One morning, Natalie said, "You know we still have to deal with Biederbeck's 'collection.'"

Adrian groaned, "Don't remind me."

"I've looked into it a little. I didn't want to put that filth on my new computer, so I'm using my old computer for the research."

"I was wondering why you used the old one the other day." He had noticed and wondered but determined that just because they were living together didn't give him the right to know every detail of her life. So he tried to keep at least some of his curiosity to himself. Reminding himself constantly they weren't a couple and that she needed some privacy from him. Her thoughts, her habits, and her life were her own despite the situation they were in at the moment.

"So, I've found a few places that will buy big portions of the collection sight unseen - for a good amount of money. I used the list I made when the movers packed everything up. Good thing Biederbeck paid someone to be organized. All I have to do is ship it to the buyer. I'm going to open up a Pay pal account just for that money. Should I put both of our names on the account?"

"Pay pal?" Adrian was, as always with anything online, lost.

"Yes, it's an online system that lets people pay each other for items they buy and sell on the Internet. It can connect to one of our new bank accounts."

As usual, he deferred to her superior knowledge about these things and said, "If you think that's best, and we can get rid of that disgusting stuff, and we can get rid of the storage place, let's do it. One less thing connecting us to him forever."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Natalie settled back into the couch, legs crisscrossed in front of her, and went to work. He watched her for a few moments. The look of determination and concentration on her face was intriguing and attractive. He always thought she was beautiful, but getting to see her at all hours in all ways was giving him new insight into the depth of her intelligence and her beauty all at the same time.

He must have moved or made a sound because she glanced up and caught him looking at her. She said, "What?"

"Uh, nothing. I was just thinking about how smart and organized you are."

"Thank you." The color rose in her cheeks in a becoming way. Then, she went back to her task.

Adrian walked to the office and began to look through the papers for the companies, buildings, and other assets left to him, so he might start determining what to do with them. He made lists that had headings like "Sell," "Keep," "Need Help," "Legal?" and "Gifts?" He and Natalie planned to pay off cars and mortgages for the Stottlemeyers and Dishers as soon as possible. Many of the companies seemed to have murky and dubious backgrounds, so those went under the "Legal?" column. They needed to contact a lawyer and put them on retainer. There were some straightforward companies that he knew he'd keep. A small newspaper in honor of Trudy. But he'd find someone with scruples and morals to run it and turn it into something to be proud of, something with integrity. There were some he knew he'd sell immediately. Anything in a country with human rights violations. There were a couple in China and one in Russia. Three hours passed before he ever looked up, and he only did then because Natalie knocked softly on the open door.

"Hi, I made some lunch. I came in before, but you were so engrossed in what you were doing I didn't want to disturb you. So, I just made some egg salad sandwiches."

"Oh, thank you, Natalie. You didn't have to go to any trouble for me."

"It was no trouble. We both have to eat. It's really nice to do it together. It's great not to eat every meal alone, frankly." They'd both done plenty of that.

"Yes. You're right. It is." He rose and put his reading glasses on the pile of papers he'd been working on. He'd just recently begun wearing them. Natalie had convinced him he would wind up with deep wrinkles if he kept squinting, so he relented.

Privately, Natalie loved how they looked on him; she thought he looked like a sexy professor. She was as enamored as those girls in Raiders of the Lost Ark were with Harrison Ford's character, Indiana Jones. Stop, Natalie Jane! She chastised herself as she led him down the hall.

As they ate, they discussed the ongoing case they were embroiled in—another gruesomely displayed body had been discovered just yesterday. Unfortunately, they were no closer to discovering the thread that would pull it all together. This body had been clearly displayed—head separated from the body in a shipping box, just like in the movie, Seven. It was puzzling and definitely did not play to Monk's strengths.

The egg salad on wheat toast and potato chips, along with fresh lemonade, was just what the doctor, and Monk's stomach, ordered. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was until he ate. It sometimes amazed Monk that the two of them could discuss such things as they ate, but they could talk about it generally and not in specific detail. Having someone to share and understand his work life was so helpful to him. Natalie understood his moods, his needs, and his work completely. He'd never found such synchronicity with another human.

