Below the Surface

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “It’s strange that so many of the people who insist that Russia return Karelia loudly oppose accepting refugees and immigrants to Finland,” Rauha continued once the server had left to fetch my coffee. “I would think they’d understand that few people leave their homes of their own free will and that they always want to go back.”

  My coffee arrived, and I warmed my cold hands on the cup. Rauha Smeds told me they were on their way to the movies.

  “Of course I could sic the tabloids on you police, but what good would that do? I didn’t choose to have my personal business discussed in public. Annukka Hackman didn’t understand that. She thought that everyone wants to reveal all their most intimate details to the whole country. What a strange idea.” Then, turning to her husband, she said, “Viktor, the show will be starting soon. And you still have to go—” Rauha cut her remark short and stood up briskly. As she helped Viktor out of his chair, I also jumped up, but Rauha shook her head. They would be fine. After they left, I called Puustjärvi, who was leading the search of Smedsbo Farm, and asked him to leave everything as tidy as possible.

  “This guy here’s been making a lot of noise. We’ve been thinking about taking him in.” The voice coming across the line now was Akkila’s, from Patrol. He’d apparently taken the phone from Puustjärvi. “And he’s obviously drunk,” he added.

  “Andreas Smeds? Don’t arrest him if you don’t have to,” I said. Akkila was known for his hair trigger and excessive use of force.

  I sat for a while sipping my cappuccino and watching passersby. The middle-aged women were all in a hurry, each with a family at home waiting for dinner or an aerobics class about to start. The teenagers traveled in packs, the adult men alone. The Somali women usually had two companions and a swarm of children. I didn’t feel like I belonged to any group, and that detachment felt good for a second. Then my phone started playing Antti’s ringtone.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m just getting a couple of bottles of wine,” I answered with unnecessary testiness. There was no escaping reality, and it was pointless imagining that I could. But right now I didn’t feel like I had it in me to cope. Antti’s present was a bust, but luckily I still had a couple of weeks. Maybe I’d be able to come up with an amazing idea yet.

  The world outside the brightly lit mall seemed especially dark. Parking structures had made me uncomfortable ever since I’d been forced to investigate a body found in one. I thought of Rauha Smeds’s talk of leaving and going into exile. I hadn’t remembered that the Porkkala lease was originally intended to last until 1994. Finland would have been completely different if the Soviets had been that close to the capital for that many decades. Nokia and Neste never would have dared to build their headquarters in Espoo, only six miles from a Soviet naval base, and the whole city probably would have remained a backwater suburb of Helsinki.

  I drove home and parked my car next to dozens of others, and breathed in the smell of the neighborhood: gasoline, cold air, and freezer-aisle pizza. During the rest of the evening I did laundry, sewed on missing buttons, and finally went through Iida’s clothes. The dresses that were too small would end up at the flea market—I didn’t think Taneli would be interested in flowery blouses and frilly bloomers in a few years. The kids were excited about the pile of clothes and demanded to play hedgehog under it. A steady bass thumping came from the unit upstairs: apparently the parents of the teenage boy who lived there weren’t home, so he could play his rap full blast for once. I tried to be understanding, since I’d been that age once and had enjoyed blaring my punk records to horrify my family. Still the constant beat irritated me. At least when I was a kid we had our own house, I thought. But buying a house in rural Arpikylä on two teachers’ salaries wasn’t any problem. Unlike in present-day Espoo.

  After Taneli fell asleep I opened a bottle of red wine, and after a few drinks realized why I was so agitated: I would have liked to be at the searches, especially at the Smedses’ place and Kervinen’s apartment. Hanging around at home when all I could think about was work anyway seemed like a waste of time. I wouldn’t survive this investigation without Koivu, but how could I suggest that Ursula be transferred somewhere else while the harassment allegations were being investigated? I managed to drink almost the whole bottle of Tollo before I finally forced myself to go to sleep.

