A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, guys! I was on a bit of a hiatus writing a story for a different (and decidedly less popular genre) but I have done some tweaks on this chapter and it's now ready to go! I apologize in advance for less lovey-doviness in this chapter, but it provides a good deal of information for the "case." Thank you all so much for your feedback: alex, qscft, ALEX, Monkfan, lilo, MonkNat08, Alex455, SpaceCadet47, TM10, Monkwriter, Frenho, and Bibbibabka Ditty! You guys are AWESOME!

"WHAT?!?" Natalie practically shrieked. "What in the world would make you say something like that?!"

The question had shocked her. Not only had Adrian Monk picked up on whatever vague sign had been given of that fact, it was the first time since their engagement that her fiance had openly referred to that kind of act. She almost hoped talk of this would lead to that talk, and held her breath for his reply.

"Well, it didn't seem to me like he was any sort of childhood bully, and the way you deliberately hid your face behind your engagement ring hand, no less—makes it seem to me like he was at some point interested in you. Besides that, he called you Nat. And the way you blushed when he spoke to you—not to mention the way you responded to my asking—makes it seem like you felt the same way about him."

"Alright," she admitted, raising her free hand, "you win, Adrian. He and I dated for a while. It didn't pan out. Happy?"

"No," he replied slowly, carefully, with an upward lilt at the end of the word, as if expecting more. "Here's the thing—you acted almost… well, embarrassed…. As if he knows more about you than you'd prefer."

"I think I'm beginning to feel that way about you, too!" she replied, raising her eyebrows in utter exasperation. "I mean, you're delving into my past headfirst from my saying only thirty words, twenty of which were spent praising you! How can you get so much information from a two-minute conversation? I haven't seen him for more than two decades, and what should matter is that you and me are together."

"You and I…" Monk corrected, the volume of his voice as meek and unobtrusive as possible.

At the grocery store Monk purchased four bottles of Windex, two loaves of garlic bread, a quart each of milk and orange juice, and four boxes of wipes. He arranged them equally in the bags, with two bags each containing two bottles of Windex, one box of wipes, and a loaf of garlic bread, the other two bags each containing a quart bottle and a box of wipes. The bagger was not happy to have her job repeated, and made her displeasure known with a snide remark as Natalie and Adrian departed the store.

"Thanks for making me look real good in front of my bosses," the bagger remarked sarcastically under her breath, crossing her arms in front of her. "God, now they think I can't even bag groceries. Thanks a lot."

"It's okay," Monk speedily replied, looking back over his shoulder as he held the door open with his foot. "They know me here. Believe me; they won't hold it against you."

As they left the store, Natalie expanding her umbrella once more, Adrian smiled at her.

"That's what was missing."

"What was missing from what?"

"Anger! Natalie… the SUV creamed that car—ran a red light and slammed right into him—and your guy didn't even yell at the other guy!"

"My guy?" Natalie fumed, her face turning red. "Play fair, Adrian. What about your Layla?"

He put his shopping bag-clad hands up in surrender.

"That was years ago. Can you believe—her never speaking to me again because I was simply following the due course of law? Those Zemenians must really be anarchic heathens!"

"You were simply blinded by lov—"

"That bagger," he began, attempting to divert the subject. "There was no anger, Natalie! No road rage! You'd think he'd be furious that his car was destroyed by a lawbreaker!"

"Ehh, that car looked like crap to begin with," she commented dully, happy that he'd dropped the subject of the man's name, yet disappointed that he had successfully steered away from talk of love. "I'm surprised it even ran," she added. "Maybe he'd be glad if it was totaled."

"Oh God," Adrian suddenly admitted, slapping his grocery bag off his face as he touched his forehead. "How did I not see it?"

"Oh God what?"

"Insurance fraud. Think about it. You watch—in a week or two he'll complain of neck pains, run to the doctor, get a huge settlement…. He may even have a past—would you know, by any chance? Seven, E G F, five four eight."

"No, Adrian, I wouldn't know," she admitted. Monk wasn't exactly coming across as jealous or possessive, as he had in what he presumed were his final days alive, but it still bothered her for him to mention that particular man again and again. They did have a past….

"Whose plate number is that?" she added, feeling dazed.

"Your guy—I'm sorry, I mean…. The driver of the red car."

Upon arriving back at his apartment, Adrian recorded the license plate numbers from memory, with Monk insisting Natalie call the captain to run the numbers. He paced anxiously back and forth as he spoke, highly agitated.

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked him, as he attempted to badger her for the fifth time since getting home.

"Insurance fraud—there'd be a record of it. Something was strange about that crime scene—"

"It's not a crime scene."

He stopped pacing for a moment, looking at her as if she had just told him the earth was flat.

"How can you say that?" he questioned. "There was littering, if nothing else. The red car left a piece of its fender on the road."

"Can I ask you a question?"

Natalie stood resolute, her arms crossed in front of her, blocking Monk from pacing to his bookcase again. Surprised at the sudden interference, he stopped millimeters away from running into her and confused, looked into her eyes.

