by J J Marsh
“I assume the police will have spoken to all Valpuri’s friends here in Helsinki,” said Beatrice. “Do you think there is even the remotest chance that Valpuri would have run off to Vaasa, perhaps to stay with one of her old friends? For example, if she were shaken and frightened by the death of the journalist on Saturday morning?”
The couple shook their heads in unison. Mr Peura spoke. “We know our daughter. Of course, it is impossible to know what’s really going on in a teenager’s mind. That said, Valpuri would never worry us like this. She would find a way of letting us know she was safe. Your question is reasonable. The police asked the same thing. We telephoned several families that we know in Vaasa, all of whom assured us if they heard anything from Valpuri, they would contact us immediately.”
“And also,” added Mrs Peura. “She’s not the kind of girl to run away from something. In many ways, she’s too confrontational. If she thought she was in any way to blame for what happened to that journalist, she would be the first person to hand herself in to the police. This is why we are so worried. To disappear like this is completely out of character. Something is wrong, I know it.”
For the first time, the calm and steady persona projected by both Valpuri’s parents seemed to wobble. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, while her husband placed a protective arm around her shoulders. Beatrice waited for the woman to regain control of her emotions.
“We won’t keep you much longer, Mrs Peura,” Theo said. “Just one more question about her relationship with Samu.”
Mr Peura nodded, as if he knew what was coming. “As I said before, it’s impossible to know with any degree of certainty what’s going on with a sixteen-year-old. I will say that Valpuri, her mother and I have a very open, honest relationship. She talks frankly about her emotional life and I think my wife would agree with me when I say she had a great deal of fondness for Samu. As for romantic feelings, if there were any, they only flowed in one direction.”
“He had a crush on her?” asked Theo.
Mrs Peura nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Valpuri was aware of it but she made it quite clear she was not interested in getting involved. Her feelings for Samu were platonic. She saved her passion for her cause. Would you like to see her bedroom? As I told the police, I can see nothing missing other than the clothes she was wearing that day. But you might see something of significance I have missed.”
Leaving Theo to get the details of Valpuri’s fellow activists, Beatrice followed the woman further into the apartment, holding out precious little hope for something of significance.
In the car on the way to visit Samu’s mother, Mrs Pekkanen, Theo agreed. “Parents are biased, I know, but from what they said, she doesn’t sound like the kind of kid to take off in fright. Nor does it sound like she’s run away with a fellow protester for a dirty weekend. So either she and her mate have gone into hiding to put the wind up the energy companies, or someone’s holding them against their will.”
Lawns and trees either side of the road gave Beatrice the impression of a clean suburban area, with leafy parks and playgrounds, clean schools and churches. Kidnapping didn’t seem to fit into a landscape such as this.
“Hmmm. The thing is, if they’ve been abducted, to what end? There’s been no ransom note and as far as I can see, her family are not especially wealthy. As a single mother, I suspect Mrs Pekkanen will have even less disposable cash. It’s possible that someone working for the energy companies might think it a good idea to remove the figureheads from the Gaia Warriors, but for how long? Until the new plant is open? Until they’ve learned their lesson? How can they be sure the remaining activists will not redouble their efforts?”
Theo turned the car into a small cul-de-sac and parked at the end. “That’s her house over there, with the blue door. I don’t know exactly where to find the key players of the Gaia Warriors, but Helsinki’s small enough for me to get around on foot or by public transport. You’d better keep the car.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? I’m not used to driving on this side of the road. And you might be able to get around once you’re there, but how will you get back to the city?” A reluctance to let Theo go made her nervous.
“Easy. The station we passed has a line direct to Helsinki. It’s only a short train ride, about quarter of an hour. Let’s keep in touch, OK?”
A strange yawning sound emanated from Beatrice’s stomach. “All right, if you’re sure. Just be very careful and let’s keep each other informed as to our whereabouts. You concentrate on tracking down those protesters and I’ll see you back at the hotel at seven. Good luck!”
