“I don’t get it,” Monk said. “What’s the joke?”

“Me,” Stottlemeyer said. He picked up Monk’s glass and drank all of his water.

CHAPTER FOUR

There was no way Monk could drink out of his glass again and Stottlemeyer knew it. The only recourse Monk had was to keep both glasses filled at the same level no matter which glass the captain drank from.

That plan might have worked if Stottlemeyer hadn’t taken the pitcher of water and emptied it into one of the potted plants behind them.

Now all Monk could do was pray that the captain wouldn’t dare knock the entire universe out of balance by taking a sip of water from either glass.

But the fear that Stottlemeyer might do it anyway virtually paralyzed Monk, who couldn’t take his eyes off the glasses, as if he were willing the water to harden into solid ice.

Luckily, someone in the audience stood up and asked Monk and Stottlemeyer to talk about some of their most unusual and puzzling cases, so the interview ended on a more or less positive note before Braddock could get another dig in.

“All in all, I think that went well,” Monk said as we left the hotel and stepped onto Powell Street.

Stottlemeyer nodded. “Compared to being burned at the stake, tarred and feathered, or stoned to death, I suppose it did.”

“You seemed a bit edgy,” Monk said.

“Did I?”

“Things got a little dicey with the water but I had your back,” Monk said. “You could have been humiliated in front of all your colleagues.”

“I’m glad that didn’t happen,” Stottlemeyer said. “Thanks for sparing me any embarrassment.”

Monk was oblivious to the captain’s sarcasm, so it was probably unavoidable that whatever he said next would only make things worse.

“Think nothing of it,” Monk said. “That’s what friends are for.”

Stottlemeyer turned to me. “I appreciate you asking that question about our most interesting cases.”

“It was either that or throw something at your moderator,” I said. “What was Braddock’s problem?”

“He was only asking what most of the cops in the room were already thinking.”

“It was personal, Captain,” I said.

“I didn’t take it that way,” Stottlemeyer said.

He was lying, of course. But there was nothing to be gained by challenging him on it and I didn’t have the time. We were running later than I’d anticipated and I’d already have to break a few traffic laws if Monk was going to make it on time to his appointment with his shrink. So we went our separate ways.

Ever since Dr. Kroger passed away, Monk had been seeing Dr. Neven Bell. They weren’t quite as close as Monk and Dr. Kroger had been but I saw that as a good thing. It seemed to me that the less dependent Monk was on his shrink, the closer he was to being a rational, independent person.

While Monk unloaded his troubles on Dr. Bell, I took a walk up the street, which was so steep that steps were cut into the sidewalk. I liked the walk; it got my blood pumping and I was rewarded with a nice view of the city when I got to the top.

Monk hated the street, and all the others like it in San Francisco, because the Victorian houses were staggered against the incline. But at least he no longer insisted on being blindfolded to avoid the sight. I guess that was progress.

I thought about the flaying that Stottlemeyer endured at the conference and felt bad that we hadn’t done a better job of defending him (though I knew Monk would have argued that he’d done his share by maintaining the water level of the glasses).

Braddock didn’t say anything that was untrue but he could have made the same points without turning it into an attack on Stottlemeyer’s character and competence.

Monk wouldn’t have been working for the SFPD at all if not for Stottlemeyer. The captain didn’t bring Monk in to boost his case-closure rate, or to make himself look good. He did it because he was the one person in San Francisco who cared about Monk, regardless of his psychological problems.

Stottlemeyer hired him as a consultant to save Monk from a life of isolation and misery. It was a wonderful act of friendship and kindness, and probably cost the captain whatever political capital he’d saved up during his career. So it infuriated me to see what he did for Monk used as a weapon against him.

I couldn’t undo the damage that was done to Stottlemeyer at the conference but at least I could offer him some friendly consolation. So on the way back to Dr. Bell’s office, I called the captain and invited him for coffee after we both got off work.

Neither one of us had a significant other waiting at home, so I knew he didn’t have any real excuses to decline my invitation. Call me immodest, but I was pretty sure that spending time with me had to be better than going home to an empty apartment and leftovers in the fridge.

Besides, after what he’d endured today, he probably needed someone to talk to, whether he admitted it or not.

Stottlemeyer met me at a Starbucks near my house in Noe Valley, a quirky neighborhood that had upscaled around me since I bought my fixer-upper that I never got around to fixing up. I kept waiting for the Neighborhood Watch Committee to march on my house with torches to drive me away because I don’t have breast implants, a German car, or an iPhone. What saved me was that I was a thin, natural blonde with a perky smile, but I knew that wouldn’t hold them off for much longer.

The captain and I forked over an inordinate sum of money to the barista for two cups of coffee and settled into two lumpy, mismatched, wing-backed chairs.

He’d taken off his tie and opened the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the collar of his V-neck undershirt. He looked terrible.

“So what’s the occasion?” Stottlemeyer asked.

“I thought you might want to talk after what happened today,” I said.

“There isn’t really anything to talk about.”

“We could talk about the lie you told me,” I said.

“Which one?” he said with a smile. “I lose track.”

“When you said that you didn’t take Braddock’s questions personally,” I said. “He was out to get you. What happened between you two?”

“We have a different approach to policing. I follow the law and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make a case, even if it means trampling over people’s rights. Or over the people themselves,” Stottlemeyer said. “I gave him a choice: He could quit the SFPD or I would go to Internal Affairs with what I knew about him and he could take his chances with them. So he left for a job in Banning. That was eight years ago.”

“So this was his opportunity to finally get even with you,” I said.

“Then he blew his shot. All he said was that Monk is a better detective than I am. That’s not exactly a revelation.”

“But it must hurt anyway,” I said.

“I’m proud of Monk’s success,” Stottlemeyer said.

“Even if it overshadows your own?”

“I’m the captain of the division, Natalie. It’s my job to bring out the best in the people who work for me and that includes Monk. I get the blame when they screw up and the chief gets the credit when they succeed. That’s the nature of the job. The important thing is that the bad guys are getting caught.”

“You do bring out the best in Mr. Monk. It’s because of you that he’s able to solve crimes at all,” I said. “But I wonder if you really give yourself the credit you deserve.”

“Sure I do,” Stottlemeyer said. “Every time Monk outsmarts some clever killer with an airtight alibi I congratulate myself for not listening to the bureaucrats and shrinks who wanted to write him off.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen your face when Mr. Monk solves a case on the spot,” I said. “I’ve also heard you beat yourself up for not seeing the clues yourself. You did it again yesterday over the Professor Cowan case.”