“But as a police officer, he has his police firearm, right?”
“I suppose.”
“What if you tell him through the mail slot that either he comes out or we’re bringing the SWAT team in. They’ll crash in with the doorjamb around their necks. But that means half a dozen reporters and photographers here before you can spit.”
“There’s no mail slot. He has a mailbox.”
“So shout through the window or the door.” The police officer was right. Threats might do the trick.
I climbed three steps up to the front door and pounded on it. I could faintly hear the strains of ‘Light My Fire’.
I pounded again. A moment later the music faded.
“What the fuck are you knocking out there for? I’m gonna call the cops.”
“They’re already out here with me. They’re thinking you’d better come out or they’ll bring the SWAT team in.”
Now I could hear Oksanen’s voice right next to the door. “What the fuck for? Can’t I listen to music in my own house?”
“You were driving drunk and fled the scene over the speed limit. That’s bad enough on its own. If we have to call in the SWAT team, you know what the consequences will be.”
“Drunk and speeding. Is that what they’re saying? I disagree, disagree a whole hell of a lot.”
“And now you’re disobeying police orders.”
“In the first place, I wasn’t driving. I was sitting in the passenger seat. This other guy was driving.”
“So come out with this guy so we can clear things up.”
“He already left. He didn’t hang around, even though I asked him to. He was hitchhiking and I picked him up… somewhere. No idea who he was, but he knew how to drive.”
“Then come out and clear things up alone.”
“And thirdly, how can I be disobeying police orders when I didn’t even know there are police officers out there? I thought my asshole of a neighbor was at the door again, bitching about the noise.”
“So who am I, then?”
“No idea. Besides, I’d rather go lay down now. I’m really fucking tired.”
“No. We’re going to clear this up now.”
Oksanen paused for a moment to think. I waited, intrigued.
“Let’s assume you’re Detective Kafka, which actually disqualifies you,” he began. “You’ve already demonstrated a hostile attitude towards me. I want to talk to someone else. But this is just an assumption, because I don’t know who you really are.”
“Stop clowning around. I’m not investigating this case. The patrol that followed you is going to do the reporting. You want me to have the officer come over to talk with you?”
Oksanen forgot that he didn’t know who I was. “Tell me one thing, Ari. What do you have against me? Be honest.”
“Nothing.”
“Stop screwing with me. You think I haven’t noticed? You’re always laughing at me behind my back… I know the score. I’m not going to let some Middle Eastern leatherworker or rug seller piss in my eye.”
I felt a pang of conscience. It was true that I had joked with others about Oksanen, or more precisely his motor racing.
“I’ve never laughed at you, just your cars. It annoys me because it gets in the way of your work. And that’s the truth.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Oksanen said, his voice surprisingly docile.
“Yes, it does. I counted that you were abroad four times last year at police rallies, twice while you were on the clock—”
“With permission from the ministry,” Oksanen interjected.
“—plus you spend hours online and on the phone looking for some turbocharger or other thingamajig for your car and then you drive halfway across Finland to pick it up.”
“I have your thingamajig swinging between my legs.”
I had to struggle to keep from bursting into laughter. “Time’s up. The boys from the precinct want to call in the SWAT team.”
“What if I come out? Then what?”
“You’ll be questioned on suspicion of driving under the influence and disobeying orders.”
“I just told you, I didn’t do either. In theory, I couldn’t have even heard the police, because I was playing ’60s classics so loudly and I didn’t touch any booze until I got home. My car was being driven by that infamous criminal we all know so well, aka an unidentified suspect. You think it’ll work?”
“You can always try.”
“The assholes won’t believe me, even though this time it’s the truth. That means I’ll get the boot.”
“Probably, but you could reapply for your job once the mandatory probationary period is over. You’ll definitely get the boot if you don’t come out and clear things up.”
“They believed that former MP. Couldn’t prove she’d been driving drunk. The law needs to treat everyone equally. Right?”
Based on what he was saying, Oksanen was a lot more inebriated than I’d realized.
“What about that woman’s letter accusing me of all sorts of stuff?”
“What about it?”
“Are you going to be investigating it?”
“No, but someone will.”
The door opened, and Oksanen stepped out. A bottle of beer dangled from his hand. His eyes were glazed.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve always done my work to the best of my abilities? I’m actually a pretty good cop, if I do say so myself.”
I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t deny it. He plopped down onto the steps. I sat down next to him.
“I’d rather have a bullet in the brain from a drug dealer than get caught for a ridiculous little thing like this.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“So what’s the story? You gonna cuff me?”
“You go in and tell your version of what happened. Then you get to go home.”
“What about work?”
“You’re on sick leave.” I eyed Oksanen. “Although you don’t look like you’re having back trouble.”
“The pain isn’t visible on the surface. What about afterward?”
“Bigger wigs than me will make that call. The fact of the matter is, I don’t harbor any ill will toward you. If you spent less time on your cars while you’re supposed to be working, you’d be exactly the sort of guy I need.”
