Sunday, September 30, 2007

Mr. Monk and the Candidate – Monk Transcript 1.1

Monk watches kid pick his nosePolice officers watch Adrian Monk as he examines the crime scene.

Mr. Monk: The stove.
Detective #1: Over here. It’s in the kitchen.
Mr. Monk: No, I mean my stove. I think I left it on.
Sharona: It’s okay. I, uh, checked it as we were leaving.
Mr. Monk: Are you sure? Did you turn the knob?   Continue reading...

Sharona: Yeah.
Mr. Monk: The little knob, though?
Sharona: I turned all the knobs. The stove is off, Adrian.
Detective #1: We believe it was a burglary gone sour. She walked in, she surprised him, he panicked, he left there from the kitchen.
Mr. Monk: No. No. No, no. No. No. This—This was no burglary.
Detective #1: It wasn’t?
Mr. Monk: He tried to make it look like one, but this guy was cold as ice. He wore her slippers to avoid leaving shoe prints – not something your neighborhood crackhead is prone to do.
Sharona: Adrian. Adrian.

Sharona claps her hands to get Adrian’s attention.

Mr. Monk: He was in here. He was waiting.
Detective #1: Waiting for what?
Mr. Monk: You know, for her. He was here at least an hour. He was smoking. You can still smell it on the curtains.

Monk sniffs the curtains.

Mr. Monk: Menthols. Salems. Possibly Newports.
Detective #1: Maybe she was the smoker.
Mr. Monk: No. No, she was a Dutch Calvinist. They don’t smoke. They consider their bodies to be a holy – a holy chalice of –

Adrian turns to Sharona.

Mr. Monk: Sorry, I’m having trouble concentrating, because I think I smell gas. Did you hear the click? You gotta hear the click, not just feel the click. Hear it.

Sharona gives Adrian an piercing look.

Mr. Monk: Anyway, uh, after he killed Miss, uh –
Detective #1: Nicole Vasques, 25.
Mr. Monk: Yeah, Miss Vasques, he – he hung around. He was, uh, looking for something.
Detective #1: He was looking for what?
Mr. Monk: I don’t know. He checked something on her computer. He could’ve erased a file.
Detective #1: Anything else?
Mr. Monk: Yes, he’s tall. He’s 6’3”, maybe 6’4”.

Adrian approaches Sharona.

Mr. Monk: What about the pilot light?
Sharona: The pilot light is fine.
Mr. Monk: Because sometimes it goes out. Do you remember the last time it almost went out?
Sharona: Do you want me to drive all the way back to the city and check the stove?! Is that what you’re telling me to do?
Mr. Monk: No, no, no. Would you? Could you?
Sharona: Um—
Mr. Monk: That would be great.
Sharona: Oh, excuse me, gentlemen. Just one second, okay? Just –
Officer #1: Who is she?
Detective #1: Just his nurse.
Sharona: Forget about the damn stove, okay? You are on a job here. You’re a private consultant.
Mr. Monk: I know, but I smelled it and I think—
Sharona: You gotta shut up. The department thinks you’re nuts. You’re never gonna get reinstated, you’re never gonna get hired again, and we are both gonna be unemployed. Do you understand the importance of what I am saying? Now, pull your twisted self together, concentrate and be brilliant.

Adrian chuckles.

Sharona: You’re brilliant.
Detective #1: Excuse me, sir, I’m sure that you’re right, but how do you know all of that? I mean, about the computer –
Mr. Monk: It’s patently obvious, isn’t it? There are no prints on the keyboard, not even hers. Why? He used it. He wiped them clean.
Detective #1: Right. And you said that he was tall.
Mr. Monk: The victim’s short, maybe 5’4”. Look at the chair. It’s lowered almost all the way.
Detective #1: Wow. We’ve been here all morning, and nobody even noticed that.
Mr. Monk: Well.
Detective #1: Sir, if you can stick around for a bit, the coroner’s on his way.
Mr. Monk: No, I’m sorry. I gotta go. I’m pretty sure I smell gas.
Sharona: Gentlemen, you know where to find us. Just call.

Adrian and Sharona leave.

Officer #2: So, that’s the famous Adrian Monk?
Officer #1: Yeah, the living legend.
Detective #1: If you call that living.

Adrian Monk wipes the smudge off his window and counts as he brushes his teeth.

Mr. Monk: 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40. Doc, I’m feeling great. Dr. Kroger, I’m feeling great, Dr. Kroger.

Monk opens his closet and hangs a dress shirt amongst other identical dress shirts.

Mr. Monk: You can’t – You can’t sweat the small stuff. Just keep going with the flow.

Monk walks over to his dresser where his wedding picture sits. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a pair of socks contained in a zipper storage bag.

Mr. Monk: It’s a new me. It’s a whole new me. And thanks to you – I owe it all to you. I feel like I’m back in the saddle. I owe it all to you, Doc.

All dressed up, he walks in front of a full length mirror, continues his conversation with himself while he flosses.

Mr. Monk: Took your advice, Doc. I’m going with the flow.

At Dr. Kroger’s office.

Dr. Kroger: So, going with the flow?

Dr. Kroger and Monk laugh.

Dr. Kroger: Good. Good for you. You’ve been, what, doing some consulting?
Mr. Monk: Yeah, in Santa Clara. I have an old friend there who’s a second lieutenant…and…called me in.

Mr. Monk chuckles.

Dr. Kroger: Well, how’d that make you feel? I mean, you know, being called in?
Mr. Monk: It feels great. It feels like old times.

Adrian quickly glances at the mislaid pillow.

Mr. Monk: Back in the saddle.

Monk and Dr. Kroger both laugh.

Dr. Kroger: Well, do you think you’re ready to go back full time? No, I don’t mean consulting. I mean back on the force.
Mr. Monk: Definitely. Absolutely. Do you think I’m ready? That’s – That’s the question.

Adrian takes another glance at the pillow.

Dr. Kroger: Are you okay?
Mr. Monk: Yeah, I’m fine.
Dr. Kroger: You keep looking at that pillow. If you want to fix the pillow, it’s okay.
Mr. Monk: No, no, no, I was just thinking about – No, I’m – I’m fine.
Dr. Kroger: How -- How are you sleeping? Are you still having those dreams?
Mr. Monk: Well, Trudy and I were married for seven years. It would be weird if I – if I never dreamt about her, right? You’re testing me, aren’t you? You – You left it like that on purpose.
Dr. Kroger: Did I?

Adrian laughs.

Mr. Monk: Okay. Okay. Yeah, so, anyway, um, I’ve – I’ve been feeling – Excuse me.

Adrian stands, goes to the couch and finally fixes the pillow.

Mr. Monk: Hold it. That – That one’s just – There. Then, uh – Okay. No big deal.

Adrian goes back to his seat.

In another part of town, a man disguised as a painter stations himself by a window at an abandoned apartment. Below is a campaign rally.

St. Claire: You people sound like you’re ready for a change.

Crowd cheers.

St. Claire: Am I right, or am I right?

His campaign manager, Gavin, talks to one of the campaign staff.

Gavin: The band doesn’t start playing until the balloons go, okay, right?
St. Claire: San Francisco has a simple decision to make.
Gavin: Wait for my cue.
St Claire: Do we tread water, or do we move ahead?

The assassin looks at St. Claire through the scope of his rifle.

St. Claire: But, hell, that’s all right.
Gavin sits beside Miranda St. Claire, the wife of the candidate.

Gavin: Hey, how we doing?
Miranda: I’m getting lockjaw, Gavin. When can I stop smiling?
Gavin: I’m afraid you’re gonna have to get used to it, Miranda. I told you when I signed on, city hall is just the beginning. I am your Moses, and I am gonna take you and your husband to the promised land.
St. Claire: As my old man used to say…
Miranda: I’ve seen Sacramento, Gavin. It’s hardly the promised land.
Gavin: Forget Sacramento. I’m talking about the White House.
St. Claire: And don’t forget, when you elect me, you’re getting two mayors for the price of one. My wife, Miranda.

People cheer and applaud as Miranda walks over to his husband.

St. Claire: I’m not just talking the talk. I’m ready to walk the walk. Are you ready to walk with me?
Crowd: Yeah!

Band starts to play. The sniper shoots and hits the bodyguard. Chaos ensues. Gavin looks up and points at the assassin.

Gavin: He’s up there! Up there!

