Could this have been the killer's hideout, and this narrow window -- the point of origin…

Could this have been the killer's hideout, and this narrow window -- the point of origin of the shot that killed the mercenary?

This does look like an embrasure, a slit made for shooting out of.

Peek out.

Outside the window -- another day. The beach sand soaks up the drizzling rain, growing darker and darker.

"Kim, I can't see the Whirling-in-Rags... The shot didn't come from here." (Conclude.)

"Indeed. No one could get a clear view. Well, at least we've been thorough. I like thorough."

The lieutenant's voice betrays a slight disappointment, which he glosses over by reasserting control.

"In fact -- I think we're done with this bunker." He looks to the exit. "After you, officer."

Would this have been a good hideout for a sniper?

"It's a great place to hide, certainly, but there hasn't been anyone here in ages."

"It's a great place to hide, certainly, but there hasn't been anyone in here for ages."

It's a good place to hide, but doesn't look like anyone has stayed here in a while.

It's definitely a good place to hide. You barely found it yourself.

Is it feasible to hit a target in the Whirling-in-Rags from this window? (Conclude.)

No, it's not. No matter how you crane your neck, you can't see the whole of the Whirling-in-Rags, and certainly not the relevant segment of the top floor.

Outside the window -- desolation. Snow falls softly onto the coastal sand, where it melts almost instantly. On rooftops, it lingers.

Outside the window -- the day is clear, and as mild as can be in early spring.

You hear the rain's susurration across the sea water. The night shudders.

In the darkness, you can barely make out the falling snow. It settles, making the night still quieter.

The lights of Martinaise shine coolly in the clear night.