Miles away in San Francisco, Lieutenant Randall Disher sat at his desk inside the precinct station Adrian most frequently consulted at, staring intently at the screen of his private television set. "…and with two outs here in the bottom of the fifth, Scott Gregorio steps up to the plate, hoping to add to his home run tally for the year," the announcer was saying.
"You know, I think he's back to normal now," another cop added, glancing over Disher's shoulder, "This year he just might break that record."
"Well, you can thank us for helping him there," Disher said confidently, "Well, mostly Monk, but we assisted. Fastball, right corner."
"So you're calling pitches now," the other cop seemed amused.
"Five years in Little League, my friend, I can tell what's coming every time," Disher told his associate confidently. The pitcher's toss, however, was high and very much outside. "You were saying?" the cop asked, eyebrows raised.
"Uh, well, maybe it was only six months," Disher admitted.
The door to the precinct opened very hard. A very depressed looking Captain Leland Stottlemeyer trudged in, his head hung low. He walked very slowly toward his office. "Oh boy," Disher grimaced at his superior's appearance, "This isn't good. Uh, Schiller, hide the set, I'd better see if he's all right."
The other cop shrugged and put the still-turned on set underneath Disher's desk. Disher hesitantly approached Stottlemeyer's office and knocked on the door. "Is it OK to come in, sir?" he asked softly.
There was no response from inside, which was Disher's cue to softly enter the room. Stottlemeyer was seated in his chair, staring sadly at "the magic dream catcher," as he termed it, in his palms. "So, um, how'd it go this morning?" the lieutenant asked as innocently as he could.
"Lieutenant, do me one favor," Stottlemeyer said very softly, "The next time you check through the files, if you see Max Tepperman's name anywhere, book him and book him good."
"That bad, huh?" Disher grimaced.
The captain jumped to his feet abruptly, unable to keep the tears from flowing down his face. "This morning, that guy had the nerve to stand up and tell that judge that I was a raging animal, a threat to everyone around me," he said between gritted teeth, hurt in his every word, "He told the court that leaving me around my children for any length of time would be endangering them."
He sank back down again and buried his face in his hands. "Now, for the boys' sake, I'm not going to press why it had to come to this," he confided in his associate, "I'm just going to assume he just came up with it on the spur of the moment and didn't consult with Karen before saying it, because he sees handling this case as a way to get glory for himself by bringing down a cop. I'll just hurt them if I do anything that might look like I'm dragging her through the mud, and that's the last thing I'd ever want to do."
"Well, if you need any help, I'll tell them you're still getting therapy every day and you haven't hit anyone since the incidents," Disher told him, "In fact, I'll even tell them that you haven't even blown your stack since the four times Monk aggravated you last week and you threatened to shoot him if he didn't stop."
Stottlemeyer stared at him incredulously. "Gee thanks, that's really going to help me in these custody hearings, Randy, thanks a lot," he muttered sarcastically.
"Anything to help, sir," Disher naively responded.
Stottlemeyer groaned and slumped his head on the desk. "I never thought things could get this bad," he lamented out loud, the tears coming back, "I've conceded all I could through these divorce hearings to Karen, and now I get the impression she wants to shut my out of our kids' lives. Yeah, I have problems, I'm willing to admit that now even if it's too late, but I'm still dealing with them. I'm still going to therapy every week, aren't I Lieutenant?"
"Of course sir."
"I swear, if that legal loser has a restraining order put on me, if I can't see them on a regular basis, I don't know what I'll do. I might want…" Stottlemeyer couldn't finish his thoughts without breaking up, but Disher understood what he meant. "Please don't think like that, sir, I'm sure it won't come to that," he told him. Privately, though, he was concerned; in the few hearings he had attended, things hadn't been going Stottlemeyer's way at all. "So, anyway, I've got a lead in that car theft case," he said as optimistically as he could, handing his boss a form for a search warrant, "All I need is a signature there to go check if the suspect's hoarding them on his property."
"Good work," Stottlemeyer signed the form half-heartedly, "Now I'd rather like to be alone at the moment, Lieutenant."
"Understood sir," Disher picked up the form. "You know sir, if you're not doing anything tonight, we could stop by my place and watch them open the Treasure Planet ride at Disney tonight on ABC," he remarked.
"Now why would I want to sit around and watch that, Randy?" Stottlemeyer looked at him with a bizarre expression.
"Well, maybe it'll cheer you up," Disher suggested helpfully, "And you never know, maybe we'll see Monk."
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot he's down there this week," Stottlemeyer's expression lightened a little, "I wonder how he's holding up down there among thousands of people?"
The hiss of fire extinguishers filled the ride. Adrian had been going unconscious from the smoke and was thus barely able to here the sound of loud footsteps running toward his boat. "Quick, get some air for these people!" someone shouted.
The lap bar was pushed away. Adrian felt an oxygen mask being pushed over his face. "Did you sterilize it?" he muttered weakly.
"Come along with us, sir, everything's going to be OK," the man dragged the detective out of the boat and up a set of stairs. By the time Adrian's head cleared, he was back outside in the queue. A worried crowd had gathered outside the Pirates of the Caribbean building, watching the firefighting crews battle the blaze, which could still be seen burning from the detective's vantage point. From out of the throngs a very worried-looking Disney quickly appeared. "Detective, what happened?" he asked in a hyper voice.