Despite the subject matter they'd been kicking around, Adrian sighed in contentment. Sharing a life with someone was always an adjustment, people said. He remembered before their wedding, Trudy's family and his family and their friends had said it to them endlessly. And it had been an adjustment. Someone else's needs, schedule, feelings to consider, tastes, and style, but Adrian had been so willing to concede to Trudy's every desire that he had subjugated almost all of his own needs and feelings because he was so damn happy catering to her. When she was gone, he was lost because he'd totally forgotten who he was without her. But, gradually, he'd found his way again. Thanks to Sharona, who'd helped him survive, and then Natalie, who taught him to live again.

Although it wasn't a marriage, there was so little adjusting this time. Adrian and Natalie had been together longer than he and Trudy had been. They knew one another in almost every possible way. Their tastes meshed and complimented rather than clashed. From their favorite colors to the types of food they liked to eat. They really were a good pair. A good match. Why hadn't he noticed that all those years ago? The simple answer was he had, but he wasn't ready. He couldn't allow himself to want something for himself while Trudy's murder went unsolved.

As Natalie herself would say, maybe fate intervened and brought them together. First as victim and detective, then as employee and employer, and finally, as friends. The closest of friends. Had it been Trudy or even Mitch pushing them toward one another? Of course, Monk wasn't a superstitious or even a particularly spiritual human being, so he had no idea where that thought came from. Again, it was Natalie rubbing off on him! The idea of anything or anyone rubbing off on him should have repelled him. But the idea of Natalie and her ideas and thoughts "rubbing off" and becoming his didn't bother him one iota. He shrugged at the irony and ate the last bite of his sandwich.

Throughout his internal conversation with himself, Natalie watched Adrian's expressions change. She wondered what he was thinking about but knew better than to interrupt any ruminating that might solve a case. She chewed a carrot stick, she had finished her self-limited chips, and for the millionth time since they'd met, she studied him and wondered how his mind worked and why it worked so differently than other people's minds. She marveled at his ability to see the smallest clue yet couldn't see right through to her deepest feelings about him. She also wondered if physically his brain was different from hers… the crenellations and hemispheres, the amount of gray matter… or if he could access and use more of his brain than others did? Finally, Natalie stopped daydreaming long enough to realize they'd finished, and Adrian stood beside her, waiting to take her plate and glass.

"Are you through?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes, thanks."

"You made lunch; I'll clean up."

"Thank you. We're a good team."

He smiled that genuine smile at her, and his dimples flashed. "We are, Natalie, we really are." She retreated to the family room once again before everything in her head and in her heart came tumbling out of her mouth.

She returned with her purse and car keys a few minutes later as Adrian made some tea to take back to his piles of paper. He smiled at the determined look on her face.

"Where are you off to?" He asked, still smiling.

"To rid us of some of that disgusting stuff in the storage place."

Adrian put the mug down. "Then I'm coming with you. Who knows what kind of person or people you will be meeting?"

"Thanks, really. I will be just fine. This meeting is with a rep from the Sex Museum of Amsterdam."

Adrian turned several unbecoming shades of red. "The what?"

"You heard me the first time… do you really want me to repeat it?"

"Uh, no. No. That's… no, thank you!" Natalie giggled at his discomfort.

"Adrian it's just a collection of words, relax. I didn't ask you to perform lewd acts right here on the kitchen table!"

"Natalie!"

"Yeeeesssss?" She said in a teasing manner. Then she turned serious again. "Don't worry about me," she patted his cheek. "I'll be home later and will bring dinner with me!"

Adrian watched as she turned, walked out of the kitchen, and relaxed marginally. If only she knew how one of his very improper fantasies actually involved that kitchen table.

𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ𝕸ɳ

Hours later, Natalie returned triumphantly. And richer.

"Hi!" She sang as she walked in the door with a big bag of food that smelled fantastic and an even bigger smile.

"Hi! It's done?"

"About halfway. I downsized to a smaller storage unit," Natalie grinned. He felt about halfway relieved. He felt more relieved when she waved a high six-figure check in front of him.

"Wow!"

