"This is called a plasma sphere," the tour guide said, his voice echoing. His hand rested on the small glass ball he was describing. Electricity flickered inside it to his fingers. "And inside the sphere, there are millions of ions reacting to the electrical charge to create what?"
None of the group answered, they were too busy pushing past each other to touch a fingertip to the plasma sphere. From above, Monk mumbled something about a electromagnetic field, but was cut off with a shh! from Sharona.
They were watching the group from a mezzanine above. The detective tried his best to keep his eyes fixed on the tour guide, yet he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering to the uneven corner of the banner on the wall below them. Sharona elbowed him as he reached down to fix it, hissing, "Focus!" under her breath.
"I thought your meter man had black hair," she pointed out, suspicious.
"He must have been wearing a wig, I don't know," Natalie reasoned. "But that's the guy, I know it. I work in a bar. I'm good with faces."
"Maybe we should say something," Sharona suggested. "See how he reacts."
"No," Monk said quietly. "If he is the guy, we don't want him to know."
"What are we gonna do?"
"Follow him," Monk answered. "Keep an eye out for anything else suspicious."
"Okay, let's go."
They turned away from the railing, hastening to catch up with the tour guide as he led his group to the next room.
When they reached the lower floor, the tour group was filtering into a large, cave-like room detailing the miracle of birth.
"Welcome to the miracle of birth," an announcer was saying over a speaker. "Sexual reproduction is the fertilization of the female egg..."
The tour guide raised his voice over the loudspeaker. "We're gonna step carefully through this opening into the womb, and then we're gonna take a left up the fallopian tubes. Here we go-" He turned sideways to fit into the womb, then stood back as the rest of the group followed. "Do it carefully, that's it. Turn sideways if you have to. Now you're in the womb. Go left up the fallopian tubes! There we go."
Monk, Sharona, and Natalie hurried to blend in with the group as they ducked through the gap. Still echoing in the background was the speaker, playing the same few phrases repeatedly: "Welcome to the miracle of birth. Sexual reproduction..."
"Oh, no." Monk had realized what exhibit they'd ended up in. "No-no-no-no-no."
He stopped dead at the entrance to the womb. Sharona rolled her eyes and groaned.
"Detective Monk, hurry up! He's getting away!" Natalie yelled.
A pause as she watched Monk, dumbfounded.
"...What are you doing?"
It was unclear. Monk had one foot through the opening and one still standing in the entrance. He swayed back and forth, trying to force himself to jump through, but it was as if an invisible forcefield held him back.
"Ugh!" His skin had made contact with the wall, and he drew the cuffs of his jacket sleeves over his hands to protect them.
"Adrian, come on," Sharona called.
"Ahh—!" He threw both arms across his face so as to block out his surroundings, which gave him enough momentum to fling himself through the opening. Apparently out of sight meant out of mind for Monk, as long as there weren't any of the other senses that were affecting him.
The uterus they stood in smelled faintly of rubber. This did not bother Monk. The flickering lights above, on the other hand...
Natalie waved a hand in front of his face. "Detective Monk, never mind the light! We need to get going!"
They only made it a few feet before Monk interrupted again. "Wait, wait, wait — wait, okay, listen."
Sharona and Natalie sighed and turned to face him.
"Maybe I should've mentioned this earlier," Monk said, trying his best to sit against the wall as if there was an invisible bench there, "but... see, the thing is, I have a number of phobias."
"You? No." Natalie's face remained stony.
"Oh, yes," Monk replied, oblivious to her sarcasm. He was still gasping for air, recovering from the near-death experience that had been entering the exhibit. "Yes, and one of them — near the top of the list, actually — is the miracle of birth."
"Adrian, you're fine," Sharona said brusquely. "C'mon."
She took him by the arm and led him toward the fallopian tubes. Monk reluctantly followed, dragging his feet. "I'm sorry," Sharona continued, "he just... he just gets a little nervous..."
"Yeah, I noticed." Pointedly addressing Monk rather than Sharona, Natalie reached a hand out to him. "Detective Monk, come on. Just take my hand.
"He doesn't do hand holding," Sharona said curtly. Monk didn't move, so Natalie grasped his other arm with an eye roll.
"Okay, we're moving."
They were, albeit very slowly. There were far too many twists and turns and tight squeezes in the unfamiliar cave for any of the group's liking. Monk made his feelings quite clear through constant mumbling and groaning.
"Fetus ahead!" Natalie warned them from Monk's left side. She had spotted a bright emergency exit sign, and quickly seized the opportunity to shield Monk from the easy way out. As expected, he yelped at the sight of the representation of a fetus and squeezed his eyes shut.
Sharona gave Natalie a knowing, approving nod. Natalie returned a smile.
