“They didn’t do a very good job,” Monk said. “There’s still dust on the shelves. If you give me Lysol, a rag, and some rubber gloves, I’ll take care of it.”
I pointed my finger at Monk.
“If you even try, I will break your arm like a chopstick.” Monk flinched and I turned to Disher. “Why did Internal Affairs take the captain’s things?”
“It is standard operating procedure in situations like this,” Disher said. “They are looking for evidence of other crimes he might have committed.”
“Other crimes?” The next thing I knew I was swinging at Disher’s face.
Disher didn’t raise a hand to defend himself or move out of the way. But before the flat of my hand could connect with his boyish cheek, Monk grabbed my arm and pinned it behind me.
“What’s the matter with you?” Monk said. He seemed truly distraught.
“It’s okay, Monk. Let her slap me. I deserve it for what I’ve done.”
“He’s right,” I said to Monk. “Let go of me.”
“Lieutenant Disher was only doing his job,” Monk said.
“Acting Captain Disher,” he corrected.
I tried to slap Disher with my free hand, but with Monk clutching my other arm, I was off balance and the blow fell short of the mark. Disher would have had to lean towards me for the slap to connect. I guess he didn’t want to be punished as much as he claimed or he would have.
“I know that I betrayed the captain,” Disher said. “But I was only following the evidence where it led. I had no choice but to arrest him. My only hope, and his, is that you can prove that he’s innocent.”
“You should be doing that,” I seethed. It’s amazing that I wasn’t foaming at the mouth.
“I’ll help you any way that I can, but it will have to be unofficially,” Disher said. “I am going to leave now and get myself a cup of coffee. While I am gone, you are absolutely forbidden to read the file in the box on the desk, because it contains all of the forensic reports, witness statements, and crime scene photos on the Braddock investigation. Is that clear?”
He gave us a big, exaggerated wink.
“Yes,” Monk said.
Disher nodded, closed the blinds on all of the captain’s office windows, and walked out, closing the door behind him. We were alone and out of sight. Monk let go of me and I jerked away from him.
“Are you having female problems?” he asked.
I glared at him in fury. “Did you actually just ask me if I have my period?”
“Ssssh,” Monk said, waving his hands frantically. “There’s no reason to start talking like a sailor.”
“I’ve got to meet this wretched sailor that you keep talking about,” I said. “No, Mr. Monk, I am not menstruating.”
“Ssssh,” Monk said, waving his arms again. “First you’re violent, now you’re a gutter mouth. What is wrong with you?”
“A good friend of mine was just arrested for a murder he didn’t commit-that is what is wrong with me and it should be wrong with you, too.”
I reached into the box and pulled out the Braddock file. Monk tried to grab it from me but I yanked the file away.
“Are you crazy? Acting Captain Disher said we are absolutely forbidden to read that file.”
“Which was his way of saying he wanted us to read it,” I said, laying the crime scene photos out on the empty desk.
“Absolutely forbidden means the opposite,” Monk said, gathering each photo up, one by one.
“But he meant the opposite of the opposite,” I said, laying out the forensic report and the photos of the evidence. “It was his way of saying we weren’t allowed to read the file but he was letting us read it anyway.”
“If that’s what he wanted to say, why didn’t he say that instead of absolutely forbidden?” Monk said, picking up the forensic report and photos.
“He was protecting his butt,” I said, laying out the witness statements. “He was saying that if we get caught reading it, we are on our own.”
“He was saying all that when he said we were absolutely forbidden to open the file.”
“Yes,” I said, dropping the empty file on the desk. “That’s why he gave us the big wink.”
“He probably had dust in his eye.” Monk shoved all the papers and photos back into the file and returned it to the box. “Absolutely forbidden means absolutely forbidden.”
Whether it did or not, I knew that Monk had seen every photo in the file and, whether he wanted to or not, had unconsciously noted every significant detail in them. He couldn’t help himself.
“If you say so,” I said. “How do you feel about visiting the crime scene?”
“Ambivalent,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I went to the front desk of the Dorchester and asked the clerk if I could rent a room. I didn’t think that they would let us just look around simply because we were private eyes, and I’m lousy when it comes to bribing people. Besides, I had Slade’s magic credit card.
“Of course,” the clerk said. He was so youthful, clean-cut, and gleamingly straight-toothed that he could have worked at Disneyland. “How long will you be staying?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Monk, who was busy arranging the suitcases at the porter’s stand by size, then returned my gaze to the clerk.
“One night,” I said. “I’d like room seven thirteen.”
The clerk cleared his throat with discomfort. “Perhaps you’d like a different room.”
“Is it occupied?”
“No,” he said, clearing his throat again.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s just that the gentleman who was staying there most recently suffered a tragedy.”
“That’s a shame for him but what does that have to do with me?”
“I wouldn’t want to sleep in a room where someone died,” the clerk said.
“No one’s asking you to,” I said. “I’ve got a companion already.”
I tipped my head towards Monk, who was still busy lining up the suitcases.
The man flushed with embarrassment. “I wasn’t suggesting-I mean, I was just trying to be helpful.”
“By offering yourself to me?”
“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong-” he stammered.
“We’re in a hurry,” I interrupted, handing him my Intertect credit card with a smile. “Could you make it snappy, Romeo?”
He quickly checked us in and handed me an electronic key card.
“Have a pleasant stay,” he said.
“I will.” I winked and took the card from him. It was fun flustering him. It was nice to know I could still fluster somebody.
I went over to Monk, who was admiring the row of suitcases, perfectly staggered from the smallest to the largest like the signal-strength icon on a cell phone.
“We’re in,” I said. “The room is on the seventh floor.”
I figured the uneven floor number was enough bad news for the moment-there was no reason to tell Monk yet that we were going to an odd room, too.
“You didn’t say anything about going to the seventh floor,” Monk said.
“That’s where his room is,” I said.
“He should have been on the fourth or sixth,” Monk said. “Or some other even-numbered floor.”
“But he wasn’t,” I said.
“No wonder he’s dead,” Monk said. “They shouldn’t even put rooms on those floors. It’s irresponsible, dangerous, immoral, and unnatural.”
“What should they do, just leave the odd-numbered floors empty?”
“Yes, for the sake of humanity,” Monk said. “It must have been unbearable for Braddock. Maybe he killed himself.”
“You think Braddock strangled himself with a tie because he couldn’t endure another night on an odd-numbered floor?”
“It’s the most logical alternative,” Monk said. “The captain should use that argument as the cornerstone of his defense strategy.”