“We suspect that Laurén’s deeds and potential future deeds reach back to long-past events.”
“What has he done, then?”
“That’s confidential information as defined in police investigation law.”
“You received the student rosters you requested; what else do you want?”
“Back in the day, an association called the Sacred Vault existed at the academy. The members were students. What do you know about it?”
“Not much, because it was a secret society, and they weren’t allowed to talk about it with outsiders. I guess some of the boys were fascinated by it, in the same way forbidden fruit is fascinating. Downright childish, to be honest. But the Vault ended back in the late ’80s.”
“We want the names of the members,” Stenman said.
“Little lady, I’d be more than happy to tell you if I knew. Aside from Laurén, the only one I know is our new bishop, Kaltio, but you’ve already been in touch with him. These days he views the Vault with amusement more than anything else.”
Word travels fast, I thought.
“Who else?”
“Moisio, the attorney, he was on the Academy’s board of directors for a couple of years. But he’s already dead. I think that’s about it—”
“What about bank manager Kai Halme?” Stenman asked.
“Oh yes, and him. He attended our last student reunion, five years ago.”
“He was in your class, wasn’t he?” I said.
Hätönen grew grimmer. “I meant that was the last time I saw him.”
“Were you aware he was shot two days ago?”
“No, I had no idea. Who did it?”
“We’re looking for the killer. We have some indications that it might have been a former student of Daybreak.”
“Hundreds of students have come through Daybreak’s doors. I still find it hard to believe—”
“I heard there was bad blood between yourself and Halme due to a broken-off engagement.”
“He was a skirt-chaser and seduced any woman in sight given half a chance,” Hätönen said, lips tightening.
“Including your fiancée?”
“Yes. Since then I’ve come to think of it as a lucky break. I learned what sort of woman she was before it was too late.” Hätönen tried to produce a smile and failed miserably.
“Does the name Leo Anteroinen say anything? Or Lars Sandberg?” I asked.
“I believe you already asked about Anteroinen. I don’t know what’s true and what’s gossip, so I prefer not to comment. He worked for us for some time under the previous headmaster. Apparently he was forced to resign due to various allegations.”
“Didn’t your predecessor Headmaster Kivalo tell you anything about it?”
“Why would he have? Those unpleasant events were already two decades old by that point. No memoranda on the subject exist, so everything is just talk – and as you well know, talk has a way of getting distorted over the years.”
“Were you in contact with Headmaster Kivalo after he retired?”
“A few times. Of course, he also attended several student events. I was very sad to hear what happened to him. He enjoyed living in Spain so much.”
“Did you ever meet him there?”
“In Spain? No. Wrong direction for me. I prefer Lapland.”
Stenman picked up the ball: “Other members of the staff were also mixed up in these ‘unpleasant events.’”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that. I’m all ears.”
“Didn’t you witness an incident of sexual abuse?”
“Absolutely not. Apparently you’ve heard the kinds of rumors I try to avoid perpetuating.”
Arguing was pointless, so I moved on. Hätönen was already glancing at his watch. “Daybreak turns 100 in a week. Are you planning a big celebration?”
“You could say so. We have a lot to celebrate.”
“Who will be attending?”
“Present and former students, the leadership of the Church of the Redemption, several prominent church figures all the way from the US. Two local MPs have promised to attend. There will also be some higher-ups from the Department of Education, and then of course the Minister of Education is coming. He has agreed to speak.”
“What about former teacher and social worker Vesa Särkijärvi?”
“He’s another former member of our Daybreak community of whom we’re particularly proud. He holds high office in the EU these days. He has also promised to speak.”
“So you have his phone number. I’ll go ahead and take it,” I said.
Despite Hätönen’s apparent reluctance, he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. He pulled up the number from his contacts list and then stood, sternly tapping his watch. “Time flies. I have to get going.”
We watched him head for the restaurant, where a throng had already gathered at the door. I could almost see the wake he left behind him in the air.
“Slimeball,” Stenman said, once Hätönen was out of earshot. I agreed. I had no trouble picturing him behaving exactly the way Laurén had claimed, denying having witnessed any abuse. The code of silence.
“I wonder if we shouldn’t have a word with His Holiness Bishop Johan I,” I mused.
“Wouldn’t Särkijärvi make more sense? If he thinks he’s a target, he might be more amenable to talking than the others.”
“Sure. But he’s not in Finland yet.”
“Ari!”
The cry came from behind us. When I turned to look, I saw Rea approaching. She was wearing a black skirt, gray blazer, and mid-heel pumps, and her hair was up. I’d never seen her dressed for work before. It suited her; she looked efficient. I would have hired her on the spot.
She glanced at Stenman. “What are you—”
“Here for work. What about you?”
“An incredibly dull seminar. When you go through the trouble of coming to such an uninspiring place, the least you can expect is for the seminar to be interesting. Who were you here to see?”
“It has to do with the case I’ve been telling you about. We were asking about a few names.”
I noticed Rea and Stenman eyeing each other.