Unfortunately, an "oh, no" came from Monk just then, signaling that they had reached the fallopian tubes. He stopped dead in his tracks."Okay, I can't go up there. I — I don't even know this woman."
He pretended to lose his footing, staggering about as if he was about to faint. He probably was, on second thought.
"Adrian, we're gonna lose him!" Sharona put her hand on her boss's back to steady him.
"Pretend you're in a funhouse!" Natalie suggested desperately. She ran up toward the opening to demonstrate just how fun it could be, but Monk stayed put. She sighed.
"Funhou — no, what's fun about fallopian tubes?" Monk was shouting now. "I can't... I gotta... I can't now."
With each word, he sank further and further forward. He came to a stop crouched over, with one hand balanced on his knee and the other clutching his heart dramatically.
"Okay, you know what, just forget it, okay? We're outta here." Natalie brought her hands to her hips with such an irritated sigh that her handbag fell from her shoulder. Sharona pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Okay," Monk agreed, not bothering to hide his relief. He stood up and headed back to the emergency exit without a second thought.
"Adrian, no, not that way -" Sharona started.
"We have to go through the pelvis," Natalie prompted him.
"Yeah, I think this one's gonna be a cesarean," Monk told them. He adjusted his jacket and used his shoulder to open the door. The alarm blared, and both women plastered their hands over their ears. Natalie sighed as she followed them out the door.
"Here he is," she told them later. After Monk had settled down again, and after they had explained to security why the alarm had gone off, Natalie had found a booklet with a page on the museum's staff. "Lyle Peck, tour guide."
"Okay. All right," Monk mumbled in response. "I will... have the captain run a check on him."
He dabbed at his face thoroughly with a wipe from Sharona, not pausing as he used his free hand to take the booklet from Natalie.
"I can't believe you freaked out like that," Natalie chided him as he folded the wipe up and offered it back to Sharona, who stuffed it in her purse with a scoff. "Human sexuality is a natural thing."
"Not to him, it's not," Sharona said wryly, shaking her head at Monk, who had just looked to her in hopes of another wipe.
Natalie gave her a vexed look and turned away from them, briskly walking towards the main doors. She made it only five feet before it became clear neither of the others were with her.
Monk had stopped to face Natalie when she made the comment about sexuality, directly in front of the museum's gift shop. Now his eyes were fixed on something new. Knowing Monk, Sharona figured it was either a criminally uneven display of souvenirs... or a clue.
Brow furrowed, Natalie slowly came back to join them. Monk was staring at a table set up in the center of the shop. The boxes stacked upon it were in a neat pyramid, so that nixed the first of Sharona's options.
Monk walked wordlessly to the table. When he turned again to face them, Sharona knew the look he gave her all too well.
He had found a clue.
"Are you hungry?" Julie prompted her fish cheerily. "Here you go..." Beaming, she raised her hand to the top of the tank and sprinkled fish food over the water.
"You bought this kit in the gift shop at the museum?" Monk asked her. He, Sharona, Natalie, and Julie all stood crowded around the tiny aquarium. Monk held a box identical to the ones in the museum shop.
"Uh-huh," Julie replied, not looking up from her fish.
"Was the box open when you bought it?"
Julie blinked. "Maybe, I don't know."
"Wait, so you think they're after something from the kit?" Natalie wondered, turning her head to Monk
"Well, Peck works at the museum," Monk reasoned. "He might've stashed something in the box and now he's trying to get it back."
He slipped a yellow plastic glove over his hand and dipped a pair of tongs into the water.
"Honey, when you bought this, did you give them your name?" Natalie asked her daughter
"I might've signed a mailing list," Julie offered, glancing toward Natalie. Monk fiddled with the toy treasure chest.
"Well, what was in the kit?" Sharona inquired, looking curiously to Julie.
"Um, a rock, a treasure chest, a deep sea diver, and some gravel." As Julie spoke, she pointed to each of the items in turn. Monk poked at then with his tongs.
"Look in the treasure chest," Natalie suggested.
Monk tried to open the tiny chest. It turned circles at the bottom of the tank. "Nah, nothing."
"What about the gravel?" Sharona put in.
"I don't see it," said Monk, baffled. He lifted the tongs to the surface of the water and shook off any loose gravel. "I think I'd like to take this whole aquarium back to the lab."
"Okay," Natalie said, and then caught herself. "Oh, wait — you know what, you can't. There's a science fair at Julie's school tonight. This is her project." She gave her daughter a proud smile.
"Not anymore," Julie said, her tone doleful. She wasn't looking at any of them anymore, rather concentrating on the fish mournfully.
"What do you mean?"
"Mr. Franklin disqualified me."
"He disqualified you?"
