Rauno looked at Anna. He was so close. They could have touched one another.
‘Joke,’ said Anna, taking a step back and trying to smile. ‘I mean … there are more important things you could be focusing on.’
Rauno smiled back, perhaps too pleasantly.
Surely he isn’t getting any ideas, Anna thought nervously.
‘Listen, let’s go for a pint this evening,’ he said. ‘I feel like I really need a decent Finnish beer after all this grim work on the Aztecs. On second thoughts, make that a Czech beer instead. Let’s invite Sari and Esko too.’
‘Oh, Esko … I don’t think I’m really…’
‘Yes, yes, it would do you two a world of good to talk outside work.’
‘He doesn’t talk.’
‘Haven’t you noticed he’s clearly warming to you. He’s not nearly as much of an ogre as he was to start with.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Strike while the iron is hot. Let’s go.’
‘You could invite your wife too,’ Anna suggested.
‘She wouldn’t come. And who would look after the kids?’
‘Shame. It would be nice to meet her.’
‘Well. Shall we?’
‘All right. But only if Sari comes too.’
‘I’ll ask her and let you know.’
‘Okay.’
Initially Sari wasn’t so keen on the idea. Sanna had the day off and her mother was looking after the children. Grandma would be tired and have to go home soon. Anna was exhausted too, to tell the truth.
But still.
She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Sari was tired of running straight home from work; a break from her daily routine was tempting. Much to Anna’s relief, Esko was the only member of the team who declined straight away. He had other things to do, he said, without expanding further.
Eventually Anna, Sari and Rauno walked along the bustling Sibeliuksenkatu towards Tintti’s Bar, a salt-of-the-earth pub that was just waking from its afternoon slumber. It was seven o’clock. The place gave off the stale reek of decades of boozing. A few customers were propping up the bar as though they’d been stuck there for years. Anna and Rauno ordered a pint each; Sari took a pint of cider. They withdrew to a table in the corner.
‘Ah, wonderful,’ said Sari as she took her first sip of cider. ‘I had no idea how much I needed this.’
‘What do you think about all the new information that’s come to light? The youngsters’ interviews and everything?’ asked Rauno. ‘Wanna bet Virve and Jere hatched this whole thing together?’
‘Who was the older woman? The one Riikka was eating with?’
‘Exactly. And are Virve and Jere still hiding something?’ Anna wondered.
‘Do you think somebody could force them to do things like that? Someone posing as Huitzilopochtli?’ Sari lowered her voice to a whisper, though the nearest pair of ears was over by the counter.
‘The mysterious woman, maybe?’
‘She could be some kind of cult leader.’
‘Someone who requires human sacrifices.’
‘Do you think such a cult could really exist? Here in Finland?’
‘Thankfully the bureau will be dealing with that possibility from now on,’ said Rauno. ‘At least the American nutcases are harmless. I checked with the local police; they have no known connections with Finland, or Europe for that matter.’
‘Have there been any new leads from the public?’ Anna asked.
‘People call us with all kinds of nonsense. We’ve even had a few confessions. We need to locate that red car,’ said Sari.
‘Jere drives a blue Laguna,’ Rauno reminded them.
‘Exactly. How can this be so complicated?’ Anna exclaimed.
‘What made you want to become a police officer?’ Sari asked Anna out of the blue.
Anna was prepared. At least, almost prepared. She had guessed there would be a flood of questions once they got to the bar. It was a wonder she had managed to avoid them for so long. She took a deep breath and began.
‘Well, for a start I’ve always been really into sport.’ Until now, she thought, and saw an image of her training schedule, which as autumn had drawn on was as empty as the leafless trees.
‘I’d always thought I wanted a job where doing sport wasn’t the main thing, but where it really came in useful. I even considered a career in the army for a while.’
‘Have you done military service?’ asked Rauno.
‘Yes.’
‘Tell us about that!’
‘It’s Corporal Fekete to you. At ease, everyone!’
