She popped her teeth back into her mouth and offered her hand to Monk. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Monk took one look at her hand, which was covered with blisters, and shook the air between them instead.
“Yes, it certainly is,” Monk said, shaking the air enthusiastically. “What happened to your hands?”
“I’ve been tending my roses,” she said. “It’s hard work, but I love it.”
I paid Mrs. Throphamner twelve dollars for babysitting. She stuffed the bills in her cleavage, blew a kiss to Julie, and went home in a hurry so she wouldn’t miss a second of Dick Van Dyke’s sleuthing.
“Mrs. Throphamner’s such a sweet woman,” I said after she left.
“She’s a witch,” Monk said. “Did you see those gnarled hands and her puckered, toothless face?”
Julie giggled happily. She happened to share Monk’s opinion. I thought they were both being cruel.
“She’s old and lonely; that’s all. Her husband spends most of his time lately at their fishing cabin up near Sacramento. She’s had nothing to do the last few months except tend her garden and watch TV.”
Of course, that was also very good for me, because it coincided with my newfound employment with Monk and made her available almost anytime for babysitting. I liked to believe that Mrs. Throphamner and I were doing each other a favor.
I heated up a frozen pizza for dinner, set the table with paper plates, and talked to Julie about her day at school while Monk disposed of the napkin Mrs. Throphamner had rested her teeth on. He put on rubber dish gloves and used a pair of barbecue tongs to pick up the napkin and take it to the fireplace, where he incinerated it. Then he disinfected the coffee table and the air around it with enough Lysol to eradicate every germ within a square mile. I had to open the window in the kitchen so we wouldn’t be eradicated, too. Julie watched him closely, amused and fascinated at the same time.
“I can still smell her,” Monk said.
“It’s her flowers you’re smelling,” I said. “I opened the kitchen window. She spends so much time tending her garden that she picks up the fragrance of her roses.”
He studied me, trying to discern whether I was telling the truth or not, then decided to believe me and put away the Lysol and threw out the gloves. I would have washed the gloves and used them again, but I’m not Adrian Monk.
As soon as the pizza was ready, Monk cut it into eight even slices. We sat down to eat, and I gave Julie an edited account of our day, leaving out the mugging and the identity of Sparky’s killer, but said we were close to getting the culprit. I know that was being overly optimistic, but I had a lot of faith in Monk.
After dinner, Julie went back to her homework while I unpacked and washed all the new dishes and silverware. I know Monk would have been glad to do the washing for me, but Julie had other plans. She asked him if he’d help her with her homework.
“That’s very nice of you,” Monk said. “But I don’t want to intrude on your fun.”
“You think homework is fun?” Julie said.
“Homework was my second favorite thing about school.”
“What was your favorite?” Julie asked.
“The tests, of course. You know what was almost as much fun? Deducing days in advance exactly when the next surprise ‘pop’ quiz was coming up. The teachers pretended like this irritated them, but it was really their clever way of encouraging me to challenge myself. Boy, does this bring back memories. I used to love aligning the rows of desks each day. Do you ever do that?”
“No,” Julie said.
“You aren’t being aggressive enough,” Monk said.
“I don’t think that’s what it is.”
“The trick is getting to school an hour early, before some other enterprising student beats you to it. Not that anyone ever beat me to it.”
“Are you sure anyone wanted to?”
“Yeah, right. Next thing you’ll tell me nobody competes to get an even-numbered locker. You’re such a kidder.” Monk turned to me. “Isn’t she a kidder?”
“She’s a kidder,” I said. “And a josher.”
“So,” Monk asked her, “what are you studying tonight?”
“A bunch of stuff. But there’s something I thought you might know a few things about,” Julie said. “In Life Sciences, we’re learning about infectious diseases.”
“You’re talking to the right man,” Monk said, reaching for her Life Sciences textbook. “When I was in junior high, I taught the teacher a few things about the subject.”
“I’m not surprised.” She opened the book and pointed to a page. “We’re doing this project tomorrow.”
Monk read it aloud. “ ‘Everyone in class should shake hands with two people and record their names—’ ” He stopped midsentence. “How can they put children through this? Don’t they realize how dangerous it is? Didn’t they send home permission slips for this?”
“Uh, no,” Julie said. “Why should they?”
“Why?
“It sounds innocent enough to me,” I said.
“It does? Well, you won’t think so after you hear this.” Monk read again from the textbook: “ ‘Now shake hands with two different people, take their names, then shake hands with two more.’ What kind of teachers are these? Are they insane? I suppose they tell the kids to run around the classroom with scissors, too.”
“It’s just a practical exercise that teaches kids how diseases are spread,” I said.
“By having them spread diseases themselves?” Monk said. “What’s next? Having the kids drink cyanide-laced fruit juice to see how poison works? I can’t imagine how they teach sex education.”
“I have an idea.” Julie took the book from Monk and closed it. “How about if you quiz me for the test instead? Here are some of the questions.”
She handed Monk a piece of paper.
“I hope you plan on bringing extra gloves and disinfectant wipes to school tomorrow,” Monk said.
“Extra?” she said.
“You
Behind Monk’s back, I nodded vigorously to Julie, and she got the message.
“Yes, of course, who doesn’t?” she said. “I just thought what I usually bring would be more than enough. So are you going to quiz me?”
Monk sighed with relief, nodded, and glanced at the paper. “Okay, here goes. What are pathogens?”
“Organisms that cause disease,” Julie answered, a confident smile on her face.
“Wrong,” Monk said.
Her smile faded. “That’s the right answer. I know it is.”
“The correct answer is everything.”
“Everything?”
“All organisms cause disease. Name four sources of pathogens.”
Julie bit her lip, thought for a moment, then ticked off the answers one by one on her fingers. “Another person, a contaminated object, an animal bite, and the environment.”
“Wrong,” Monk said. “The correct answer is everything.”
“Everything?”
“The entire world is a pathogen. Next question: What are the four major groups of pathogens?”
Julie tapped her fingers on the table. “Um, viruses, bacteria, fungi, and protists.”
“Wrong,” Monk said. “The correct answer is—”
“Everything,” Julie interrupted.
“Correct.” Monk smiled and handed the paper back to her. “You’re going to ace this test.”
“But what about the other study questions?”
“There’s only one answer for all of them.”
“Everything?”
Monk nodded. “Life is simpler than you think.”
