Before I Go

by Leena Lehtolainen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2000 by Leena Lehtolainen

  Translation copyright © 2017 Owen F. Witesman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Previously published as by Ennen lähtöä by Tammi in Finland in 2000. Translated from Finnish by Owen Witesman. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2017.

  Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781477822999

  ISBN-10: 1477822992

  Cover design by Cyanotype Book Architects

  CONTENTS

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  THE COPS

  Maria Kallio Commander, Espoo Violent Crime Unit

  Kaartamo Deputy chief of police

  Jyrki Taskinen Director, Espoo Criminal Division

  Ilkka Laine Commander, Organized Crime Unit

  Pekka Koivu VCU detective, Wang’s boyfriend

  Lähde VCU detective

  Ville Puupponen VCU detective

  Petri Puustjärvi VCU detective

  Pertti Ström VCU detective (deceased)

  Anu Wang VCU detective, Koivu’s girlfriend

  Eija Hirvonen VCU administrative assistant

  Mikko Mela VCU trainee

  Hakala Agent, National Bureau of Investigation

  Jukka Muukkonen Agent, National Bureau of Investigation

  Jukka Airaksinen Patrol officer

  Haikala Patrol officer

  Makkonen Patrol officer

  Liisa Rasilainen Patrol officer

  Mira Saastamoinen Patrol officer

  Yliaho Patrol officer

  Hakulinen Forensic technician

  Himanen Assistant medical examiner

  Dr. Kervinen Medical examiner

  THE POLITICIANS

  Aulikki Heinonen City Council chairwoman

  Eila Honkavuori City Planning Commissioner

  Petri Ilveskivi City Planning Commissioner

  Reijo Rahnasto City Planning Commission chair, city councilman

  Johanna Rasi Espoo Green Party chairwoman

  THE CROOKS

  Hannu Jarkola Salo gang member

  Õnnepalu Prison inmate, Salo gang member

  Pirinen Skinhead, Väinölä crony

  Niko Salo Prison inmate, drug kingpin

  Marko Seppälä Thief, fence

  Mikke Sjöberg Prison inmate

  Jani Väinölä Skinhead

  SUPPORTING CAST

  Antti Sarkela Maria’s husband

  Iida Sarkela Maria’s daughter

  Einstein Maria and Antti’s cat

  Ari Aho Prosecutor

  Turo Honkavuori Eila Honkavuori’s husband

  Jukka Jensen Lauri Jensen’s partner

  Kirsti Jensen Eva Jensen’s partner

  Lauri Jensen Architect

  Eva Jensen Psychiatrist

  Kim Kajanus Eriikka Rahnasto’s boyfriend, Petri Ilveskivi’s lover

  Laura Laevuo Author

  Tommi Laitinen Petri Ilveskivi’s partner

  Eriikka Rahnasto Reijo Rahnasto’s daughter

  Katri Reponen Prosecutor

  Joel Sammalkorpi Reijo Rahnasto’s defense attorney

  Suvi Seppälä Marko Seppälä’s wife

  1

  The first blow came as a surprise. Petri hadn’t noticed the figure standing to the side of the path. He was late for his meeting, and he was preoccupied with an argument he had just had. The blow knocked Petri off his bike and cracked his helmet, but it didn’t knock him out. Then a metal pipe struck him in the face and broke his nose.

  Petri wasn’t one to give up easily. Though he was short and slender, he was more agile than his leather-clad opponent. A sharp kick to the shins threw his attacker off balance but only resulted in making the bludgeoning more violent. Petri tried to get to his feet.

  Then the attacker pulled out a knife. Petri had only made it to his knees by the time the blade came at him. He screamed as it sank into his left shoulder. For a moment the visor of the attacker’s motorcycle helmet was level with his own face, and Petri saw his own terror reflected in it. Then the attacker pulled the knife from his flesh and stabbed him again.

  The last sound Petri heard was the triumphant song of a chaffinch in the nearby woods. By the time the motorcycle’s engine started up, he had already lost consciousness.

  2

  No matter how hard I tried to stop them, tears ran down my cheeks. I had never learned to dice an onion without crying. When I heard my phone trill, I fumbled blindly for it.

  “This is Maria Kallio.”

  “Hi, it’s Koivu.”

  “Hey! Wait just a sec. I need to dry my eyes.” I set down the phone, turned off the stove, took the frying pan off the burner, and blew my nose thoroughly.

  “Were you watching The Bold and the Beautiful?” Koivu asked when I picked up the phone again.

  “No, just chopping onions, you twit. I’m making a smoked-salmon sauce.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to leave the cooking to Antti. We’ve got an aggravated assault in Latokaski—no info on the perp. The victim is in surgery, and there isn’t much hope that he’ll survive. Anu and Puustjärvi are combing the area, and they need backup.”

  “Got it. Go ahead and call in Patrol and try to get ahold of Lähde. Where are you?”

