Adrian Monk: [surveying a crime scene] The stove.
Lt. Gitomer: Over here. It's in the kitchen.
Adrian Monk: No... I mean *my* stove. I-I think I left it on.
Sharona Fleming: It's okay. I, uh, checked it as we were leaving.
Adrian Monk: Are you sure? Did you turn the knob?
Sharona Fleming: Yeah.
Adrian Monk: The little knob, though?
Sharona Fleming: I turned all the knobs. The stove is off, Adrian.
Lt. Gitomer: We believe it was a burglary gone sour. She walked in, she surprised him, he panicked, he left there from the kitchen.
Adrian Monk: No. No. No, no. No. No. This-This was no burglary.
Lt. Gitomer: It wasn't?
Adrian Monk: He tried to make it look like one, but this guy was cold as ice. He wore her slippers to avoid leaving shoe prints - not something your neighborhood crackhead is prone to do.
Sharona Fleming: Adrian. Adrian.
[she claps her hands]
Adrian Monk: He was in here. He was waiting.
Lt. Gitomer: Waiting for what?
Adrian Monk: You know, for her. He was here at least an hour. He was smoking. You can still smell it on the curtains.
[sniffs the curtains]
Adrian Monk: Menthols. Salems. Possibly Newports.
Lt. Gitomer: Maybe she was the smoker.
Adrian Monk: No. No, she was a Dutch Calvinist. They don't smoke. They consider their bodies to be a holy - a holy chalice of -
[turns to Sharona]
Adrian Monk: Sorry, I'm having trouble concentrating, because I think I smell gas. Did you hear the click? You gotta hear the click, not just feel the click. Hear it.
[to the other detectives]
Adrian Monk: Anyway, uh, after he killed Miss, uh...
Lt. Gitomer: Nicole Vasques, 25.
Adrian Monk: Yeah, Miss Vasques, he - he hung around. He was, uh, looking for something.
Lt. Gitomer: He was looking for what?
Adrian Monk: I don't know. He checked something on her computer. He could've erased a file.
Lt. Gitomer: Anything else?
Adrian Monk: Yes, he's tall. He's 6'3", maybe 6'4".
Captain Stottlemeyer: [referring to Monk] How does he do it? I have two eyes, I see everything that he sees, but... I don't see what he sees.
Miranda St. Claire: Is-is this a joke? Someone tries to kill my husband and you send in Rain Man?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Mrs. St. Claire, I can assure you, Monk's presence is a sign of just how seriously we take this investigation.
Gavin Lloyd: Is he, uh...?
[whistles and twirls a finger around his head]
Sharona Fleming: No, no,, it's a form of anxiety disorder. Cases like this are usually caused by a single traumatic event.
Miranda St. Claire: [smirking] Someone hit him over the head with a shovel?
Sharona Fleming: His wife was murdered four years ago. By a car bomb.
Miranda St. Claire: Tell me, Mr. Monk, do you lie awake at night thinking of ways to disrupt my husband's campaign?
Warren St. Claire: Now, Miranda...
Adrian Monk: No ma'am, I lie awake at night and try not to think at all.
Adrian Monk: Unless I'm wrong, which, you know, I'm not...
Lt. Randall Disher: Look who's here: "The Defective Detective."
Captain Stottlemeyer: I wanted to make this crystal clear; you're here because the mayor thinks you can walk on water. But you're a civilian now, Monk. When I'm in there, I talk, you say nothing, understand? Look, Monk, when I took your badge three years ago, I told you nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you reinstated, and I meant that. But you're obviously not ready.
Adrian Monk: Is that you talking, or the uniform?
Captain Stottlemeyer: I *am* the uniform, Monk. You didn't understand that back when I was your watch commander. Now, you just stay out of my way, and we'll be fine.
Adrian Monk: Yes, sir. And - And I'm sure you and Karen will work things out.
Captain Stottlemeyer: What did you say?
Adrian Monk: You and your wife - you're having some problems.
Captain Stottlemeyer: What are you talking about? Karen and I are fine. We're 100%.
Adrian Monk: Yes, sir. My mistake. Um, never been happier to be wrong.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Monk! Come here. How did you know that?
Adrian Monk: You missed a spot shaving. Karen would have caught that. And your necktie - she always ties it for you. She uses that double slipknot. Conclusion - you dressed yourself. And, uh, the Ramada Inn cup. Send her some... roses maybe.
Captain Stottlemeyer: When we get in there, you don't say anything.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Okay, I'll call you back. I'll call you back. Okay.
Lt. Randall Disher: St. Claire just issued another statement.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Is he blaming us?
Lt. Randall Disher: Not yet. Just rah-rah stuff. He will not be silenced, he will not be intimidated...
Captain Stottlemeyer: And he *will* be blaming us, soon enough. Everybody does sooner or later. We gotta make a statement too. Is the press here? Who's here?
Lt. Randall Disher: The girl from channel 3.
