Spring 1952 – The Wild Child of the Soul

 

Inspector Grant pointed to a fourth story window.  The window was a gaping hole, its frame and all the glass smashed inward. He said, “The assailant appears to have entered there.” 

“Did the killer come up the wall or down from the roof?” I asked. 

“We don’t know. All the windows on this side of the house are too small for a normal sized man to pass through them. Based on the dust on the inner sills no one has attempted to. There are no ladder marks on the ground. We haven’t looked at the roof yet because there’s no access from inside the house.”

I nodded and smiled. I said, “So you are asking me to spider up and see what I can see?”