Natalie: You know, it's not funny. I used to laugh about it too.
Lieutenant Disher: About what?
Natalie: Voodoo, black magic.
Adrian Monk: Wait, you can't actually believe in that stuff.
Natalie: Somebody predicted that poor woman would get hit by a baseball three days before it happened. How would you explain it?
Adrian Monk: Well, I mean... Maybe...
Lieutenant Disher: Well, wait, I got it. Well, she walked by here every day, right?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Yep.
Lieutenant Disher: So maybe the killer was waiting back here behind this tree with a baseball gun.
Natalie: A baseball gun? There's no such thing.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Yeah, but there are pitching machines.
Natalie: Okay. So how would your baseball-gun killer.
Lieutenant Disher: Oh, that's a good name for him by the way.
Natalie: How would he know someone would hit a home run at exactly that moment? And what happened to the other baseball?
Captain Stottlemeyer: The other baseball.
Natalie: It's voodoo. It's real, and it kills people.