Monk nodded. “He told me to stop leaving anonymous tips on the hotline and that he was perfectly capable of solving cases on his own.”
“That’s what this is all about,” I said.
“How did he know it was me who left the tips?”
“He’s a detective,” I said.
“But I was anonymous.”
“They have a sophisticated version of caller ID and instantly trace the calls. They knew who you were the instant they answered the phone.”
“I’ll have to use different phones,” Monk said. “Could I borrow yours?”
“No, you can’t,” I said.
“Why not?”
Hadn’t he heard a single thing I’d said? Did he really think I would give him my phone to make the calls I didn’t want him to make? How could someone so brilliant be so incredibly dense?
But I didn’t ask him those questions. I had a better reply, one that might actually sink into his head: “Because I need it for arranging job interviews.”
He let out a little whine of frustration. Score one for Natalie.
There was a knock at the door. He looked at me. I looked at him.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asked.
“Are you going to be calling any more tips in to the police hotline?”
“Not at the moment,” he said.
I got up, went to the door, and opened it. I was greeted by a well-dressed man with a big smile, big pecs, and a big income. He wore a gray Hermes V-neck sweater over a white T-shirt, which were loose-fitting enough to convey a casual attitude but not so loose that you couldn’t tell he was buff underneath. His True Religion jeans hugged him so tight I almost found true religion myself. If you threw in his Armani loafers, his Ray-Ban sunglasses, and his Omega Seamaster wristwatch, he was wearing my annual salary.
He took off his glasses and revealed his emerald green eyes. I held the door and tried not to swoon.
“I’m Nicholas Slade,” he said. “Is Mr. Monk available?”
No, but I am, I thought. “What is this regarding?”
“I’m selling magazine subscriptions and, if I get enough, I can win a trip to Mexico,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Oh, in that case, come right in,” I said, and stepped aside.
Slade strode in and gave me an unabashed appraisal as he passed me. I was glad that I’d dressed up for the conference instead of wearing my usual attire.
Monk joined us in the living room.
“This is Nicholas Slade,” I said. “He’s selling magazines. Or was it Girl Scout cookies?”
“Actually, I’m giving away free copies of
Monk blanched. I smiled.
“He’s joking, Mr. Monk.”
“Actually, I’m flirting, Ms. Teeger. I can’t help myself around beautiful women.” Slade turned to Monk. “But it’s you that I came to woo, in a professional sense, of course.”
“What can I do for you?” Monk asked.
“What you do better than anybody else,” Slade said, and handed Monk his card. “I’m the CEO and founder of Intertect, a private security and investigation company based here in San Francisco. I’d like to hire you as an operative, a consultant, or Grand Poobah of Detection, whatever you want. You tell me. I just want you on my team.”
“I’m not available,” Monk said.
“Has someone beaten me to you already? I knew I should have come over last night, but I thought it would be too aggressive,” he said. “I’ll top any offer that you’ve received.”
“How did you know that Mr. Monk is no longer consulting for the San Francisco police?” I asked, and motioned to Slade to take a seat on the couch.
“I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I didn’t,” he said, sitting down. Monk sat on the arm of an easy chair across from him. I stood at Monk’s side like the dutiful assistant that I am.
“I have lots of sources within the department,” Slade continued. “I used to be a vice detective until I got smart ten years ago and went private. I was invited to be a guest on a panel at the homicide detectives’ conference, so I happened o be there to see Monk’s interview. After witnessing that debacle, I had a feeling Leland might make a change in the consulting agreement.”
“Did you really?” I gave Monk a significant look to underscore Slade’s remark.
“Do you have something in your eye?” Monk asked.
“No, I don’t. Did you hear what Mr. Slade just said?”
“Did he spit in your eye when he said it?”
“No, he didn’t,” I said.
“Because some people do that,” he said. “They spit when they talk. They need to be stopped. Someone could die.”
“My eyes are fine,” I said.
“Then why were you widening your eyes like that?”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”
“There was widening,” he said, and looked at Slade. “You couldn’t see it because her back was to you. Only I could see it.”
“Almost like a private expression shared between two people,” Slade said.
“Almost,” Monk said. “But it was more like she had something in her eye. Did you spit in her eye? Are you a spitter when you speak?”
“I don’t think so,” Slade said.
“That’s a relief,” Monk said. “Because I don’t have protective goggles.”
“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to make a play for your services for a long time, Mr. Monk.”
“What stopped you from doing it until now?” I asked. “Mr. Monk wasn’t under an exclusive contract.”
“I didn’t want to step on Leland’s toes. I have too much respect for him to do that,” he said. “But he’s made a huge mistake in letting you go. Leland has no one to blame but himself if you come to work for me.”
Monk rolled his shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable in a corporate environment.”
“You aren’t comfortable in any environment,” I said.
“You never have to come into the office if you don’t want to,” Slade said. “We could get you files by messenger or e-mail. We could talk over the phone, in person, via fax or video-conference. Whatever you want. You can pick and choose your cases and clients. You will have free access to all of our resources, which are considerable. I’m talking research, scientific analysis, surveillance, and manpower. We’ll give you whatever assistance you need.”
“I have an assistant,” Monk said.
Slade smiled at me. “Of course you do. My offer to you extends to Ms. Teeger as well, as does our benefits package.”
“Benefits?” I think my voice cracked a little when I said that.
“Medical and dental coverage for you and your daughter,” he said. “I know you also act as Mr. Monk’s driver, so naturally we would cover your gasoline, car insurance, and expenses or, if you prefer, we can provide you with a company car from our fleet.”
I could have cried. The only benefit Monk offered me was an endless supply of disinfectants.
Slade turned to Monk. “Our medical plan would also cover your psychiatric care, of course.”
“What’s the catch?” Monk asked.
“You’d be working exclusively for Intertect,” Slade said. “But if it is intellectual stimulation that you are worried about, let me put you at ease. We investigate all kinds of cases for our individual and corporate clients, including murder.”
I cleared my throat and tried to put on my best poker face. “All these benefits are a given, Mr. Slade. What you