‘Christ! Where did you do your service?’
‘At the regiment in Sodankylä. I thought of applying for the Reserve Officer School and even the National Defence University, but gave up the idea in the end. I spent one summer working as a temp in our documentation division, dealing with passports applications, driving licences and that sort of thing. It was there that I got a glimpse of police work, and I guess that’s where the idea came from.’
Anna had been overwhelmed to get that summer job at the police department. She had read a small item in the newspaper encouraging travellers to apply for their passports well in advance to avoid the summer rush. That had given her idea: she wrote a letter of application and handed it personally to the head of the documentation division. Her application had been received enthusiastically, and the staff at the passport office finally reached their summer breaks slightly less exhausted than they might have, had it not been for the new summer temp. Anna was meticulous with all the paperwork and was a quick learner. Everyone had taken to her immediately. In the staff canteen she chatted once or twice with a nice female officer. She said the job was fascinating but woefully underpaid. Anna had saved her wages for five weeks and put herself through driving school.
‘But tell us the real story. Why the police? Why not the army?’ Sari asked impatiently.
‘I’ve got family baggage in both professions. I started to get sick of the endless bossing around in the army. I realised it wasn’t really my thing.’
The truth was that Anna had joined the army because she wanted to get to the bottom of something. She still didn’t know exactly what. She had a strong sense that she needed to examine something, to get an overall picture, to work her way inside the system in order to understand it.
But it hadn’t helped. After basic training she felt she understood even less. She had given up trying.
Ultimately, war was always mindless.
‘It’s the same in the police force,’ Rauno commented.
‘Not quite. There’s a hierarchy, for sure, and everything is carefully regulated, but things aren’t as black and white. Here at least people need a brain of their own, you can discuss things. It’s not just about obeying orders, so it’s far more suited to a pacifist hippie like me.’
‘I’ll drink to that!’ said Sari and raised her pint of cider.
‘To hippies!’ Rauno shouted.
‘And the police force!’ Sari added.
‘My father was a policeman,’ Anna said quietly as she too raised her glass.
They each took a long swig.
‘He died when I was little.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sari said. ‘How old were you?’
‘Five. I don’t remember him all that well.’
‘Can I ask what happened?’
‘I’m not entirely sure what happened. All they told me was that he was killed in the line of duty.’
‘Terrible,’ Sari gasped.
‘I’m sorry,’ Rauno said awkwardly.
‘Thanks, but it all happened so long ago.’
‘Shall we have another one? My round,’ said Rauno.
‘Oh, why not?’ Sari answered.
‘You guys make me feel like I’m back home – sitting around in bars, raising toasts, buying rounds. Are you sure you’re not secretly from the Balkans?’ Anna joked.
‘Think of us as wannabe Balkans,’ Rauno laughed.
> Once they had each bought a round, it was late and they were all rather merry. They decided to leave, because one more drink would have meant getting really sloshed. That was the last thing any of them needed, let alone a splitting headache the next morning. Sari jumped into the first taxi, leaving Anna and Rauno to walk back towards the city centre together.
‘Should we have one for the road, after all?’ Rauno suggested.
‘No, I think that’s enough for tonight.’
‘Pisses me off, the thought of going home,’ said Rauno and staggered somewhat. He took hold of Anna’s arm, steadied himself and left his hand where it was. Anna felt it burning the skin through her jacket like a glowing hot iron. Damn it, she thought, but she couldn’t shake him off; she didn’t dare, didn’t want to hurt him.
‘Why?’ she forced herself to ask, though she knew the answer. She’d seen men like this in bars hundreds of times. It was as predictable as age-old TV repeats.
‘Things with the wife are going tits up. And now she wants a divorce.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep. We haven’t made any final decisions yet, but we’ve started talking about it. Fuck it, I was trying to be considerate towards her, brought her dinner and everything – sushi, her favourite – and she decides to use the situation to her advantage, puts the kids to sleep and sits down at the table. That hasn’t happened in weeks, you know, we haven’t eaten at the same fucking table for God knows how long.’
