Adrian Monk: You have the camera? You better have the camera.
Natalie: What are we looking for?
Adrian Monk: Evidence, proof, anything. Oh, how could I not have seen it? Derek Bronson is not a leper. Hey, watch it. Derek Bronson is dead. His wife killed him seven years ago. And she's been living off his money ever since. I mean, she... [Natalie spits out mouthwash] Watch the shoes. [Natalie gargles more mouthwash] She knew that when he was declared dead officially, the will would kick in, the nephews would get everything, and the party would be over. So she found someone who resembled Derek. And she either hired him or seduced him to suddenly "reappear." [Natalie spits out mouthwash and gargles more] Will you please? That's why they chose me. Adrian Monk, the perfect patsy. They knew about my problems. They knew I'd never take a good look at the guy. [Natalie spits out more mouthwash] So there never really was a leper. Except for the guy you were making out with all night. [Natalie starts downing the mouthwash] Are you drinking that? Where's the woman who's been lecturing me all week about compassion and tolerance?
Natalie: Okay, you know? It's not funny. You didn't have your tongue down his throat.
Adrian Monk: I shook hands with one. That's bad enough.
Natalie: Your leper wasn't even a real leper.
Adrian Monk: I thought he was real.
Natalie: My leper was the real deal.
Adrian Monk: That's what counts. You know the old saying, "There is no heart so black as the black, black heart of the phony leper?"
Natalie: No, I never heard that one.
Adrian Monk: Well, it's a saying.