At the police station, Lt. Disher enters Captain Stottlemeyer’s office.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay, I’ll call you back. I’ll call you back. Okay.
Lt. Disher: St. Claire just issued another statement.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Is he blaming us?
Lt. Disher: Not yet. Just rah-rah stuff. He will not be silenced. He will not be intimidated.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: He will be blaming us soon enough. Everybody does sooner or later. We gotta make a statement too. Is the press here? Who’s here?
Lt. Disher: The girl from channel 3.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: The pretty one?
Lt. Disher: No, the other one.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: It’s okay.
Lt. Disher: Good. Who do you want on camera?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Me. I’ll do it. I think it’ll reassure people to see me taking point.
Lt. Disher: Yes, sir.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Anything on the shooter? Say yes.
Lt. Disher: The forensic boys are still on site, but nothing so far. Incoming…deputy mayor.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Oh, Sheldon Burger, who let you off your leash?
Sheldon: I just came from the hospital. Bodyguard didn’t make it. Mayor’s on his way back from Sacramento. Look, I don’t have to tell you, Captain. We’re on a bus to hell. Capt. Stottlemeyer: I understand.
Sheldon: If we don’t slam-dunk this, it’s gonna look like we’re not trying.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I’m not an idiot, Sheldon. I’ve got every available man on the case.
Sheldon: No, you don’t. Mayor wants you to bring in your old friend.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk?

Monk braces himself on the passenger seat, while Sharona drives.

Mr. Monk: Bus! Bus! Bus!
Sharona: I still can’t believe this. The mayor asked for you personally.
Mr. Monk: There’s a bus on the right.
Sharona: Oh this is great. This is gonna get you back on the force. I’m telling you.
Mr. Monk: I already have a job, remember? The girl in Santa Clara? Merging! Merging! Everybody’s mer –
Sharona: You want – You want to drive?
Mr. Monk: What lane are you in?!
Sharona: You want to drive?! I’ll sit there and yell and point and drive you nuts, ‘cause you’re driving me nuts, Adrian.
Mr. Monk: Ok. All right. Sorry. It’s red! It’s red! Come on, it’s red!

Sharona and Adrian squirm out of the press and makes their way to meet with Captain Stottlemeyer and Lt. Disher.

Sharona: Be cool. No, not today. You can’t today.
Lt. Disher: Look who’s here – the defective detective.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Hello, Monk.
Mr. Monk: Captain.

They shake hands. Sharona hands Adrian a wipe.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Sharona.
Sharona: Hi.
Mr. Monk: Lieutenant.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: You look good. Dr. Kroger says you’ve been getting out some.
Sharona: Oh, he is really doing great. I can’t even keep up with him. Thanks.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Excellent. The candidate is waiting for us upstairs. I wanted to make this crystal-clear. You’re here because the mayor thinks you can walk on water, but you’re a civilian now, Monk. You have observer status only, okay? When I’m in there, I talk. You say nothing, understand? Look, Monk, when I took your badge three years ago, I told you nothing would give me more pleasure than to see your reinstated, and I meant that. But you’re obviously not ready.
Mr. Monk: Is that you talking or the uniform?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I am the uniform, Monk. You didn’t understand that back when I was your watch commander. Now, you just stay out of my way, and we’ll be fine.
Mr. Monk: Yes, sir. And – And I’m sure you and Karen will work things out.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What did you say?
Mr. Monk: You and your wife – you’re having some problems.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What are you talking about? Karen and I are fine. We’re 100%.
Mr. Monk: Yes, ser. My mistake. Um, never been happier to be wrong.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk! Come here. How did you know that?
Mr. Monk: You missed a spot shaving. Karen would have caught that. And your necktie – she always ties it for you. She uses that double slipknot. Conclusion – you dressed yourself. And, uh, the Ramada Inn cup. Send her some…roses maybe.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: When we get in there, you don’t say anything.

At the conference room.

Gavin: No, no, no. Forget it. We’re four points behind with ten days to go. I am not putting my man in a box.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Nobody wants to put anybody in a box, Mr. Lloyd.
Lt. Disher: All we want to do is limit your public appearances…and not announce your schedule in advance.
Gavin: Oh, I’m sure the mayor would love that. Maybe we should move the whole campaign and run it from the basement. How about that?!
St. Claire: Gavin, that’s not fair. The captain’s just doing his job.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Mr. St. Claire, can you think of anybody who might wish you harm? A disgruntled employee?
Miranda: Or an ex-wife. Or a union official. I know a couple of ex-business partners…who no longer send us Christmas cards. You boys have your work but out for you.
St. Claire: A man who hasn’t made any enemies hasn’t done squat.
Jesse: Warren, you’re sure you want to go through with this? After yesterday, no one would blame you if you quit.
St. Claire: Jesse, you used to say “quit” was a four-letter-word.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Excuse me. We haven’t been introduced. I’m sorry. Who are you?
Jesse: Uh, Jesse Goodman. I work upstairs. Senior vice president/concerned friend.
St. Claire: I couldn’t make this run if Jesse wasn’t upstairs minding the store. Baby.

St. Claire stands and approaches his wife who has made herself a drink.

St. Claire: Do you need that?
Miranda: Yes, I do. Somebody tried to kill my husband yesterday right in front of me.

Captain Stottlemeyer notices that Monk has started to rearrange the pins on the campaign board.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk.
Miranda: Excuse me! What – What are you doing?
Mr. Monk: I was just straightening up.
Gavin: Oh, my God. Excuse me! That’s color coded by voting precinct. It took me three weeks to set this up.
Monk: Sorry.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Monk!
Miranda: What department are you with?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Ma’am, this is Adrian Monk. He’s no longer with our department. He’s here as a private consultant.
Mr. Monk: I’ll put them all back the way they were.
Gavin: No, no, no, stop. You can’t possibly remember how everything was. So just –
Sharona: Yes, he can. Yes, he can.
Mr. Monk: It won’t take too long. It’d take one second.

Adrian gets a hold of the board, as well as Gavin.

Gavin: No.
Mr. Monk: It’d take one second.
Sharon: Adrian, let go of the board!

Adrian lets go, the board flips and the pins fly.
They all take their seat and watch as Adrian fixes the board.

Jesse: So Captain, you said he’s no longer with the department?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: He was given a 315.
Lt. Disher: Psychological discharge.
Sharona: It’s a temporary suspension.
Lt. Disher: Psychological discharge.
Sharona: It’s a temporary suspension. He’s up for a review next week.
Miranda: Is this a joke? Someone tries to kill my husband, and you send in Rain Man?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Mrs. St. Claire, I can assure you, Mr. Monk’s involvement is an indication of just how seriously we are taking this case.
Gavin: Is he, uh –

Gavin makes a gesture and whistles.

Sharona: No, no. Uh, it’s a form of anxiety disorder. A severe case like this is usually triggered by a single traumatic incident.
Miranda: Someone hit him over the head with a shovel?
Sharona: His wife was murdered four years ago – a car bomb.

Adrian finishes the task.

Mr. Monk: There!
Gavin: Unbelievable.
Mr. Monk: Wait.

Adrian switches two pins.
Mr. Monk: There. Now I’d like to see…where the shots were fired from.

At the abandoned apartment, they watch Monk as he examines the place.

Officer #3: What’s he doing?
Sharona: I love this part. He does this Zen, Sherlocke Holmes thing.

Adrian smiles and points with his hand.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: What?
Mr. Monk: He used a drawstring to steady his shot. I’ve seen it before in the field manual for the Green Berets, Special Forces.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: It’s possible.
Mr. Monk: Captain, could you grab this? It’ll just take a minute. Hold this up like a rifle.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Right.
Mr. Monk: How tall are you?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Six foot.
Mr. Monk: No, really.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: 5’11”.
Mr. Monk: Our guy was taller – 6’3”, maybe 6’4”, just like Santa Clara.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Just like what?
Sharona: The homicide in Santa Clara. We’ve been consulting on it.
Lt. Disher: I read that. It’s a completely different M.O.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: You think there’s a connection because this guy might be tall? Lieutentant, get the Warriors on the line. I want to talk to Antawn Jamison, see if he’s got an alibi for Thursday morning.
Mr. Monk: Captain, do you know the percentage of men over 6’3”?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No. Do you?
Mr. Monk: Maybe 0.5. The odds of two men in this city in that category, committing premeditated murder within two days of each other are astronomical.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: All because of a twisted venetian-blind cord. Monk, that’s a stretch, even for you.
Mr. Monk: That and he wore slippers.

Adrian smells the curtain.

Mr. Monk: And he smokes Newports.

