A/N: I know it's been a while since I last updated and I am sorry for that. But things happen, you know. I've also been working hard on my "wordiness." I learned that the common mistake that young fiction writers make is that they use adjectives to describe how someone said something. So, unless it is called for, I will not be doing that. Anyway, shoutouts!


Smeeeee-kc-dm-fan: Thanks for reading! And thanks for pointing out my error. I do proofread before posting, but I guess when I do that to my own work, things become over looked. I read your story, by the way. I like it! When are you going to update?

Monker: I tried not to leave you hanging like that but things happen. Thanks for your kind words and I love your story "Getting Closer"! Update soon! Please? Pretty please?

bringirl2001: I don't know how I could write a "Monk" fic and have no romance in it. I guess I just didn't feel like writing another romance story since I wasn't pleased with the last one.


Chapter One: Ivette


"Mr. Monk, please." Natalie Teeger begged her boss. She was getting close to falling down onto her boss's bedroom floor, but not to beg - it would be to grab the man by his arm and yank him up off his knees.

The man in question was down on his hands and knees. . .beside his bed. . .with a vacuum cleaner. . .fighting what seemed to his assistant a losing battle with a dust bunny. . .a very small dust bunny. So small, that only Adrian Monk's trained, detective, obsessive/compulsive eye could see it. Monk grunted as he stretched his arm even further under the bed. "Just. . .a. . .few. . .more–HA!" With a triumphant, and victorious grin, he pulled his hand holding the vacuum hose out form under the bed. He stood up and turned off the whirring machine that slowly hummed off. He then brushed the dust from his pants leg. He looked up at Natalie, maintaining his victory smile. "Now we can go."

Natalie rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. She turned towards the bedroom entry way. "Finally!The captain wanted us at the scene twenty minutes ago!" As she made her way down the hall, she readjusted her purse strap that kept falling down. Monk closely followed her out, watching her (in horror) twist the purse strap around. He reached up to fix the rebellious strap, but Natalie turned around suddenly and Monk's hand landed on her cheek.

Natalie blushed, as she smiled and lifted Monk's hand off her cheek. She gave it a pat before she let his hand drop down. Natalie looked up into Monk's eyes and said jokingly, "And here I thought you were a gentleman." She then turned around and continued her walk down the hall. Monk followed again and, after he grabbed his suit jacket, followed Natalie out the door.

The pair arrived at the scene soon later. Monk slipped out of the car (once he was certain the car was at a complete stop) and walked towards the crime scene. Police officers swarmed the site, Monk observed. They walked around as if they were lost, but Monk realized they weren't; they just seemed that way to the onlookers. He took a look at the house in front of him. It was a pretty huge place, the victim must have been the owner of the house.

Stottlemeyer saw Monk from across the yard and walked towards him, annoyance evident on his gruff face. He stopped once he reached the (crooked) police tape and took it upon himself to straighten it out.

Stottlemeyer was getting really agitated at this point. He made a deep, low growl in his throat as he walked up to Monk. Knowing that the detective did not like physical contact, the captain simply stood right behind the man in front of him and shouted, "Monk!"

The man straightening out the police tape suddenly stood straight, covered his ears and screamed.

Stottlemeyer sighed. He grabbed Monk's shoulder and spun him around to face him. "Monk, you need to focus! A woman was killed here last night and her maid–" The captain stopped in mid-sentence, thinking the detective wasn't ready to know what had happened to the young maid.

Monk stood there, waiting for the captain to finish his sentence. "What? What happened to the maid? Was she killed also?" Monk questioned him. Stottlemeyer shook his head. "Well, then what happened to her?" Stottlemeyer walked towards the house and motioned for Monk to follow him.

The puzzled detective followed the captain into the slightly large house that was crawling with police and other detectives. Stottlemeyer soon stopped in front of a scared, young woman of Hispanic decent sitting on a wooden dinning room chair. She looked up at the captain. Monk peered over Stottlemeyer's shoulder at the young woman. She appeared to Monk that she was crying. "Ma'am, this is Detective Adrian Monk," he introduced him to the young woman. "Monk, this Ivette. . ." he paused, trying to find the right words to break the news to his old friend. He knew Monk was very touchy when it came to things like this. He decided that the only good way was to flat out tell him. "She was home when the murder happened. The murderer must have heard her and burst into her room. He uh. . .raped her. . ."