12. Eight minutes later Corrigan joined Baer outdoors. Frank Grant remained inside with the women. His ratty shoulders were drawn in, as if he were in a corner. He drank black coffee with both hands. The two men started with the wall to the left and examined it inch by inch from an imaginary line extending to the rear of the house. The moon was still bright enough for them to see by, but to make sure they missed no scratches made by a gang hook, Corrigan shone his flashlight on the top of the wall along its entire length. They found no scratches. They found nothing at all. But when they checked the wall overlooking the street, they struck pay dirt. Only a few feet from Corrigan’s old footprint in the flower bed—where he had stepped earlier to peer over at the roof across the street—they found two large, deep prints of a man’s shoes. The shoes must have been size twelve or thirteen, Corrigan thought. On top of the wall, immediately above the prints, imperfectly outlined in ridges from soil which had adhered to the shoes, were two fainter footprints.
