Mr. Monk Is Open for Business by Hy Conrad Read Free Book Online Page B

blood, the moved crates, the angles of view—then walked straight to the stairwell on the other side. The captain, the lieutenant, and I followed. As soon as the door to the warehouse was closed, as soon as we were safely separated from the world of Asian dust, Monk removed his mask.
    “You guys are going to need vaccinations, you know. Cholera, hepatitis A and B, Japanese encephalitis. The federalgovernment needs to do a better job of regulating the entry of foreign particles. They’re like microscopic terrorists.”
    “And yet billions of Asians live with Asian dust every day,” I pointed out.
    “But you’re not Asian, are you? So you really need those vaccinations. I’m saying this as a friend who will have to spend time around you and watch you die horrible deaths.”
    “We’ll take our chances,” said the captain. He pointed. “What can you tell us about this?”
    Just inside the door, on the landing leading down to the first floor, was a pile of men’s clothing: a dark blue sweatshirt and tan Dockers slacks, with a pair of brown loafers on top, as if to hold it all in place.
    “Nothing’s been touched,” Stottlemeyer said. “And that goes for you, Monk. No straightening out the clothes.”
    “What about the button?” Monk asked. I hadn’t seen it until he pointed it out, a broken black button on the edge of the first step going down.
    “It’s been examined and photographed,” said Devlin. “It’s consistent with the buttons used on the EMT uniforms. That’s the department’s working theory. But that’s not how he got away, I swear.”
    The department’s working theory—based on Wyatt Noone’s clothing in the stairwell, his vanishing act from a secure building, and the broken button—was that he had escaped in the flurry of EMTs leaving the site with the stabilized survivor. According to this theory, Noone had it all carefully planned—to injure his last victim instead of killing her. He knew her evacuation would be a top priority, even with the rest of the building shut down.
    “Four EMTs entered the building and four left,” Devlin insisted. “I was there. No one on the medical team saw anyone extra. They would have been the first to notice.”
    “Not if they were all focused on treating the victim,” said Stottlemeyer. “He could have slipped out right behind them.”
    “But he didn’t,” said Devlin. “At least . . . At least I don’t think so. I couldn’t have made a mistake like that.”
    Monk was reaching out for the shoes. But I have eyes in the back of my head, and I grabbed his arm. “I wasn’t going to touch,” he said, insulted at the thought. “I’m just wondering why they’re on top.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “I mean you normally take off your shoes first, so they would be at the bottom of this unruly mess, not the top. And . . .” Monk cocked his head to the right. “And why would he change shoes in the first place? If this was his plan, then he’d already be wearing the right shoes, probably even the right pants. And the broken button? That’s too much of a coincidence. The button was planted for us to find.”
    Stottlemeyer did an identical cock of the head. “You’re saying this is a setup, Monk? That Noone didn’t leave this way? He just wants us to think he did?”
    “Why would he do that?” Devlin asked. She thought for a moment, then almost gasped. “You think he’s still in the building.”
    “It’s worth checking out,” said Stottlemeyer, reaching for his transceiver. “The man used to work here. He could know of a place we haven’t checked, just waiting for our security to loosen up.”
    “Then it’s not my fault,” said Devlin. “He didn’t get pastme. He couldn’t have.” And she allowed herself a half smile, her first in quite a while.
    * * *
    Devlin stayed behind at East Decorative Imports, heading up nearly a precinct of officers. If Noone was in the building, she was going to track him down. Another