Ambrose Monk: I guess he didn't like the pie.
Adrian Monk: He was looking for something.
Ambrose Monk: Something inside the pie? Wait a minute. Cherry pie.
Adrian Monk: Yes, cherry pie.
Ambrose Monk: Cherry pie. Cherry pie. Cherry.
Adrian Monk: It's cherry! You can see it's cherry!
Ambrose Monk: There was something about a cherry pie in the paper three days ago.

Sharona: What is this?
Adrian Monk: Every newspaper since 1972.
Sharona: Oh.
Ambrose Monk: I am as God made me.
Adrian Monk: It's only three days ago. Wouldn't it be near the top?
Ambrose Monk: I have my own system.
Adrian Monk: What system is that?
Ambrose Monk: You wouldn't understand.

Captain Stottlemeyer: So, this is where you guys grew up, huh?
Adrian Monk: That's right.
Captain Stottlemeyer: What's with the filing cabinets?
Adrian Monk: Mail.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Mail?
Sharona: Thirty years' worth of mail.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Okay. That makes sense. Not to me, but...

Sharona: Did you look at the crime scene photos?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Yes, I did.
Sharona: And?
Captain Stottlemeyer: And you're right. There was no pie. But l I like to have more than lack of pie when I go to the grand jury.

Ambrose Monk: You're leaving?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Yes, I have to go. Look, I'll sniff around. That's all I can do without real evidence.
Adrian Monk: Captain, Look...
Captain Stottlemeyer: Ambrose, it was a pleasure meeting you.
Ambrose Monk: Yes.
Captain Stottlemeyer: It certainly answered a few questions, but it raised about a hundred more. Here. That goes between five and seven. I'll see myself out.

Adrian Monk: Okay, here's what I think happened. Last Thursday, Rita was baking three pies for the town centennial. She probably put them on the counter to cool. Her husband came home. They had a fight. Maybe Pat was threatening to leave. Who knows? But there was a struggle. My brother said he heard four shots from a nine-millimeter pistol. If that's true, the shells were ejected from the gun as he fired. They must have gone flying all over the kitchen. At some point, he was interrupted. It was someone from the town coming by to collect the pies. Later, when he started cleaning up the kitchen, he got the shock of his life. One shell casing was missing. The gun is registered, so if anyone had found that casing, it would have been easily traced. It wasn't in pie number one or pie number two. It has to be in here.

Captain Stottlemeyer: Mr. Van Ranken, we'd like permission to search your pie.
Pat van Ranken: What?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Please don't make me say that again.
Pat van Ranken: What if I say no?
Lieutenant Disher: Then we hold you here as a material witness until we get a search warrant.
Pat van Ranken: For a pie?
Captain Stottlemeyer: For a pie.

Adrian Monk: Sharona, would you do the honors?
[ Sharona digs into the pie with her hands]
Lieutenant Disher: Actually, this is one of my fantasies. Except it's not a pie, and you're not in it.
Sharona: Will you shut up?

Ambrose Monk: So the pie was empty?
Adrian Monk: That's right.
Ambrose Monk: Is that it? Just gonna give up?
Adrian Monk: There's nothing else I can do.
Ambrose Monk: Well, thanks for believing me. Or at least pretending to. You going to stay?
Adrian Monk: No. I can't.
Ambrose Monk: Uh, I made... I made Dad's favorite uh, pasta primavera.
Adrian Monk: Ambrose, I- I- I have to go.
Ambrose Monk: Wait.
Adrian Monk: Sharona's waiting. He's not coming back.
Ambrose Monk: You're probably right, but just in case.

Ambrose Monk: Maybe I'll see you, uh, next week.
Adrian Monk: I don't think so. Take care of yourself.
Ambrose Monk: I love you.
Adrian Monk: Don't say that. Don't you say that. I'm no expert, but I know that people who love each other who care about each other don't go seven years without calling. Especially when I needed you most after Trudy.
Ambrose Monk: You think I didn't c-call because I didn't care?
Adrian Monk: Then why? What happened to you?
Ambrose Monk: Do you know why Trudy was in that parking garage on the day she died?
Adrian Monk: What are you saying?
Ambrose Monk: It was because of me.
Adrian Monk: You?
Ambrose Monk: She was doing me a favor. I needed cough medicine. I called her. I asked her to go...
Adrian Monk: Oh, my God.
Ambrose Monk: To the drugstore for me.
Adrian Monk: Don't do this.
Ambrose Monk: She wouldn't have been in that garage if it wasn't for me.
Adrian Monk: Oh, Ambrose.
Ambrose Monk: It was me, Adrian! It was me. It was my fault!
Adrian Monk: No, no. No, no, no.
Ambrose Monk: Adrian, it was my fault!
Adrian Monk: No, it was not your fault.