Lumikki was the odd girl out at the sauna. Most of the regular visitors were old. Some of them wore knit hats in the steam of the 250-degree sauna, and all of them wore official Winter Swimming Club slippers. Lumikki hadn’t bought a pair yet. The grandmas and grandpas generally called her “the girl.” That suited her just fine. Lumikki had never seen anyone else under twenty at the sauna. Occasionally, groups of thirtysomething men or women came for noisy bachelor or bachelorette parties.
Usually though, the swimming hole, kept open year round by water left running from a hose, was quiet. Serious swimmers lowered themselves into the frigid water without any squeals or groans. They took a few strokes and then climbed out, standing on the patio of the sauna building for a while, letting their skin steam. Lumikki loved that moment. Seldom in her life had she experienced anything that could be called holy, but when she had visited the sauna one evening a week before Christmas with lanterns burning on the patio and stars shining in the sky and every cell in her body feeling completely awake after her swim, a strange gratitude had overwhelmed her, a mixture of longing, melancholy, and joy that contained a kernel of holiness. That moment was her Christmas mass, gazing at the stars and the spruce trees, heavy with snow, standing solemn and immovable.
But while the occasional dip in an icy lake was good for your health, lying in a freezer was not, under any circumstances. Thirty-two-degree water was different than a zero-degree coffin.
Right now, Lumikki wished she hadn’t listened quite so carefully in health class. She forbade her brain from thinking about all the things lack of oxygen would do to her. She just had to focus on getting the lid open. It was all the same whether she moved her extremities too much or used up the oxygen in the freezer too quickly. She was either going to get herself out of here or she was going to die.
Her legs were like frozen tree trunks.
Sucking in a deep breath, Lumikki tensed every muscle in her body and pushed, pushed, pushed.
The lid budged a little. Too little. Lumikki’s strength faltered, and the lid clamped shut tight again.
Tears welled up uncontrollably in her eyes even though the last thing she wanted to do right now was cry. She just felt so hopeless. Having everything end here was just so stupid and pointless. She didn’t want to die. Just when her time in Tampere had started making life feel worth living again.
Snow White in a glass coffin. Sleeping her eternal sleep.
No, she refused to let someone else write her story.
Lumikki thought of the girl she had been. That she was now. She had never given up. Not even in the darkest moments.
She adjusted her position a bit. Squeezing her eyes tight shut, she concentrated all her strength in her leg muscles. She hadn’t done all of those squats and lunges and leg presses and uphill sprints for nothing.
Muscles burning? Let them burn. Pain is just weakness leaving the body. And now for one more round. Sing along with the music if it helps!
Once more, Lumikki pushed and pushed and pushed. Her quadriceps shook. Pain burned in her thighs. Strange patterns flashed behind her shut eyelids.
She felt the lid lift. She didn’t give up, showing her muscles no mercy. She heard the crates shifting. She heard them tip off and fall to the floor. She heard the glass breaking.
A ripple of tinkling glass like fairies ringing enchanted bells. The sweetest sound in the world.
Now she could stand up and push the lid open completely. She was trembling with cold and exhaustion. Red wine and glass shards covered the floor. Pulling her high heels back onto her feet, Lumikki climbed out of the freezer. High heels did have the advantage of only letting a very small portion of the sole touch the floor. Carefully placing her feet between the shards of glass, she cautiously moved toward the door.
Only now did she realize that she could have called for help. Maybe someone would have heard.
But that had never even crossed her mind. She had never called for help.
Boris Sokolov looked on as the other revelers began to relax more and more. He slowly sipped Jack Daniel’s, his favorite whiskey. Polar Bear had remembered. Sokolov wasn’t working now, so he could concentrate on whiskey and the nice view. Beautiful women—he was always happy to look at that. There was a touch of melancholy in his watching, though, since he knew he was old enough to be these women’s father. One of them might keep him company for a night or two, but it wouldn’t amount to anything serious. Sokolov’s chance for a normal, long-term relationship had long since passed. Dozens of lonely years with Jack as his only real companion loomed ahead of him.