Natalie found this unacceptable. "We're going," she had said at once.
"Wait, where?"
"To have a talk with Mr. Franklin," was Natalie's answer. She motioned for Monk and Sharona to join her. Julie began to say something like oh, that isn't really necessary, but Natalie cut her off. "You stay here and get your project ready."
Natalie left Monk and Sharona to wait in the hallways of Julie's middle school as she spoke to the science teacher.
"It's too uneven out here," Monk complained, but Natalie left without response, not bothering to ask him to clarify what he meant. Monk's gaze strayed to the bulletin board in front of him - none of the papers pinned up to it were straightened properly.
"Don't you dare touch that."
He ignored Sharona, of course.
At the other end of Natalie walked into the classroom without knocking. "Mr. Franklin, I'm Natalie Teeger," she called out. It was your average science classroom: beakers of fizzy liquids scattered about on the tables, diagrams of skeletons on the far wall.
Mr. Franklin looked up from the messy desk he stood behind, holding an armful of papers. "Oh, yes. I remember you from parent's night. Excuse the mess," he said cheerily, "we've been making volcanoes!"
He gestured to one of the many paper-mache volcanoes on the tabletops.
"Did you tell Julie that she couldn't bring her fish to the science fair?"
Mr. Franklin slowly set the model volcano he was carrying down on a table and walked back to Natalie. "Yes, I did. Mrs. Teeger, sit, please."
Natalie stayed standing, arms crossed.
"Or stand, that's fine," he said after an awkward pause. "Mrs. Teeger, you need to understand I teach science, not science fiction. I can't approve a project if a student is just making things up."
"Are you saying Julie is lying?" asked Natalie, irate.
"I don't know what to say," he told her, sliding another volcano onto the counter. "I've seen Julie's fish. It's an ordinary crimson marble fish. She says she's had it since she was five."
"Yeah, that's right," confirmed Natalie, looking a little uncomfortable.
"That's impossible. A marble fish lives a year, year and a half at most. Either Julie's mistaken, or she's trying to pull a fast one. Either way," Mr. Franklin said, tapping a handful of markers he was holding to even them out, "I have an obligation to my students."
He held up the markers in a half-wave and walked back to the other side of the classroom, and there was an unspoken understanding that the conversation was not to continue. Natalie didn't persist, but she didn't move from where she stood for a few seconds, racking her brain for a different approach. Once she found one, she turned on her heel and strode out the door
Sharona had been waiting patiently for Natalie to return; Monk, however, was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing with the bulletin board. About half the papers were already taken down and neatly piled up on the floor near them. He was busy pinning an art project back up with the collection of pushpins he'd stored in his pocket when Natalie returned
"What are you doing?" she interrupted.
"Well, I wasn't happy about the way this —" He trailed off as Sharona sighed and gave him a look.
"Okay, you know, it doesn't matter. What do you call a guy who studies fish?"
"An ichthyologist," Monk said immediately, bending down to put a stack of brightly colored papers on the floor against the wall.
"That's what you are," she told him.
"No, I'm not," he said simply, walking around her to pick up the papers lined up against the other wall.
"Yeah, for the next five minutes, you are." She took the papers out of his hands. "I need you to tell Julie's teacher that a marble fish can live longer than two years, okay?"
"Wait, what?" Sharona cut in. Natalie didn't bother elaborating, already en route to the science classroom again. The two hurried after her.
"Wait a minute, Natalie," Monk called. "Wait — wait a sec. Here's the thing." She turned to face him as Sharona caught up with them. "Uh, I can't lie. I — I'm not good at it. I got lucky with that tic-tac thing."
Monk was, of course, referring to the earlier incident in which he'd found birth control pills in Natalie's purse. He still seemed to be under the impression that he'd successfully convinced Julie they were "special, adult tic-tacs."
Natalie wasn't having it. "Are you a man?
Monk faltered. "Am I —?"
"Are you a man?" Natalie repeated.
"Yes, uh —"
"Then you can lie. That's what men do," she said sharply, marching into the classroom. Hesitantly, Monk followed her, glancing back at Sharona as if calling for help. Sharona gave him a shrug in response that showed she had about as much of an idea as to what was going on as he did.
"Mr. Franklin?" called Natalie again. He glanced up from a drawer he had open, looking irked but unsurprised. "Um, when Julie told me about your problem, I called Berkeley and talked to the science department, and found my own expert. This is Professor... Larry Tilburn."
So Natalie wasn't the best at lying herself, apparently.
"He was kind enough to meet me here this morning," she finished.
"Hi," Mr. Franklin greeted Monk, reaching out for a handshake. Monk, who had been reaching into his pocket to avoid exactly that, took it reluctantly.