  “At the station. I’ll be heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Jorvi Hospital? I’ll be there within the hour.”

  I hung up the phone, turned the burner back on, and switched on another one. Best to get the pasta cooking. The sauce wouldn’t simmer as long as it was supposed to, but that couldn’t be helped. I hadn’t had time for lunch, and the four miles I’d run after work had sapped the last of my blood sugar. Without some food, I was going to be useless.

  I threw some minced garlic in the pan along with the onions and cooked them in a rich extra-virgin olive oil until translucent. The zucchini and cold-smoked salmon were ready in a matter of minutes. I wasn’t a master chef by any means, but my pasta sauces were decent. After dumping the pasta in the pot, I tossed the salad and added some crème fraîche, pink pepper, and a splash of white wine to the sauce. Then I went to call my family to dinner. Antti was in the yard pruning an apple tree that had barely survived the winter, and our daughter, Iida, was building a castle for her dolls out of rocks and mud, which she had also managed to get all over her face.

  “Time to eat!” I yelled. By the time Antti got Iida cleaned up, the pasta would be done. Einstein, our cat, slipped inside. He’d smelled the salmon and knew he would get whatever Iida dropped.

  “Do you want some wine?” Antti asked as I tied on Iida’s bib.

&n
bsp; “No. Koivu called. I have to go in to work.”

  “Too bad. It’s really nice out. I thought we could go for a walk,” Antti said as he poured himself a generous glass of wine.

  “I shouldn’t be long. I have a meeting in the morning, so Koivu probably just wants to make sure he has all his ducks in a row,” I said, then continued in a whisper, “It’s an aggravated assault.” Though Iida was only two and a half, I tried to avoid talking about work in front of her. Even on TV the only shows we let her watch were Teletubbies and Tiny Two.

  After hurriedly eating, I put on a more professional shirt and checked to make sure my ponytail wasn’t crooked. My official Saab looked ridiculously shiny and new in the driveway of our run-down rental. The road was rutted from wintertime wear and tear, and the freeway construction had transformed what had been the view of fields and trees. On the side of one of the front-end loaders at the construction site, someone had spray-painted “tree killers” in big red letters. Oddly enough, damaging a machine could get someone a stiffer sentence than hurting a person.

  Jorvi Hospital was quiet, but every now and then there would be a flurry of activity, and then a siren would start as an ambulance took off. Koivu was waiting for me in the lobby. He was six foot two and built like a hockey defenseman. His brown eyes were tired, but his expression brightened when he saw me.

  “Howdy, boss! Ilveskivi is in surgery. His prognosis isn’t good. Serious spine and lung injuries, and one of the stab wounds perforated his pericardium. His heart stopped in the ambulance, but they managed to revive him. Besides the knife, a blunt instrument was used, maybe a metal pipe.”

  “So we have the victim’s identity?”

  “Petri Olavi Ilveskivi, born April 1962. He’s a furniture designer, and he’s also on the City Council.”

  “That’s why the name is familiar. He’s openly gay too, if I remember right.”

  Koivu nodded. “No criminal record himself, but some skinheads attacked him and his boyfriend just before the last elections.”

  I vaguely remembered the incident, but I had been on maternity leave at the time. Ilveskivi and his partner had had their arms around each other on a bus late one night, which apparently irritated a gang of skinheads so much that they got off at the same stop and beat both men.

  “This is going to be a big case,” Koivu said. “Forensics is on the scene, and Anu and Puustjärvi are interviewing the jogger who found him. Lähde and Mela are canvassing houses around the area until nine. The place is a little out of the way, and a whole pack of elephants went through the crime scene before we got it cordoned off. The paramedics thought reviving him was more important than preserving evidence.”

  “Was Ilveskivi robbed?”

  “His wallet with cash and cards was still in his jacket pocket. There was also a briefcase by his bicycle.”

  “Strange. Did that earlier attack result in any convictions?”

  “All of them got fines, and the leader of the group was already on parole so he ended up finishing his sentence in the slammer. He’s been out for a little over a year. I’ve already asked Patrol to bring him in first thing tomorrow. Eija is pulling together everything she can find on Ilveskivi.”

  “At Christmas there was an article in Z Magazine about how Ilveskivi and his partner were celebrating the holidays.”

  “How do you remember things like that?” Koivu asked.

  “Occupational hazard,” I said with a laugh. Having a good memory for names had served me well in all sorts of investigations, and I tried to keep it up.

  Koivu’s phone rang.

  “Koivu.” Pause. “Oh, hi.”

  Based on Koivu’s tone of voice, I could tell the caller was Senior Officer Anu Wang, our unit’s other female detective and Koivu’s girlfriend.

  “Motorcycle? Harley or roadster? . . . OK . . . Ask them to come to the station tomorrow to look at pictures . . . At Jorvi with Maria.”