  The next morning it was sleeting again, and my shoes got soaked in the day care parking lot. Taneli seemed like he was coming down with a cold, but Antti had to be in a project wrap-up meeting, and I couldn’t be away from work either. In the morning meeting Ursula sat in the front row and didn’t look at anyone, staring instead at the map of Espoo and Kirkkonummi on the east wall of the room, which we used to mark the central locations of all the cases we currently had open. Koivu sat as far as possible from Ursula, as did Puustjärvi. Puupponen was trying to talk about a movie he’d seen the night before, but nobody wanted to listen. Everyone seemed relieved when I moved on to business.

  Puustjärvi had been at the Smeds search and reported that Andreas had spent the whole time sitting in the kitchen draining a case of beer and yelling at the cops. The results of the search were slim. The Smeds had a license for the hunting rifle, and it hadn’t been shot in years. Our people had managed to go through a few of the disks they found, but none of them had any hint of Annukka Hackman’s manuscript.

  “We checked all the cars and outbuildings too, but no one bothered digging through the manure heaps or disassembling the milking machines. It’s amazing that Smeds’s brother could manage alone with the cows, he was so drunk. Maybe the animals don’t care about the smell, and the machine does the actual milking anyway,” Puustjärvi said.

  Our team hadn’t gotten into Suuronen’s home, though. Suuronen was still abroad and the property wasn’t part of any management cooperative that would have a key. I cursed myself for having let so many of my prime suspects leave the country. I’d really made a mess of this investigation.

  Lehtovuori had been at Kervinen’s place. “We confiscated all of Carcass’s diaries,” Lehtovuori said. “Very interesting reading. He keeps a list of all the people he opens up, with the cause of death and some really friendly comments. He’s a real perv. Do I have to read them all?”

  “I assume you looked at what he wrote on the day of Hackman’s murder?”

  “I did. It’s just empty. So is the day after that. And Carcass didn’t write anything about Hackman’s autopsy.”

  “Since he didn’t do it. How many diaries are there?”

  “Ten.”

  “Read the ones that tell about Hackman and Kervinen’s relationship first, and make me a summary. Heli Haapala is coming back to Finland today, as well as Jouko Suuronen apparently. Autio, let’s try that search again after the master of the house returns.” Knowing that Jouko Suuronen was going to jump on me for searching his house was the least of my concerns.

  “And Kervinen had a pair of size forty-one Nokian Kontio Classics,” Lehtovuori added. “Small feet for a man. We confiscated them. They’re at the lab right now.”

  I almost whooped with delight. The footprint comparison would take a couple of days, but with any luck they might even find some mud from the lake. A couple of pairs of boots had been brought back from the Smedses’ farm too. And the Jääskeläinens had another pair of size forty-one Kontio Classics, apparently Annukka’s old mushrooming boots.

  “How did Kervinen react to the search?”

  “He left. Said he was going to work. His sick leave had run out, and his bosses wouldn’t give him any more. But with the way his hands were shaking, I doubt he could hold a scalpel.”

  “Don’t want those Y-incisions turning into Xs,” Puupponen said, but no one laughed. It was as if the sleet had invaded our moods. Who had Ursula already told about Koivu’s alleged harassment? I wondered as I watched my team trudge out of the room at the end of the meeting. Gone were the normal joking and camaraderie. Had we even had a feeling of unity this fall, or was that just a memory of the p
ast, from the days before my latest maternity leave?

  During the meeting the department workplace safety officer had left a message on my phone. Jarmo Alavirta worked in the Traffic Division, and I only knew him from department meetings. Begrudgingly I returned his call.

  “Senior Officer Ursula Honkanen has made a report of repeated sexual harassment. She says she also reported the matter to her immediate superior, meaning you, but apparently you didn’t believe her or promise to transfer the perpetrator in question to another assignment.”

  “The perpetrator in question, meaning Sergeant Koivu, flatly denies the accusation.”

  “And you, as a one-woman judge and jury, decided to leave the matter at that?” Alavirta asked angrily. “A report has already gone to your superior and the chief ombudsman. We will be investigating both Koivu’s actions and your own.”

