Adrian Monk: It's keep-away. Natalie! Natalie, stop! You- You're just embarrassing yourself. No offense, okay, but I'm comin' in. Come on, get out of there. Bring it.
Natalie: Mr. Monk, come on, let's just walk.
Adrian Monk: No. There's not enough time. Whitman is already on his way to your campaign office because the cops that were stationed there have all been sent home. That's why Whitman was waitin' around. Here's what happened. Six months ago, Whitman was in his office, minding his own business, which, in his case, was buying and selling illegal weapons. The ATF raided the office. Whitman managed to burn all the incriminating papers he had, except for one.
Natalie: The one in the copy machine!
Adrian Monk: Exactly. There was something jammed inside that machine. A document, a receipt. Whatever it was, it must be pretty important. After he was arrested, The Feds confiscated all of his equipment, including the copy machine. Last week, when he got out of jail, he learned that the copier had been sold at the police auction.
First Attendant: What the hell is he talkin' about?
Second Attendant: Who cares?
Adrian Monk: The auction was open to the public, so it wasn't hard for Whitman to track you down. He knew the document inside that copier could send him to jail for life. Somehow, Whitman had to stop the repairman from opening it up. He grabbed one of his guns, ran up to the roof across the street, and tried to take out the copier. He figured if he shot it to hell, you'd just throw it out. But you never did. That's why he volunteered. He was waiting for a chance to break into it. But the cops were there around the clock. Oh, shoot, almost had it. And when I got suspicious, he tried to kill me with that grenade. Damn! Ah! Okay, I give up. [jumps for keys]
Natalie: Damn, you are good!
Adrian Monk: Let's go!
Natalie: I'll be back with your money!