Polar Bear wanted to keep anything illegal out of these parties. A perfectly reasonable precaution. If the police did happen to raid one of them eventually, no one would get nailed for anything. This river of liquor was perfectly legit.
Sometimes Sokolov hated drugs. Yes, they gave him a job and a comfortable life. A nice house without any neighbors too close. Influence. Women. And he wasn’t too good to refuse a couple lines of high-grade stuff, given the right opportunity, though he had never had any interest in shooting up.
But drugs also filled his life with constant stress. He had to make sure shipments arrived in Finland. He had to handle distribution, keep dealers in line, find new clients, and worry about old clients running their mouths. He always had too many irons in the fire. Balls were always falling on the floor.
Before, it was enough just to keep all the other Sergeis and Jorges and Mahmuds and Petters off his turf, but now he had to compete with the .com’s and @hotmail’s too. Designer drugs had caught up with normal ones and in some places galloped past. And to get those, all you had to do was sit down at your computer, go to some illegal website in the Netherlands, enter your order, and wait for the mailman to arrive. Fighting them was hopeless.
Polar Bear’s idea that their target group was the rich, beautiful, and successful was great, but impossible to implement in practice. In order to make ends meet, they also had to deal to people who were so bottomed out that they could only pay in cash. Who had already sold their laptops or traded them for heroin. Whose bank transactions Social Services and their parole officers watched like hawks to make sure they were staying clean. Who didn’t have the option of ordering online.
If the business hadn’t been so dangerous, Sokolov wouldn’t have needed to kill Natalia. In his own way, he had cared about her more than he’d ever admitted to himself. He’d even looked the other way when Natalia and Väisänen got together, despite the fact that it was a risk.
Boris had justified this leniency, telling himself that the relationship with Natalia was one more weapon in the arsenal of blackmail he might need to unleash on Väisänen at some point in the future. The stupid cop who swore he was done. He’d see about that. Boris was sure that Väisänen would come crawling back, begging to be let back in the game. And Boris would agree, of course, but with certain conditions. They had been letting their pet narcotics detective live a little too high on the hog. Väisänen had looked surprisingly sincere when he claimed not to have received the money. Maybe he was even telling the truth. Maybe someone had stolen the plastic bag from the yard that night. Boris didn’t care, though. The money had been delivered to Väisänen, so Boris wasn’t going to cry himself to sleep over it. The more important thing was that Väisänen seemed to be over it too. In the future, he wouldn’t be getting nearly such hefty payoffs.
If Natalia had just stayed in line. She’d had a good, secure future ahead of her. The possibility of rising to be Boris’s right hand. But she’d gotten restless and started to daydream. Boris had seen it happening, sensing the change in her face and tone of voice. He’d only needed to take one trip to Moscow and Natalia’s brother had confessed his sister’s entire plan.
Boris could have stopped Natalia simply by not leaving the money at his house. But he’d wanted to test her, to measure her loyalty. The gauge had swung to the minus side, even though he held out hope until the very end that she would come to her senses. Na
talia hadn’t left him any alternative to elimination. It was a shame. Boris had so hoped that of all the people in the world, Natalia would’ve been the one not to disappoint him.
The Jack Daniel’s slid down his throat, smooth and warm. Still, Boris had to swallow a couple of extra times.
He would get rid of the body the next day.
Tonight was no time for dirty work.
Midnight was fast approaching. The party had turned louder and more restless. Music thundered. The drinks had morphed from wine to spirits. Women’s makeup was beginning to smudge. Men were loosening their ties.
It wasn’t quite time to cut loose completely, though, to throw out all sense of propriety and just drink as much free booze as possible, start picking fights, and disappear upstairs to “rest.” The climax of the evening was yet to come.
The arrival of Polar Bear.
