Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: You were there. You were a witness. I said the potion was ready. I never said to drink it. That's not voodoo. That's voo-don't.
Adrian Monk: What is all this stuff? It's gonna get us killed!
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: They're my good-luck charms!
Adrian Monk: It's a small world.
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: Excuse me?
Adrian Monk: The paramedic, I met her before. She was Robert Boyd's niece. Wait, wait, and before that! Victim number two! She was the paramedic on the golf course.
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: Oh, there's got to be a good explanation. I know Angeline, and she's a good person.
Adrian Monk: Whoa, whoa, whoa. You know her?
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: I mean, I've seen her around. She's a customer.
Adrian Monk: She's a customer? Has she ever bought any of those dolls?
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: Sure five, maybe six.
Adrian Monk: That's it. That's it. She's the guy.
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: Who's the guy?
Adrian Monk: The paramedic! Angeline, she's the connection. Her uncle was loaded. He was the real target. The other dolls were just distractions. It was so simple. It was brilliant! All she need were some packages that had been postmarked. So she mailed a few empty boxes to herself, then she waited. She need the right accident, the right victim. Martha Murphy was perfect. She lived alone. Angeline borrowed her key, snuck into her house, and left the box and customized doll in plain sight. Two days later, she did the same thing with Mr.
Farris. The third victim was the real target. Killing her uncle was easy. Angeline's a paramedic. She knew exactly what drugs to use, something untraceable, something that would look like a heart attack. She put some good-luck charms around his house to make him look superstitious, and the stage was set.
Reverend Hadley Jorgensen: Thanks a lot, detective. I'll probably never sell another voodoo doll.