My First Murder

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “What does Peter do for a living?”

  “He’s an economist with KOP Bank on the securities side, but he hasn’t worked for almost a year. He’s actually a professional yachtsman these days.”

  “He must be away sailing a lot. Don’t you get lonely?” I was trying to disguise my desire for information in false friendship, but I imagined that Pia probably saw through it.

  “Yes. He’s been away a great deal this year. He will have been gone half the summer for this one race. And I don’t want to fly from one port of call to another. Traveling alone is so dreadfully boring, and there are the time changes to deal with and everything. I’d rather be home and try to get my thesis done, but it is wretched. I’m sorry that Peter has to travel so much, but he’s got all these sponsorship agreements he’s obligated to fulfill these days.”

  “Tommi was probably good company for you, then. What was really going on between you two? A lot of people keep dropping hints about your relationship being more than a friendship.”

  “That’s all it was, at least as far as I was concerned!” Pia swung her arm so violently that tea splashed on her spotless white bathrobe. “I liked spending time with Tommi. I have no idea why he suddenly started hanging on me so much last spring though. After Christmas at our choir retreat, he always wanted to dance with me and he claimed he was sick of entertaining the new children in the choir. All spring he acted like he was infatuated with me. Whenever we went to a bar after rehearsals, he came and sat next to me. He walked me to the bus stop. Sometimes he even came home with me. And he asked me out to movies and concerts and dinner when Peter was away. You must know how miserable it is to always go out alone or just with other girls?”

  Now it was Pia’s turn to look at me with disingenuous intimacy in her eyes. The misery in question was foreign to me, because hardly a week went by when I wasn’t sitting alone in the corner pub, and I preferred to go to the movies solo than with a companion who made loud comments at the wrong moment and endlessly rustled his popcorn. But what point was there in telling that to Pia?

  “Peter can be a little bossy sometimes. He knows what he wants. And that’s what I fell in love with. He’s a man of the world. Tommi was...different. He let me decide what we did and where we went.”

  A new trait in Tommi, I noted. Until that moment, I had thought he was pretty bossy too.

  “If Tommi hadn’t turned all lovey-dovey, we could have had so much fun. Peter didn’t have any problem with my going out with Tommi either. He meets beautiful girls on his trips. It comes with the territory. It’s OK to be friends with men too.” Pia sounded defensive.

  “But Tommi wanted to be more than a friend?”

  “He started to claim he was in love with me!” I noticed that when Pia became overwrought, a North Karelian twang slipped into the refined urban dialect she had cultivated. “At first I didn’t believe him—everyone knows his reputation, after all—but little by little I started to think it was real. And of course he flattered me.” Pia swung her glossy brown hair back with a smile. “There would have been other takers too. In any case, it’s nice to know that men don’t consider you completely dead erotically, even though you’re married. And I thought it was only right that he was getting a taste of his own medicine for once.” Pia smiled wickedly, and for a second I almost liked her. “But sometimes it was irritating.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it was like he couldn’t believe I didn’t want to cheat on Peter with him! He started pushing too hard. He even barged in here one night, supposedly because he felt so lonely. I didn’t have the heart to turn him away because he looked so pathetic, but then he thought...but I didn’t want to...” Pia blushed with a modesty that amused me.

  “Did he threaten to tell Peter that you had slept with him?”

  “Not really. But once when he was drunk, he asked, ‘What would that Marlboro mannequin of yours say if he knew I had spent the night in his bed?’ But I wasn’t in the bed at the time. I was on the sofa in the guest room,” Pia said quickly.

  “Did Tommi want to break up your marriage? Do you think he might have fallen for you just because you didn’t fall for him?”

  “Probably. That was exactly the kind of guy he was—he wanted everything for himself, especially whatever was hardest to get. And sometimes I got the sense that he may have been jealous of Peter. I imagine Tommi would have liked to be as good a sailor as Peter and Henri, but even he couldn’t be the best at everything. Maybe he wanted me because I was Peter’s. But I’m not as stupid as Sirkku was. I never would have made myself dependent on Tommi.”