  “Go right ahead,” I snapped and hung up, wishing with all my heart that Puustjärvi had never confided in me. I didn’t want to drag him into this mess, but if things got bad enough I’d have to. A few minutes later, the unit’s secretary brought me a stack of preliminary investigation reports that needed signing before going to the prosecutor. I read all of them only to give myself something else to think about. Heli and Suuronen’s flight would land at eleven, and Autio would be waiting for Suuronen at the airport.

  At eleven thirty a knock came at my door. I knew from the style of the knock that it was Taskinen.

  “Maria, this is an order from your superior. You’re going to have lunch with me at the Rosso in Kauniainen. I’m driving.”

  “Right now?”

  “Well, I’m hungry at least. I woke up at six and ran fifteen kilometers.”

  “No bragging,” I said to lighten the mood, because I knew this wasn’t going to be a chitchat sort of lunch. When I stopped in the ladies’ room to touch up my lipstick, I was shocked to see how deep the furrows in my brow were. And my hair lacked any luster—it was probably time to visit the salon for a color touch-up.

  “Did you have a hangover Saturday?” Taskinen asked in the elevator, where there were others besides us.

  “No. Just tired.”

  “I did. First time in six years. I didn’t go running that day.” Taskinen tried to grin but failed.

  The restaurant was full, so we had to wait for a table. Taskinen told me what was new with Silja and asked if I knew any more specifics about Sasha Smeds’s condition. He waited until we were seated at a quiet window table and had ordered our pasta. Then, he got to the point.

  “So your subordinate Ursula Honkanen is accusing Koivu of sexual harassment and you for choosing to believe a man over a woman. Ursula just visited my office, and she’s prepared to make a lot of noise about this. She threatened to contact the press and the union if she doesn’t get justice.”

  “So what were her demands?”

  “Shelving Koivu until the incident has been investigated and then transferring him to another unit or department.” Taskinen poked at his salad. “This is going to get ugly. What did Koivu say?”

  “That the truth was exactly the opposite, and you saw it yourself at the Christmas party . . .”

  “Yes, I did. But you know as well as I do that we’re both Koivu’s friends, and you know that friends of accused sexual predators almost always say that their friend is a stand-up guy who would never do something like that. Do you believe all of them?”

  Our clam pasta arrived, and Taskinen started dumping parmesan on his. I wasn’t hungry, but I tried to eat anyway. Low blood sugar could make my hands shake so badly I had trouble pressing the buttons on my phone, let alone applying mascara.

  “Maybe it would be best to give Koivu a special assignment directly under me for a while. There’s always some office free somewhere in the building,” Taskinen suggested cautiously.

  “Hell no! We’re shorthanded enough with the Hackman case, and we’re getting nowhere. You were right about the house searches. We’re grasping at straws. Maybe we should just transfer the case to the National Bureau of Investigation.”

  I tried to use a spoon and a fork to shovel the slick tagliatelle into my mouth, but it escaped back onto the plate. Taskinen’s eating was much more elegant. He thought for a few minutes before responding, and I nearly lost patience with his stalling.

  “We can define the special assignment any way we want. You and I can design it. You could carve off part of the Hackman case and assign it to Koivu alone.”

  “But the transfer labels him guilty! Koivu asked me to save him from Ursula on Friday. He said she wouldn’t leave him alone. ‘She’s been glued to me all night’ were his exact words. I’m prepared to say that to anyone who wants to hear it, but maybe we should start with Ursula! And you don’t even know the rest of the story,” I said and groaned, knowing what I had to do. I proceeded to spill Puustjärvi’s secret. To my surprise Taskinen started to laugh. I’d never heard him laugh that way before.

  “Oh God, what a mess,” he finally said. “Should I pity Petri or be jealous of him? The first thing that comes to mind is Palo and his three wives. Or was it four?”

  “Just three.”

  “Some men have their hands full with one. Of course Terttu was waiting up when I came home from the Christmas party, and when she found that hair, you should have heard her. She blew a gasket. I tried to say we just danced, but that didn’t help. At least she had a reason to be jealous this time,” Taskinen snorted, showing an uncharacteristically cavalier attitude. I was getting the feeling I didn’t know my boss at all anymore. Fortunately he moved back to Koivu and Ursula, and together we came up with a plan that would do the least to smear Koivu or interfere with our unit’s work.

