As he did every Sunday, Hartmann went to do some shooting. He opened the door of the gun shop, nodding to Herr Schönebeck.
The shop owner grinned. “Greetings sergeant!”
“Morning, Franz. I came to use the range again.”
“Ah, yes.” Schönebeck lifted the counter section allowing access, and Hartmann walked through to the back. The other owner, Lüdecke Wulff, was standing beside a woman showing her how . . .
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