Mr. Monk on the Couch

Mr. Monk on the Couch

Lee Goldberg

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0451235339

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


With help from Monk's agoraphobic brother, his loyal assistant Natalie tackles her own investigation while Adrian Monk tracks a second-hand couch that seems tied to a series of murders. Following a bloody trail, Natalie and Monk soon end up face-to-face with the most ruthless killer they've ever encountered.

PRAISE FOR LEE GOLDBERG'S MONK NOVELS

""No one else could capture these characters and bring them to life on the page the way Lee Goldberg does!"-- King's River Life Magazine

"Goldberg makes Adrian Monk much more interesting than the TV version: the twitches are less obvious, the outcomes much less predictable. Even (or especially) the secondary characters are more interesting and have sharper dialogue."--Chicago Tribune

""The only thing more fun than watching Monk is reading the adventures Lee Goldberg creates for him. The books set a high standard from the get-go." Crimespree Magazine

"Full of snippets of slapstick humor and Monk's special talents for observation," Library Journal

"This latest hilariously funny and devilishly clever  novel about TV's obsessive-compulsive sleuth Adrian Monk is an impossible crime lover's delight! Very funny and inventively plotted," Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine

">"Throughout the Mr. Monk series author Lee Goldberg has always kept a firm grasp on exactly who his characters are, and he is able to expertly play them against one another to the best dramatic and comic advantage," The Gumshoe Review

"You'd be hard-pressed to find another recent work that provides so many hip and humorous moments." Bookgasm

A Brewing Storm (Derrick Storm, Book 1)

The Dashiell Hammett Megapack

Watch for Me by Moonlight (The Midnight Twins, Book 3)

A Harvest of Bones (Chintz 'n China Series)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

enigmatic poppycock.” “If you believe our sessions aren’t helpful to you, Adrian, why do you keep coming back?” Monk rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight. “Sometimes I just need to hear myself think.” “You don’t need me for that,” Dr. Bell said. “You could talk to your brother, Ambrose, for instance.” “I can’t talk to him,” Monk said. “Why not?” Dr. Bell asked. “He’s crazy,” Monk said. “He’s agoraphobic,” Dr. Bell said. “Which is another word for crazy,” Monk said. “How else would

suit, too. “The victim is Casey Grover, thirty-three, the manager of the store,” Devlin said. “His throat was slit with that carving knife. We’re assuming the killer picked up the knife in the store.” “Any signs of a break-in?” Monk asked as he began to drift around the room, bobbing and weaving like he was shadow boxing without throwing punches. That’s because it was hard for him to move freely in that bulky suit and his field of vision was limited by the hood and goggles. “No, there wasn’t,”

into it, and those who are can’t wait to get out.” “It’s a calling,” Monk said. “Like the priesthood. Not everyone is cut out for it.” “Speaking of which,” Jerry said, “why don’t we get to work?” “Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” “What others?” Jerry asked. “This is a thrift store,” Monk said. “You’re going to need more men.” “I was told that the murder occurred in the back office,” Jerry said, “and that the spill was contained within that limited space.” “Yes, but what about all of

you, Ambrose, I appreciate that.” “But if Stacey O’Quinn went into hiding and reinvented herself to evade her creditors,” Yuki said, “knowing who she once was won’t be much help in figuring out who she is now.” “I think it will. You can change your name, but you can’t run away from who you are,” I said. “I’m sure that’s something Walter O’Quinn found out the hard way.” That’s when I was struck by the tragic irony of it all. When Walter O’Quinn faked his death and created a new identity for

said. “Thank you.” “I like names that come from flowers,” I said. “Like Rose.” I turned and went back to our table. I felt Alyssa’s gaze on me the whole way. When I took my seat, I looked back just in time to see her glance at the binoculars. “The girl was staring at you,” Monk said. “I know. She’ll find an excuse to come over in a minute.” “Why would she do that?” “Because she won’t be able to help herself.” A minute or two later, she picked up a tray and a couple of wet towels and

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