“Like what?”
“Everything you throw out,” Monk said.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“It would save you the time of manually separating and bagging all the items in your trash.”
“Who does that?” Carol asked.
“Who doesn’t?” Monk replied, then held his hand out to me. “Wipe.” My hands were full with the baby, so Carol handed him a wipe from the box on the changing table.
He cleaned his hands, dropped the tissue into an open bag in the Diaper Genie, and twisted the outer ring, which cinched the bag shut and opened a new one.
His eyes sparkled with joy.
“Wow,” he said, then motioned to me for another wipe.
Carol handed him the box and then gestured for me to follow her into the hallway.
“Now I see why the captain brought you,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
She glanced at Monk, who wiped his hands again and dropped the tissue into the Diaper Genie. “You’re dealing with the same problem that I am.”
I shook my head and bounced the baby. “Mr. Monk isn’t suffering from dementia. He’s just eccentric.”
“That’s what we used to say about my dad. He thinks he’s still running his bar. Most of the cops he used to know hang up on him when he calls in the wee hours of the night with his tips. The few who visit rarely come back a second time. It’s too depressing.”
“What about his old customers?”
“They are either dead, in jail, or people I would never allow to set foot in my house.”
I thought about how he mistook the baby for an old drunk and me for a hooker. If that was any reflection on his clientele, Carol’s unwillingness to invite them into her home made a lot of sense.
“It must be hard on you, taking care of him and your kids,” I said. The baby grabbed my nose and gave it a squeeze. I made a face and she giggled with glee.
“The mornings aren’t so bad. My son is in preschool until after lunch. When I bring him home, that’s when it becomes a menagerie around here,” she said. “Dinnertime is especially hard. It’s hell to cook dinner with my dad installed in the kitchen, running his bar, and having conversations from twenty years ago with people who aren’t there. It entertains the kids, though.”
“How does your husband handle it?” I asked, my nose once again in the baby’s surprisingly strong grip.
“He’s great. Phil sits at the counter and lets Dad make him drinks all night,” she said. “But we know soon he will become too much for us to handle and he’ll need assisted living. Thank God those huge dividends from Dad’s InTouchSpace stocks keep coming in.”
“How did he ever get InTouchSpace stock?” I said.
“A tip from one of his customers,” she said. “He got in before it became the biggest social network on the Internet.”
That was like getting in on Microsoft, Starbucks, and Google before they hit it big. No wonder Peschel and his late wife were able to retire to Florida.
Monk joined us, a huge smile on his face, and held his arms out to Carol. “Could I give you a hug?”
I almost dropped the baby in shock. Monk doesn’t hug anybody.
“Why?” Carol asked.
“Because you have changed my life,” he said.
She glanced at me and I gave her a nod, letting her know it was all right.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “I guess so.”
Monk placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and tipped his upper body ever so slightly towards her. There was a good foot of space between them and no physical contact besides his hands. It was the strangest hug I’d ever seen. Apparently, it was even stranger for Carol, who looked bewildered.
“I am so glad to have met you,” Monk said. “I will remember this day forever.”
“Me, too,” she said.
That was when Stottlemeyer joined us. “I’d better be getting back to the station.”
“Thanks for coming by,” Carol said. “I know it meant a lot to my father.”
“I enjoy it as much as he does,” he said. “It’s just like the old days, only in a much more pleasant environment.”
“I know it costs you more than just your time, gasoline, and patience to visit with him.” She reached into her pocket and held out some wrinkled bills to Stottlemeyer. “This is what you gave him when you were here before.”
“It was good information,” Stottlemeyer said a bit sheepishly.
“Fifteen or twenty years ago,” she said, and forced the cash into his hands. “I’ll pay you back whatever cash you slipped him today but I’ll make sure to check his pockets this time before I put his pants through the wash.”
“Why?” Monk asked.
“So the captain’s money doesn’t go through the washing machine,” she said.
“What would be wrong with that?”
“Because it will get all clumped and mushy.”
“That’s why you have to iron the bills afterwards,” Monk said. “That’s what I do when I clean my money.”
“You wash and iron your money?” she asked incredulously.
“Don’t you?” he said.
“No,” she said.
“My God, woman. You have children,” he said. “Cash is filthier than your baby’s diapers. Think of all the hands that have touched it and all the places it might have been.”
Carol turned to me. “He’s eccentric, all right.”
I gave the baby a kiss and reluctantly gave her back to her mother.
“It was nice to meet you,” I said to them both.
She led us to the door. We said our good-byes and Stottlemeyer walked Monk and me to my car.
“I know why you brought me here,” I said to the captain.
“Do you?” he asked innocently.
“So do I,” Monk said. “Could I give you a hug?”
“No,” Stottlemeyer said, and abruptly turned and went to his car.
Monk looked at me. “You knew about the Diaper Genie before?”
“Yes,” I said. “I raised a daughter, you know. She wasn’t born a teenager.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about them?”
“Because you aren’t interested in babies or their diapers,” I said. “They scare you.”
“Didn’t it occur to you that the Diaper Genie is a revolutionary device with many more uses for humanity than only diaper disposal?”
“Millions of people own Diaper Genies, Mr. Monk. It’s not like I’ve been keeping them a secret from the world.”
“And nobody has appreciated its full potential?” Monk said. “It’s mind-boggling to me. It’s like only using electricity for illumination. If the captain hadn’t discovered it here, I might never have known about it.”
“You think that’s why the captain had us come here, so you could see the Diaper Genie?”
“Of course,” Monk said. “What other reason could there be?”
“You’re right,” I said. “It never occurred to me. That must be why you’re the detective and I’m the assistant.”
I wasn’t ready to talk to Monk about my minor identity crisis.
“Do you know where they sell Diaper Genies?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“That’s our next stop,” he said. “I need to buy some.”
“Some?”
“One for each room of my apartment,” he said. “And a spare for each room of my apartment.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was not a good day for any San Francisco parents who happened to be in the market for a new Diaper Genie or who were simply looking for refills.
Monk had me take him to every Babies R Us, Target, and Wal-Mart in the city so he could stock up on all the Diaper Genies and supplies he thought he’d need for the next year. After he was through, the shelves were bare and the nearest available Diaper Genies were either across the bay or down in Daly City.
It took several trips from the car to unload everything into his apartment. I was going back for the last two Genies when Monk stopped me at his door.