"I know… and that was just from the uh… toys and collectibles." Adrian winced but held it together, knowing with certainty the good they'd be able to do with the money.

They unpacked the bag of food. He'd already set the table.

"Crab cakes with pasta, okay?"

"We won't know until we try."

"You've never had crab cakes?"

"Not to my recollection."

"Well, that's one hundred percent no, then!" Natalie exclaimed. "You like fish. You like shrimp. I think you will like crab. But, of course, the remoulade sauce is on the side."

"The remo-what?"

"The sauce that traditionally goes with crab cakes. Mayonnaise, Creole mustard, sweet paprika, Creole seasoning, horseradish, dill pickle juice, hot sauce, and garlic. You like most of those ingredients. At least in a general sense."

Adrian tilted his head to one shoulder and examined the two crab cakes on his plate. He dipped his fork into the little container of remoulade sauce and then brought it to his lips. Natalie watched, mesmerized, as his tongue darted out, touched the fork, and retreated into his mouth. She hadn't realized she was staring until his voice broke her concentration. She focused with difficulty.

"Mmmm. It is good!"

Natalie grinned. "I try not to lie to you, you know!"

"I know, Nat!" He grinned back.

"Nat, huh?"

"Yeah, we're trying some new things, right? I thought I'd give you a nickname."

"That's not a nickname; that's a shortening of my given name."

"Okay, that's true. But it's still different."

"Touché!"

They ate silently for a while. Monk and his two plates, one with crab cakes, one with linguine, and Natalie and her one plate. She sipped her iced tea and thought about how many meals they'd eaten together over the years. And wondered where this particular meal and the others they ate in this house would lead them.

Tonight, Natalie cleaned up, under Monk's watchful eye, of course. Then they had some of Adrian's chocolate chip cookies, he was a relentless baker when he was having difficulty with a case, and tea for dessert in front of the television. At the same time, they watched a repeat episode of Murder, She Wrote. It was one neither had seen before. Of course, Adrian solved the case before the television detective but didn't tell Natalie; he wanted to see if she solved it before Jessica Fletcher, too. She often did these days, and it made him very proud of how her skills had developed over the years she'd worked with him. Even if it was just television, it was pretty well written, and the mystery was well done. Unfortunately, they weren't all this good. It definitely depended on the episode writer, he'd learned.

"Oh!" Natalie cried. "The motive was to keep Manny from revealing that Barry hired him to kill Patti Bristol as part of a scheme to get his mother's money."

"Excellent work, swee- Natalie!" Adrian used exuberance to cover the slip of the tongue he nearly made.

After the show was over, the nightly news came on with its endless string of bad news and sad stories. Adrian watched intently, wondering if there would be an update on the case they were still working on. Occasionally the media, although annoying, came up with leads they didn't even realize they had handed to the police. An unexpected turn of phrase, the placement of a camera, a story angle the investigators hadn't considered. Sometimes, even an annoyance could be a helping hand when you least expected it.

"Nothing new on our case," Natalie frowned. Reading his mind.

"I see. It's obviously all connected. If the clues were meant for me, the killer definitely doesn't know me very well. Pop culture isn't my strong—" He looked at her carefully then. "Natalie! Maybe this case is meant to catch your attention!"

"Mine? What are you talking about? I'm just an assistant. Not a cop or a private detective—yet."

"You're not 'just' anything. But be that as it may, it seems that this plays far more to your strengths and knowledge than to mine. Can we get onto the World Wide Web Internet Searcher thingy?"

She smiled as she always did at his misphrasing of all things techie. "Sure. What do you want to find out?"

"What do those three movies… the Lamb thing, Heathers, and Seven, have in common? I mean, aside from murders."

"Okey, doke."

Natalie grabbed the computer and began Googling. "Well, they've each made a lot of Top Ten lists for different reasons. Silence of the Lambs was released in 1991, Heathers in 1989, Seven in 1995, different writers, directors, actors. I don't see any obvious connections. I'll keep digging. Maybe we can go to Berkeley and ask the head of the film studies department?"

"Good idea. Maybe it will give us some direction."

"Let me see if I can find a name to set it up tomorrow." She went right back to the computer to look up a name and phone number.