Mr. Monk and the Red Herring

Chapter Four

"Yeah. I heard about that." Clem tossed his hands up in an insincere shrug. "Well, I guess you did what you had to do."

"Yeah," Natalie said quietly.

"And that's exactly what I'm doing right now," continued Clem. "I got a business to run, Teeger. So you wanna see more of these or not?" He waved the check in her face.

Natalie paused, staring at him with resentment. 

"Fine," she said sullenly, snatching the envelope from Clem. "I'll be here.

"Good," Clem said. He went off to address a couple at the other end of the counter, leaving Natalie by herself.

She bit her lip, still sullen, and tapped the envelope against the counter, freezing halfway through turning back when she saw the woman sitting next to her. 

"Sharona? Where's Mr. Monk?"

Sharona pressed her lips together, amused. She tilted her head past Natalie at the now-empty table they'd left Monk at—which was three tables away from where he sat now. He had made himself busy reading a newspaper, stopping every now and then to tug at the wrinkled tablecloth.

Natalie chuckled softly. 

"You know, we're lucky he isn't over here with us," Sharona said, with a glance to the bottles of scotch in front of them. One had noticeably less alcohol than the other. "Those would drive him crazy."

"Or these stools," Natalie suggested. "This one's leg is definitely an inch shorter than the others." She gave the edge of the stool next to her a tiny push, and it fell back onto the shorter leg with a soft thud.

 They both laughed, Natalie shaking her head in amusement.

"I don't know how I put up with him. I don't know how anyone puts up with him," Sharona lamented, but her tone was still light-hearted. She hesitated and let a sigh escape her lips as she glanced back to Monk. He was ruffling the pages of his newspaper, trying to straighten it out. "Actually, I do. I love him."

Natalie looked up at her, the slight change of expression on her features mirroring the topic of the conversation.

"I swear, this is the best job I ever had," Sharona continued. "Every day's an adventure. I just think... adventures are never fun when you're in the middle of them, you know?"

"Sharona, I'm sorry..." Natalie began. She rearranged the purse on her shoulder and slid onto the uneven stool to face Sharona.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I'm the one who should be sorry. I was totally out of line. Natalie, you were being really patient with him on this case. It's more than I've ever been."

"No, I wasn't," she protested.

"Yeah, you were. You're a saint."

"Sharona, the reason I want you to be nice to Mr. Monk and patient with him is because you've already done the hard part," Natalie pressed, reaching her hand out and putting it over Sharona's, which rested on the counter.

"Nah." Sharona looked away.

"Captain Stottlemeyer told me you've known him a long time. You've been here since the beginning, since Trudy."

"He couldn't get out of bed for months," Sharona said quietly. Her voice broke. "What if I was too hard on him then? I want to help him, I've never wanted to actually hurt him. He drives me crazy, but of course I love him. He's Adrian."

"He loves you too, you know," Natalie said. "You've always been there for him. You're always there."

Misty-eyed, Sharona looked to Natalie's hand atop hers instead of meeting the other's gaze. "I just don't know," she faltered. "I think I might be too tough on him sometimes."