That was why Lumikki had stayed too. After escaping from the freezer, she had slipped into the ladies’ room, removed her evening gown, and, standing over the toilet, drenched her arms and legs with warm water from the handheld bidet sprayer. Gradually, the feeling returned to her hands and feet. Then she dried herself off with hand towels, pulled her dress back on, and fixed her makeup, which had remained in remarkably good shape. Maybe Elisa really should consider a career in cosmetology. She’d succeeded in conjuring war paint for Lumikki that not only withstood eating and drinking, but also freezing.
To the angry women lined up outside the bathroom door, she simply raised her eyebrows without saying a word.
Really, Lumikki could have left. She had accomplished her mission. She knew that Elisa’s father was working with a drug dealer named Boris Sokolov. That he’d been giving Sokolov information and hiding information from the police in exchange for money. She also knew that the body of a woman named Natalia lay in a freezer in the basement and that Boris Sokolov had killed her. The information would most likely be enough to land Sokolov in jail. And Elisa’s father too, of course, but that couldn’t be helped.
But still, Lumikki stayed. Her curiosity would never be satisfied until she saw this mythical, legendary figure everyone spoke of in hushed tones. So she continued her tour of the fantasy rooms, which seemed to go on and on without end.
One room was completely pink. It probably would have been Elisa’s favorite. Or maybe not, Lumikki realized after a few seconds. She felt a slight nausea when she noticed that, hidden among all the marshmallows, unicorns, rosebuds, and frilly pillows, there were various pink sex toys ranging from delicate whips to enormous dildos. Adult fairy tales for every taste indeed. Lumikki removed herself quickly as an intertwined couple staggered into the room, looking like they might start using the goodies on offer at any moment.
The closer it got to midnight, the more electric the atmosphere became. Everyone was waiting. Everyone was keyed up. With ten seconds left, the countdown began. All the guests had gathered in the large ballroom on the second floor. People jostled and shoved.
Ten.
Glancing around, Lumikki saw Terho Väisänen nervously fidgeting with an empty glass.
Nine.
The music was turned down and then off.
Eight.
The lights dimmed. Only the stars projected on the ceiling remained.
Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three.
Suddenly, Lumikki almost burst out laughing, thinking of the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, a sensible teenage girl who just happened to walk into the school darkroom at the wrong moment.
Two.
People weren’t yelling the numbers out anymore. They said them calmly, respectfully.
One.
Darkness swept over the room. Everyone fell silent. A muffled jingling like the sound of distant sleigh bells became audible. From the ceiling, flakes that looked like real snow began falling. When Lumikki touched one of them, it fell to dust.
Suddenly, powerful spotlights illuminated the center of the room.
Two women. Both in Snow Queen costumes. That name fit them a thousand times better than poor frozen Natalia. Identical twins. They had somehow appeared out of thin air. Lumikki couldn’t guess their age. They could just as easily have been twenty as fifty.
The ballroom erupted in ringing applause. The women waved majestically. Then Lumikki noticed that one of them was wearing a silver pendant in the shape of an ice crystal. The other woman’s pendant was a silver bear.
Ice and a bear. Ice bear. Polar Bear. Not one person, two. Who were still just one, singular.
The women waited for the crowd to calm down. Then they began to speak, switching back and forth so fluidly that Lumikki couldn’t be sure which one was talking at any given moment.
“Winter is a time of enchantment. That’s why I wanted the theme of this celebration to be fairy tales. Dreams, fantasies, and nightmares. These are the ingredients of fairy tales. You are all here because I wish to thank you. You have participated in creating a dream. A dream of a society more elegant, more efficient, more purposeful. For us, limits are made to be exceeded, rules to be changed, norms to be challenged. Celebrate! For one moment, forget the narrow boxes and expectations of the world outside. This is all for you. Life is for you.”
There was nothing concrete, nothing to grab hold of in what the women said. They spoke perfect English without an accent. Even if Lumikki had been carrying a recorder, she wouldn’t have gotten anything incriminating. What were these women involved in? What dirt did they have on all these party guests? How many of their businesses were criminal?
