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Writing Exercise 11 - The Cheerful Spectator

     This exercise requires me to write from the perspective of an observer outside the main action of the story, and therefore free to analyze it in a detached fashion.  I did so, but I think there might have been so much dialogue that it defeated the purpose.  Still, here it is.

     Inspector Percival Legreve's green eyes sparkled with excitement.  "I've never seen anything quite like it, Mr. Lance.  The overwhelming majority of burglaries in this city are executed by force.  That is, the burglars enter and perpetrate the crime without regard to violence, preferring instead a quick getaway.  Any guard or servant who gets in the way is incapacitated or killed, and burglars rarely demonstrate any care in their ransacking.  Of course, it's equally rare for such a large estate to be robbed, with all the difficulties entailed.  But these two thieves acted with surgical precision.  My men could not find a single member of the house who saw or heard anything, and the only two whom the thieves saw fit to knock out were the guards in the tower, who commanded an unobstructed view of the entire estate."
     Legreve enjoyed sharing things like this with me, I think because he knew I have no taste for gossip.  I like listening, though, and it was always a pleasure listening to the Inspector, however grating he might seem at times.  It could be hard sometimes to remember that his air of detachment and superiority was not from arrogance - quite the opposite.  I have never met a cat who comes closer to genuine self-forgetfulness than Mr. Legreve did.  No, what seemed arrogance was really his typical feline monomania directed so completely outward that it never occurred to him that someone might not be as interested in his current fancy as him.  I think if he didn't have his friend Neal to remind him to eat every now and then he might starve.
     This time what had absorbed him was a burglary that had made the news of every journal in Azaria.  Councilman Buford, the famous pug who had helped lead the revolution twelve years ago and was now comfortably established in President Barrann's new order, had been robbed of a priceless treasure in the night, without even finding out until the next morning.
     Naturally, as a lowly physician, I was not quite in the politician's circle, but I knew a few people who were, and so I was familiar with his hobby as a collector of foreign artifacts.  It seems his latest acquisition had cost him a fortune.  A traveling merchant had caught his fancy with a set of artifacts from an ancient civilization somewhere in the Maboriki Islands far out in the ocean to the south, and the good Councilman had funded the peddler's early retirement in exchange for a unique plate made of solid gold in the shape of a sun, with a carved face inset with carbuncles and pearls.  Some time in the night, three days ago, it had been stolen.  He had possessed it only for two months.
     Of course my friend, as the City Guard's greatest detective, had been assigned to the case.  He had examined the estate that very morning, and now he had stopped by my office to bounce ideas off me - an office I was always happy to perform, especially on days like that, when I was between patients and the hours stretched bare in front of me.
     "So," I injected, sensing that he desired some token of engagement on my part, "I take it from your tone that you haven't solved the case yet; you're never this excited except when you have an unsolved problem to play with."
     "I have traced every single movement the pair made from their entrance to their getaway, and I have never seen such artistry.  How much have you read in 'The Republic' this morning?"
     "I saw the article they gave it, of course.  It said the thieves entered the estate concealed in hay-bales which Isaac & Sons' Suppliers had delivered that very evening."
     "That is correct, as far as it goes.  Now, my canine friend, what does that seem to indicate to you?  You are a dog of no mean intelligence, though deduction is not your specialty."  The Inspector looked at me playfully.  That is, he looked at me as a cat always looks when it feels playful, which I suppose is different.  Not that he was trying to taunt me out of spite.  Whatever failure I felt sure he was expecting from me would please him simply by illustrating afresh for his imagination just how deliciously twisted his present case was.  He would make fun of me only for appearances.
     I considered for a moment.  "Well, it seems to indicate some prearrangement with the supply company.  If I were investigating, inexpert as I am, I suppose I should investigate the affairs of the company in past months to try to find a clue as to the thieves' identities."
     "My thoughts exactly!  I couldn't have said it better myself!  Your grasp of the obvious is as strong as ever!"  No animal can smirk quite like a cat, and in spite of my liking for this one I found myself becoming slightly annoyed.
     "I would perhaps perform better if you asked me a less vague question.  I take it this is why you leave most of your interviews to Lt. Jenkins?"  I am afraid my tone may have been sharper than I intended, for his reply was emphatic.
     "No, no, my good dog," he cried, "you have nothing to resent.  I cast no aspersions.  I made the same assumption myself and this morning I sent Lt. Jenkins there to get a feel for the place.  As you know, I have total confidence in his instincts."
     "You have told me so on many occasions."  I had met Lieutenant Neal Jenkins, naturally.  Inspector Legreve rarely worked without the help of the Golden Retriever.  To the same degree most people took a natural dislike to the Inspector, they took a spontaneous and irresistible liking to his assistant, who was tall, handsome, and very personable.
     "Well," said my friend, continuing, "he found nothing.  Not a single lead, no suspicions, no scent.  It would seem that old Isaac was an innocent victim - as innocent as Councilman Buford, in fact, for he knows nothing."  My friend's tone was serious.  I was sure his subtle dig at the old politician was intended - a cordial dislike of wealthy and respectable citizens was one of his less enjoyable peculiarities.  Wishing to head off the subject, I spoke again.
     "You mean to say the thieves fooled the old badger and all his employees?  I find that difficult to believe.  I worked in a similar supply house myself, in my youth.  They couldn't have been in the hay as it entered the machine: not only would they have been discovered, but the machine would have torn them apart.  And, once baled, the hay is loaded and delivered immediately, under constant handling and supervision, to prevent its getting wet or moldy."
     "Both true and pertinent.  But consider the journey from store to customer."  My friend spoke with a grin.  I was sure he had some novel theory to spring on me.
     "On a moving cart?  Inspector, who would believe it?  How could two beasts possibly secrete themselves and their equipment inside the bales of hay on an open cart moving down a busy street without attracting somebody's attention?  Without attracting the driver's attention?"  I asked not in the hopes of trapping my friend; that had been tried by much more cunning beasts than myself with no success.  I merely wished to draw him out.
     "After Jenkins gave me his report I decided it was worthwhile to investigate the two assumptions you exhibit in those questions, the more so because I realized I had unconsciously made them myself.  So I sent him back out to interview the driver at greater length while I made certain inquiries concerning the routes that cart might have taken that night."
     For the next hour my friend told me about his investigation, and though I am not nearly so easily amused by pure conundrum as a cat, I had to admit his findings were interesting.

