Doctor Kroger's office

Monk was staring at the waterfall in the courtyard outside, at home in his chair. He was counting the rocks, for the first time in nearly a month.

Dr. Kroger walked in.

"Am I late?" he asked, checking his watch.

"No, I came about an hour early," Monk admitted. "I let myself in. I was hoping you were here, I really . . . don't know what I'm going to do."

Dr. Kroger went to his files, took out his pen, and reluctantly made for his chair. It was going to be one of those days.

"How is Sharona? Did she quit again?"

"No, but there's this case. I didn't want to do it . . . but I was talked into it."

"Why not?" asked Kroger, looking into his files. "Your number one goal is get back on the force, you've always told me that being a detective is your way of fixing the world."

"Not the whole world," said Monk, fiddling with his fingers, "just a small piece of it."

"What's wrong with this case?"

"I'm a homicide detective. In San Francisco. I'm being sent to recover money . . . somewhere. It doesn't seem right."

"You've found everything from rocking chairs, paintings, to missing softballs. If your recovering someone's money, your still doing a good service. Is the amount small?"

"Three cubic acres," sighed Monk. "It's just strange, who keeps that much cash around anyways. Why couldn't he invest his money?"

"You mean Scrooge McDuck?" replied Dr. Kroger, eyes wide open. "If his money was stolen, this could be your ultimate case."

"Finding Trudy's murderer is my ultimate case," said Monk, uncharacteristically stern. "The most this could be is my penultimate case."

"But think of how much help you'd be to Mr. McDuck," answer Dr. Kroger. "Adrian, money is far from worthless. You know that a robber also needs to be brought to justice."

"I know," sighed Monk. "That's what Sharona said. She also told me it could mean a good deal of money, and a return to active duty. So did the captain."

"So why don't you want to do it?" said Doctor Kroger, holding out his left hand. "I don't understand."

"It's not really that. I don't want to go to Duckburg. I don't like change. Anyway, . . . I always thought the place was only in the comic books and that cartoon series in the late 1980's . . ."

"Duck Tales."

"And Scrooge McDuck is the world's richest duck. I mean, in real life, how much can a duck be worth?"

"He's richer than Bill Gates," said Dr. Kroger. "I recently watched his profile on Lifestyles of the Filthy Rich. Have you ever watched the program?"

"Sharona told me about it."

If you can take this step, Adrian, it would be a large step to your recovery," Dr. Kroger said, encouragingly. "Sometimes you need to make a leap of faith. Incremental steps are fine, and that's how you've been improving over the last few years. But I believe you can do this. It might be difficult at times, but if you take this case it won't only help you monetary and professionally, but psychologically as well."

"I've heard," sighed Monk. "I've already promised Mr. McDuck. I was hoping you'd say I couldn't go.

"Did Scrooge McDuck talk to you?" asked Dr. Kroger, intrigued.

"Yes, on the phone. He made a collect call. Sharona insisted I take it.

"What was he like?"

"He had a heavy Scottish accent," winced Monk, as he remembered the uncomfortable (to him) conversation. "He called me "laddie," and made these strange exclamations. "Burst me bagpipes," "Brigadoon," and "By all the heather in Scotland. He also tried to insist his personal pilot, Launchpad McQuack, fly us in."

"You've flown in a jet before," said Dr. Kroger.

"Launchpad McQuack was in the area . . . in his biplane," Monk shuddered.

"I understand."

"Mr. McDuck said I had a great deal of sense, for some reason. Sharona's going to drive me to Duckburg today."

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon, I guess," admitted Monk, looking toward the door.

Dr. Kroger followed his gaze.

Sharona was waiting outside. "Hurry up," she mouthed.

Ten, twenty minutes later they were in her old Volvo.

"Adrian, why didn't cancel the appointment!" she exclaimed. We have to get to Duckburg tonight. You can't keep a man like Mr. McDuck waiting.

She started the engine.

"Check your blind spot," advised Monk. "Not so fast."

She checked her blind spot. But she rolled her eyes, and drove (according to Monk) too fast.

If she had been looking in her rear-view mirror, (and Monk would of stopped back-seat driving) she would of seen a black sedan tailing them.