“You’re a lot cuter now than you were during school,” he said, wrapping his arm around my neck. Angrily I pushed it off.
“Beat it, douchebag!” Koivu had jumped to his feet before I could open my mouth. Maukka glanced at him in dismay and obeyed, assuming Koivu was defending his territory.
I downed the rest of my anise liqueur. Guys just like that had defined my value as a woman when I was in school. Assuming the right to judge my looks or the way I lived my life, leaving me feeling for years as if I wasn’t good enough for anyone. Scar Town indeed.
“Thanks,” I said to Koivu. “He wouldn’t have taken me seriously, at least not the first time.”
“I thought I should intervene before you clocked him and I had to arrest you,” Koivu said with a grin.
Once at the Old Student House in Helsinki, he and Antti had witnessed me sock a guy in the nose for patting my rear end at the bar.
We stayed at the Copper Cup for one more round.
Miss Miranda’s second performance got the audience a little more excited, and one man even jumped on stage with her. Always at the ready, Antikainen and Hopponen pulled him off, for which Miss Miranda rewarded them with sensuous kisses. I’d have to check whether kissing violated the bar’s entertainment permit, but what would my police colleagues say about that? The performance wasn’t as amusing the second time, and I was bored by the time she took off her thong.
“Should we go? I have half a case of beer at home,” I said once the crowd finished trying to get Miranda back onstage.
A waitress came to bus the empty glasses, and I overheard the party at the next table ask her, “Are you up next, Maija? I don’t know though, your boobs might hang too low.”
I would have slapped them in the face with my washcloth if I were her, but the waitress simply turned to our table without a word. I could see that she was on the verge of tears though.
Smacking a twenty-mark tip down on the table, I decided to read the disorderly conduct and entertainment license statues first thing Monday morning. Maybe there was still something I could do to ban stripping here. How would that be? I could have a reputation for being a floozy and a tight-ass all at the same time.
When we left the bar, a crescent moon was just emerging from behind the clouds directly above the Tower. Its phosphorescent glow seemed brighter than usual, making all the stories about gnomes hiding in caverns under the earth seem believable.
Koivu started talking about Anita and her skinhead again. He was having a hard time accepting that he would have to interview him again.
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to be impartial. I’m probably going to unload on him the next time he says something about inferior races coming in and meddling with Finnish women.”
“Do you think he’ll go to jail?”
“No. He’s the kind who makes other people do his dirty work. He does have a record—a couple of assaults—but that probably won’t be enough. Anyway the Somalis were here waiting for their asylum applications to get processed, and that’s over for sure now. So the skinheads achieved their goal.”
“You aren’t turning into a refugee-lover on me, are you?” I said with a grin.
“If I have to listen to that racist garbage much more, I’ll definitely turn into one,” Koivu said.
A taxi took us to the farm, where Mikko was waiting proudly in the yard. I had left him outside on purpose, and he had obviously done well fending for himself, since the entrails of one small animal and a half-eaten mole were waiting on the stairs. After living with Einstein for six months, I had learned not to feel sorry for cats’ prey. I ate meat too, and I knew that Mikko was expecting commendation not disgust.
“I’m hungry too, by the way,” I said as we walked inside. Three drinks had given me a happy buzz, and I was still wide-awake because I had slept in so late. “Let’s get some bread and beer and have a little meeting. I have more information on the murders you haven’t heard yet.”
Koivu didn’t seem as eager to try solving murder cases at midnight, but he agreed to listen to me chatter.
After I had told him everything I knew, except about Kaisa’s love for Meritta, he said, “And the key? Does that have any significance anymore if Jaska already gave the evidence to the murderer?”
“I could tell you if I knew what it opened. It could be anything. And there’s still the paintings. I’m sure they mean something, if we just knew how to interpret them.”
Taking the key and note out of my bag, again I read the lines Jaska had scrawled:
Hi, Maria. If you’re reading this, something happened to me. It’s Meritta’s. She said she didn’t dare keep it herself so she gave it to me. It’s supposed to be valuable. Jaska.
“It’s been a week and we still don’t have any idea who did this. I hope another body doesn’t turn up.” I sighed after staring at the note so long the letters started to melt on the page.
Maybe it was Johnny. He had a fight with his dad, so why not with Jaska too? And what was the meaning behind his call in the middle of the night?
We kept coming up with increasingly convoluted theories until Koivu looked so wasted I sent him off to bed. My own sandman seemed to have lost his way in the woods again and didn’t return until three o’clock.
At ten thirty in the morning, I woke up to Koivu turning a church service up full blast on the radio. A choir with trembling voices sang: “Drawn by Thee, our souls aspiring, soar to uncreated light.” I walked into the living room and turned the music down.
“Hey, don’t! I like that song.”
Koivu had already had time to make coffee and fetch the newspapers. The county paper had a small story saying that the investigation into the two murders in Arpikylä were continuing apace and that the police were looking for a certain person of interest for further questioning. There was no mention of Johnny’s name though. According to Detective Sergeant Järvisalo, it appeared likely that the same person was responsible for both killings. I wondered how he was supposed to know that. Did they already have results back on the fiber analyses?