The captain snickers then laughs.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: This isn’t police work. This – This is vaudeville.
Mr. Monk: He’s already killed two –

Adrian looks out the window to the ground below and suffers from vertigo.

Mr. Monk: Two.
Sharona helps him up.

Sharona: Oh, it’s nothing. He just has a little problem with heights.

At the St. Claire campaign headquarters.

Jake: Okay, we just gotta fine an open computer, and then I can check up the name. Oh, right here. Yes. Oh. Uh, so, um, V-A-S—
Sharona: Q-U-E-S—Nicole Vasques.
Jake: I don’t’ know her, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve only been here a couple of days. But let’s see. Well, she’s not a volunteer. And she’s not on staff. Sorry.
Mr. Monk: What’s your name?
Jake: Jake.
Mr. Monk: Jake, my name’s Adrian monk. Here’s my card. If you think of anything you give me a call.

Jake takes Monk’s card and puts it in his hat.

Jake: Okay, sure. Well –

At the bodyguard’s funeral.

St. Claire: What does a man say about a friend who took a bullet that was meant for him? Mere words like “thank you” seem so hollow. When I heard Jason had passed…

Sharona who is at the balcony with Adrian, whispers…

Sharona: This guy is too good to be true.
St. Claire: I considered quitting.
Mr. Monk: Maybe he’s a decent man. Isn’t that possible?
St. Claire: And then, I talked to Risa, Jason’s mother, and she reminded me her son was no quitter.
Sharona: You know what I think? I think he did it.
Mr. Monk: Who?
Sharona: St. Claire.

Adrian scoffs.

Sharona: you can’t buy this kind of publicity.
Mr. Monk: Right. Right.
St. Claire: See it through, or why begin at all.
Sharona: Well, what do you think?
Mr. Monk: I think this case and the girl in Santa Clara are connected somehow.
Sharona: So who?
Mr. Monk: Someone who knew them both. Someone, uh—

Adrian starts looking for something in his coat.

Sharona: What are you doing?
Mr. Monk: Do you have my keys? I can’t find my keys.
Sharona: I don’t have your keys. Adrian, calm down. I don’t have…
Mr. Monk: Did you put them in your bag?
Sharona: No! I don’t touch your keys, ‘cause if I touch your keys, you’d freak out. Calm down!
St. Claire: John Donne said, “The democracy of death comes from…“
Sharona: Adiran, just stop it.
Mr. Monk: Just a second.
St. Claire: Everyone who knew Jason remembers him and loves him. Let’s remember Jason as he was. A brave…
Mr. Monk: I got them. Okay. I got them right here. Okay. Such a relief, you know?

Adrian starts playing with his keys and it falls down on the hand of the dead bodyguard.

St. Claire: In a few seconds, we will be closing the casket and saying good-bye to Jason forever.
Sharona: Adrian, it’s okay. We’ll make new ones. Just – It’s okay.
Mr. Monk: It’s the key chain. The key chain – it was Trudy’s. I gotta – I gotta – I gotta have those keys. That packet right there just give it to me.
Sharona: No.

Sharona reluctantly hands over the paper clip from the packet.

St. Claire: Jason showed up every Sunday –
Sharona: You are going straight to hell.
Mr. Monk: I am in hell.
St. Claire: May his loving spirit live forever in our hearts and in our prayers.

Adrian starts to create a makeshift fishing line using some dental floss and the paperclip.

St. Claire: Why don’t we take a moment and meditate silently?

The people close their eyes and bow their heads. Meanwhile, Adrian is lowering down the fishing line.

St. Claire: Now… old friend… we turn and salute you one last time.

St. Claire faces the casket and salutes. Adrian by mistake hooks Jason’s sleeve in turn raising the dead’s hand as if in response to St. Claire’s salute.
Everybody gasp at the sight.

Jesse: We gotta pull the car around. He’s ready to go.
Woman: You should be ashamed of yourself!
Miranda: Do you lie awake at night thinking of ways to disrupt my husband’s campaign?
St. Claire: Now, Miranda –
Mr. Monk: No, ma’am, I like awake at night and try not to think at all.
St. Claire: These things happen. Hell, for a minute, I thought I had a new campaign slogan: “Vote for St. Claire. He can raise the dead.”

St. Claire and Miranda go down the church steps.

St. Claire: Where’s my boy?
Jesse: Here sir.
St. Claire: Make sure Miranda gets home.
Jesse: Of course.
Mr. Monk: Mrs. St. Claire, a couple of questions.
Miranda: Let me ask you a question. How can you investigate anything? I’m told you’re “germophobic,” afraid of the dark, heights, crowds…and milk.
Sharona: We’re working on the milk. He’s making good progress on milk.
Miranda: Ah.
Mr. Monk: Mrs. St. Claire, I – I sends that you’re a little upset, but I can tell you why I dropped my keys. I’ve been a bit preoccupied with another case. A girl was murdered in Santa Clara. Uh, a Nicole Vasques. Did you know her?
Miranda: No.
Mr. Monk: No?
Miranda: No.
Mr. Monk: Sir! Sir, did you know her – uh, Nicole Vasques?
St. Claire: Uh, no. Should I?
Mr. Monk: No. No reason you should.
St. Claire: Excuse me, Jesse.
Mr. Monk: Ma’am, if you could take another look. Nicole Vasques.
Miranda: I don’t know anyone by that name. What I do know is if my husband is elected mayor, you will never work in this town again. Let’s go.

Miranda leaves with Jesse.

Mr. Monk: Are you registered to vote?
Sharona: I never vote. It only encourages them. Ugh! Let’s get out of here. She makes me sick. Do you know how much her husband’s worth?
Mr. Monk: No.
Sharona: $150 million.
Mr. Monk: Here.
Sharona: They were talking about it on the radio.
Mr. Monk: That’s a lot of motive.
Sharona: Yes, it is.

Adrian watches Jesse and Miranda flirt with each other in the limo.

Jesse: Are you trying to kill yourself?
Miranda: Maybe.

Adriana and Sharona wait for Captain Stottlemeyer at the police station.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Miranda St. Claire called the mayor personally. You couldn’t just buy another key chain?
Sharona: Trudy gave it to him. It’s irreplaceable.
Lt. Disher: Captain, we just got the forensic report back. The bullets were hollow point, designed to deform on impact.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Those can’t be traced.
Lt. Disher: Yeah, but we caught a lucky break. One of them was still intact. They I.D.’d the weapon. It’s a Weatherby Fibermark rifle, which is British –
Mr. Monk: It’s British. Long-range, preferred by mercenaries and paramilitary groups.
Lt. Disher: That’s right. He’s right.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, start a list of weapons and/or ammunitions sales.
Lt. Disher: Yes, sir.
Mr. Monk: Could you cross-check that against Nicole Vasques?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Who?
Sharona: The homicide in Santa Clara.
Lt. Disher: Sir, your 10:00?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: The cases don’t overlap, Monk. She worked for the DMV. He was a candidate for mayor. She was behind on her rent, he has houses all over the world. He was stabbed. She was shot. Let it go.
Sharona: Are we gonna let it go?
Mr. Monk: Hell, no.
Sharona: What are we gonna do now?
Mr. Monk: We’re gonna follow the money. Mmm! Ahh! I’ve always wanted to say that.

Miranda St. Claire is reading a story to kids as the press takes photos of her.

Miranda: The queen said to the royal doctor, “I’m so worried about the princess. She has all the emeralds and rubies and riches in the kingdom, but she never laughs. Who can make the princess laugh?” They called the court jester.

A little girl starts to cough.

Miranda: The court jester, as everyone knew, was the silliest and funniest court jester that ever was. With a jingle and a jangle, he rolled into the court. “My queen calls,” he sang out as he bowed.

The little girl continues to cough.

Miranda: “Jester,” said the queen, “The princess has forgotten how to laugh, and I am giving you the job of bringing back her smiles to this court.” “When shall I start?” he asked.

Adrian, at the sight of the coughing girl and boy wiping snot off his nose, pulls over his sweater.

Miranda: Just then, the princess entered the court, and everyone fell silent. “Now is as good a time as any,” she said.

Coughing continues. Adrian tries to compose himself and sits. However, the boy next to him starts picking his nose.

Miranda: The jester turned and greeted the princess, and he bowed, he rolled end over end, and when he stopped, flowers appeared in his –

In horror, Adrian watches the boy put his finger in his mouth.

Mr. Monk: Aaaaaaah!

Adrian springs to the wall and accidentally rings the bell.
Later, after the story telling has ended.

