Free Mr. Monk Goes to Germany by Lee Goldberg

but do it now, before it’s too late.”

    “What about this case?” Monk said.

    “We’ll just have to muddle on without you,” Stottlemeyer said. “You weren’t exactly a big help today anyway, were you?”

    The captain and Disher got into their car and drove off. I regarded Monk.

    “He’s right,” Monk said, watching them go.

    “So what are you going to do?”

    “The only thing I can do,” Monk said and rolled his shoulders. “Pack your bags, Natalie.”

    “Where are we going?”

    “I have an appointment tomorrow at four p.m. with Dr. Kroger,” he said, “and I am going to keep it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Mr. Monk Takes Flight

    A better person than me would have stopped Monk from chasing his shrink all the way to Germany. What Monk was proposing was an extreme and disturbing case of stalking. The sensible thing to do would have been to stop him for his own good.

    Maybe.

    And maybe not.

    There was another way to look at the situation. Monk started to fall apart the instant Dr. Kroger announced his trip, and it was getting worse with each passing hour. I was convinced that the only thing that would stop his inevitable slide into total madness, and mine along with it, was Dr. Kroger’s wisdom, compassion, and guidance.

    And yet it was Dr. Kroger’s unavailability that was causing all of Monk’s misery.

    So in a twisted way, going to Germany was the only logical solution for Monk.

    I know I was right because as soon as Monk decided to go to Germany he became more focused and, for the first time in twenty-four hours, almost relaxed.

    I wasn’t fooling myself, though, about the obstacles in front of us.

    It was a twelve-hour flight to Germany, which would be no easy feat for a man who was afraid of flying and anything foreign to him—that included, among other things, kiwi fruit, French films, polyester, the Beatles, zebras, and anything labeled “Made in China.”

    Yet Monk was ready to travel immediately to Germany despite his raging fears and phobias, and so was I, which should tell you how desperate we both were to resolve his plight. I also took his determination as a sign that we were doing the right thing.

    The way I saw it, Monk was so determined to restore his mental health that he was overcoming one of his biggest fears to get the help he needed.

    That had to be significant progress in his therapy, right?

    Okay, maybe I was deluding myself, but who could blame me?

    Dr. Kroger, maybe. But besides him, nobody.

    I also had a couple of very good reasons of my own for not stopping Monk. Payback, for one. I was convinced that Dr. Kroger had encouraged Monk to intrude on my vacation to Hawaii, so I figured turnabout was fair play. I wanted to see the look on Dr. Kroger’s face when Monk showed up in Lohr.

    Does that sound petty to you?

    Me, too, but I’ve never held myself up as any kind of saint, which brings me to my truly selfish reason for not talking Monk out of chasing Dr. Kroger to Germany.

    I deserved this trip.

    The perks of this job are few and far between. In fact, they are nonexistent. But now Monk was willing to pay my way to Germany and, while it was hardly going to be a vacation for me, at least it would be an exciting change of scenery.

    Was I taking advantage of a bad situation?

    Probably, but I was sure that once we got there I’d suffer dearly for it and would regret going on the trip.

    Did that stop me? Nope.

    I quickly booked the tickets, arranged for Julie to stay with friends, bought some Germany guidebooks, and packed my bags.

    The spur-of-the-moment plan was for Monk and me to catch the soonest, and cheapest, economy-class flight out of San Francisco to Frankfurt. Once we arrived, we’d rent a car and drive to Lohr, which according to the guidebooks was about an hour from the airport, on the river Main.

    We didn’t know where Dr. Kroger was staying, but from what I could tell, Lohr was a small town at the edge of the Spessart Forest. I figured it