“Good luck to you too. Do you want to take one of my muesli bars? Just in case you get hungry?” Theo gave her a wide smile.
“I don’t know where I get this reputation for having a constant appetite. It’s not all that long since breakfast so I’m sure I can manage to struggle through till lunchtime.”
As if to belie her, her stomach made a sound like someone trying to stifle a braying donkey.
“Whatever you say, boss.” Theo jumped out of the car, not quite hiding his grin, and loped off towards the train station.
In all the photos Beatrice had seen of Samu Pekkanen, he looked like a chunky sort of chap, so his mother came as rather a surprise. She was slight, fragile-looking and so light on her feet it seemed she hardly touched the ground. Her blonde hair was twisted up into a clip and she wore a ghostly white summer dress which seemed rather too big for her. She wore no make-up and her complexion was the colour of whey. On her feet were sheepskin slipper boots and she was clutching a woolly shawl around her shoulders. Her whole appearance reminded Beatrice of a convalescent.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you. As I mentioned on the phone, I’ve been hired…”
“Yes, I know. Come in.” Her voice was as whispery and ethereal as the rest of her. Beatrice kicked off her boots in the hallway and followed the woman across the floorboards to the kitchen.
“I will make tea. Please sit down.” Beatrice did so and watched as the woman flitted from cupboards to work surface with all the grace of a ballet dancer. She spooned dried berries and herbs from various tins into a teapot, then poured boiling water on top. A pleasing fragrance wafted around the kitchen. She placed two mugs, a tea strainer and the teapot on the table between them. As an afterthought, she opened another cupboard and withdrew a biscuit tin. Inside, to Beatrice’s delight, were half a dozen chocolate chip cookies the size of saucers.
“Please help yourself. I have just spoken to Olivia Peura so I know what questions you want to ask. I will tell you everything you want to know and if you still have questions, I am happy to answer. But one thing you must know before everything else. My son Samu has asthma. He needs to manage his condition on a daily basis. He carries a reliever inhaler in his bag in case he has an attack and uses a preventer inhaler every night before bed. Mrs Stubbs, his preventer inhaler is still upstairs on his bedside table. That means his health is in serious danger. His preventer contains steroids which build up over time, making an attack less likely. He has to take a dose every day. This is why it is imperative we find him as soon as possible. I’m more worried than I can say. I cannot sleep or eat or rest until I know where and how my son is.”
After the woman’s speech, it seemed somehow impolite to eat the cookie Beatrice had selected. She placed it on the table beside her mug. “I can promise you, Mrs Pekkanen, I will do everything I can to locate your son and his friend. That’s the reason I’m here and believe me, I’m treating this as a matter of urgency.”
“Please call me Nina. My name is Pekkanen but I am not Mrs.” She poured the tea and pointed to the biscuit. “I bake them but I don’t eat them. Although Samu tells me they are very tasty. Regarding your questions, I’ve made some notes. We have lived here since Samu was born. Just the two of us, his father is not part of the family. Samu and Valpuri, as I’m sure the Peuras told you, have been close friends ever since she first joined the school, around five years ago. Samu was alw
ays interested in the natural world and he has a soft heart for animals. What do you think?”
Busy making notes and eating, Beatrice looked up, puzzled by the question.
“The cookie? Would you have noticed it’s vegan?”
Beatrice swallowed. “Not at all. It’s absolutely delicious.”
“Why don’t you have another one? As I was saying, ever since he was a child, Samu took an interest in his environment.”
The tea tasted of rosehips, orange peel and something else sweet and uplifting. The biscuit appeased her stomach and Beatrice continued to listen, drink and eat as Nina Pekkanen painted a glowing picture of her son.
“He sounds like a remarkable young man. Can I ask, does the fact that he and Valpuri Peura have gone missing together offer you any kind of reassurance?”