"What?"

"Are you doing this to get back at Pete because he dated me? I can assure you that what he and I had ended very badly and more importantly it ended a long time ago and—"

"What are you talking about?" Monk sputtered. "Do I look like the kind of person who'd incriminate someone because of something—"

"Yes," she interrupted. "Remember the nudist?"

"Ugh, why did you remind me," he lamented, wiping his forehead with a hand.

"You wanted him to be the guy just because he liked being naked—"

"Okay, Natalie!" Monk exclaimed. "You got me. But I assure you; that is not the case here. Grimmalter's not a nudist, is he?" Immediately he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Wait—don't answer that."

She remained silent. When he finally opened his eyes she still hadn't said anything. It was odd for her to fall so silent. Monk's curiosity increased to unbearable levels.

"Natalie," Monk began, his voice shaking with anxiety, "was he a—"

"No. He wasn't," she replied, throwing up her arms in frustration. "So can you just drop this whole crash investigating thing?! It's not like you're an insurance agent…."

"I just can't stop thinking about it," he admitted. When he glanced Natalie's way, he saw that she was rolling her eyes. He had to clarify. "And it's not because you had a past with him. I don't care about that. It's just…"

"Would you drop this whole thing if I call the captain and check into it?" Natalie suddenly blurted.

He simply nodded at her, his smile resolute. Monk swallowed the feeling of triumph. He had gotten what he wanted.

"What's this all about, Natalie?" Captain Stottlemeyer asked Natalie after she told him the two plate numbers to run.

"Oh, there was a wreck today at the intersection of Stockton and Post. These are the plates of the two involved. The UTT plate guy ran a red light and slammed into the EGF plate guy that was passing through the intersection."

"What; were the cops not called?"

"No, they were called. They showed up and took the information."

"Then what's the problem? If there's something on either of the guys' records, it'll show then."

"Adrian has a weird feeling, Captain. Maybe insurance fraud or something, he says."

"A weird feeling," the captain said, letting out a large breath. "For anyone else I wouldn't take it seriously, but we all know Monk's intuition about this stuff. Lemme run these numbers for ya…."

"Must be weird not having Randy there, eh?" Natalie asked.

"Actually, it's a bit less weird not having him here. No more off-the-wall theories. Not that I don't miss him, of course…"

"Who's going to fill his shoes?"

"Monk'll be happy to hear this one. It's his old partner Joe Christie—he's gonna be promoted to Lieutenant next month. He'll be working in Randy's spot. Well, I ran the plates, Natalie. There's nothing on the guy with the EGF plates—didn't you say that was the guy that was hit?"

Natalie turned to Adrian, disappointment in her eyes.

"The red car guy is clean," she informed Monk. He didn't look convinced.

"So, in regards to your inquiry—their names are Pete Grimmalter—that's the EGF plate guy—and Frank Cooper—the UTT guy," the captain continued. "Not even a moving violation for either of them."

"Grimmalter…." Monk muttered, suddenly looking deep in thought. "That name sounds familiar, and not just to you, Natalie. Have there been any recent stories in the news regarding that name?"

"What news?" Natalie shot back at him, rolling her eyes at his mention of her knowing Pete Grimmalter. "I'm sure I would have noticed if it was in the paper…."

"Is Monk asking me to look that up?" the captain asked, having heard Monk's question. "The name sounds familiar to me too. I'm probably gonna feel really stupid when I find out what it is. Oh… Bingo. Put me on speaker, Natalie."

Natalie pressed the button that caused the captain's deep voice to bellow into Monk's living room.

"Am I on it now?"

"Yes, Captain," Natalie replied.

"Well, you're right, Monk. That name has been in the news. Pete Grimmalter's wife went missing a week ago—Maggie Grimmalter."

"Is he not a suspect?" Monk looked a bit stunned at the realization, yet remained deep in thought.

"He was cleared of being a suspect," the captain explained. "It's still an open case though, one that was dumped on my desk a couple of days ago—I knew the name sounded familiar. Guess I'm losing my memory in my old age. Anyway, he has an alibi—he left for a training conference in Vegas several days before she disappeared. He never left the conference and spoke at several of the seminars."

"Seminars? In Las Vegas?" Monk asked, looking puzzled. Vegas was the place for vices, for debauchery; not for conferences.

"He's an addiction counselor—for compulsive gamblers."

"So she was seen while he was away?" Monk ventured.

"Apparently the last time someone saw her was the morning of her disappearance, four days after her husband left for the conference. She took a crapload of money out of their bank account and took off."

"How much money?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars. She left about one hundred seventy thousand in the account. They had a pretty good nest egg, eh?"

"That's an odd figure," Monk commented.

"Why's that?"

"Well—it's even. And it's a lot more than she'd need to start a new life elsewhere—if that's what she was intending to do."

"Why is it odd that it's even?" the captain asked, but then realized how strange his question sounded. "What I mean to say, is—"

"It's like a ransom or something," Monk interrupted. "—half a million. Did she specify the way in which the money was given to her?"

