Tim did not rush out with the crowd. Standing by the window, he could see a plump man sprawled on the ground outside, his leg most likely broken.
But judging from his full-throated screams, he was not seriously hurt. Everyone gathered around him, and after an examination, it turned out that only his lower leg bone was fractured.
The house was not very tall to begin with. The odds of someone dying from a fall from the third floor were too low. Besides, Tim had turned around early enough to remember the man's posture as he fell. It was unusual, because people jumping from buildings usually went headfirst, while this man had looked more like he was diving into a pool—jumping down feetfirst.
Tim did not believe the man had jumped from the third floor for no reason. While everyone else had gone outside, he turned and headed up to the third floor. The people who had remained there had already gone downstairs, so Tim easily reached the balcony from which the man had jumped.
Worried about being seen, he did not step onto the balcony. Instead, he crouched inside the room and looked for footprints.
There were no footprints on the balcony, but Tim found a small leaf on the threshold where he stood.
Tim suspected Pamela was behind it, because the potted plants in the room seemed to be positioned strangely. Besides, Mr. Lante was a fat man weighing over two hundred pounds. Even Captain America would have struggled to throw him out without him noticing, but Pamela, with her powers, could do it.
But there was still the same question. If Pamela had wanted to kill someone, she would not have needed to go to so much trouble. As an old Gothamite, she could not possibly have