Sharona: Are you okay?
Mr. Monk: Yeah, I-I’m better. Where is she?
Sharona: I don’t know.

Miranda St. Claire enters the room.

Miranda: Just give me a moment please.
Sharona: There she is. Hey, you’re great with the kids.
Miranda: Yeah, well, it’s easy when you don’t have any of your own. Let’s get this over with. I have a fund-raiser in Denver tonight.
Mr. Monk: Sure. Sure. I, uh, only have a couple of questions, Mrs. St. Claire. Just basic…background stuff…really.

Sharona hands a wipe to Adrian and he wipes the small wooden armchair he is about to sit on.

Mr. Monk: Uh, do you have any bank accounts in your name?
Miranda: No.

Adrian who couldn’t fit in the chair, stands and turns to Sharona…

Mr. Monk: Do you wanna maybe take some notes here?
Sharona: No, I’ll remember it.
Mr. Monk: Yeah, it’s probably better to write it down.
Sharona: You don’t think I can remember?
Mr. Monk: How long have you, uh, and Warren been married?

Adrian turns the chair and sits on its backrest instead.

Miranda: Five years.
Mr. Monk: That must be tough. He’s so busy, and now he’s running for mayor. I would think that would be kind of – kind of stressful.

Adrian crosses his leg and falls off the chair.

Mr. Monk and Sharona: Oh!
Miranda: You’ve been married, right?
Mr. Monk: Yes, uh, I have.
Miranda: Then I don’t have to tell you every marriage is stressful. That’s why they call it “marriage”. Is there anything else?

By this time, Adrian has sat himself in an awkward position. That is, he only has one butt cheek on the chair.

Mr. Monk: Yeah. Are you, uh, are you going to be seeing Mr. Goodman later?
Miranda: Jesse?
Mr. Monk: Jesse.
Miranda: Why do you ask?
Mr. Monk: Well, if you see him, you know, uh, just – just – would you tell him to call me? Because I just – I’d love to talk to him. And, you know, if you see him.
Miranda: Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Monk?
Mr. Monk: I – I don’t know. Uh, are you guilty of something?
Miranda: Oh, Mr. Monk. You seem like an intelligent person.

Miranda chuckles.

Miranda: On occasion. Warren is the first man in my life that never gave up on me. Last week, if I could have, I would have taken the bullet myself. You have to believe me.
Mr. Monk: Mrs. St. Claire…

Adrian who now managed to sit properly on the chair stands and talks closely to Miranda only the chair gets stuck on his butt.

Mr. Monk: I have to listen to you. I don’t have to believe you.
Miranda: I’m leaving now.
Sharona: She did it. There’s no doubt in my mind that witch did it.

Sharona’s cell phone rings.

Sharona: Hello? Adrian, it’s for you. Okay?
Mr. Monk: Yes, this is Monk.
Jake: Oh Mr. Monk, it’s Jake from the St. Claire campaign. I think I found something.
Mr. Monk: I’ll be right there.
Jake: Actually, I was about to leave. I can drop it off your place. I’ll be there in about a half-hour.
Mr. Monk: Good. I’ll meet you there.

Gavin sees Jake talking on the phone.

Gavin: Is that a personal call?
Jake: Uh, no, sir.
Gavin: Good.
Mr. Monk: I maybe a little late.
Gavin: All right, my beautiful people, I love each and every one of you, but these envelopes will not get stuffed by themselves.

Jake listens to salsa music as he drives his car. As soon as he stops, a homeless person runs to his car and cleans the windshield.

Jake: No, no, no, no. No, no, no, no! No, thanks. No, not today! Come on, I just cleaned it! Come on! Aw! All right. Fine, fine.

Jake gets some change and gives it to the homeless.

Jake: That’s fine. Hey!

The homeless severely smashes Jake’s head on the steering wheel and gets in the driver’s seat.
Sharona and Adrian arrive where Jake’s car apparently skidded off the road.
Lt. Disher rappels down to where Captain Stottlemeyer stands.

Lt. Disher: Hey, Captain. Ugh! Captain. Captain, we got the preliminary. Probable accident – severe blunt trauma to the head.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Uh-huh. Okay.
Sharona: Captain? Captain?

Captain Stottlemeyer looks up and finds Sharona and Adrian by the road.

Sharona: Are there any documents in the car, like a notebook?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No!

Sharona talks to Adrian.

Sharona: Uh, Captain?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What?
Sharona: Check his hat.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What?!
Sharona: He used to carry things in his hat.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Was there a hat?
Lt. Disher: They didn’t pull anything.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: He wasn’t wearing a hat! What are you doing? Come on down. The accident scene’s down here.

Adrian whispers something to Sharona.

Sharona: He’s not wearing the right shoes today.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Not wearing the right shoes today.

The captain climbs up to where the two are.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Look, there’s nothing to do here. The port authority’s calling it. It’s a single-car accident.
Mr. Monk: No, no. No, this was no accident. There’s no skid marks on the road.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: It’s wet! You’re not the only detective here, Monk. I checked for skid marks. It happens all the time on this hill. You hit this curve at 86, 90 miles an hour. Ftt! Boom!
Mr. Monk: No. No, this was staged. He was killed somewhere else.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Maybe you could tell me where this murder took place. That would be very helpful.
Mr. Monk: Cole Avenue and 17th Street.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: How could you possibly know that?
Mr. Monk: We were meeting at my house. He probably took Cole. I’m thinking he was killed at that stop sign on 17th Street.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Why 17th?
Mr. Monk: There’s a homeless shelter there. They wash windshields for spare change. I’m thinking somebody approached the car, started washing the window and then attacked him. You can see the windshield even better from here. The driver’s side’s clean. The passenger side’s filthy.

The captain orders Lt. Disher.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Go check the windshield.
Sharona: Go, Adrian. Excuse me, Officer.

The captain checks the windshield as Lt. Disher struggle to rapel down.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Son of a bitch.
Sharona: Adrian, this officer is gonna drive you home, okay?

Sharona turns to the officer.

Sharona: Thank you.

Sharona gives some last remarks to Adrian as she goes to her car.

Sharona: Behave yourself! He’s armed.
Mr. Monk: Why? Where are you going?
Sharona: I have a date. I told you about it.
Mr. Monk: Oh, I thought you were joking.
Sharona: You thought I was joking? Why? You don’t’ think I could possibly have a date?
Mr. Monk: No, I didn’t mean that.
Sharona: What is so funny about me dating, Adrian?
Mr. Monk: Nothing. Sorry. It’s just – It’s Tuesday. It’s chicken potpie night.

Sharona sighs.

Sharona: Don’t be such a baby. My 11-year-old kid can bake a chicken potpie. I’ll see you later, okay?

Adrian is at his kitchen on the phone talking to Benjy.

Mr. Monk: Okay. Okay. Slow down. Slow down one second. All right, then you said 2/3 of a cup—2/3—
Sharona: Benjy, who are you on the phone with?
Benjy: No one.
Sharona: Give me the phone. Monk, is that you? Okay, I’m hanging up now. And don’t call back. Benjy’s got homework. Lots of it.
Mr. Monk: Don’t hang up. No! Benjy, call me back!

Sharona is having dinner with her date.

Carl: He sounds certifiable.
Sharona: Ohh. It’s the worst job I ever had.
Carl: Yeah? So why don’t you quit?
Sharona: Well, because it’s also the best job I ever had. I’m having adventures. I can’t believe it. I’m putting bad guys behind bars. I feel like, um – What is her name? Superman’s girlfriend.
Carl: Oh, Lois Lane.
Sharona: I’m Lois Lane. I mean, how many practical nurses can say that? Not many.

Sharona chuckles.

Carl: You see, that looks so fine on you.
Sharona: What, the dress?
Carl: The smile.
Sharona: Oh. Thank you.

Adrian is still making the chicken potpie. He is putting the green peas.

Mr. Monk: Five… six… seven… eight…

Adrian looks at the news that’s on TV.

Mr. Monk: nine… ten…
TV: The investigation in last week’s attempted assassination has apparently stalled. We have some new footage of the event that was taken by a tourist. I should warn you, some of this is very graphic.
Woman: Make way for the mayor!

Gunshots are heard and the crowd screams.
Back at the restaurant.

Carl: To moderation in all things, hmm?

Carl and Sharona toast.

Carl: Except love.

Adrian comes up to their table.

Mr. Monk: Hey.

Sharona gulps at the sight of him.