  Koivu hung up the phone. “Anu and Puustjärvi found a dog walker who claims to have been surprised by a motorcycle speeding on the walking path a little after five. No motor vehicles are allowed, and she tried to get the license plate number, but apparently something was smeared over it.” He paused. “Let’s find the nurse who called about Ilveskivi.”

  We set off for the surgical ward. The waiting room there was empty except for a heavyset man hunched over in the corner with his face buried in his hands.

  “I’m guessing that’s Tommi Laitinen. I’ll go talk to him. Come back here once you’ve spoken with the staff,” I said, and then walked over to the man sitting in the corner. He was wearing light-khaki trousers and a dark-blue corduroy jacket. His brown loafers were carefully polished, and his sandy-brown hair was thinning on top.

  “Tommi Laitinen? Detective Maria Kallio, Espoo Police. Are you up for answering a few questions?”

  A few seconds passed.

  “Not now,” Laitinen finally said without moving his hands from his face.

  I sat down across from him. I had done this before. Conducting an interview under the circumstances would have been cruel, but I knew that Laitinen might need someone he could talk to.

  “Do you want me to call a friend or a relative?” I asked, but Laitinen didn’t seem to hear me. So we just sat, Laitinen with his head between his hands, me thinking about the story from Z.

  I recalled that Ilveskivi and Laitinen had been together for fifteen years and engaged for the past ten. The couple dreamed of having a child. Laitinen, who was around forty years old, was a kindergarten teacher.

  In the magazine photo, he had looked like exactly the kind of jolly rogue kids love, but now all I saw was his thinning hair. His hands were broad, and the onyx stone on his engagement ring didn’t look out of proportion despite being quite large. The round eyeglasses sitting on the bench must have been his.

  We sat in silence for five minutes. Then the door opened, and Koivu marched in with two men in surgical gowns. When I met Koivu’s eyes, his face was set and he shook his head.

  “Mr. Laitinen,” the older of the doctors said once they reached us. “I’m sorry to have to inform you that your . . . that Petri Ilveskivi passed away on the operating table. Please accept our condolences.”

  Laitinen sat quietly for a long time. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were full of anger.

  “I’m not leaving until I see Petri!” Laitinen grabbed his glasses, stood up, and started walking toward the door Koivu and the doctors had just come through. Instinctively I took his arm. He was short, not even five foot seven, but he was strong. I couldn’t hold him myself, and Koivu came to help.

  “Wait. Let them get him cleaned up.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that Petri was beaten to death? I want to see what they did to him so I can do the same thing to those pieces of shit!”

  I felt Laitinen shaking, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Even though he was completely hysterical, I couldn’t help asking, “Who do you mean ‘those pieces of shit’?”

  “The fucking skinheads! They’ve just been waiting for a chance to get to him.”

  “Have they threatened him again?”

  “We were getting anonymous phone calls until last fall when we switched to an unlisted number,” Laitinen said, now calmer.

  “The police are looking for them right now. We’ll get them,” I said, trying to comfort him. Laitinen had stopped shaking, and Koivu and I both let go of him.

  “I can take you home,” I said. The hospital staff had done their job. Now it was our turn.

  “I just can’t believe he’s dead. If I could only see him . . .”

  I looked at the doctor, who nodded. “Yes, you can go see your friend.”

  I felt the shaking start again, and then Laitinen bellowed, “Petri was my husband!”

  I followed Laitinen. I had seen enough bodies in my life to not have to worry about having a big reaction. I wasn’t afraid of the dead, just the living and what we are capable of doing to one another.
<
br />   Laitinen rushed into the recovery room where the body had been taken. When he saw the figure lying on the gurney, he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. A nurse pulled the sheet aside, revealing only the swollen, blood-smeared face. He stared on mutely, trembling as he wept. After a few seconds, he walked over to the gurney and gently touched Ilveskivi’s cheek.

  “He’s still warm,” Laitinen whispered and pulled his hand away. If this had been a body at a crime scene, I would have asked him not to touch it, but that was pointless now. During the autopsy, the medical examiner would look for any evidence of the attacker, but finding any would be a matter of chance. I would have liked to check Ilveskivi’s hand, to see if anyone had looked at his nails yet, but this wasn’t the time for that.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Laitinen, who gave a whimper. Suddenly he took my arm, and we walked back to Koivu in the waiting room.

  “The doctor went to his next surgery. I’ll get a statement from him tomorrow,” Koivu said.

  “We can take you home or to a friend’s house,” I offered again.

  “Home,” Laitinen said faintly.

  We walked out together into a cool spring evening that smelled of budding birch trees. I opened the passenger-side door for Laitinen, and Koivu crawled into the backseat.

  The house was only a few blocks from the site of the attack, a small residential area the Violent Crime Unit rarely had reason to visit. Single-story row houses sat on exposed bedrock, surrounded by well-kept trees and shrubs. The copper plate on the door read “Ilveskivi and Laitinen.”