Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant by Hy Conrad Page B

asked her. She said no.”
    â€œWhat about Randy Disher? He can come back.”
    Randy had been the captain’s number two for years, until he’d found a better job on the other side of the country. “Randy’s a police chief in New Jersey. He’s not coming back.”
    â€œYou don’t know that. Okay, what about Lieutenant Devlin?”
    â€œI just told you.”
    â€œOkay, what about Randy Disher? I’m giving you all these options.”
    â€œAdrian, stop it.”
    My phone buzzed in the pocket of my cardigan. I pulled it out and checked the display. It was Timothy O’Brien’s office, returning my call.
    â€œWhat about you, Natalie? You could be a temporary lieutenant. I’ll talk to the commissioner.”
    â€œI have to take this,” I said, and headed out the door. “Meanwhile, breathe deeply and count to one hundred. We’ll figure a way to work with A.J.”
    I didn’t want to walk out with Monk still in that state, but I had no choice. I made my way down the sidewalk past the door to Paisley Printing. I followed my own advice and took a deep breath.
    â€œHello? Yes, this is Mrs. Teeger. Thanks for getting back to me. Is it possible to get an appointment with Mr. O’Brien today? I know it’s late notice. I’m filing for a divorce and one of my girlfriends at the Metropolitan Club . . .”
    I think it was mentioning the Metropolitan Club that did the trick. Places don’t get much richer or snootier than this Waspy bastion on Union Square. O’Brien’s assistant managed to squeeze me in for a consultation that afternoon at two.
    The call couldn’t have taken more than three minutes. I spent an extra minute or two standing there, thinking about Sue. She had come to me in her hour of need and I’d reassured her, made her believe I knew what I was doing. Now I had to go back inside and tell Monk what I should have told him yesterday.
    Disappearances shouldn’t be taken lightly. I had already driven by the O’Brien house twice, once last night after dropping off Trudy and once this morning. In both cases, Sue’s BMW had not been in the driveway. She wasn’t registered in any local hotels or hospitals. And her cell phone was still out of service. I didn’t know where else to check. If Icould just get Monk to join me in my meeting with O’Brien . . .
    When I walked back into the office, he was on the phone. “The captain needs you, Randy. Someone’s trying to kill him and you’re the only one. You can take a leave of absence. And Natalie has a spare bedroom.”
    I dove for my phone, pushed an extension button, and got in on the call. “Randy. Hi, it’s Natalie.”
    â€œNatalie.” The last time I’d spoken to Randy Disher, he’d been in bad shape. This was after he’d falsely accused his local mayor of murder and become the town’s laughingstock. His own officers had taken to making crank calls and luring him to nonexistent crime scenes. At the time, Randy was talking seriously about coming home to San Francisco, a move I was totally against. “I hear the captain needs me,” he said.
    â€œNo,” I said. “I mean, it’s nothing Adrian and I can’t handle.”
    â€œIf someone’s trying to kill Leland and I can help, of course I’m going to be there. You couldn’t keep me away.”
    â€œRandy, you have your own town to keep safe. And Sharona. We don’t want to take you away from Sharona.”
    Sharona Fleming, for those who don’t know, had once been Monk’s nurse, back when he needed a full-time nurse in order to survive the chaos of this world. She was now back in her home state of New Jersey, working in a hospital and sharing her life with Randy.
    â€œSharona will be glad to get rid of me for a week or so. I haven’t been very good company.” He lowered his voice.