Have a Holly Jolly Monkmas

By

Bob Wright

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here I may be taking several risks for the first time in my series of Monk stories. For one, I'm not entirely sure the poisonous concoction you're about to see in action would actually work in real life. If you know basic chemistry, you'll probably know how it's supposed to work. Plus, it's very possible (bordering on likely) that some of the things I bring up on the conclusion of this story may be refuted once we know the full story about how Trudy died. Right now, there's nothing that absolutely says it can't be the case (and I don't think it's something the producers are really considering at this moment, to be sure), so I'm going to roll the dice with it when the time comes.

Adrian Monk and all related characters and indicia are registered trademarks of USA Network, Mandeville Films, and Touchstone Television. And now, as always, sit back and enjoy the story.

A cold fog had settled in over San Francisco since the beginning of December. It trickled into just about every corner of the city, but didn't diminish the spectacular light displays that had started lighting up the city since Thanksgiving and were now reaching their peak of splendor.

Adrian Monk could have cared less about the lights at the moment, however. Even though he was standing right by the big window in the gym at James Sutter Middle School, and thus had a perfect view of several big displays, he was more interested in the poorly cleaned windows. He scrubbed away at several streak marks, determined to fix the job for the janitor.

"Mr. Monk?" came his assistant's voice in his ear, "Mr. Monk, it doesn't have to be perfect."

"Well, I think everyone else would like it to be perfect," Adrian gestured around to the numerous sixth through eighth graders dancing to music he found to definitely be not along his tastes. None of them had, to be honest, even noticed the windows since he'd arrived for the dance, but he knew they'd care deep down about the streaks as he did.

"Come on," Natalie Teeger took his arm and gently led away from the window, "We're supposed to be watching the kids."

"Remind me what I'm doing here again?" Adrian had to ask. He had no idea why he'd come in the first place, and the large crowd of kids was making him feel a little nervous.

"Because Julie asked you to come, and you agreed you'd make her happy," Natalie told him, "It's only for about four more hours."

"Four more hours, just four more hours," Adrian took several reassuring breaths. One thing was certain; chaperoning was NOT up his alley. "Ex, Excuse me," he said, taking aside a boy who'd been dancing nearby and straightening his tie. "You'll thank me later," he told him. The boy gave him a strange look and went back about his business. The detective glanced at his watch. "The caterers are late," he announced out loud to no one in particular.

"I know, Mr. Monk," Julie Teeger had come up behind him unexpectedly, "I don't get it; they're usually on time for dances."

"So you're Detective Adrian Monk," the red-haired girl who was with Julie asked him, "My dad talks about you a lot. He says you're crazy."

"I'm sure he does, and he's probably right," Adrian agreed. He stared at the girl. "Do I know you? You look familiar."

"My parents are Eric and Rochelle Hart," she told him.

"Oh, oh, I know them," Adrian said, shivering. He knew them all too well. "Nice people, very nice."

"Here we go," Julie pointed to a table being wheeled in by several people in white suits. On it were rolls, cheeses, cookies, and other snacks to go with the obligatory punch bowl.

"All right, this is what I'm talking about!" the other girl eagerly picked up a paper cup and scooped up a glass of punch. Julie helped herself to some of the cookies. "You, you might want some healthy stuff to go with it," Adrian pointed out, gesturing toward several plates of salad.

"Maybe later, "Julie was disinterested in salad at the moment, "Come on Clarissa, I think the couples contest's starting soon."

The two of them walked off. Adrian gave the table a good looking over. His first order of business was to rearrange the decorative nutcrackers so they were all in a straight line. Then he took all the rolls off their plate and started putting them back on so they were in concentric circles.

"Mr. Monk, please!" Natalie took the plate out of his reach, "They don't care!"

"I do," Adrian said in self-defense, "I don't want to live in a world where I can't rearrange someone else's rolls."

A loud blast of music from the speakers made him cringe. "Who ordered this?" he shouted out loud.

"It's Eminem," another nearby boy told him, "Haven't you ever heard of him?"

"Oh sure," Adrian lied, "I love his song where he's loving that woman all night long."

"Perhaps it would be best if you just waited over here for the rest of the dance, Mr. Monk,' Natalie led him over to the far wall. Once they were there, her tone got friendlier. "So, did you ever attend any dances when you were a kid?" she asked him.

"A couple of times," Adrian admitted, "in my dreams."

"I guess no one ever really invited you, then?"

"If they would, it probably wouldn't have been Trudy I ended up with," the detective said, "If any girl had asked my out, my…"

Suddenly a scream permeated the gym. Both of them turned in its general direction as the music came to an abrupt halt. A large clump of kids had gathered in a circle around whoever was being affected, but even from where they were standing, they could tell someone was in the middle of terrible convulsions. "Somebody get a doctor!" someone cried out.

Adrian and Natalie rushed forward, pushing their way through the crowd. When they reached the center, a horrible sight awaited them: the red-haired girl that had been with Julie was lying on the floor, shaking wildly and coughing up blood. "Quick, somebody do CPR!" another chaperone at them.

"CPR?" Adrian cringed at the thought of putting his lips against those of someone coughing up blood, "I think we'd better wait for someone trained at it to…"

The girl's convulsions abruptly stopped and she went limp. The chaperone felt for her pulse and shook his head. "Too late," he muttered, "She's gone."

"Gone," Adrian stared with horror at the dead body before him. Why did this have to happen?