I wonder about the nature of story-telling after a section like this. After much build-up, and misdirection, the crisis reveals itself: her purse -- gone.

I have interrupted the action to speak with you directly, and although you cannot answer me, I have to, in some way, discern what your response might be if you were able to make it. Bakhtin, a Russian, called this the dialogical principle. I am manipulating your possible response through whatever ability I have to anticipate that response. I put myself in your place: what do I think I what I have written? Before I can reply, I write something else that heads off the question. Yes it may open up new inquiry but I'll head those off as well.

You may be reading this after a long day at work. I know I have been sitting in an office, revising. The windows face west and in the late afternoon the sun bleaches the side of the building. Glass tinting doesn't stop the heat. The air-conditioning proves inadequate, lethargy overcomes me.

I would be looking for a way to the end if I were you. The other narratives finished sooner, truncated, perhaps lacking full development. Here is your chance. All you need to know is that Marilyn contacted the authorities but building security failed to detain the thief. To cut to the finish, go to Part 27. If you do, much of what I have to say to you will be missed, the story, as an event, will be completed.