Rauno squeezed Anna’s arm a little tighter. Anna let it happen.
‘There she is, pouring tea into cups like nothing’s happened, and says perfectly calmly that we should probably get a divorce. Damn it. Says she’s been thinking about it for a while and that she can’t see any other solution.’
‘Do you think there is another solution?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rauno bleated. ‘We should try harder.’
‘Try what?’
‘I don’t know. Being together, doing something together.’
‘Did you tell her this?’
‘No. I threw the fucking sushi in the bin.’
Together they walked north. Anna didn’t want to walk all the way home; Koivuharju was quite a distance from the city centre. She decided to get a taxi from the warehouse buildings in the marina, where the town houses gave way to the parkland at Koskipuisto. The park had a bad reputation among residents, but in reality there was hardly any crime there whatsoever. Still, walking through it in the dark wasn’t exactly an attractive prospect.
‘I’ll get a cab over there,’ said Anna.
‘Can I sleep at your place?’ Rauno asked. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I can sleep on the sofa,’ he continued and pressed himself closer to Anna. ‘Though, I have to say, you’re one hell of an attractive woman.’
‘Rauno, you’re drunk. Have you had more than just a couple of pints? Go back to your own home.’
‘I haven’t got a home.’
‘Oh, nonsense.’
‘Anna, you’re magnificent. You’re an unbelievably good-looking woman. Let me stay at your place. I promise, I won’t touch you,’ he pleaded and tried to kiss her.
Anna forcibly shoved him away.
‘Stop it!’ she shouted. ‘This isn’t nice any more.’
‘So why am I not good enough for you? Do I have to be some kind of cripple to turn you on?’
‘Oh piss off, Rauno,’ said Anna and ran to the taxi rank, jumped into a car and watched the dark, deserted city rush past her eyes as she tried to hold back the tears. The jetties outside the brand-new apartment blocks on the islands at the mouth of the river floated black against the glinting water, then they reached the slip road on to the motorway and from there the taxi sped up to 120 kilometres an hour past Välikylä and Savela towards the imposing apartment blocks of Koivuharju, towards the apartment in which she would try to get some sleep, the place that she called home.
It struck her that she still hadn’t gone to visit the house where she and Ákos and their mother had moved to after leaving the reception centre. It was close by. Childhood. Youth. There it was round the corner.
Anna couldn’t get to sleep. She couldn’t forget the insinuating text messages from an unlisted number. Now she was thinking about them again.
Could Rauno be behind them?
She tossed and turned in bed until morning, put on her headphones and listened to Delay’s album Anima, tried to calm herself down, to forget the text messages, to forget Rauno. She went out to the balcony for a cigarette, stood there shivering in only her pyjamas and dressing gown. She spat on to the asphalt below.
The tower blocks stared at her with hundreds of empty eyes, oozing loneliness.
28
‘IMAGINE, THERE ARE ALMOST 600,000 rifles in Finland,’ Rauno said to Esko as they drove to Maria Pollari’s house.
‘So?’ Esko replied.
‘It’s a bloody insane number.’
‘Why?’
‘That’s one rifle for every eight people in this country.’
‘So what?’
‘Well, it’s pretty fucking worrying, don’t you think?’
‘Not really. What’s with all the swearing?’ Esko asked. ‘Feeling a bit the worse for wear this morning?’
‘No.’
‘Late night?’
‘No.’
The golden boy is lying, Esko thought with an air of self-satisfaction. Rauno’s conscientious attitude had always irritated him.
‘You’ve got a rifle yourself – a .12-calibre at that – and I’ve got two.’