  “Did Tommi blackmail you?”

  Could it be Wahlroos money that I had found in Tommi’s account? But Pia’s expression didn’t even flicker. She poured me more tea and answered with a shake of her head.

  “No. He threatened to occasionally. But I guess in the end he believed there wasn’t anything Peter didn’t already know. And he wouldn’t have been able to break up our marriage. I love Peter. We want the same things out of life. I’m graduating this fall, and after that we want children. I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. And I don’t want to go teach Swedish in some elementary school. Peter wants just the kind of wife that I am. I wouldn’t have wrecked my life for Tommi.”

  My first impression of Pia had been that she was a fragile and coquettish sort of girl, a porcelain doll. It was clear that I had missed the mark. She was offering me exactly the information she wanted to, and she didn’t see any reason to hide that money was everything to her. She might even be willing to kill someone to preserve her standard of living—but had Tommi ever threatened that?

  “There were all sorts of rumors going around in the choir, and Sirkku was far and away the most enthusiastic gossip. You were at rehearsal on Monday. I’m not a particularly amazing singer, but Tommi made me believe I could do something beautiful, if I just didn’t get flustered. He said I had a pretty voice...” For a moment, the corners of Pia’s mouth trembled, and she looked like she was choking back tears.

  “You just said you weren’t as stupid as your sister. I’ve heard several different versions of her stupidity. She told me herself that they had a passing fling on a trip, but someone else claimed that Sirkku was really serious about Tommi. What do you think?”

  Pia rotated the rings on her fingers again. There was no doubt that the small, glittering stones embedded in them were diamonds. For all I knew, those rings could have paid off all my student debt.

  “Sirkku was pretty immature back then. She’d been dating this guy Jari since high school, but that had begun to wear thin. Jari still lived in Joensuu, which is where we’re from, and I guess he wasn’t sophisticated enough for Sirkku anymore. I remember when we were in Germany in the restroom of this one bar, Sirkku and I were doing our makeup side by side and someone said that we looked exactly alike. Sirkku looked at me a little spitefully and said ‘Pia has always been the family beauty.’ Then she went on to tell me that if her romance with Tommi lasted, I could stop tooting my own horn about my fancy boyfriend. Poor Sirkku didn’t realize that Tommi just wanted to show Jaana that he didn’t give a damn about her romance with Franz.

  “When we came back to Finland, Sirkku broke it off with Jari. Our parents were terribly disappointed—they had considered Jari a potential son-in-law. He was an electrical engineer in the same construction company where our father is a carpenter. Our mother is a nurse’s assistant. To them, an engineer is practically royalty. We’re the first to go to college in our whole extended family.”

  “So Tommi really humiliated Sirkku? It sounds like she may have had reason to be angry at him.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I think the infatuation passed pretty quickly. And what reason would Sirkku have for being bitter anymore? Things are going well for her. She’s dating Timo now, and before him there was another guy she knew from college.”

  The wind was whipping drops of rain against the large picture window. Despite the length of the d
ay at this time in the summer, it was almost dark outside, and the combination of the boats banging against the dock and the gloom made it look like autumn. The world Pia was describing made me feel cold inside.

  “How did Sirkku and Timo’s romance begin, then?”

  “It began at that same choir retreat when Tommi started to hover around me. I think Timo had been interested in Sirkku for a long time. Sometimes I get the sense that he worships her. And Sirkku encourages him.”

  “What does Sirkku see in Timo?”

  “Maybe Muuriala Manor.”

  “Muuri...What?”

  “Muuriala Manor. You’ve seen Muuriala herbs and lettuces in the grocery store, haven’t you? Despite his common last name, Timo is a future Lord of the Manor. He isn’t swimming in money yet because his father is of the opinion that a young man should earn his own way. That’s why he’s selling tractors these days, though there would be plenty of work for him at Muuriala too.”

  That explained a lot, including Timo’s posh digs. He might be as stiff as a hay pole, but if he was plated in gold, he might be husband material. I had met Peter once too. I could have gobbled him up even without the gold coating, though he was a bit self-important for my tastes.