Description
Writing Exercise 11 - The Cheerful Spectator

     This exercise requires me to write from the perspective of an observer outside the main action of the story, and therefore free to analyze it in a detached fashion.  I did so, but I think there might have been so much dialogue that it defeated the purpose.  Still, here it is.

     Inspector Percival Legreve's green eyes sparkled with excitement.  "I've never seen anything quite like it, Mr. Lance.  The overwhelming majority of burglaries in this city are executed by force.  That is, the burglars enter and perpetrate the crime without regard to violence, preferring instead a quick getaway.  Any guard or servant who gets in the way is incapacitated or killed, and burglars rarely demonstrate any care in their ransacking.  Of course, it's equally rare for such a large estate to be robbed, with all the difficulties entailed.  But these two thieves acted with surgical precision.  My men could not find a single member of the house who saw or heard anything, and the only two whom the thieves saw fit to knock out were the guards in the tower, who commanded an unobstructed view of the entire estate."
     Legreve enjoyed sharing things like this with me, I think because he knew I have no taste for gossip.  I like listening, though, and it was always a pleasure listening to the Inspector, however grating he might seem at times.  It could be hard sometimes to remember that his air of detachment and superiority was not from arrogance - quite the opposite.  I have never met a cat who comes closer to genuine self-forgetfulness than Mr. Legreve did.  No, what seemed arrogance was really his typical feline monomania directed so completely outward that it never occurred to him that someone might not be as interested in his current fancy as him.  I think if he didn't have his friend Neal to remind him to eat every now and then he might starve.
     This time what had absorbed him was a burglary that had made the news of every journal in Azaria.  Councilman Buford, the famous pug who had helped lead the revolution twelve years ago and was now comfortably established in President Barrann's new order, had been robbed of a priceless treasure in the night, without even finding out until the next morning.
     Naturally, as a lowly physician, I was not quite in the politician's circle, but I knew a few people who were, and so I was familiar with his hobby as a collector of foreign artifacts.  It seems his latest acquisition had cost him a fortune.  A traveling merchant had caught his fancy with a set of artifacts from an ancient civilization somewhere in the Maboriki Islands far out in the ocean to the south, and the good Councilman had funded the peddler's early retirement in exchange for a unique plate made of solid gold in the shape of a sun, with a carved face inset with carbuncles and pearls.  Some time in the night, three days ago, it had been stolen.  He had possessed it only for two months.
     Of course my friend, as the City Guard's greatest detective, had been assigned to the case.  He had examined the estate that very morning, and now he had stopped by my office to bounce ideas off me - an office I was always happy to perform, especially on days like that, when I was between patients and the hours stretched bare in front of me.
     "So," I injected, sensing that he desired some token of engagement on my part, "I take it from your tone that you haven't solved the case yet; you're never this excited except when you have an unsolved problem to play with."
     "I have traced every single movement the pair made from their entrance to their getaway, and I have never seen such artistry.  How much have you read in 'The Republic' this morning?"
     "I saw the article they gave it, of course.  It said the thieves entered the estate concealed in hay-bales which Isaac & Sons' Suppliers had delivered that very evening."