"I don't think so, Monk. But a ransom? She was free to move around. No one was with her at the bank."

"Oh, so she went into the bank to withdraw the money?"

"Yep."

"That's not what I would have expected, if she was trying to keep a low profile. She could've driven through the drive-thru."

"That's too much money to ask for through a drive-thru, Monk. Actually, I think it would have been more unusual if she went through the drive-thru to withdraw the money."

"I guess I see your point," Monk admitted. "Was she acting strangely?"

"The tellers the SFPD interviewed said she seemed a bit nervous. Hell, if I were planning on running out on my wife with our life savings I'd be nervous too. Apparently there was word that she was having an affair on her husband, but no one knows with who. I think it's a pretty open and shut case. She'll probably turn up in a few years with a new name."

"What does she do for work?"

"She's an RN. Works at St. Jude's."

"Well then, she makes plenty of money on her own," Monk stated. "Why would she go through the trouble of entering a bank before taking off with a bunch of money? If she were planning this all along, you'd think she'd be saving her own money off to the side—and then take it all with her without arousing suspicion."

"I dunno, Monk. Maybe she wants her husband to know—you know, one last parting shot before she takes off."

"If she's the one who's cheating, why would she—"

"Man, you're already knee-deep in what we know about this case, and all because of a fender-bender!"

"It wasn't just a fender-bender, Captain…."

Somewhere behind Monk, Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Maybe the guy's not thinking straight, Monk. Maybe he's so distraught over his wife gone missing that he didn't see the guy coming. Sometimes, things just happen. The guy's obviously had a rotten week."

"He didn't seem distraught," Monk dead-panned. "He was busy hitting on Natalie… smiling, talking…."

"He wasn't hitting on me!" Natalie exclaimed, shaking her head emphatically. "He just recognized me, is all."

"Wait—you know him, Natalie?" the captain's voice boomed over the speakerphone. Natalie rolled her eyes.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "Haven't spoken to him in decades."

"Small world, isn't it? Well, if you can think of something else, let me know," the captain offered. "Otherwise, I need to get—"

"I wonder if Grimmalter went to work today," Monk suddenly blurted. Natalie instantly looked confused.

"Why's that?"

"He was dressed oddly. He was wearing a weird blue coat several sizes too small on him. Doesn't seem the kind of thing a counselor would wear, especially on a work day." He turned to Natalie, his look questioning. "Did he wear that kind of stuff when you—"

"Argh!" she groaned. "As I said, that was a long time ago! Let it go!"

"I'll let you kids work this out on your own," the captain suddenly said, amusement in his tone. "If you can think of something else about the guy that we might've missed, let me know."

After the captain had been disconnected, Natalie turned fully to face Adrian. She could have sworn he cringed a bit, as if he knew what was coming.

"Adrian, I'm not sure why you keep harping on this. If you hadn't talked to the guy he'd never have seen me. It's your fault he even spoke to me."

"He's not just some guy I talked to, Natalie; he's Pete Grimmalter and his wife is missing—probably murdered."

"Now, why do you say that?" she replied, crossing her arms. This was just getting ridiculous.

"She disappeared a week ago, right? And a week later he's smiling at old sex lovers and shaking hands with people who wreck into his car?! It just doesn't… jive."

"Speaking of sex lovers, Adrian," Natalie replied, attempting to segue. "I wanted to talk ab—"

"Don't you think it's weird, Natalie?" he interrupted. "I think we should talk with the responding officer who took their information. Maybe Pete Grimmalter said something self-incriminating."

"Are you looking into this because you really feel something happened, or because you're a little jealous?" Natalie said with a flirtation in her tone, nudging him with her shoulder. She had to get him riled up in some way. It seemed pretty obvious that Grimmalter's wife had left him and he hadn't been paying attention as he drove through the intersection, so why was Adrian harping on this?

"Wh-what are you talking about?" he stammered, anxiety in his tone. "If you would have been watching the scene, you would have seen that it was—"

"It's okay, Adrian," she said with a teasing wink. "No need to explain."

"Natalie, you've got it all wrong," he replied, gesticulating for emphasis. "We should call the captain back to get the name of the officer who was there. I didn't recognize him; did you?"

She sighed.

"No, I didn't recognize him," she admitted.

Maybe Monk had no ulterior motives, but it wasn't like he'd be paid for this case. What was the incentive for him to figure this out? Boredom? She could think of great things to alleviate that… if only Adrian would let her bring up the subject….

Meanwhile, Natalie had to endure his body brushing against like the softest of feathers as he brushed past her to the kitchen, his ability to move around in the tightest of spaces without bumping into her, the way he could sit right next to her yet restrict their bodily contact to a single pair of intertwined hands—all while she barely held back the strongest of urges to just pounce on him and reintroduce him to a world he was far removed from. Maybe then he'd be too preoccupied to continue yanking this particular skeleton out of her closet….