  “If Timo worships Sirkku, he must have been jealous of Tommi?”

  “Yeah, his face turned red whenever he saw one of the Germany pictures where Tommi and Sirkku had their arms around each other. He didn’t care for Tommi much otherwise either. But if you’re implying that he might have killed Tommi because of that, I don’t believe it.”

  I didn’t either. But Timo could easily have had other motives.

  “I called the boat today, by the way...The Marlboro of Finland that is. The Peltonens called Henri in the morning and told him about Tommi. Hopefully it won’t ruin their race. They’re still in the lead in their class.”

  I sensed that Pia didn’t want to let me leave. I had stopped asking questions, but she went on chattering about this and that. Maybe it was gloomy being in that big house all alone. I wondered whether she and Mira had any friends outside the choir.

  It was already ten o’clock by the time I made it home. I had stopped at McDonald’s on the way, and devouring the greasy grub on an empty stomach sapped the life out of me. I passed out on my bed in the middle of a mystery show and dreamed restless dreams.

  11

  But in dreams how dear it is to say

  My fantasy of a leisurely Sunday morning spent slowly drinking my coffee as I lounged with the newspaper was just that—a fantasy. The phone rang before six, and I was soon off to interrogate a rapist and interview his victim. I guzzled my coffee on the run, crammed down half a yogurt and an orange, and then smeared waterproof mascara on my nose in the rush, which I then had to spend an eternity scrubbing off. I wished I had an understanding wife who could be waiting with a pressed shirt and sack lunch for me. As it was, I had to settle once again for the tight blouse with the precarious button, which now boasted sweat stains in the armpits, and hope that I would be able to sneak in a damp vending machine sandwich or a slice of cold delivery pizza at some point later in the day.

  Koivu, who had been awake for the better part of twenty-four hours by then, gave me the basic rundown of the rape. He had been at the Kaivohuone Club until four. “I came straight from there to the station because I got some information I wanted to jot down right then—which I’ll get to in a minute—and then I got roped into this rape investigation.”

  Koivu no longer looked especially young or fresh after being up all night, but he was clearly pleased with himself. Despite my morning wooziness, I was curious. Koivu said he had already typed up the report and left it on my desk. The rape victim had just come from the doctor and was waiting for me in the hallway, so I sent Koivu home to get some sleep. He promised to call me that afternoon.

  The girl, Marianna, was young, barely eighteen.

  “Can’t I go home yet?” she asked, on the verge of tears. Her shiny black stockings were torn, her miniskirt was smeared with mud, and her face still bore the remnants of her makeup, though she had clearly tried to wash it off. There was a bruise on her cheek and another had formed at the corner of her eye. She looked cold, and I realized that she too had been awake all night. I started the dictation recorder, since there was no one to take notes. Someone could transcribe it later.

  “Hi, I’m Detective Maria Kallio. We’ll try to get through this quickly so you can get home to sleep. I have your initial statement here. We also have the results of your examination. Would you like some coffee and a sandwich?”

  “Do you have any tea?” the girl asked barely audibly. I wondered whether the police examiner had the sense to give her any sedatives.

  I asked the duty officer to bring tea and sandwiches. In the meantime, I asked the girl a series of routine questions about her life in an effort to get her to trust me. Marianna was from Kouvola. She was about to enter her last year of high school and was working at the Hietaniemi cemetery this summer. She had been out partying the night before and returned to her summer apartment in Vallila on the last bus. She bought a hamburger from the hot dog stand next to the bus stop.

  “This guy was in line ahead of me...Maybe he was on the same bus with me. I don’t remember. So he was standing there waiting for his hot dog, trying to talk to me, but I was tired and I wanted to get to bed...Then he grabbed my ass and said something about my cute miniskirt. I told him to get his hands off me, and he left. After getting my burger, I headed through the park and forgot all about him. Suddenly he jumped out of the bushes and asked if he could walk me home. I told him to get lost, but he just started walking along beside me and began calling me all kinds of names...I was a whore because I was wearing a miniskirt and earrings, that sort of thing. Then he grabbed me and threatened to kill me if I didn’t let him...you know.” The girl swallowed her tears and glanced fearfully at the bearlike duty officer who plunked a cup of tea—spilling some—and a wilted bologna sandwich down in front of her.