"Hello." He drew back after the handshake, snapping his fingers at the empty doorway, looking to see if Sharona had somehow prepared a wipe. Natalie elbowed him and he turned back, hand still held out gingerly.
"He's an ick — icky —"
"Ichthyologist," Monk supplied.
"He's world-renowned," Natalie continued as Monk walked over to the nearest counter. He found a paper towel and ran it under the water from the sink, flinching when it sprayed him. Without bothering to fold it neatly, he threw it back onto the table after wiping his hands. "Has written just a page-turner of a book on freshwater fish."
"Really?" asked Mr. Franklin, looking interested. "What's it called?"
Natalie was blanking.
"Freshwater Fish, by Larry Tilburn," said Monk quietly, walking back over to where the other two were standing. On the other side of the wall, Sharona stifled a laugh, facepalming. At least they had tried to warn Natalie; Monk really was the worst liar in the world.
"Mm. Great title," Natalie agreed. "Uh, I tried to read it, and just...forget it." She laughed awkwardly.
Not exactly paying attention to Natalie, Monk walked back over to the counter and reached inside his pocket, where he had apparently still been keeping about twenty pushpins from the bulletin board. These he dumped out onto the table, letting them spill across the messy papers still covering the table. It was making quite a lot of noise.
"Professor? Professor Tilburn? Professor Tilburn." Natalie had finally gotten Monk's attention. He looked up from the pushpins. "Mr. Franklin here doesn't think that Julie's fish - you know, the one I showed you - could live longer than a year or two. What do you think?"
Yep, so Natalie was an awful liar. Especially when she only had Monk — and the book title 'Freshwater Fish, by Larry Tilburn' — to work with. She emphasized every word she spoke with a number of nervous, exaggerated gestures. Mr. Franklin did not look convinced in the slightest.
"I think it can," Monk said simply. He looked as though he thought giving the most short, bland answers he could give would get him out of the classroom quicker.
"I don't see how," Mr. Franklin said dismissively. "It's a common variety marble fish. Has a miniscule genome size and almost no immune system."
Neither Natalie nor Monk had planned this far ahead, which only made Monk more desperate to leave the classroom. "Let's go," he whispered to Natalie. "Let's get outta here." For the next few seconds they had a quick, whispered argument, and then Monk relented.
"That's true," he mumbled, and then louder, "that's true... about most marble fish. But this is a completely different species. This is the North... Korean marble fish."
Mr. Franklin crossed his arms, skeptical. "North Korean?"
"It's a very strong fish. It's a very tough —" (Monk put up both fists in an attempt to illustrate 'tough') "— fish. Would have to be, to live in a country like, uh..."
Monk pulled out a few more pins and dumped them on the table. "North Korea," both he and Natalie finished in unison. Mr. Franklin glanced from Monk to Natalie.
"This fish could live for, uh..." Monk walked back to Natalie and Mr. Franklin again. "Three or four years." Natalie shook her head very quickly and discreetly. "Four and a half. Or five. Or six."
Natalie gave a quick, short nod, and Monk stopped counting. "Or six...six..that's it. Six years."
Doubtful as ever, Mr. Franklin sighed and then said, "I'd like to read your book," pointing at Monk and heading over to his computer. "What did you say your name was?"
He'd called their bluff. Natalie gave a SOS look to Monk.
"Tilburn," he said quietly. "Larry..."
"T-I-L-B-U-R-N?"
Natalie winced at every clack of Mr. Franklin's keyboard, biting her lip in distress. "Okay, okay!" she finally cried. Mr. Franklin looked up. Natalie leaned back against the table and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Truth is... it's not the same fish."
"Yes, it is. Sure it is!" Monk persisted.
"Let it go," she told him. Mr. Franklin scoffed, amused, and sat down on a nearby stool. Natalie continued, "I've replaced it every year. Julie's dad gave it to her before she died. I don't have the heart to tell her the truth. It's all that she has left of him."
Mr. Franklin noted the appearance of a third person: Sharona had stepped into the doorway. He decided not to question this — with all that was going on right now, there was no room for any more confusion.
"So, Mr. Franklin, if you wanna call that little girl and tell her that the fish that she's been talking to and praying to for the last six years is dead, then you know what, go ahead!" Natalie was close to tears, holding out her cell phone to Mr. Franklin. "I'll dial it for you!"
"Okay, okay," said Mr. Franklin, holding up his hands in defense. "I didn't know. She can bring the fish to the science fair. If you like, I'll even swing by her house later and pick up the aquarium."
"Thank you," Natalie sniffed, relieved. She flipped the phone closed.
"But I can't give her an award," he added.
"Oh, Mr. Franklin, she doesn't need an award. She just needs to make it through middle school without falling apart."