“It must be quite the case, since you’ve already canceled on me twice because of it. You don’t know what you missed out on,” Rea said and smiled. She had a beautiful smile and suggestive eyes. I’d caught myself wondering one day what could be wrong with her, since she’d never been married. She did have a couple of long-term relationships behind her. Her most recent boyfriend had been German.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Sergeant Arja Stenman; Arja is my subordinate. Rea Friede.”
They shook hands.
“I see you haven’t found the right title for me yet,” Rea said, still smiling. “I have to get going if I’m going to eat before the tedium continues.”
“I’ll call you tonight,” I promised in a panic.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Rea excused herself with a wave and made for the restaurant. If I wasn’t imagining it, she was exaggerating the rock of her hips.
“Nice-looking woman,” Stenman remarked a moment later. “Are you two dating?”
“Feeling things out.”
“Is she Jewish?”
“Yes.”
“Does it matter?”
“No, not to me, but I guess it doesn’t hurt either. At least not in the minds of the Jewish community.”
Stenman’s query gave me the opportunity to get up to speed on her status. All I knew was that she had divorced her entrepreneur husband when he got caught selling fraudulent invoices. She had two children approaching adolescence.
“What about yourself? Are you dating? You don’t have to answer.”
“No. I think I’ve set the bar a little too high. And kids scare men off.”
I didn’t dare go any further.
Just as we were climbing into the car, a text message arrived from Huovinen: Can you meet at 4? I tapped out an affirmative response.
“No. His sick leave lasts another week.”
“The divorce was hard on him.”
“You may be right.”
“It’s funny,” Stenman said, smoothly changing lanes. “Even though he’s not a superstar, he fills a funny gap in our team. I don’t know how else to put it.”
I thought about Stenman’s words and had to admit she was right. I didn’t know myself what Oksanen’s particular competence consisted of, but there was something there.
I managed to reach Särkijärvi in Brussels before my meeting with Huovinen. According to his secretary, he’d been running from meeting to meeting. He seemed busy now, too.
“Kafka, was that the name?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m looking for an individual named Reijo Laurén. Can you help me?”
“Absolutely not. Why would you make that assumption?”
“But you do know him?”
“If it’s the same Reijo Laurén. One of my former students was a Laurén, but that was over twenty years ago.”
“It’s the same individual. We learned he has a grudge against you and have come to the conclusion that he might have threatened you.”
“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t take it seriously. He suffers from psychological problems. What does that have to do with the police? What he needs is treatment.”
“We’re searching for him as part of an investigation involving the deaths of two former Daybreak Academy employees: the headmaster, Kivalo, and Leo Anteroinen, who was the maintenance man.”
“Yes? I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“You’re scheduled to attend the academy’s centennial, and we suspect Laurén is planning some sort of ambush at the party.”
“Ambush?”
“According to him, you sexually abused him and other children during your time at Daybreak.”
Särkijärvi’s laugh was forced. “As I said, he has serious psychological problems. That’s why I haven’t wanted to involve the police… and still don’t.”
“When was the last time he was in touch with you?”
“About a month ago. If I can be candid, he suffers from obsession and delusions. He’s been treated for acute psychosis. Unfortunately, I have to go. I’m expected at a committee meeting and as chair, I can’t be late. If I were you, I’d take what he says with a grain of salt. Analyzing it is a job for a psychologist, not a detective.”
I’d been expecting Huovinen to have company, but I was still surprised. He was at the table in our little break area, chatting away blithely with Oksanen over coffee.
“The prodigal son has returned, and his sins have been forgiven,” Huovinen said.
I stood there, literally gaping.
“Sit down and I’ll explain.”
I took a seat next to Huovinen.
“We received a photo from the Vantaa Police yesterday, taken by a traffic enforcement camera on Ring Road III. They sent it to us because the car caught speeding was registered to one of our personnel. In other words, it’s Jari’s car.”
I wondered why Huovinen still seemed to be in a good mood.
“But according to the photograph, it was someone else driving the vehicle.”
“Who?”
Oksanen jumped in. “The guy I was telling you about. Who was nice enough to give me a ride home from the bar when I’d had one too many.”
“Oh, him,” I said, flabbergasted.
Huovinen’s glee intensified.
“So was he drunk, then?”
“No. He just didn’t want to be seen in the company of a cop. He’s a gray-zone guy, one of my best informants. I’m going to tell the same story if the case goes anywhere. I got another piece of good news, too: that lady withdrew her extortion complaint. So I’m looking like a pretty clean-cut kid.”
“What do you say, Ari?” Huovinen asked me.
“Sure.”
“But the school of hard knocks did teach me that I’m going to spend less time fiddling around with cars and quit looking for thingamajigs while I’m on the clock. I also apologize for all of the inappropriate things I called you.”
Oksanen’s expression was so apologetic that I had to laugh. “When are you coming back to work? I could use you.”
“It feels like my back pain and burnout just ended. How about tomorrow?”
“That’s settled, then,” Huovinen said, standing up.
“I have a work-related matter I need to talk to you about. I couldn’t just kick back and relax totally,” Oksanen said, following me. “I met with that guy, the heir who got into a legal battle with the foundation.”
“The foundation?”
