Black Scarecrow

I was walking home one day when I saw our local police officer standing outside the house next door, peering up at something. He was really looking. As I passed, I asked him if there was a cat on the roof. He told me that the woman from such-and-such apartment hanged herself the day before yesterday, under dubious circumstances. She was single, 47 years old. The problem was, she'd been complaining to him for months about a black scarecrow crawling out of the corner of her house at night, peeking out through the wallpaper. He said he'd been following up on the complaints and had seen it—it was just a normal corner, covered in wallpaper. The neighbors tried to get her into the hospital, and they prescribed some medication, but said she wasn't dangerous. For the last few days, she'd been screaming loudly at night, telling him to take her away. The neighbors had called the police, and they'd come, but there were no consequences.

 I asked the local police officer what he was looking out of there. He pointed—look, there's the window of that apartment, right across from that corner, I think, or is there something moving there? I didn't bother looking and quickly went about my business.