A thin trickle of blood ran down the man's cheek and disappeared into the collar of his shirt. The pleasant mist surrounding Rottmann's mind suddenly cracked. "Hey... buddy," he called out, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. That touch was enough to throw the figure off balance. In slow motion, it leaned to the side, then fell faster and hit the asphalt with its head a second later. Öchsle jumped back in shock and growled in confusion. Rottmann was so surprised that he couldn't prevent the fall. This event was enough to almost completely dispel the wine clouds clouding Rottmann's mind. As the head of the homicide department, he had seen more corpses in his career than a person could bear. One thing was clear to him: the man here was dead as a doornail. Was it murder, suicide, or a fatal accident? Erich.