Looking over the adoring crowd, Lumikki understood that she’d probably never know. Polar Bear’s real activities were like the fake snow falling from the ceiling. If you tried to grab hold of them, they disintegrated and disappeared.
She would never have a chance against these people. And the twins themselves might simply be a facade. No one would catch them. No one could do anything to them.
What Lumikki could do, though, was put Boris Sokolov behind bars. The events that began with the bloody cash in the darkroom could come full circle. That would be enough.
Now she wanted to go home.
“I don’t need a looking glass to tell me you’re the fairest woman at this party.”
Hot breath wafted against Lumikki’s ear, and firm hands grappled at her waist. Lumikki swore to herself. Her tormenter had found her again and succeeded in capturing her in a surprisingly tight grip just as she was intending to leave. She could smell from his breath that he had imbibed more than a few rounds of cognac. Lumikki could tell from the heavy-handedness of his grip that she had no hope of wriggling free. It would only attract unwanted attention if she tried.
“I was starting to worry that you’d disappeared. That would be unacceptable. We were interrupted so regrettably,” the man whispered, pressing his broad carcass against Lumikki’s back.
At least two hundred pounds, Lumikki guessed. Might be surprisingly strong when provoked. Time for a different tactic now.
“You haven’t gone cold on me already, have you?”
Fortunately not, Lumikki thought.
Turning around, Lumikki looked the man in the face. His eyes were bloodshot. He had left his tuxedo coat somewhere. Large, dark patches ran outward from his armpits across his powder-blue shirt. His tie was a little loose. With a gesture full of false self-assurance, she took hold of the man’s tie, drew her mouth to his ear, and whispered, “Let’s go upstairs and see if this story has a happily ever after.”
Then she nibbled at the man’s earlobe, forcing down her disgust. She could play this role too.
A satisfied blush spread across the man’s face, and he licked his lips.
“What are we waiting for?” he asked.
As she climbed the stairs, Lumikki could feel the man’s constant gaze on her back. Trying to escape would be pointless. Her legs were trembling a bit, but she forced herself to swing her hips invitingly as she walked. What would it be like to ascend these stairs ahead of someone she really wante
d to be with, to pull a door shut behind them and lock the rest of the world outside? The smell of sunscreen and warm skin. Laughing as she ran up the wooden steps of the boat dock at the cabin. Footsteps following steadily. Tingling in anticipation as she listened to them come.
Reminiscing was pointless. Last summer was an eternity ago.
Now was now, and she should do this.
Lumikki led the man to a free room, in the middle of which was a large wrought iron bed. She shoved the man down on the mattress. It was important to be as self-assured and bold as possible.
“I knew you were a wildcat! But that’s okay, I’ll tame you,” the man said, beginning to pull his trousers off while still lying on the bed. Lumikki shut the door and turned the key in the lock with a click. Then she sashayed toward the man, who tried to grope her with his sweaty hands.
“Tsk-tsk, kitty wants to toy with you first, remember,” Lumikki said, pushing the man down.
To Lumikki’s relief, his drunken eyes lit up. He was at her mercy, at least for the moment. Lumikki climbed onto the bed and straddled her victim, who immediately began stroking her thighs hungrily.
“What’s this . . . ?” the man asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as he found the GPS tracker.
Oh shit. Swiftly, Lumikki grabbed the man’s hands and forcefully pulled them up toward the headboard.
“Now be a good boy,” she whispered, holding the man’s wrists with her left hand while she dug something fluffy and pink out of her purse with her right.
“Oh, so you’re into bondage?” the man said with a grin. Lumikki snapped the handcuffs shut around his wrists and fastened them to the iron bed frame.
“Not really,” she replied and stood up. “But I hope you are.”
It took the man a few seconds to realize that Lumikki had no intention of returning to the bed. When it finally dawned on his cognac-clouded brain and an enraged roar erupted from his lips, it was already too late. Lumikki locked the door from the outside.
As Red as Blood (The Snow White Trilogy) Page 15