     "That is correct, as far as it goes.  Now, my canine friend, what does that seem to indicate to you?  You are a dog of no mean intelligence, though deduction is not your specialty."  The Inspector looked at me playfully.  That is, he looked at me as a cat always looks when it feels playful, which I suppose is different.  Not that he was trying to taunt me out of spite.  Whatever failure I felt sure he was expecting from me would please him simply by illustrating afresh for his imagination just how deliciously twisted his present case was.  He would make fun of me only for appearances.
     I considered for a moment.  "Well, it seems to indicate some prearrangement with the supply company.  If I were investigating, inexpert as I am, I suppose I should investigate the affairs of the company in past months to try to find a clue as to the thieves' identities."
     "My thoughts exactly!  I couldn't have said it better myself!  Your grasp of the obvious is as strong as ever!"  No animal can smirk quite like a cat, and in spite of my liking for this one I found myself becoming slightly annoyed.
     "I would perhaps perform better if you asked me a less vague question.  I take it this is why you leave most of your interviews to Lt. Jenkins?"  I am afraid my tone may have been sharper than I intended, for his reply was emphatic.
     "No, no, my good dog," he cried, "you have nothing to resent.  I cast no aspersions.  I made the same assumption myself and this morning I sent Lt. Jenkins there to get a feel for the place.  As you know, I have total confidence in his instincts."
     "You have told me so on many occasions."  I had met Lieutenant Neal Jenkins, naturally.  Inspector Legreve rarely worked without the help of the Golden Retriever.  To the same degree most people took a natural dislike to the Inspector, they took a spontaneous and irresistible liking to his assistant, who was tall, handsome, and very personable.
     "Well," said my friend, continuing, "he found nothing.  Not a single lead, no suspicions, no scent.  It would seem that old Isaac was an innocent victim - as innocent as Councilman Buford, in fact, for he knows nothing."  My friend's tone was serious.  I was sure his subtle dig at the old politician was intended - a cordial dislike of wealthy and respectable citizens was one of his less enjoyable peculiarities.  Wishing to head off the subject, I spoke again.
     "You mean to say the thieves fooled the old badger and all his employees?  I find that difficult to believe.  I worked in a similar supply house myself, in my youth.  They couldn't have been in the hay as it entered the machine: not only would they have been discovered, but the machine would have torn them apart.  And, once baled, the hay is loaded and delivered immediately, under constant handling and supervision, to prevent its getting wet or moldy."
     "Both true and pertinent.  But consider the journey from store to customer."  My friend spoke with a grin.  I was sure he had some novel theory to spring on me.
     "On a moving cart?  Inspector, who would believe it?  How could two beasts possibly secrete themselves and their equipment inside the bales of hay on an open cart moving down a busy street without attracting somebody's attention?  Without attracting the driver's attention?"  I asked not in the hopes of trapping my friend; that had been tried by much more cunning beasts than myself with no success.  I merely wished to draw him out.
     "After Jenkins gave me his report I decided it was worthwhile to investigate the two assumptions you exhibit in those questions, the more so because I realized I had unconsciously made them myself.  So I sent him back out to interview the driver at greater length while I made certain inquiries concerning the routes that cart might have taken that night."
     For the next hour my friend told me about his investigation, and though I am not nearly so easily amused by pure conundrum as a cat, I had to admit his findings were interesting.