“You think I don’t know Simolin’s your favorite?” Oksanen said, staring at the flagstone step between his feet.
“He’s a good detective who focuses on his work 100 percent. We investigate the most serious crimes imaginable, manslaughter and murder. It’s not work you can approach half-heartedly. We have mothers desperate for us to find their child’s killer, kids desperate for us to find their father’s killer. Those people’s lives are at stake, their peace of mind. If you were my subordinate, say, at an appliance repair shop, I might be a little more lenient about your leisure pursuits.”
“I’d be fixing fridges and vacuum cleaners.”
“Exactly. You follow me?”
“I’m not that stupid, of course I follow. It’s true I’ve been fooling around with cars a little too much, but I’ve done my best when I’ve had time.”
The officer walked up to us. “We need to get going. The control center is starting to put pressure on us. Three patrols have been stuck here for an hour already. That means they’re not out there doing their patrolling.”
I steered the guy aside. “Do you mind if I take it from here? There’s no problem anymore.”
“We have to administer a breathalyzer.”
I went back over to Oksanen. “They have to administer a breathalyzer.”
“They gotta do what they gotta do.”
He blew 1.8 percent.
I promised the officer I’d bring Oksanen down to HQ and have someone question him.
“You’re a lieutenant, so I trust you, but he’s your headache now.”
I held out my hand, and the officer shook it.
I went back over to the steps where Oksanen was sitting, lowe
red a hand to his shoulder and tried to act as natural as possible. “Go get your coat. I’m on duty today. I can give you a ride home after you’ve been questioned.”
Out of the blue, Oksanen covered his face with his hands and started bawling. It took me a second to realize he was crying. Snot and tears were oozing out between his fingers.
He wiped his face and looked at me. “Police work is the best thing to ever happen to me. If I get the boot, I might as well shoot myself through the head… for a little while there I was considering it. Ari, help me. Everyone respects you and will listen to you. Please speak up for me.”
It’s not often you see eyes as pleading as Oksanen’s. It was the look of a whipped dog pleading for mercy.
“Whatever; I’m already headed downhill, might as well pull out the stops. Everything has gone to shit since Sinikka left.”
“OK, but let’s go.”
“What’s wrong with women? When I’d try to get close to her, she’d say, do you always gotta paw at me – she’s from Savo. When I’d ease off, she thought I was cheating on her.” Oksanen turned to look at me. “You probably don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re single, or a bachelor or whatever. Tell me why you can’t get a woman, even though you’re a good-looking, foreign-looking guy…”
“I wish I knew.”
“Arja would drop into your lap like a ripe fruit if you put in the tiniest bit of effort.”
“I think it’s time for us to get going,” I said, and stood.
“You promise to put in a good word for me?”
“I already said I would.”
“Shake on it.” Oksanen shoved his hand into mine. I had to shake it. “And sorry about that Jewish thing. I was being stupid. Please please please forget I said it.”
I promised I would, even though I knew I couldn’t.
19
Less than an hour later, I was at Vuorio’s place in Tammisalo. His brick ’60s house would have been considered high-fashion vintage; I could picture it being auctioned alongside Chanel jackets, Cartier jewelry, and Hermès bags.
I’d decided Vuorio had guessed the reason for my visit, because he hadn’t asked any questions when I’d called and asked to meet him that night.
The original hardwood front door opened, revealing Vuorio in a loose, lightweight sweater, soft burgundy sweats, and checked slippers. His red scalp gleamed through his sparse, silvery hair.
“Come in. Looks like the end of a long day.”
“Long enough.”
Vuorio steered me into the living room. I sat down on a comfortable-looking leather sofa. It looked like an Italian or Danish classic, and felt like one, too.
“I could use one of these at my place,” I said, patting it.
“When we moved here, my wife got the best money could buy. She had a sense of style like no one else.”
A portrait by the same artist who had done the oil painting in Vuorio’s office hung over the mantel, only this one was bigger. The woman seemed to be keeping an eye on the room with her slightly imperious gaze.
“This was her dream home, so I gave her free rein. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“My wife isn’t to blame for those; I put them up after she passed away,” Vuorio continued, nodding at the end wall, which was adorned with the head of a spiral-horned antelope, African spears, a shield, a leopard skin, and a collection of hunting knives. “I shot the antelope myself; the leopard skin I bought from a local. My wife never would have let me display tacky dust-gatherers, as she would have put it.”
I couldn’t decide how to begin, even though I’d spent the entire drive trying to figure that out.
Vuorio broke the silence. “Ask away; that’s why you’re here.”
“I’d like to ask you about your brother.”
“Esa-Pekka. How did you find out about him so quickly? Simolin, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“He’s good at that sort of thing… Esa-Pekka was over ten years my junior. By the time he started high school, I was at med school. He was gifted, much more gifted than I am. He should have been allowed to live…” Vuorio turned to look at the picture of his wife, another dead loved one. “Do you know why he killed himself?”
“Your brother? Because of what happened at Daybreak.”
