guys?" Johnny asked in mock offense.

"Who had to prevent your ass from becoming road kill not too long ago?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"The Captain wants you in his office," Disher said approaching. He pointed over his shoulder as he continued on to Natalie and Monk.

AN: Sorry it took me so long to update. My sinuses are partly to blame. The rest falls squarely on the shoulders of procrastination.

That said, I promise to try my utmost to finish this story over the weekend.

As always thank you for the great reviews. Enjoy!