*Cameron played Darryl Wright in the MONK episode entitled: "Mr. Monk and the Earthquake"
Adrian Monk looked up from his book as his apartment door burst open.
"I don't believe it!" Sharona Fleming, his nurse, stormed in.
"What...don't you believe?"
"They both made bail!"
"Who?"
"Christina Rutherford and Darryl Wright, that's who! Her expensive lawyer convinced the judge they weren't a flight risk! Yeah, she's gotta get the money first, but him? He could be boarding a plane right now for Australia!"
"He won't, the money is the key to him staying, besides, they confiscated his passport." Monk shook his head.
"What if they come after me again?" She fretted. "Thank God Benjy is in Florida with his father. I can't believe I just said that." She shook her head and closed her eyes.
"You really need to relax Sharona."
"Relax?!? Yeah, right, they know where I live remember?"
He nodded, of course he remembered, how could he forget the mess the quake made of her apartment?
"I can't stay there, I wouldn't feel safe....I can't stay at Gail's either, he's been there too!" She said looking at him.
"I...I suppose you could stay here." He agreed, making a mental note of all the cleaning supplies he would need after she left.
"Great, I have to get some stuff from my place, come with me?"
He nodded and they left together for her apartment.
The sand colored Volvo pulled up in the back alley and the pair got out. Sharona punched in her code to unlock the door and he followed her inside to her apartment.
"It'll only take a few minutes." She said unlocking the door. They entered and stopped upon hearing water running in the bathroom. Sharona grabbed her son's baseball bat and led Monk to the closed door. She motioned for him to open it and he made a wary face and shook his head. She motioned more insistantly and he gave the door a distasteful look so she reached into his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief and shoved it into his hand. He looked at it and with a soft sigh he covered the palm of his hand and reached for the doorknob...and pushed it open.
"You!" She pointed the bat at the man on the floor.
He looked up startled and blinked at her.
"Cover him Adrian!" She ordered and thrust the bat into his hands, much to his chagrin.
"Wait! Let me explain please?!?" The man called as she picked up the phone.
"I'm not Darryl!"
"And you didn't try to kill me!" She shot back and resumed dialing.
"I'm his twin brother, Donny. I think Darryl's dead." He said quietly.
"He's...dead?" Monk asked.
The Aussie nodded and slowly rose from the floor holding his arm.
"What happened to you?" She asked seeing the blood on his shirt.
"Darryl called me two days ago, said he was in trouble and begged me to come...obviously I did. He told me what hotel to check into and there was a message waiting for me where to meet him. It was a warehouse. He told me what the trouble was. I am so glad my parents aren't alive to know this." He sighed.
"What happened then?" Monk prompted.
"I told him he had to accept responsibility for it, he told me to go to hell." Donny shrugged. "He asked me for some money, just to tie him over til he could get some cash."
"And you did." Sharona frowned.
"He was my brother." He answered softly.
"You said, you think Darryl's dead?" Monk asked after a moment.
"We were in the warehouse, I had just given him a few dollars...there were two popping sounds and he fell to the floor. I was..." He closed his eyes, face pained with the memory. "He told me to run so I did."
"Don't suppose you have any i.d. on ya?" She eyed him.
"My wall---....I must have lost it when I ran!" He fretted reaching into his pocket.
"What happened to your arm?" Monk asked.
"A bullet grazed me."
"How did you know where Sharona lived?"
"Darryl told me. Being a reporter I have to remember a lot so...." He shrugged.
"Melbourne Gazette, right?" Monk asked.
"How did you....?"
"Excuse us." Sharona said and pulled Monk away.
"So what do you think? Darryl or his twin?"
"I want...to see the body."
"Ugh...but it's a good idea." She agreed and went back to the doorway, the Aussie hadn't moved.
"Can you find the warehouse again?"
He nodded, though he did look a bit ill at the idea.
"Come on." She ordered and led them out.
"It's that one, right there." Donny pointed from the back seat.
"You're sure?" Sharona asked, all the warehouses looked the same to her.
"Yeah." He nodded.
She pulled the car over and they climbed out and went inside.
"We were behind these crates." The Aussie pointed and slowly started for them....to find no body...nor any sign there ever was one there at all.
Sharona pulled her cell phone out and punched in a number.
"I dont understand....he was right here...."
"Where were you when the shots were fired?" Monk asked.
"Here." The reporter answered and moved a little to the left.
Monk nodded, glanced at his injured arm and walked past him.
"Yeah, says he's Darryl's brother and that Darryl's dead. Okay, we'll be here." Sharona said and hung up, keeping an eye on the lanky Australian she walked over to Monk who was looking at a crate. "Captain Stottlemeyer is on his way."
"Uh-huh." Monk nodded.
"What is it?"
He pointed and she looked closer at the crate.
"Is that....?"
"A bullet."
"So he could be telling the truth."
"Possibly."
"We're going to take him in, run the bullet, see if there's blood and if it matches his."
"Too bad we didn't find the body, we'd know for sure if he was Donny or not." Sharona said watching the man being put into the squad car, a look of disbelief on his face. She sighed and turned away to search for Monk. "Now where is he at?" She asked exasperated.
"Over there." The Captain pointed.
The walked over together.
"Ready to go Adrian?"
"Uh-huh."
"What is it?" Stottlemeyer asked as the man looked at the ground.
"These tracks, they're recent."
"So?" Sharona asked.
"It...hasn't rained in three days."
"This is the docks, there's water all around." She pointed out.
"Yes, but these are muddy....where did it come from?"
The trio followed the tracks to a forklift sitting silently a few yards away.
"Here's the forklift, mud on the treads." Sharona said.
"But....no mud around it....it wasn't here originally."