"Chalmers rigged the cannon system to blow," Adrian said between coughs, "Try to kill me."
"I thought I told you to watch him!" Disney scolded a guilty-looking Barry off to the side.
"Sorry sir," Barry stammered, "I didn't think…!"
"It's OK there, Mr. Disney, there was no way he could have known what would have happened," Adrian told the old man. He was relieved to see the Teegers and Kopeckis now being led out of the building under their own power.
"Move, people, move!" a frantic Iger shoved his ways through the crowds toward the ride. "Oh great!" he groaned at the sight of the still-smoldering building, "This is just what I need right before a national on-location broadcast! They're going to sue us for all it's worth!"
"You can thank Roger Chalmers for this," Adrian told him, "He tried to kill us all."
"Oh not that again!" Iger rolled his eyes in disgust, "I've told you before, Detective, Roger would…!"
"Hold, hold that thought, it's, it's time I go make it a two-way street, "Adrian told him. Leaving Iger with a confused expression, he ran over to his assistant and her daughter. "So, you're not hurt?" he asked hesitantly, "I've got extra air if you need it."
"We're fine, Mr. Monk," Natalie told him, still looking a little puzzled by his most upbeat mannerisms, "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Oh, never felt better, never…oh no," Adrian noticed a pair of grim-looking paramedics wheeling out a gurney from the ride. "Don't, don't look," the detective pushed Julie's head ahead until the body had passed. "My collarbone, Mr. Monk!" she protested.
"You'll thank me later," he told her.
A loud hush had fallen over the crowd as the body was wheeled away. Disney walked briskly up to Adrian once it was gone. "That was no one in your group, right?" he had to know, looking guilty himself.
"No, it was the lady in the front right seat of the boat behind us," Adrian relayed his assessment, "Unfortunately the smoke was just too much."
"Now you can prove it was Chalmers?" the old man pressed him.
"Did I hear my name?" it was at this moment that Chalmers himself strolled into sight, with what Adrian deemed an arrogant step in his walk. "Oh not you again," he told the detective dismissively, "You're everywhere I go today!"
"Mr. Chalmers, I think everyone here would like to know why you saw fit to rig the ride to blow like this," Adrian inquired, "You can't deny you were in here earlier; I saw you."
"As did I," Barry the guard nodded.
"Oh, so just because I wanted to help fix the ride personally, you think I'm a killer," Chalmers told him with a mocking tone, "Well, for you information, I got a special call from maintenance here that it needed a brief tune-up; can't let people get hurt on a bad ride, you know."
"And before you say anything, Detective," Iger pushed his way forward, "Roger was with me when the call came in for the ride; it was legitimate. Since Roger knows how to fix items, he was the best man to call in short notice, so don't give me any more of your conspiracy theories."
"This wasn't a conspiracy, Mr. Iger, this was single-minded, premeditated attempted murder," Adrian told him, "And the ride was down earlier in the day and then reopened; I noticed when we walked by earlier. What would be the point of reopening in the same day if you weren't positive the problems were taken care of?"
"He also threatened us with an accident earlier in the day," Natalie pointed an accusing finger at Chalmers.
"Well, from your point of view it may have seemed like a threat," Chalmers said innocently, "I was merely pointing out that…"
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Iger shouted. Adrian was striding toward the door on the side of the Pirates ride labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Inside, he walked up a long corridor to the control room. "You can't come back here!" Iger was complaining as he followed the detective in.
"He most certainly can," Disney was hot on his boss's heels, "I gave him free reign in the park."
"You WHAT?" Iger screamed in his face, "Without telling me? Do you really want to just give someone like him freedom to go around touching everything that…?"
"Look at this!" Adrian for once could barely contain his frustration at being put down. He couldn't stop himself from pushing Iger toward the nearest control panel, "The circuitry here's clearly been tampered with! The computer's been set to stop our car directly underneath where the fire started! And I smelled napalm and gunpowder the moment we entered that chamber! If this isn't sabotage, I don't know what is! You should count yourself lucky only one other person got killed with this!"
"He's right, Bob, the wiring's definitely off here!" Disney examined them himself, "Now if you want to prove any further that you're blind to…"
"Both of you stop!" Iger jerked out of their combined grasps. "Now look you two!" he said between deep breaths, "I am under a load of stress today with the Treasure Planet ride opening and the broadcast tonight, and the fact is you're making things ten times worse with your baseless rantings! I will iterate one last time, Roger Chalmers is not a murderer, and without positive proof, I will not stand groundless accusations against him, or any other member of this company! Now if you'll excuse me, I have more pressing business to attend to right now!"
He stormed out the door. "And Roy," he called over his shoulder, "I don't want to see him where he's not supposed to be any more, or you may find yourself looking for another job!"
"Oh I'm really scared!" Disney yelled sarcastically back at him, "Well, you might just see back on the net sooner than you think! Well Detective, it looks…Detective?" he looked around in surprise, for Adrian had vanished, "Detective?"
Adrian had in fact slipped out through a side door and was walking along a service corridor with his head hung low again. He preferred to be alone at the moment. It now looked like hope of catching and convicting Chalmers was all but gone, and part of him felt guilty for putting everyone else in danger. If only miracles could happen in real life, but that, he thought to himself with the frustration of the lack of leads for Trudy, was only wishful thinking…