“The B. E. Kajasto Foundation, the one that donated over thirty million markkas to the Daybreak Academy. Son’s name is Leif Kajasto. Lives in Vantaa and works at the airport fire station.”
“Let’s step into my office.”
Once inside, we continued.
“I’d left him a message to call, and he did. So of course I went to meet him. We hit it off. Leif told me his pops had transferred his whole fortune to the foundation, more or less, after which the foundation’s rules had been changed so that the real estate and wealth owned by the foundation would be used solely to support and develop Daybreak’s activities. The board got to decide how the funds would be used. Two weeks after the old man made the will, he died in a car crash. The car was being driven by Sandberg, the foundation’s CFO, who had also been elected to the board.”
“Wow,” I gasped.
“Then Leif was called in to work because some alarm light had come on during an incoming passenger flight. We agreed that next time we met, I’d bring the boss along.”
“Fantastic.”
“Should I set something up right now?”
I nodded.
Oksanen tapped at his phone and assumed a relaxed position. “Hey, Leif. Oksanen from Homicide here. You in a bad spot? You said we could meet again and I could bring my boss along. When do you have time?… Good, wait a sec, I’ll ask my boss. What works for you?” Oksanen asked me.
“Whenever.”
“Whenever, we could come right now… right on, we’ll head over in a sec.”
We met at the café at the airport service station. It was popular among cab drivers waiting for their shifts to start.
Leif Kajasto showed up in his firefighter’s uniform. He was a big man, a little over fifty, who looked as if he’d taken his share of Antabuse courses and had just as many ahead. His skin was blotchy and his eyes were watery.
Oksanen stood to shake his hand. I stood up, too.
“I gave my boss a little bit of background. You can tell him the rest.”
“Promise me you’ll put those Holy Roller frauds up against the wall.”
“Absolutely,” Oksanen promised glibly.
Kajasto started off by telling us a little about his father. The old man had grown up the heir to a large farm and had made his fortune off of land and real-estate deals, then invested his money in ships. The war and fear of death had made him turn to God. When he was at the front, he promised that if he were allowed to live, he’d dedicate the majority of his wealth to doing good to his fellow man. He miraculously survived an intense artillery barrage, so after the war ended he made good on his promise. He set up a foundation in his own name that focused primarily on funding youth outreach and paying for the education of underprivileged youths. The old man didn’t pull back from his business activities, either; he just kept getting richer. In the mid-1970s, after being diagnosed with lung cancer, he decided to focus on his spiritual work. That’s when he found the Church of the Redemption, whose worldview matched his own. Around the same time, he had a falling-out with his only son, Leif.
“Dad wanted me to go to high school at Daybreak. I had zero interest in moving to the countryside. All my buddies lived in Helsinki. I dropped out after junior high and went to vocational school. That was the last str
aw for Dad. He wanted me to study economics or theology; there were no other alternatives. After school I worked a few years down at the shipyards. Then I applied to a firefighting course the City of Helsinki had organized. Dad wrote me off.”
“Do you suspect anything fishy about your dad’s death?” I asked.
“I’m not going to go and to say so publicly. Dad would have died of cancer within a few years anyway, but the way everything went down was a little too convenient for Daybreak. After that, no one came around telling them how to spend their money.”
“Didn’t the foundation’s board monitor expenditures?”
“The guidelines were so vague and the board consisted of Sandberg, who was CFO at the time, Daybreak’s headmaster, a staff representative from Daybreak, a lawyer named Henry Silén, and some reverend from the Church of the Redemption.”
“Do you remember the teacher’s name?”
“Kärki, Särki…”
“Särkijärvi.”
“That’s the guy.”
“As his son, you should have been entitled to your legally mandated share of the inheritance.”
“Should have, if there had been an inheritance. Dad’s wealth had gradually been shifted over to the foundation. By the time he died, all he had was the farm in Mäntyharju, the apartment in Helsinki, and a few hundred thousand in his bank account. The farm was willed to the church as a youth camp. I got the apartment.”
“How big was his estate?”
“A cautious estimate would be at least thirty to forty million markkas. I got pissed off and hired a lawyer who had a reputation as a real shark. He requested a police investigation for embezzlement, because in his view Silén, whom the foundation had named as investment adviser, had invested a significant portion of the money contrary to my father’s instructions. Three of the city’s most ruthless attorneys were facing off there, and you can guess how that ended. My lawyer withdrew the request for investigation, I got a million marks for my pain and suffering, he billed me a hundred grand, and the foundation got to keep the rest. Last I heard, the money is long gone. Not too many pennies went to their intended purpose.”
“Who were these three ruthless attorneys?”
“My lawyer was Veikko Ojanne, already dead and gone. Daybreak’s investment adviser was a lawyer, the Henry Silén I was just talking about. His attorney was Heikki Moisio. A complete scumbag. I would have punched his lights out if I’d had the chance. Moisio’s dead, too. I heard he was a junkie who talked too much about a client. There was an article about Silén a couple months ago in the paper. Said he’d mysteriously disappeared. Someone suspected that he skipped town after losing his own money, along with his clients’. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
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