Sharona: Monk, what are you doing here?
Mr. Monk: I was watching the news. There was a videotape of the St. Claire thing. Something about it just does not add up.
Carl: Mr. Monk, I presume?
Mr. Monk: You must be Carl from the health club.
Carl: Mm-hmm. Well, uh, why don’t you join us?
Sharona: No, he shouldn’t you know, two’s company, three’s a crowd, and Monk hates crowds. Don’t you?

Adrian pulls up a chair and joins the two.

Mr. Monk: I feel okay when you’re around.

Adrian starts fussing with a creamer.

Mr. Monk: Boy, this is nice, isn’t it?
Sharona: I forgot. What were we talking about?
Carl: England.
Sharona: Oh, my God, that’s right. Um, Carl said that, uh, he was talking about living in England. He was a Rhodes Scholar.
Mr. Monk: No kidding!
Sharona: Yeah. He graduated magna cum laude.
Mr. Monk: Cum laud.
Sharona: Right. I know. And now he has a private practice. He’s an entertainment lawyer. Guess who he represents. Can I tell him?
Carl: Yeah, sure.
Sharona: Francis Ford Coppola.
Mr. Monk: Oh.
Carl: Yeah, but it’s no big deal. A tabloid wrote something about him – that, you know, he was drunk at the Oscars, so now we’re suing them for slander.
Mr. Monk: Uh-huh. I – I don’t know what to do here. Uh, I’m – I’m no good at this. Okay. This man is lying to you. He’s not a lawyer.
Sharona: What?
Mr. Monk: Oxford doesn’t have a magna cum laud, and you sue a newspaper for libel, not slander.

Carl looks at him with shock and embarrassment, while Sharona just stares at him with disgust.

Mr. Monk: I’ll just shut up. Forget I said anything. It’s no big deal, Carl.

Their dinner arrive.

Mr. Monk: Well, that looks – What the hell is that?

The date’s finished and Adrian try to catch up with Sharona who clearly is irritated with him.

Mr. Monk: What should I have done? Just let him lie to you?
Sharona: Yes. Yes. It was a first date. Taxi! Everybody embellishes their rèsumè. It’s called “human nature”. Do you think I told him about Benjy? About that summer I spent dancing in Atlantic City? No!
Mr. Monk: What kind of dancing?
Sharona: I can’t do this anymore. I quit.
Mr. Monk: Not again.
Sharona: No. No. I mean it this time. I’m sending my sister over for my stuff.
Mr. Monk: Ok. You know you’re just gonna come back.
Sharona: Don’t tell me what I’m gonna do. You think you know everything? Believe it or not, you don’t know me that well.
Mr. Monk: All right. Let’s just go back inside.
Sharona: No. No. It’s too late. Look… I have responsibilities now. I got a kid. And I think I have to find a normal job before I go completely crazy.
Mr. Monk: Like me.

Sharona gets in the taxi.

Mr. Monk: Like me? Well, I’ll never forget you.
Sharona: You never forget anything. Valencia and 28th.

Adrian gloomily walks home. He enters his house and starts working on Trudy’s unsolved murder. He falls asleep and dreams of Trudy waking up and looking at him with a smile. He wakes from his dream.
At a police warehouse.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay, make me happy.
Lt. Disher: We found it wedged under the passenger seat, uh, in his hat.

The captain looks at the document and finds the name Nicole Vasques.

Lt. Disher: Third name from –
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I see it, I see it.
Lt. Disher: She was a part-time volunteer. She quit two months ago. That’s why her name didn’t come up.

The captain sighs.

Lt. Disher: So Monk was right. There is a connection.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: How does he do it? I mean, I have two eyes. I see everything that he sees, but I – I don’t see what he sees.
Lt. Disher: Sir, if I may, what Monk does, it’s a parlor trick. I mean, can he do all this? Can he organize a citywide investigation, inspire the troops, motivate people? Adrian Monk isn’t half the cop or a third of the man that you are, sir.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Thank you, Lieutenant. Nonetheless…we need him now. Go get him.
Lt. Disher: He’s not home.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Well, then he’s at Sharona’s. Call Sharona.
Lt. Disher: I tried her. She said she quit.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Sharona quit? You mean Monk’s alone? Out there in public?

Sheldon Burger knocks on Sharona’s door.

Benjy: Hello?
Sheldon: Are you Benjy?
Benjy: Yeah. Who are you?
Sheldon: I’m Sheldon Burger, Deputy Mayor. Hey, you like skateboarding?
Benjy: Mom, something happened to Monk!

Sheldon talks with Sharona at the kitchen.

Sharona: Forget it.
Sheldon: Monk’s been on step ahead of us all the way, but the man can’t function without you. The city of San Francisco would be eternally grateful.

Sheldon takes a bite at an Oreo cookie.

Sheldon: Wow. These are really good. Did you make these?
Sharona: They’re Oreos, Sheldon.
Sheldon: They are?
Benjy: They say “Oreos” on them.
Sheldon: Oh, yeah.
Sharona: Exactly how eternally grateful would the city be?
Sheldon: You tell us, Sharona. Whatever you want.
Benjy: A skateboard track. Mom, make them build a skateboard track in the park.
Sharona: Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ll find Monk and bring him back, and you’ll owe me one.
Sheldon: One what?
Sharona: Someday…there’ll be a knock on your door. Whatever I say, whatever I want, you’ll have to say yes.
Sheldon: Within reason.
Sharona: Then forget it.
Sheldon: Okay, okay, okay, not within reason.

Sharona finds Adrian playing the clarinet by Trudy’s grave.

Mr. Monk: That was our song.
Sharona: I’m sure she heard you.
Mr. Monk: I don’t see how. She’s been dead for four years.

Sharona chuckles.

Mr. Monk: Welcome back.
Sharona: Well, don’t pretend you’re surprised.

Sharona clears her throat.

Sharona: You know, you were right about the cases being connected. Nicole Vasques did volunteer work for the St. Claire campaign. How does it feel, always being right?
Mr. Monk: Terrible.
Sharona: Come on. Let’s go.
Mr. Monk: I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to pull this off.
Sharona: Adiran, you’re gonna be fine.
Mr. Monk: So, are you ever gonna tell me what kind of dancing you did in Atlantic City?
Sharona: Ballroom.
Mr. Monk: Really?

Adrian watches again the footage of the shooting.

Mr. Monk: Campaign volunteer. Campaign volunteer. What did she do there?
Sharona: Oh, this and that. Mostly helping the bookkeeper. She quit after seven weeks, which, I’m told, is not unusual.
Mr. Monk: Pretty small crowd.
Sharona: How many times you need to watch that, Adrian? We’re missing The Price is Right.
Mr. Monk: The rally. I mean, why would Gavin Lloyd set it there? A weekday in the middle of the financial district.
Sharona: They were just talking about Gavin Lloyd on the radio. Apparently, he was this hotshot political genius, and now the national parties won’t even touch him.
Mr. Monk: Why not?
Sharona: Well, he was never officially charged, but the word is some campaign contributions Gavin collected were there one minute and gone the next.
Mr. Monk: Oh, right. That was a senate race, right, in North Carolina?

Adrian throws one canned good.

Sharona: Adrian, what are you doing?
Mr. Monk: It was dented.

Sharona sighs.

Sharona: Where? You can’t even see it.
Mr. Monk: I am what I am. Do you want it?
Sharona: Of course I want it. I’m not the mental case.

Sharona smashes another can.

Sharona: Oh, look – this one’s dented, too.
Mr. Monk: That’s funny.
Sharona: I know. I don’t know why you shop at that place, Adrian.

Adrian takes a walk, touching each parking meter he passes.

Mr. Monk: 105, 106, 107, 108, 109.

A car tries to run over Adrian. Good thing, he missed one post and walk back to the sidewalk.

Mr. Monk: 110.

The car turns and faces Adrian. By now, Adrian has realized what is happening. He runs to a back alley.

Mr. Monk: 132, 133, 134.

Adrian almost bumps into a restaurant worker who drops raw fish.

Mr. Monk: Aaah!

Adrian runs to avoid it and into a storage room with a toilet bowl filled with dirt. Adrian squirms at the sight of this and runs back to the alley. The car hits a dumpster and gets stuck. Adrian gets away.
Adrian narrates to Sharona the event that took place, while they make their way to the campaign headquarters.

Mr. Monk: You should’ve seen me. I had the moves. No, I was driving, I was running out of the way.
Sharona: That’s great, Adrian.
Mr. Monk: Don’t you get it? It means we’re getting close. We’re making somebody nervous.
Sharona: I just can’t picture outrunning a car.
Mr. Monk: I wasn’t even running my fastest.
Sharona: Why not?
Mr. Monk: You know.
Sharona: Were you touching the poles again?
Mr. Monk: I always touch the poles. Adrian Monk for Gavin Lloyd.