Nina’s grey eyes lifted and she stared at Beatrice, her lips slightly parted as if in surprise. “I don’t know,” she said. “Yes, in a way I hope they are together. Valpuri knows all about Samu’s condition and how to behave if he has an asthma attack. Yes, I do feel better knowing he’s not alone. But I think I understand the reasoning behind your question. You wonder if there is any possibility that Samu and Valpuri have ... what’s the English word? ... eloped together. It’s a fair question. The answer is no. He’s never told me explicitly that he has feelings for Valpuri even though everyone can see it. The problem is she does not feel the same way. They are good kids, both of them sensible, thoughtful and aware of the consequences of their actions. My son has lived with asthma for seventeen years and knows the importance of managing his health. He also knows how much I worry when he is away at a protest march or demonstration. He usually checks in regularly to let me know he is safe. Not this time. Wherever Samu is, he did not go of his own free will.”
Chapter 11
Detective Sahlberg tried again. “Mrs Friman, I understand the circumstances were confusing. The problem is that your statement is not consistent. When you spoke to the paramedics, you said it was a member of the security company who pushed the journalist. The men in the black uniforms, yes? Now you say it was one of the environmental demonstrators. Our security videos picked up nothing at that spot, which means your testimony is the only way we can identify the person whose actions caused the death of Juppo Seppä. I know you’re tired and it’s difficult to remember, but this is vital.”
The woman wiped at her eyes. “I am trying to remember. But the more I try to think, the clouds get in the way.” Her beseeching expression touched Sahlberg as truthful but that still didn’t help.
Officer Halme glanced at him for permission to speak. With a tiny shrug, he gave her the floor. He had got nowhere in the last 72 hours, despite interviewing the woman three times. Maybe his colleague would have more luck.
“Mrs Friman, let’s not think about the incident. The shock of what happened might have affected you and your memory is trying to protect you from the detail. Can we talk more generally about the march? For example, do you remember what you were wearing? You told us you are a veteran marcher, so I’m sure you have enough experience to wear walking boots or running shoes. Marching can be hard on the feet, as I know very well.”
Sahlberg could see Sanna Halme’s rationale and hoped it might have the right effect, but managed his expectations. Counterbalancing Halme’s forward focus, he relaxed into his chair, waited and listened between the lines.
“Yes, that’s true, police officers spend a lot of time on their feet. There’s a condition called Cop’s Foot, you know. Good shoes are an investment. I mainly wear ankle boots, to support my joints. That day, I wore a purple pair. We all wore bright clothes, you see. A rainbow of hope.” The old lady’s forehead smoothed, her mind on happier topics.
“I noticed,” said Halme. “The march was full of colour and music. Families too.”
“Families too,” agreed Mrs Friman. “All sorts coming together to make our voices heard. We owe it to the young people.”
“The young people are extraordinary. The front part of the march was mostly teenagers, right? The Gaia Warriors? How far away from the front were you?”
Sahlberg could see it was working. Officer Halme was guiding her through the event, step by step and focusing on detail.
“How far? I couldn’t say. I didn’t have a good view of ...”
“That’s fine. To be honest, we can get all that sort of information from the cameras. What we can’t see is what it was like, on the ground. Listen, I’d like you to take me there, seeing through your eyes. I’m going to put my hands over my face to help me concentrate. You can keep yours open or close them if it helps. Then I’m just going to listen to your voice. Try to put myself in your shoes, the purple ones.” She smiled. “Could you do that for me?”
An instinct told Sahlberg to look at his hands, as if the story were an irrelevance to his life. Mrs Friman glanced from one to the other, clasped her hands together as if in prayer and closed her eyes.
“My placard was smaller this time because holding such a big one hurts my arms. I wore purple boots, a yellow jacket and my green hat, just to show my allegiance to the cause. The tram took me to meet everyone outside the President’s Palace. We marched and sang and the weather was so kind. It was like a party, a family picnic. Only when we got to Senaatintori, it was different. The atmosphere changed. LokiEn had security guards ...”
Halme did not look up, her hands still over her eyes. “I saw the news reports, Mrs Friman. Now I want to see it through your eyes.”