Stottlemeyer and Monk started looking around and with a sigh so did Sharona.
"I found the mud....tracks run through it." Stottlemeyer called.
Monk looked around the general area and then walked to the water and motioned them over.
"Am I wrong....or is that a packing crate?"
Monk and Sharona arrived at the station to tell the Captain their theory and saw some of the officers sweeping up.
"Debris still falling?" Sharona asked.
"Another aftershock." One of them shook his head.
She looked at Monk who had paled.
"It's over Monk, no gibberish, okay?!?"
He nodded slightly but remained silent.
"Hey Captain, there's a mess down at the printing station---"
"Don't worry about it." He said deciding against running the Australian's prints since they found the body and he had been telling the truth all along.
"Hey Captain, Monk has a theory about finding out who killed Darryl...."
They told him what they came up with and he nodded.
"I have the ballistics report....the blood on the bullet matches the guy we have in holding." Lt. Disher told them.
Christina Rutherford drummed her manicured nails on the polished diningroom table as she waited for her cell phone to ring.
"Hello Christina."
She turned startled to face her lover.
"Darryl...."
"What's a matter honey? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You shouldn't be here." She moved away.
"Don't you mean, I shouldn't be alive?" He stepped toward her.
"What?" She shook her head and backed up more.
"You think I'm stupid?!? I know you're the one who shot at me in the warehouse! You killed my brother!"
"Oh...honey....guess I'll have to finish what I started!" She spat and pulled a gun on him. "You really think I'd let you testify against me?!? Sorry lover, but it's time for you to disappear.... permanently." She sneered and pulled the trigger.
Donny dove to the floor and stayed put as the police barged in and took her into custody.
"That was bloody close!" He said rising.
"See! I told you he was the one who killed my husband! He just tried to kill me!"
"No jury will believe that after hearing your confession to killing Darryl." Sharona smiled nastily.
"Book her for the murder of Darryl Wright." Stottlemeyer ordered.
"Wha---" She gaped.
"You...succeeded in killing Darryl...but he never told you he had a twin brother...who got you to convict yourself for the murder." Monk offered helpfully.
"Get her out of here. Get that gun tested for a match to the slugs the coroner took out of Darryl." Stottlemeyer ordered.
"You were so convincing." Sharona smiled at Donny.
"I had to be." He shrugged.
"I'm glad it's finally over." She replied and caught Monk out the corner of her eye checking the painting where the bullet struck. "Adrian?"
"This...is a fake." He said pulling some paint off it.
"Maybe the real ones are in a vault somewhere." She shrugged.
"But most fakes...aren't photographs painted over."
"Darryl!" Donny gaped.
"Huh?" Sharona turned to him.
"He was a photographer."
"Darryl probably knew the alarm code..." Stottlemeyer said thoughtfully.
"Wait...are you saying Darryl planned this all along?" Sharona asked.
"As an insurance policy if anything went wrong with the plan? He'd have dropped Christina and sold it on the blackmarket for an easy mil." Stottlemeyer nodded.
"And if he turned state's evidence he'd still face at least ten years in prison. If he did two, three of these it's a few million dolla's...must have seemed a great return either way." Monk nodded.
"So where are the real ones?" Sharona asked.
Monk looked thoughtful a moment then turned to Donny and smiled.
"Deliver to Melbourne, Australia." Sharona read on the crate at the warehouse.
"Open it." The Captain ordered.
Several cops with crowbars pried the crate open and found four smaller crates, picture sized, which they also opened, to reveal framed photos of San Francisco.
"Here's the invoice." A foreman handed it to the Captain.
"Your name's on here." He said to Donny.
"Darryl knew I collected city shots....usually matted and framed in black." The Aussie nodded.
Stottlemeyer removed the back of the frame and pulled the white piece of canvas out....to find a painting behind it.
"Four paintings worth a million each..." Sharona whistled.
"A nice way to retire...after prison." Monk nodded.
"I can't thank you enough for everything."
"I'm just sorry you went through all this too."
"Thanks Sharona---" Donny said as his cell phone rang. "Excuse me." He apologized and took several steps away.
"I'm really sorry to see him go." She sighed.
"I'm...not."
"Adrian! He is nothing like his brother!"
"He left a...mess in your bathroom."
Sharona rolled her eyes and walked back over to the Aussie.
"Yes, M--O--N--K. That's right, thanks."
"Adrian's gonna be in print?" She asked after he'd hung up.
"Uh..."
"Science fiction, remember?" She chuckled.
He laughed with her as boarding announcements were made.
"That's me." He said hearing his.
"You take care, okay?"
"Maybe I'll catch ya around."
"I'd like that." She smiled.
"Mr. Monk." He nodded and picked up his carry-on then headed for his terminal.
"Let's go Adrian." Sharona sighed.
"At least he didn't shake my hand." Adrian mumbled gladly and followed her.
"May I get you something to drink, Mr. Wright?"
"Whiskey."
The flight attendant nodded and poured his drink then moved onto the next passenger in first class.
The Aussie sipped his drink and watched the clouds float by....and a smile spread over his face as he looked at his bag.
Worth five million bucks, he thought.
Not 42.5 but still a nice chunk of change, thanks to Monk and Sharona, Darryl toasted himself. Donny always said I was quick to never repeat a mistake, guess you were right bro. There was that moment of panic when they talked about fingerprinting me....but the aftershock saved the day, he chuckled silently. I would have found a way out of it....feeling woozie always worked in getting out of class.... His thoughts turned to Donny again. Sorry ya had to cark it because of Christina but... living well is the best revenge....and I'll live well for both of us....I promise, he smiled and downed the drink on his flight to freedom.