Adiran and Sharona talk with Gavin, the campaign manager.

Gavin: How old was she?
Sharona: 25.
Gavin: It’s heartbreaking.
Sharona: She worked for Flo, your bookkeeper. She was here last summer for about seven weeks.
Gavin: We get kids like this all the time. Every campaign does. We call them floaters. Their boyfriend comes back, they get a new job—fft!—They’re gone.
Mr. Monk: So, Flo said that you took Nicole aside one day.
Gavin: I did?
Mr. Monk: Yes, this would’ve been last July sometime. And you talked to her for a while, and then she never came back to work.
Gavin: I talk to 100 kids every day, you know, more. We, uh, actually, as a matter of fact, we lost another one last week – car crash in Suasalito.

Adrian sighs.

Mr. Monk: Yeah. We heard about that. See, I’m sorry.

Adrian takes a bunch of shredded paper from the trash.

Mr. Monk: I-I don’t pretend to know much about politics.
Gavin: Vote for, uh, Warran St. Claire. That’s all you need to know.
Mr. Monk: But what was the reason you held the rally at that plaza?

Adrian starts to piece together the shredded papers.

Gavin: Heart of the financial district. We wanted to assure the business community that Warren St. Claire is on their side, and it’s working. Have you seen the latest poll numbers?
Mr. Monk: Yes. Congratulations.

Adrian reads the pieced together shredded document.

Gavin: Thank you.
Mr. Monk: Chicago.
Gavin: Uh, that’s a confidential document.
Mr. Monk: Sorry.
Gavin: That’s why we shredded it.
Mr. Monk: Sorry.
Gavin: That’s okay. I have a suggestion, Mr. Monk. I’m gonna do my job, she’ll do her job, he’ll do his job, and you, sir, you and Miss—
Sharona: Fleming.
Gavin: Fleming, go out and do your job. Thanks. Good luck.
Mr. Monk: Thank you.
Gavin: Okay.

Adrian and Sharona examine a painting at Jesse Goodman’s office, while they wait for him.

Jesse: Mr. Monk, sorry to keep you waiting.
Sharona: That’s okay. You know, Mr. Goodman, your painting is very, um – I can’t think of the word. It’s –
Mr. Monk: Scary?
Jesse: I just got that piece. Something about it, I just had to have it.
Mr. Monk: You can tell a lot about a person from his taste in art.
Sharona: He did it.
Mr. Monk: Just a couple of questions, sir. How long have you worked for Mr. St. Claire?
Jesse: Nine years. I was the first person he hired.
Mr. Monk: But he never made you partner.
Jesse: You don’t see me complaining. I’m a lucky man.
Mr. Monk: I see you’ve been out of town.

Adrian glances at some luggage.

Mr. Monk: I see you’ve been out of town.
Jesse: Uh – Upstate. My family has a cabin on Rockaway Lake. I neded some time to clear my thoughts. It’s been a hell of a week.
Jesse: Mr. Goodman, I’m sure of two things. One:

Adrian touches Jesse’s lamp.

Sharona: Adrian.
Mr. Monk: One, your cabin is quite lovely. And, two, you were nowhere near it.
Jesse: What?
Mr. Monk: Your wristwatch. It’s set two hours ahead to central time. You haven’t been north, you’ve been east.
Mr. Monk: Unless I’m wrong, which, you know, I’m not, you were in Chicago.
Jesse: That’s crazy. I don’t know anyone in Chicago.
Mr. Monk: You know Miranda St. Claire. She told us she was going to Denver, but her travel itinerary said Chicago. So what we have here, sir, are two consenting adults, both lying about where they spent last night.
Jesse: What I’m about to say can’t leave this room.

Jesse closes the door of his office.

Jesse: Miranda and I have, uh, been together twice.
Sharona: So last night makes three?
Jesse: No, last night it ended. I swear, I didn’t want her. I –

Jesse clears throat.

Jesse: I wanted to hurt Warren – the legendary Warren St. Claire. I was sick of being his key chain.
Mr. Monk: You say -- You wanted to hurt him?
Jesse: No, no, no, I didn’t mean - I wouldn’t really hurt him.
Sharona: Oh, of course not. You just want to hump his wife.
Jesse: You want to charge me with something, you call my lawyer.

Adrian stares at a disturbing painting.

Mr. Monk: What is this?
Jesse: What?
Mr. Monk: It’s me, isn’t it?
Jesse: Look, I don’t have time for this, all right? This meeting is over.

Adrian is bothered with the painting.

Mr. Monk: It’s me, isn’t it?
Jesse: Look, I don’t have time for this, all right? This meeting is over.

Jesse leaves and Sharona’s phone rings.

Sharona: He’s gone.
Mr. Monk: It’s me, isn’t it?
Sharona: Hello? Okay.
Mr. Monk: It’s me.
Sharona: Hey, they got him. We got to go. They got him. Come on.

Adrian and Sharona join the police as they raid the house of the suspected assassin.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: The F.B.I. coughed up a major file on this guy Ian Sykes. Ex-Special Forces. Last April, he purchased a scope for a Weatherby Fibermark rifle. You guys stay here until we’re inside, all right?
Sharona: Did he mention how tall he was?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes. He’s 6’5” tall.
Mr. Monk: I got lucky.

Adrian chuckles.
The police barge in the suspect’s door.

SWAT #1: Ugh! Police! Police!
SWAT #2: Go! Go! Clear!
Officer #4: Police! Come out! Slow! Easy!

Out comes the suspected assassin, Ian Sykes, on a wheelchair.

Officer #4: You alone?
Sykes: You don’t have to keep apologizing, sir. Everybody makes mistakes. The fact is, I was 6’5”…

Sykes laughs softly.

Sykes: once.
Mr. Monk: You did buy a scope for a Weatherby Fibermark rifle.
Sykes: Yes, sir, for my father. Uh, he hunts alone now. The Rocky Mountains aren’t exactly handicap accessible.

The captain inhales deeply.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Mm-hmm.
Lt. Disher: Sorry.

Adrian just smiles and leaves.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay, boys and girls, the beat goes on. We gotta talk to that profiler again. Call the mayor. Tell him we’re back at square one.

Adrian stops at his tracks.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: What?
Mr. Monk: Your shoes.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes?
Mr. Monk: They’re all scuffed up, and they’ve got little creases in them.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yeah, my shoes are scuffed up, Monk. They’re not spotless like yours because I actually use them.
Mr. Monk: His were all scuffed up, too.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Call up SWAT. You go get in your car. Go. Go, go, go, go, go. Get him out of here. Go!

Sykes walks to the window and watches as the police surround his building.

Mr. Monk: Stottlemeyer said we’d be safer over here.
Sharona: That’s a crock. He put us in the cheap seats so he could take all the credit. Oh, great! The battery’s dead. Look, I got to check on Benjy. Stay here and don’t move. I’m gonna find a phone.
Mr. Monk: Well, hurry.
Sharona: I will. I promise.

Adrian sees Sykes escape through the fire escape.

Mr. Monk: Hey. Hey! He’s—Over—Over here!

Sykes runs on the rooftop.

Mr. Monk: He’s here! Hey! What are you —

Adrian runs after Sykes himself.

Mr. Monk: Call the—Get—

Adrian looks at the fire escape and sighs.

Mr. Monk: Come on.

Adrian covers his hand with his coat sleeve and pulls down the fire escape. He wipes the bar as he climbs up.

Mr. Monk: Don’t look up. Don’t look down. Don’t look up. Don’t took down. Uhh.

Adrian grunts then looks down..

Mr. Monk: Uhh. Oh.

Adrian starts to shake.

Mr. Monk: Don’t look up. Don’t look down. Don’t look –

Sykes crawls around Adrian.

Sykes: Excuse me.
Mr. Monk: You—You— You have the… right to… remain silent.