“Through my eyes. To be honest, my eyes aren’t so good. It’s all right, I will try. The march stopped and many people were discussing what to do. Me and the other veterans of green groups came together to support one another. Some of us are older and being in the thick of things can be dangerous. We moved forward to see what was happening. I couldn’t see much, that man with the shoulders and the loud voice was blocking my view.”
Alert, Sahlberg sat up. The old lady was no longer telling a story but experiencing it. She was there. He touched the record button on the pad, convinced this might be worth hearing.
“I’ve never seen a man that big before, even in the Netherlands and they are all huge. He had a ponytail and nothing in his hands. I thought he was alone, but when the word came back the Gaia Warriors were denied entry to the offices, he made a connection. Just a look, I saw him. That look when you find someone in the crowd. He gave them a nod. There was one left, one right and another one behind me. The big man put his hands like this.” She held up two frail arms as if they were pistols. “He pointed his fingers at the front of the march and he took off. Shoving people out of the way, shouting some chant and he snatched the papers from the teenagers. A woman with little children, one in a pushchair and another with a balloon, started to panic and ran to get away from the crowd.”
She paused, her fingertips resting lightly on her eyelids. “The crowd swelled into the space, like water, and I couldn’t see what was happening. Pressure from behind me was horrible and I kept losing my balance. It was time to get out. No way to go back so I aimed for the side of the square. I could hear the fight and I was so frightened and alone, I started to cry. When I reached the steps, I caught hold of a lamppost. All the people running and pushing, it was like a river, like a flood, lifting me off my feet. I held on and on, too scared to reach for my mobile phone. The men were hitting, hitting hard. All of them in black uniforms, hitting and hitting. Like this!”
She took one hand from her eyes and punched a fist downwards, her index knuckle protruding.
“The journalist man with the camera was above me, up the lamppost. I didn’t see him till he jumped down and had no idea he was even there. Then two men tore out of the confusion. Someone ran into the journalist, a small man dressed in black with a hood. I thought it was an accident. The big man with the shoulders was chasing the hooded one and he pushed the journalist out of the way. That’s when he fell and hit his head.”
Sahlberg kept his voice soft, not wan
ting to break her concentration. “The small man with the hood ran into the journalist. Would you say it was a glancing blow, as if he knocked into someone on the street?”
Halme splayed her fingers at him but he could not read her expression.
“No, it was a full-on collision. The journalist was knocked backwards and lost his balance and when the big man ran past, the impact knocked him down the steps. That’s when he hit his head. That’s when ...” Her voice broke and she began to weep.
He hit the button and ceased recording. Halme reached across the table, thanking the witness and offering water. He gave her a nod. She’d managed what he had not. Now they had some idea of why a journalist who fell down some steps had suffered a stab wound. Now they could begin to investigate why the coroner’s verdict was not accidental death, but murder.
Chapter 12
Both schools and the university had broken up at the start of June, scattering pupils and students far and wide. Mr Peura had given Theo detailed information on the two schoolkids, Aleksis Timonen and Tuula Sirkka, so he decided to start with Valpuri’s best friend.
Tuula had a summer job working as a tourist guide at Luonnontieteellinen Museo, or the Museum of Natural History in English, and Theo intended to catch her on her lunch break. After spending all day indoors, she would probably avoid the museum café and get out of the building into some sunshine. At least that was what Theo was hoping. He waited at the staff entrance from a quarter to twelve, watching as small groups, pairs and individuals left the museum in search of something to eat. Three minutes after midday, the door burst open and a tall girl with blonde dreadlocks powered up the path past him, inserting white earbuds as she walked. Her momentum was such that Theo opted not to cross her path and instead eased himself from the bench to follow.
The girl paced up the main street past the parliament building, dodging tourists and lunchtime lingerers to head straight into the park. Theo had to pick up speed in order not to lose sight of her. Once she had set foot on the grass, Tuula slowed, surveyed the possibilities and plonked herself right in the centre of a large patch of sunshine. She crossed her legs, shrugged off her rucksack and pulled out a flask along with something wrapped in greaseproof paper.