Captain Stottlemeyer: The pretty one?
[starts to check his hair]
Lt. Randall Disher: No, the other one.
Captain Stottlemeyer: It's okay.
Lt. Randall Disher: Good. Who do you want on camera?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Me. I'll do it. I think it'll reassure people to see me taking point.
Lt. Randall Disher: Yes, sir.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Anything on the shooter? Say yes.
Lt. Randall Disher: The forensic boys are still on site, but nothing so far.
[Deputy Mayor Sheldon Burger comes in]
Lt. Randall Disher: Incoming... deputy mayor.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Oh, Sheldon Burger, who let you off your leash?
Sheldon Burger: I just came from the hospital. Bodyguard didn't make it. Mayor's on his way back from Sacramento. Look, I don't have to tell you, Captain. We're on a bus to hell.
Captain Stottlemeyer: I understand.
Sheldon Burger: If we don't slam dunk this, it's gonna look like we're not trying.
Captain Stottlemeyer: I'm not an idiot, Sheldon! I've got every available man on the case.
Sheldon Burger: No, you don't. Mayor wants you to bring in... your old friend.
Captain Stottlemeyer: [in disbelief] *Monk*?
Miranda St. Clair: I'm told you're germophobic, afraid of the dark, heights, crowds and... milk.
Sharona: We're working on the milk. He's making good progress on milk.
Capt. Stottlemeyer: This isn't police work. This is Vaudeville.
Adrian Monk: [about a strange painting in a suspect's office] It's me, isn't it?
Uniform Cop: What's he doing?
Sharona Fleming: Oh, I love this part. He does this Zen Sherlock Holmes thing.
Gavin Lloyd: No, no, no. Forget it. We're four points behind with ten days to go. I am not putting my man in a box.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Nobody wants to put anybody in a box, Mr. Lloyd.
Lt. Randall Disher: All we want to do is limit your public appearances... and not announce your schedule in advance.
Gavin Lloyd: Oh, I'm sure the mayor would love that. Maybe we should move the whole campaign and run it from the basement. How about that?
Warren St. Claire: Gavin, that's not fair. The captain's just doing his job.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Mr. St. Claire, can you think of anybody who might wish you harm? A disgruntled employee?
Miranda St. Claire: Or an ex-wife. Or a union official. I know a couple of ex-business partners... who no longer send us Christmas cards. You boys have your work but out for you.
Warren St. Claire: A man who hasn't made any enemies hasn't done squat.
Jesse Goodman: Warren, you're sure you want to go through with this? After yesterday, no one would blame you if you quit.
Warren St. Claire: Jesse, you used to say "quit" was a four-letter-word.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Excuse me. We haven't been introduced. I'm sorry. Who are you?
Jesse Goodman: Uh, Jesse Goodman. I work upstairs. Senior vice president/concerned friend.
Warren St. Claire: I couldn't make this run if Jesse wasn't upstairs minding the store. Baby.
[stands and approaches his wife]
Warren St. Claire: Do you need that?
Miranda St. Claire: Yes, I do. Somebody tried to kill my husband yesterday right in front of me.
Adrian Monk: [examining the drawstring of the window blinds in an empty apartment] He used the drawstring to steady his shot. I've seen it before in the field manual for the Green Berets, Special Forces.
Captain Stottlemeyer: It's possible.
Adrian Monk: Captain, could you grab this? It'll just take a minute. Hold this up like a rifle.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Right.
[Stottlemeyer picks up a long stick of wood and aims it out the window like a rifle. Monk sees that the end of the stick is lower than the kink in the drawstring]
Adrian Monk: How tall are you?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Six foot.
Adrian Monk: No, really.
Captain Stottlemeyer: 5'11".
Adrian Monk: Our guy was taller - 6'3", maybe 6'4", just like Santa Clara.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Just like what?
Sharona Fleming: The homicide in Santa Clara. We've been consulting on it.
Lt. Randall Disher: I read that. It's a completely different M.O.
Captain Stottlemeyer: You think there's a connection because this guy might be tall? Lieutenant, get the Warriors on the line. I want to talk to Anton Jamison, see if he's got an alibi for Thursday morning.
Adrian Monk: Captain, do you know the percentage of men over 6'3"?
Captain Stottlemeyer: No. Do you?
Adrian Monk: Maybe 0.5. The odds of two men in this city in that category, committing premeditated murder within two days of each other are astronomical.
Captain Stottlemeyer: All because of a twisted venetian-blind cord. Monk, that's a stretch, even for you.
Adrian Monk: That and he wore slippers.
[sniffs the curtains]
Adrian Monk: And he smokes Newports.
[Stottlemeyer snickers and then laughs]
Captain Stottlemeyer: This isn't police work. This - This is Vaudeville.
[St Claire speaks at Jason Ronstadt's funeral. Monk has lost his keys]
Warren St. Claire: In a few seconds, we will be closing the casket and saying good-bye to Jason forever.