After the police rescues Adrian…

Capt. Stottlemeyer: He actually said, “Excuse me,” and then he crawled over you?
Mr. Monk: No, no. Well, it was more like he crawled around me.
Lt. Disher: Good work, Detective.
Mr. Monk: I don’t think he recognized me, before up in his room or just now on the fire escape.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Which means what?
Mr. Monk: Which means…he’s not the guy who tried to run me down. I think we’re looking for two different guys.
Lt. Disher: Well, if only we had him in custody, we could’ve questioned him.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Let me get this straight. I’m confused, Monk. You say you want your badge back, is that right? You want your badge back so you can protect this city from rapists and murderers, as long as they don’t climb any ladders or run across any big, bad, scary bridges. Is that right?
Sharona: Give him a break, Captain.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, you give me a break. Look, you want to carry a gun?! You’re gonna carry a loaded gun and have other cops depend on you?! No, I don’t think so. You’re off the case.
Sharona: Oh, bit me.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: I’m sorry. What did you say?
Mr. Monk: This isn’t about what happened today, is it? This is about you and me. This is about you and me.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, Monk, this isn’t personal. The fact of the matter is the most-wanted man in the city got away because you got dizzy! Am I right? Don’t expect the mayor to help you either, because after this, you’re a leper.

Lt. Disher gloats.

Sharona: What is that, your tough look?

Adrian goes to the garage where Trudy died. Sharona and Benjy watch him from their car.

Benjy: Hey, Mom, what’s he doing?
Sharona: This is where his wife was—This is where Mrs. Monk passed away.
Benjy: Oh.
Sharona: Hey, Monk.
Benjy: Hey, Monk.

Benjy plays with his skateboard.

Sharona: Benjy, be careful.
Mr. Monk: She – She must’ve been meeting somebody, but who? Was it a story she was working on?
Sharona: I don’t know.
Mr. Monk: And I can’t see it, and why can’t I see it?
Sharona: I think you’re too close to it, Monk.

Benjy runs over a garbage can.

Benjy: Ugh!
Sharona: Benjy!
Mr. Monk: Is he okay?!
Sharona: He’s okay.
Benjy: Yeah, I’m okay.

Adrian is distracted by squealing tires.

Sharona: How many times have I told you to be careful? How many?
Benjy: Don’t worry. I’m okay.
Sharona: You could’ve killed yourself. I’ll take it away if you don’t watch it.
Benjy: I’m fine. I’m okay.
Mr. Monk: Are you okay?!
Mr. Monk: Are you okay?!
Benjy: Yeah, I’m okay.
Mr. Monk: Are you okay?!
Benjy: I’m okay!
Mr. Monk: Did you hear that?
Benjy: Yeah, it’s an echo. You have to get out more. Okay.
Sharona: Benjy, be careful.
Benjy: Okay.

Adrian puts his hands on Sharona’s arm.

Sharona: What? What?
Mr. Monk: I’ve got it.

Arian laughs softly.

Sharona; You got what? You know who did it?

Adrian puts his hand on his head and groans.

Sharona: You know who tried to kill St. Claire? Monk, who did it? You’re not gonna tell me who did it?
Mr. Monk: It doesn’t matter. They’re not gonna listen to me. You heard the captain. I’m a leper.

Sharona knocks on Sheldon Burger’s door.

Sheldon: Hi, Sharona.
Sharona: Hey, Sheldon. Um, can I come in?
Sheldon: Yeah.

Adrian leads the re-enactment of the shooting.

Mr. Monk: I need everybody to stand exactly where they were after the shots were fired. Mrs. St. Claire, you were standing right here.
Miranda: What is the point? We know who tried to kill my husband. It was that lunatic, what’s-his-name?
Jesse: Ian Sykes.
Gavin: He’s probably halfway to Mexico by now.
Mr. Monk: That’s true. Mr. Goodman, if you would. That’s true, Ian Sykes got away.
Lt. Disher: Yes, he did.
Mr. Monk: And I feel terrible about that, but today we’re looking for his accomplice, the person who hired Ian Sykes.
St. Claire: Are you a poker player, Mr. Monk? Because you’re either bluffing your ass off, or sitting on a very sweet hand.
Mr. Monk: Well, let’s find out. Sir, all week long, I have been racking my brain: Who would want to take a shot at you? Then last night, it occurred to me: Maybe we’ve all been asking the wrong question. Maybe the shooter hit exactly what he was aiming at, your bodyguard.
Jesse: That’s insane. Who’d want to hurt Jason Rondstadt?
Miranda: That’s not exactly showing initiative.
Mr. Monk: Right, but what if – what if Jason Rondstadt was the bodyguard who knew too much?

Adrian looks at Gavin.

Mr. Monk: You were dipping into the war chest again.

Gavin laughs.

Gavin: You got to be kidding.
St. Claire: That’s old new, Monk.
Mr. Monk: Mr. St. Claire, bear with me, please, sir. On your mark. Here’s what I think happened. Nicole Vasques was going over the books, and some numbers didn’t add up.


Nicole: Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a sec.
Gavin: Yes.
Nicole: It seems that a large sum of money is going into a different account. I just…

Adrian narrates…

Mr. Monk: She asked you about it, and you brushed her off.

Flashback continues…

Gavin: Thanks for catching that, honey. That’s what I pay you for. All right. I’ll look into it, all right? Nice job.

Flashback ends…

Mr. Monk: Maybe you even accused her of stealing the money.

Gavin nervously laughs.

Gavin: Can you believe this guy? You – You are out of your mind, out of your mind.
Mr. Monk: You started to worry the girl might talk. You couldn’t buy her off. She had a little something we call integrity. So, you decided it was time to hire somebody to kill her, but who? You asked Jason Rondstadt,

Flashback of Gavin meeting Jason.

Mr. Monk: But he turned you down. You were in hell, surrounded by honest people.

Gavin laughs.

Gavin: I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.

Gavin tries to walk away, but Captain Stottlemeyer stops him.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Yes, you do. Yes, you do.
Gavin: Okay.
Mr. Monk: Thanks, Captain. You kept shopping around. You found a professional, Ian Sykes. Sykes killed the girl…but you still had one loose one end left – Jason Rondstadt, the first guy you asked.

Flashback of the day of the shooting…

St. Claire: But, hell, that’s all right. Flying 17 combat missions in the Gulf –

Flashback of Sykes shooting the bodyguard.

Mr. Monk: Killing Jason Rondstadt in public was brilliant ’cause everyone assumed it was an assassination attempt, and you got a two-for. Your problem was eliminated, and your candidate gets to look heroic.
Gavin: I don’t suppose you’re gonna be able to prove any of this.
Mr. Monk: Well, here was your mistake.
Gavin: My mistake?

Adrian takes something out of his coat pocket and shows it to Gavin. St. Claire approach them to take a peek.

Mr. Monk: Hey.

Adrian gestures to St. Claire that he get back to his position.

Mr. Monk: This photograph was taken seconds after the shooting. That’s you isn’t it, pointing up at the sniper?
Gavin: Yeah, so what?

Flashback of Gavin pointing up.

Gavin: He’s up there! Up there!

Flashback ends.

Mr.Monk: You’re the only one pointing. How did you know where he was?

Gavin smiles, sighs and points.

Gavin: Because I saw him. He was right up there. Look.
Mr. Monk: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Gentlemen, gentlemen, if you please.

The police place a bunch of balloons on the stage.

Mr. Monk: Last Thursday, there were approximately 400 balloons right here. There’s only one way you could’ve known where Ian Sykes was. You hired the man.
Gavin: This is totally ridiculous. I mean. It all happened so fast. It was chaotic. It was chaos. Maybe I, uh, maybe I didn’t see him. Maybe I heard the shots.
Mr. Monk: You heard them?
Gavin: Yes, I definitely heard them. We all heard them. They were coming from up there.
Mr. Monk: Well, if that’s true, then you won’t have any trouble finding Sharona.
Gavin: What?
Mr. Monk: She is up there in one of these buildings with a starter’s pistol.

Adrian talks on his radio transmitter.

Mr. Monk: Heckle, this is Jeckle. Are you all set?
Sharona: Anytime, Jeckle.
Mr. Monk: Let’s do it.

Sharona who is up on an abandoned building fires the starter’s pistol. The gunshot echoes.

Mr. Monk: It’s kind of like an echo chamber, isn’t it? You want to take another chance? Heckle, we’re going for best out of three.

Another gunshot. Another echo.
Gavin undecidedly points at a building.

Gavin: There.
Mr. Monk: There?
Gavin: No, uh, over there.
Mr. Monk: Are you sure?
Miranda: Oh, my God.
Gavin: No, wait, wait, wait. Do it again. Do it again!
St. Claire: And you called yourself my Moses.
Mr. Monk: Like the real Moses, he won’t be joining you in the promised land.

Gavin gives out a deep sigh.

Gavin: Uh…Warren, I didn’t have any choice! That girl, Nicole, she would have buried me! She would have buried both of us!

St. Claire and Miranda leave.

