up, and walked back to my car, which was in a parking structure a few blocks away.
“I believed that story you told about the night-night,” I said as we strolled along.
“If I didn’t convince you, I never would have been able to convince him. I knew he was listening to everything we said.”
“I still believe that story.”
“Even though it’s a lie?”
“I don’t think it is,” I said. “You told it with too much emotion, and you aren’t that good an actor.”
Monk was quiet for a long time. “It wasn’t Trudy who had the night-night. It was my mother.”
“You buried her with it, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Monk said. “But I had it dry-cleaned first.”
Of course he did.
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