“What Särkijärvi did to him left a scar that never healed. I thought he had finally gotten over it when he graduated and got married… Guess what the worst thing about it was? I was so wrapped up in my work that I didn’t pay attention to what was going on with him. There were years when I only saw him at Christmas. If I’d have been the big brother I should have been, I’m sure he would have talked to me about it. I could have done something. I swear I would have; I would have cut Särkijärvi’s balls off; it doesn’t take me more than the flick of a wrist,” Vuorio said, slamming his fist against the armrest of his chair.
“When did you find out?”
“Not until after he started med school. I heard about it from Laurén. I brought it up with Esa-Pekka, but he refused to talk about it, even though I could tell he was suffering.”
“So you admit that you know Laurén?”
Vuorio glanced my way and grunted. “Why wouldn’t I? He was in my brother’s class at Daybreak.”
“Do you admit the rest, too?”
“What rest? Are you suspecting me of helping Laurén steal the body or conceal evidence?”
“Wouldn’t you, if you were in my shoes?”
“No doubt. How shall I put this… I respect you as an investigator, and I don’t want you wasting your time barking up the wrong tree. Roosa Nevala wasn’t killed; she committed suicide. She left Laurén a letter giving him permission to use her body for his purposes and burn it. You can have a clear conscience that I know nothing that would be of use in investigating the Marjaniemi murder, or any other murder, for that fact. And investigating anything else isn’t your job. I will only say this to you off the record. I’d like to retire with no fuss.”
“I can imagine you helping Laurén by, say, leaving the door open, but I can’t imagine you helping him carry the body up to the apartment. But someone did. One alternative is Moisio, the reporter who did the story on the disappearance of the body. What do you think?”
“Perfectly feasible, based on what I know about the man. For him, the news justifies the means.”
“So what are Laurén’s intentions, if he isn’t planning on murdering anyone?”
“To expose what happened at Daybreak. He’s using the media as a weapon, not a gun or a knife.”
I started getting impatient. “But the Marjaniemi case has to relate to Laurén one way or another.”
“I don’t know any more about it than you do; less, even.”
“Maybe someone doesn’t want what happened at Daybreak to come out yet?”
“Särkijärvi might be many things, but he’s not a killer. And if that were the case, Laurén is the one he should have killed, not Halme.”
“Maybe he followed Halme to try to get to Laurén but got caught and killed him.”
“That might make some sense if he weren’t in Brussels,” Vuorio remarked. He seemed irritatingly blasé for a man who had just admitted to having aided the bodysnatcher. On the other hand, he was aware of the position he was in.
“When was the last time you met or talked with Laurén?”
“About a week ago. He called to arrange a few matters. I told him I didn’t want to be involved in anything else from that point on.”
“He didn’t call today, after he escaped from us in Marjaniemi?” I asked, studying Vuorio’s face.
“No.”
“And you didn’t call him? Someone warned him.”
“It wasn’t me. Do you want to check my phone for the calls I made and received today?”
“No, not for the moment.”
“There’s something else I want to make clear. That conversation with Laurén a week ago had nothing to do with Halme.”
“But you knew Halme?”
“I met him at one of Esa-Pekka’s parties in college. I had no trouble remembering him, even after all those years. I was just as surprised as you were when I ID’d him this morning. He was shot with a .22, by the way – a rifle, I’d bet. Judging by the spot I found one of the shells at, the first shot was fired from a distance, over ten yards away and slightly concealed, which also indicates a rifle. The second was fired from a few dozen inches away to make sure he was dead. Those guns often have silencers these days. All you hear is the click of the firing pin.”
“You didn’t think any of this was worth telling me?” I said, trying for sarcasm.
“I was too surprised. And what could I have said? I met him twenty years ago at some shindig?”
“You didn’t suspect Laurén for a single moment?”
“No. They were friends. And Laurén would never shoot anyone. He hates guns.”
I stood and looked around. I could see a bookshelf through the open door to the study. “You have a lot of guns?”
“Half a dozen. A big-game rifle, a .308 for moose hunting, a bird gun, a couple of shotguns, and a .22. I have permits for all of them.” Amazingly, Vuorio had the restraint to keep from adding the question You don’t think Halme was killed with one of my guns, do you? “The guns are in a locked case. I can show them to you if you’d like.”
“No need. What do you mean by he’s using the media, not guns?”
“He has contacts in the press—”
“Moisio at Ilta-Sanomat, we know. So he means to go public with what happened at Daybreak. That was over twenty years ago. Who cares anymore?”
“Oh, people will care, if it’s offered in a pretty enough package.”
“Are the body’s theft and the funeral pyre part of that package?”
Vuorio considered his words carefully: “One could put it that way.”
I stood and stared at him. He had already taken shelter in the sanctuary of his memories, and wasn’t the least bit perturbed.
“You’re taking one hell of a risk. I have to talk to Huovinen about this.”
“Of course you do,” Vuorio said nonchalantly. “By the way, would you be interested in joining us for a goose hunt towards the end of the summer? It’s a gentleman’s sport.”
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