Gavin: Warren!

Another gunshot.

Mr. Monk: Okay Sharona cut it out. We got him. It’s all over.

Gavin looks at his shoulder and sees that there’s blood coming out of it.

Mr. Monk: Sharona?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Let’s go! Everybody out of here! Go! Go! Go! Go!

They all look for cover. They run behind a police car. Sykes shoots at them and hits the driver’s window. Sharona follows the sound of the gunshot and sees that Sykes has positioned himself on a window in the building she is in. She radios Adrian.

Sharona: Oh, my God, it’s Sykes. He’s here.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Sykes? What’s he doing here?
Mr. Monk: I think he and Gavin are having some kind of contract dispute.
Sharona: He’s leaving. I’m gonna follow him.
Mr. Monk: Where are you going, Sharona? Just stay put.

Sharona goes to the stairs and sees Sykes.

Sharona: He’s stashing his gun. He’s going downstairs.
Mr. Monk: All right, just stay put. Stay right where you are.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Who does she think she is?
Mr. Monk: I don’t know. Lois Lane.

Sykes goes down the basement and Sharona follows.

Sharona: He’s in the boiler room.
Mr. Monk: Sharona! I can’t hear you. I’ve lost you. Come back.

Adrian and the police run to the building.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: Okay. We got him. Block it up. Cover every door, every window.

Sykes goes down a trap door.

Mr. Monk: He’s not coming out.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: What?
Mr. Monk: No. He’d expect you to cover the street. He’s got some other way. He has a plan.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: How do you know that?
Mr. Monk: ‘Cause he’s smart.

Adrian tries to contact Sharona.

Mr. Monk: Sharona, come back.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Keep an eye on him.

Lt. Disher obeys and goes with Adrian.

Capt. Stottlemeyer: How many guys you got in the back?
Sharona: Monk, he’s going through a door. I think it’s a tunnel. I’m gonna follow him.

The police move in the building.

Police: Let’s go! Let’s go! Everybody out!
Mr. Monk: What about the basement?
Lt. Disher: By the book, Monk. We secure the exits, then we work top to bottom. Give me that.

Adrian takes Lt. Disher by his coat.

Mr. Monk: What about Sharona? He might have Sharona.
Lt. Disher: We’ll take care of Sharona. Just stay here.
Adrian snatches Lt. Disher’s gun without him noticing it. Sharona climbs down the tunnel. Sykes hears the thud of the door. Sharona continues to talk on the radio unaware that it’s no longer working.

Sharona: Monk, can you hear me?

The radio static startles Sharona. Moments later, Adrian finds the tunnel and sees the Danger sign.

Mr. Monk: Oh, no.

Sharona tries to contact Adrian through the radio.

Sharona: Monk.

Adrian looks in disgust at the sight of the tunnel filled with filthy water.

Mr. Monk: Ugh.
Sharona: Adrian, can you hear me? I can’t hear you.

Sharona walks passed Sykes who hid himself in a recess. Meanwhile, Adrian still struggles to climb down the tunnel ladder. He puts a napkin on each bar he’s going to step or hold on to.

Sharona: Monk, where are you?

Sykes grabs Sharona and gags her. Sharona gives out a stifled scream.

Sykes: Oh, great, a hostage.
Sharona: Help!!!

Adrian hears Sharona’s cry for help and hesitantly jumps onto the filthy water. Slowly, he treads through the sewage water. Meanwhile, Sykes drags the struggling Sharona.
In the building.

Lt. Disher: We got upstairs secured.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: Good. Now do the basement, and watch your back.
Lt. Disher: Uh, Captain, have you seen Monk?
Capt. Stottlemeyer: No, why?
Lt. Disher: He’s, uh, got my gun.

Adrian in the verge of throwing up follows Sharona’s scream, but not before he finishes fixing the Danger sign that eventually falls down the water. Sykes hears this. Adrian hides. He stands with his back on the wall. A rat lands on his shoulder. The rat squeaks. Adrian gasps then let’s out a girlish scream.

Sharona: Monk! Monk, help!

Sharona bites Sykes hand and frees herself. She runs up to a ladder, but Sykes catches her. Adrian try to follow them. He struggles to get the gun from his pocket.

Mr. Monk: Hold it! I have a gun!

Sykes tries to pull Sharona down from the ladder.

Mr. Monk: Sykes, hold it!
Sharona: Shoot him!

A gush of sewage water flows on Adrian, causing him to drop the gun.

Sharona: Shoot him!
Mr. Monk: I’m not bluffing! I have a gun.
Sharona: Shoot him!!!

Sykes successfully pulls her down. She runs, but he still catches her. Adrian forces himself to reach for the gun under the filthy water.

Sharona: Will you shoot him!!!

Adrian retrieves the gun and aims at Sykes, but he is using Sharona as shield.

Mr. Monk: Let her go, Sykes! Let—Let her go!

Sykes holds on to a wire and causes it to short circuit. By now, the lights go out. Adrian uses Sharona’s whimpering as guide and shoots. Sharona and Adrian climb up the tunnel.

Sharona: What the hell were you thinking?
Mr. Monk: You kept saying, “Shoot him! Shoot him!”
Sharona: Adrian, I could’ve been killed!
Mr. Monk: I knew what I was doing. I was aiming high. He’s like 20 feet tall!
Sharona: What if you missed? You could’ve missed!
Mr. Monk: Oh, right! How could I have missed? The guy’s King Kong.
Sharona: What if it ricocheted?
Mr. Monk: Well, that – that’s true. I didn’t think of that.

They find themselves surrounded by giant snowmen.

Mr. Monk: Hello?
Sharona: Snowmen?

The police guard Sykes, who has a gash on his head. The captain and the lieutenant lead Adrian to St. Claire, who has been talking with the press.

St. Claire: Here he is. Come and meat a genuine hero.
Reporter #1: Congratulations, Mr. Monk.
St. Claire: Mr. Monk, on behalf of myself, Miranda, and the city of San Francisco, I want to thank you.

St. Claire hugs Adrian.

St. Claire: Well done.

St. Claire pushes aside the captain then puts his arm around Adrian.

St. Claire: Well done.

The press take photos of them and starts asking him questions.

Press: Mr. Monk, what next? Mr. Monk, can I get a picture, please? Mr. Monk, over here, please. Mr. Monk.

A smile creeps up on Adrian’s face.
At Dr. Kroger’s office.

Dr. Kroger: My son wants your autograph.
Mr. Monk: Really.
Dr. Kroger: You know, you’re his hero. He put your picture up on the wall.
Mr. Monk: Well, I would be happy to meet the boy, but anybody would’ve done the same thing.
Dr. Kroger: I don’t know about that, Adrian. I mean, there were 20 cops at that scene. Nobody did what you did.
Mr. Monk: Well—Well.

Adrian laughs softly.

Dr. Kroger: you know, I think we’re making some real progress here, and I think— I think it might be time that I talked to the department about reinstatement.

Adrian struggles to hold back his tears.

Dr. Kroger: Would you like that?

Adrian smiles and nods.
At the lobby.

Dr. Kroger: I can’t promise anything.
Mr. Monk: Oh, I understand.
Dr. Kroger: I can only make a recommendation, okay?
Mr. Monk: I understand.
Dr. Kroger: All right. And – And they might want you to meet with some other doctors.
Mr. Monk: No problem.
Dr. Kroger: It’s not gonna be that easy, Adrian. There’s gonna be more testing.
Mr. Monk: Let’s do it. I want to take them right now.

The elevator door opens.

Mr. Monk: I mean it. I want to take them right now.

Adrian makes his way to the elevator, but is met by a woman coughing.

Woman: Going down?

The woman coughs. Adrian looks at her with horror.

Dr. Kroger: See you next week.
Mr. Monk: Okay.

The woman blows her nose. Adrian looks at his feet. Later, she meets Sharona by a bridge.

Sharona: How’d it go?
Mr. Monk: Mmm, you know.
Sharona: Nah, don’t worry, we’ll get them next time. Come on, I’ll make you some dinner.

They walk. Adrian starts touching the posts.

Adrian: Oh, yeah, it’s Tuesday. Tuesday night’s chicken potpie.
Sharona: You know, actually, I thought we’d try something a little different this week. I-I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Just kidding. Adrian you missed one.

Adrian walks back and touches the post he missed.

Mr. Monk: Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Sharona laughs.

This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “Mr. Monk and the Candidate” episode was written by Andy Breckman. Monk is owned by Universal Media Studios in association with Mandeville Films and Touchstone Television.

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