‘But I’ve started wondering whether it’s too easy to get a firearm in this country. Even underage kids can get their hands on a gun.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Rauno, don’t talk bollocks. The background checks are ridiculous these days. You have to spend hours proving you’re not a self-destructive lunatic with a quick temper. How could they make the protocol any tighter? And as a country lad yourself, you know fine well how bloody important the hunting season is. What else is there for young boys to do? Hunting’s a great hobby, keeps kids on the straight and narrow. You don’t see country lads hanging around the shopping mall all night; they’re in the woods hunting, doing something useful and age-old. They’re enjoying being outdoors, getting some fresh air. They’re the kind of lads that do their national service without kicking up a fuss.’
‘You’re right. It’s just got me thinking, especially after these shootings. The ecological footprint of game is virtually non-existent. You can’t say that for soya.’
‘What fucking ecological footprint?’
‘Who’s swearing now?’
‘That’s just my irresistible charm. Have you been out hunting this season?’
‘Too busy. And there’s a bit of a situation about to kick off at home.’
‘Jesus, Rauno, all the more reason. Let’s go to Jyräväjärvi next weekend, you and me. We’ll rent a cottage, have a sauna, get pissed and forget all about your woman problems. Shoot us a few ducks too. What do you say?’
‘I’ll have to think. Sounds good,’ Rauno said, though he knew he wouldn’t go.
The Pollaris’ house came into view at the end of the path. It was a new, light-blue, detached house with a mansard roof that lent it an air of bygone grandeur. The still of the front garden made the entire house seem deserted. The yellow leaves of the berry bushes fluttered in the breeze. A wind chime jangled on the almost bare branches of a bird-cherry tree. The vegetable patch was empty and untended. Maria Pollari was at home. She invited the officers into the kitchen and asked if they would like some coffee. Both politely refused upon seeing the difficulty Maria had in moving. As she walked she pressed her hands against the base of her spine and groaned in pain as she sat down. They didn’t have the heart to cause her any excess trouble.
‘What do you want now?’ Maria asked, irritated.
‘We found an interesting item in your husband’s pocket. Here’s a photograph. Do you know what it is or why he had it in his pocke
t?’
Rauno showed her a photograph of the Huitzilopochtli necklace. Maria looked at it carefully.
‘I’ve never seen a necklace like that,’ she answered eventually. ‘I’m sure Ville didn’t own anything like this. Neither do I. How could it have ended up in his pocket?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to establish.’
‘What is it?’
Rauno looked at Esko, who gave an affirmative nod.
‘It’s an image of an Aztec god called Huitzilopochtli,’ said Rauno.
‘What on earth was it doing in Ville’s pocket?’ Maria was becoming agitated.
‘We don’t know.’
‘This is sick,’ she started to shout. ‘My husband is shot while on a perfectly innocent run, then ends up with that thing in his pocket. Which pocket was it in?’
‘In his right-hand jacket pocket,’ Rauno answered.
‘Who put it there? Why?’
‘I’m afraid we don’t know.’
‘It was the killer. It’s some sick lunatic. He’s going to turn up here and shoot us all,’ Maria screamed before falling suddenly silent and stroking her stomach.
‘It’s perfectly understandable that you’re frightened, but there’s nothing to indicate that the killer will attack people in their homes. He stalks joggers on the running track.’
‘Yes, until now he has, but maybe now he’s going to change tactics. Surely he can’t repeat the same pattern indefinitely? How many joggers is he going to kill?’ Maria was no longer shouting, but her voice was still jittery.
‘Could this be something personal?’ asked Esko. ‘Do you think it’s possible the killer deliberately chose Ville?’
‘Do you mean, did Ville have any enemies?’
‘You could put it like that.’
‘Ville had only friends. Not very many, but they were all close friends. Everybody liked him. Nobody could possibly have anything against him.’
‘What about people from the past? From before you got married?’
‘Ville and I got married a year and four months ago, when he got his job with the city council. Before that we lived in Jyväskylä; that’s where we’re both originally from. We dated for two years. We were in our early twenties when we met each other at a mass organised by the Lutheran students’ association. What past? People that age don’t have a past.’
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