Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant by Hy Conrad Page A

together. If we’re wrong, that’s even better.”
    â€œBut if Gayle shows up?”
    â€œThen we’ll go to phase two. We’ll get some assets transferred into your name and look for secret accounts. My daughter has some very savvy tech friends. We can bring them on board without raising any red flags.”
    â€œI don’t know.” Suddenly she wasn’t so sure of herself. “Timothy is unpredictable. If he finds out I’m spying on him, I don’t know what he’ll do.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Are you saying he can be physically dangerous?”
    â€œMaybe,” she confessed. “He has a temper. And he doesn’t like to be fooled or to lose control.”
    â€œAll the more reason to get out of the marriage.”
    â€œI know. I shouldn’t be having second thoughts. But if I suddenly disappear, you’ll know . . .”
    â€œDisappear? Don’t say things like that.”
    In the end, Sue agreed. She would tell him tonight. An aunt of hers in San Diego had taken ill and she would be gone for at least two days. Poor Tim would have to fend for himself. Then she borrowed my office phone and made a reservation at the Fairmont on Nob Hill, using her maiden name.
    â€œYour maiden name is what?” It had sounded like a sneeze.
    â€œPuskedra,” she enunciated. “It’s easy. You spell it the way it sounds.”
    â€œAre you sure you didn’t make that up? No offense, but it sounds like just a bunch of letters strung together.”
    Sue laughed. “The world had better get used to it, because I think Susan Puskedra is going to be my name again. My new old name.”
    â€œMaybe you ought to stick with O’Brien. For humanity’s sake.”
    â€œNot a chance.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Mr. Monk and the Vanishing Act
    T he next morning was my shift at the mini-mall.
    Sue Puskedra O’Brien and I had our plan in place. She would be leaving home on her fictitious trip around two p.m., checking into the Fairmont for her two-day hideaway. By that time, her husband would be at his downtown office and I would be staking out the parking structure next door. I had even called his assistant, pretending to be an enormously wealthy dot-com socialite in need of a consultation with the famous Timothy O’Brien, only to be told that Mr. O’Brien was busy with back-to-back meetings in the office until six p.m. “Would I be available at six?” she asked. No, I replied, and quickly hung up. This left me fairly certain of Timothy’s whereabouts until six, although I still intended to spend my afternoon stalking him.
    I was at my desk that morning, on the phone and the computer, doing another background check for Julie’s friends, the ones with the software company. Did you know that you can find out just about anyone’s real age and other general details by typing a total of five, maybe six words into your search engine? It’s true. I won’t tell you what those fivewords are, just in case you’re tempted to go and figure out my real age.
    It was a warm, breezy day, even though rain was being predicted for the evening hours. I had the office door propped open and looked up to see Daniela Grace just as she was getting out of her car and heading next door. She saw me seeing her and made a detour to say hello.
    â€œHow is Paisley Printing working out?” I kept my tone cheery even though a little knot was forming in my stomach. “I know Peter and Wendy are a bit unorthodox.”
    â€œWorking out well,” Daniela replied, still standing in the doorway. “Although they’re not very fond of your Mr. Monk.”
    â€œThere is some history there,” I said, trying to be vague and diplomatic.
    â€œSo I gather. As soon as I said you recommended them, they became quite paranoid. Peter kept asking if this was some sort of prank. He made me show them my business card and my