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had been considered and reduced to a minimum was essential for his success. Nothing was more dangerous than improvisation. But the damned snow threatened to ruin his calculations. For a while, he sat at his desk, summoning in his mind all the details of his plan. It didn’t help. The snow was a serious threat, so he would have to change his timetable. Immediately.
    *   *   *
    “Jeez, Kai, you belong in bed,” said Bodenstein as he entered the K-11 conference room and looked at his only remaining colleague.
    “In bed is where people die,” Criminal Detective Superintendent Kai Ostermann said with a wink. “I feel better than I look.”
    He grinned and coughed, and Bodenstein gazed at him skeptically.
    “Well, at any rate, I’m grateful that you haven’t left me in the lurch,” he said, sitting down at the big table.
    “The ballistics report came in a few minutes ago,” Ostermann croaked, shoving a few stapled pages over to him. “The bullet was a Winchester .308 caliber. Unfortunately, it’s a rather common caliber that’s used by the military, by hunters and target shooters, and also by us. Every ammo maker has this caliber in its catalog, and most also produce variants.”
    The heating was turned up full blast, and Bodenstein was already breaking out in a sweat, but Ostermann, who had wrapped a scarf around his neck and wore a down vest over his sweater, didn’t seem to notice the heat at all.
    “This cartridge is a Remington Core-Lokt, 11.7 grams, which is the bestselling centerfire cartridge in the world for hunting. The weapon from which the bullet was fired has not yet turned up.”
    “So no real clue, then.” Bodenstein removed his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. “Any news from the evidence team?”
    “No. The shot was made from a distance of about eighty meters.” Ostermann coughed, popped a sage cough drop into his mouth, and continued in a whisper. “No problem for a trained marksman. No traces were found at the crime scene or the spot from which the shooter fired, other than the blurred outline of indentations left by the bipod. He must have picked up the cartridge casing and taken it with him. After evaluating the statements taken from neighbors and employees at the flower shop, we have to conclude that nothing of note happened during the past few weeks. Ingeborg Rohleder seemed the same as always and gave no sign of feeling threatened.”
    Bodenstein was coming to the depressing realization that so far, they knew nothing at all except for the caliber of the murder weapon and the type of cartridge used. He didn’t like resorting to such a measure, but because so many of his colleagues were out sick, he had no choice but to ask Commissioner Engel for reinforcements from other investigative units.
    “I’m asking myself seriously, how we—?” he began when the door behind him opened. Ostermann’s eyes widened.
    “Hello,” said Pia behind Bodenstein, and he turned around.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise.
    “Am I interrupting?” Pia looked from him to Ostermann.
    “Oh no, no, not in the least,” Bodenstein hurried to assure her. “Come and have a seat.”
    “Don’t you have anything better to do on the day before you leave on vacation?” Ostermann whispered hoarsely.
    “No.” Pia took off her jacket and sat down with a big grin. “I’ve taken care of everything. And then I thought I’d just help you solve this case quickly before I take off for three weeks in the sun.”
    Kai Ostermann grimaced, and Bodenstein took off his sweater before rapidly summing up the facts that he and Kai had been discussing.
    “That’s not much,” said Pia. “Is there any chance of finding out where and when the ammo was purchased?”
    “No,” said Ostermann, shaking his head. “It’s found in every gun shop and hunting catalog in the world..”
    “And so far, we have no clue as to the motive,” said Bodenstein. “It could be a sniper who shoots