  “Put a lot of sugar in your tea,” I suggested as I took a sip of my own. The girl obediently dropped four lumps of sugar into her cup and took a sip. She frowned and then continued.

  “So he pushed me against a tree and started pulling my skirt up and undoing his pants. That was when I finally realized what was happening, and I started to scream. I remembered there had been people at the hot dog stand. He tried to strangle me and poke...like, you know, himself...inside me and tried to hold me in place, and I think I bit his chin. But no one came. So he finished doing his thing, even though I was shouting and fighting the whole time, but then we heard the sirens...I guess the guy at the hot dog stand called the police. And then they got him. He climbed a tree, but one of his shoes fell off—” The girl suddenly started to laugh hysterically. She was shaking with cold, and I gave her my jacket.

  “Yeah, it looks like we’ve got him in a holding cell.” Mixed in with the other preliminary investigation papers that had appeared on my desk was the rapist’s rap sheet. He’d already been convicted twice for the same crime, and had gotten off first with a fine and then with a suspended sentence. “This is a simple case. You don’t even need to identify him. The doctor’s statement will come in due course. Rape is a complainant offense, so you have to decide whether you want to press charges or not. You don’t have to decide now,” I explained in answer to the girl’s frightened eyes. “I imagine you probably want to put the whole thing behind you as quickly as possible, but I recommend that you go ahead and press charges once you have the energy to think about it. You aren’t this man’s first victim. Maybe he’ll go to prison this time.”

  “Would I have to go to court? Would I have to pay for a lawyer?”

  I explained the trial process to her, though I didn’t know how much of what I said got through to her in her current state. She looked frightened, tired, and very young. I thought of myself at eighteen. Would I have made it through a rape without going off the deep end?

  “I...I
don’t want my parents to know about this...’cause they would just yell at me about my going to bars and walking around in clothes like that...” The girl wiped a tear off her bruised cheek and then flinched at the pain.

  “Listen, Marianna. In the last rape case I investigated, the victim was a sixty-year-old woman who was on her way home from a meeting at the Salem Pentecostal Temple in Hakaniemi. Idiots like this don’t look at your clothes or anything else. Even if you were stumbling down the street dead drunk and naked as the day you were born, no one would have the right to rape you.” I was clearly getting too worked up. “Do you have someone you could call to stay with you today? A friend maybe? I can take you home now if there’s a car available.”

  “Well, there’s my oldest sister...She probably won’t get all preachy.”

  I let Marianna use my phone, and then took her home in the department’s most beat-up Lada.

  “You were very brave to scream and fight and then still have the energy to make it through the doctor’s exam and these interviews,” I said. I wanted to cheer her up, but she suddenly burst into hysterical sobbing.

  “What if he has AIDS? Or what if I get pregnant? That doctor was so big and rough that I didn’t dare ask him anything. He just gave me a pill and said it was emergency contraception and told me to take a couple more.”

  “They’ve done all those tests on you, and on the rapist. As soon as the results come in, I’ll give you a call. Was the doctor rude to you?”

  “His exam...hurt...And he asked me all kinds of things, like when I had last been...with a guy. And I have never been...He probably thought this was all my fault.”

  I knew the police physician, Pekka Nieminen, and I could imagine that a gynecological exam with him might almost feel like a second rape. While we had been investigating the previous sexual assault, the language Nieminen used had infuriated me. I tried to assure Marianna that what happened wasn’t her fault, and I gave her the numbers for the Abuse Victims Alliance and the rape crisis group. When she looked uncertain, I also gave her my own phone number and told her to call any of the numbers on the list if she needed to talk to someone. I felt horrible about leaving her alone in her apartment—her roommate was away—but she said that her sister would be there soon.