  “Tomorrow and Thursday I’ll be in Tampere lecturing at the academy,” Taskinen said on the way back to the station. “Terttu’s test results are supposed to come on Thursday, and I wanted to be there to support her, but I really can’t cancel my lecture. Can I call you Thursday night if I need to talk to someone?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” Jyrki’s right hand quickly touched my cheek before returning to the steering wheel. “And try to keep yourself together too. We’ve never had a homicide go unsolved, and you’ll figure this one out too. I’m betting before Christmas.”

  I sighed. “Let’s hope so.”

  I spoke with the heads of Narcotics and Robbery about some joint investigations until three, then was thinking about heading home early when my desk phone rang. The call came from within the building; apparently Lehtovuori was too lazy to walk down the hall. He’d been with the department for twenty years now and had never shown any desire to advance from senior officer to sergeant or to change units. He was a good foot soldier with more of an eye for technical details than human nature. He wasn’t at his best in the interrogation room, and I didn’t know whether he was the right person to have reading Kervinen’s diaries. But now he sounded excited.

  “Listen, boss, I was just reading some entries from around the time Hackman and Jääskeläinen got married. Apparently Carcass believed right up to the end that Hackman would choose him instead. It’s pretty embarrassing stuff—a grown man shouldn’t write things like that. But get this: when the wedding is all said and done, he writes the same entry over and over. ‘I’m going to kill her. I’m going to kill Annukka.’ Should I pull him in for a grilling?”

  13

  “Oh, a ‘special assignment,’ is it?” Koivu said angrily. I’d called him into my office while I waited for Kervinen.

  “Right. You’ll continue working on our profile of Annukka Hackman, contacting her family and friends and old coworkers. And you’ll assist me in interviews as necessary. We’ll start with Kervinen as soon as he arrives at the station. Your office will move to the third floor. Jyrki promised some old cleaning closet. It doesn’t have a window, but you’ll have a desk and a computer.”

  Koivu shook his head. “This is a nightmare. How can I tell Anu?”

  “You haven’t told her ye
t?”

  “No. Juuso’s been up at night again, and Anu hasn’t been able to sleep for a couple of days.” Koivu looked a little ragged himself, and no wonder. I wouldn’t be able to sleep either if I had a sexual harassment accusation hanging over my head.

  “Ursula threatened to go public, so it’s best to tell Anu before she reads about it in the papers. Or do you want me to tell her?”

  “No, I’m man enough to do it myself,” Koivu said in exasperation, then went to move his things.

  Man enough. Hopefully I’d never have to ask my own son if he was man enough for anything. The phrase was positive in the sense that a man should be upright and trustworthy, and take responsibility for his actions. But there was plenty of darker baggage tied up in it—and the norms of masculinity—too.

  I could imagine how Anu would hit the roof when she heard about the accusations against her husband. I’d blow up too if Antti was mistreated that way. Gender didn’t matter—you defended the people you loved regardless.

  I looked out my office window to see that the sleet had stopped and the moon shone, looking as delicate as tissue paper. It was almost full and made me long for a walk in the forest. In the city the moon had too much competition. I remembered the fields around our old house, where Antti and I had skied before the children and the beltway came. When was the last time Antti and I had done anything fun together just the two of us? I couldn’t remember.

  When word came that Kervinen was waiting in Interrogation Room 4, I called Koivu and picked up the diary Lehtovuori had brought me. The death threat was repeated dozens of times, the last one only three days before Annukka Hackman’s murder. As usual, Kervinen also reported on the bodies he had examined during this time, but the lines describing his private life were more revealing.

  Annukka called and it was like before. She wanted to meet on Wednesday at Tapiontori Restaurant. She must have finally realized that Atro Jääskeläinen is a loser. He couldn’t even get Sasha Smeds to work with her on her book, and that book is Annukka’s big dream. Annukka asked what I know about DNA. I know everything about DNA if Annukka is the one asking, and what I don’t know I’ll find out. I’ve been right to wait.