Sharona Fleming: Adrian, it's okay. We'll make new ones. Just - It's okay.
Adrian Monk: It's the key chain. The key chain - it was Trudy's. I gotta - I gotta - I gotta have those keys. That packet right there just give it to me.
Sharona Fleming: No.
[Reluctantly, she hands over the paperclip from the packet]
Warren St. Claire: Jason showed up every Sunday...
Sharona Fleming: You are going straight to hell.
Adrian Monk: I am in Hell.
Warren St. Claire: May his loving spirit live forever in our hearts and in our prayers.
[Adrian starts to create a makeshift fishing line using some dental floss and the paperclip]
Warren St. Claire: Why don't we take a moment and meditate silently?
[the people close their eyes and bow their heads. Meanwhile, Adrian lowers the fishing line]
Warren St. Claire: Now... old friend... we turn and salute you one last time.
[St. Claire faces the casket and salutes. By mistake, Monk hooks Jason's sleeve. He pulls on it, yanking up the hand as if in response to St. Claire's salute. Cuts to later, outside the church]
Jesse Goodman: We gotta pull the car around. He's ready to go.
Angry Old Lady: [to Monk] You should be ashamed of yourself!
Miranda St. Claire: Do you lie awake at night thinking of ways to disrupt my husband's campaign?
Warren St. Claire: Now, Miranda...
Adrian Monk: No, ma'am, I like awake at night and try not to think at all.
Warren St. Claire: These things happen. Hell, for a minute, I thought I had a new campaign slogan: "Vote for St. Claire. He can raise the dead!"
[He and Miranda take off down the steps]
Warren St. Claire: Where's my boy?
Jesse Goodman: Here, sir.
Warren St. Claire: Make sure Miranda gets home.
Jesse Goodman: Of course.
Adrian Monk: Mrs. St. Claire, a couple of questions.
Miranda St. Claire: Let me ask you a question. How can you investigate anything? I'm told you're "germophobic," afraid of the dark, heights, crowds... and milk.
Sharona Fleming: We're working on the milk. He's making good progress on milk.
Miranda St. Claire: Ah.
Adrian Monk: Mrs. St. Claire, I - I sense that you're a little upset, but I can tell you why I dropped my keys. I've been a bit preoccupied with another case. A girl was murdered in Santa Clara. Uh, a Nicole Vasques. Did you know her?
Miranda St. Claire: No.
Adrian Monk: No?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Miranda St. Claire called the mayor personally. You couldn't just buy another key chain?
Sharona Fleming: Trudy gave it to him. It's irreplaceable.
Lt. Randall Disher: Captain, we just got the forensic report back. The bullets were hollow point, designed to deform on impact.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Those can't be traced.
Lt. Randall Disher: Yeah, but we caught a lucky break. One of them was still intact. They I.D.'d the weapon. It's a Weatherby Fibermark rifle, which is British...
Adrian Monk: It's British. Long-range, preferred by mercenaries and paramilitary groups.
Lt. Randall Disher: That's right. He's right.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Well, start a list of weapons and/or ammunitions sales.
Lt. Randall Disher: Yes, sir.
Adrian Monk: Could you cross-check that against Nicole Vasques?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Who?
Sharona Fleming: The homicide in Santa Clara.
Lt. Randall Disher: Sir, your 10:00?
Captain Stottlemeyer: The cases don't overlap, Monk. She worked for the DMV. He was a candidate for mayor. She was behind on her rent, he has houses all over the world. She was stabbed. He was shot. Let it go.
Sharona Fleming: Are we gonna let it go?
Adrian Monk: Hell, no.
Sharona Fleming: What are we gonna do now?
Adrian Monk: We're gonna follow the money. Mmm! Ahh! I've always wanted to say that.
Adrian Monk: Boy, this is nice, isn't it?
Sharona Fleming: I forgot. What were we talking about?
Sharona Fleming: Oh, my God, that's right. Um, Carl said that, uh, he was talking about living in England. He was a Rhodes Scholar.
Adrian Monk: No kidding!
Sharona Fleming: Yeah. He graduated magna cum laude.
Adrian Monk: Cum laud.
Sharona Fleming: Right. I know. And now he has a private practice. He's an entertainment lawyer. Guess who he represents. Can I tell him?
Carl: Yeah, sure.
Sharona Fleming: Francis Ford Coppola.
Adrian Monk: Oh.
Sharona Fleming: Yeah, but it's no big deal. A tabloid wrote something about him - that, you know, he was drunk at the Oscars, so now we're suing them for slander.
Adrian Monk: Uh-huh. I - I don't know what to do here. Uh, I'm - I'm no good at this. Okay. This man is lying to you. He's not a lawyer.
Sharona Fleming: What?
Adrian Monk: Oxford doesn't have a magna cum laud, and you sue a newspaper for libel, not slander.
[Carl gives him a look of disgust]
Adrian Monk: I'll just shut up. Forget I said anything. It's no big deal, Carl.