At noon I dropped Koivu off at the nearest bus stop and promised to come help him move that night if needed.
The rain had started up again during the night, keeping up a steady drizzle well into the day. Somehow the tiny, muffled droplets against the window sounded refreshing. I was feeling fairly upbeat, so I thought I might go for a run. While I was washing the breakfast dishes, my eyes fell once again on the key Jaska had sent me, which I had left on the table in the living room the night before. A small copper key to some old-fashioned lock. But what lock?
It was funny because a key just like that could fit the secret compartment in Uncle Pena’s dresser that I had tried in vain to open. It looked just the right size, and the copper had the same patina of wear as the lock. Even though I felt stupid, I decided to try. Marching to the old dresser, I first opened the upper drawer and then the secret compartment inside.
I inserted the key into the lock.
It fit.
I turned the key carefully.
The lock opened.
Why the hell did Meritta have the key to my uncle’s chest of drawers? I suddenly felt as though the air had been knocked out of my lungs. My hands didn’t want to cooperate as I fumbled open the compartment and peered inside. Larger than I had expected, it could have fit a pair of shoes.
But inside the secret compartment there was only a single thick, sealed envelope without any address. Lacking the patience to steam it open, I used a bread knife. The contents of the jam-packed envelope spread over the living room table in a colorful hodgepodge: papers with small dense text that I recognized as Uncle Pena’s handwriting, and then occasionally larger, breezier writing, perhaps Meritta’s.
Had they had a secret relationship after all? My dad had hinted as much. But no, these weren’t love letters. This was something else entirely. Most of the documents were city council and other meeting minutes. A couple of the memos were dated only two
days before my uncle’s stroke. What the hell? Had Uncle Pena actually been the murderer’s first victim?
In addition, the envelope contained photographs of black tunnels and a map of the caverns below the Old Mine, copies of contracts related to the lease of the mine, and a report on Kivinen and his wife’s holdings in other companies.
Quickly reading through the papers, I copied down the most important information in my notebook. The county’s white-collar crime team could go through the originals in more detail later. Closing the box again, I hid the key at the bottom of Mikko’s litter box. And then just to be sure, I poured a whole fifteen-pound bag of kitty litter over it. While I was smoothing that out, I remembered the beginning of a thought that had flitted through my mind yesterday night just before Maukka had disturbed us at our table.
That had to be it.
I needed to see Meritta’s canvases at the police station one more time. And then…I didn’t want to think of the difficult task before me, so I began preparing like I might for an athletic event. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and put on my action clothes: a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, a loose denim jacket, and old sneakers.
Jaska had been right. The key had been important. Dangerous and important. I couldn’t take any risks. Best to pick up at least one partner from the police station to go with me.
As I was opening the front door, the phone rang.
“Hi, Maria. It’s Johnny.”
Johnny’s voice was slow and low, as if coming from somewhere far away.
“Listen, this is important. Come to the Old Mine, to the door that leads from the museum tunnel to the lower caverns. I’ll be there. Don’t tell anyone if you want to save me from a murder charge. I need your help, Maria!”
Just as two nights before, the line went dead before I could say anything. Staring at the handset, I reviewed everything that had flashed through my head one more time. What I saw didn’t look good. Things were probably much worse than I had thought.
15
As I drove into town, I thought frantically about what I should do. Going to the Old Mine alone would be one hell of a risk. But bringing backup could ruin everything. Or so Johnny had said.
By the time I arrived at the police station, I knew what I had to do. The front door was locked, which meant that everyone on duty was out in the field. Good. No one would be around to ask me any difficult questions. Walking straight to the gun safe, I loaded my service revolver and put a box of ammunition in my pocket. The loose denim jacket I was wearing concealed my shoulder holster perfectly.
I had never been forced to use a gun before, and I hadn’t even pointed one at a living person. The metal felt strangely heavy against my ribs, and the leather holster seemed insufficient insulation against its chill. I didn’t want to use the revolver now either, especially since I hadn’t practiced shooting in over a year.
Still, I knew I would pull the trigger if I had to.
Timonen and Järvi replied from the patrol car when I radioed. I asked them to come to the Old Mine in two hours. If they didn’t see me, they should look for me in the museum tunnel. If they ran into any problems, they should get in touch with Kivinen.
Then I went to my office to look at Meritta’s paintings. The flame glowing greedily in the blackness was starting to make more sense. I remembered that when Meritta claimed to have taken all of her mine canvases to her gallery, Johnny and Kaisa had been there in addition to Matti. And Kivinen may have been walking past us too on his way to give his speech.
Leaving my Lada in the station parking lot, I started walking toward the Old Mine. Johnny could wait. The rain had picked up and ran down my face like tears.
At the mine, there weren’t many tourists. Perhaps they had fled the rain and were having their Sunday lunch in the restaurant. After buying a ticket from the booth, I started up the flight of steps that led up the hill. Countless tiny streams gurgled beside the slippery stairs. Like the streams, all I could do was push forward, without any way to pause and see the final destination of my journey. Just like the sand the streams carried, my own baggage seemed to scrape deep furrows in the surface of the earth. All I could do was go with the flow.
The rain rinsed the surface of the Tower, leaving it a shiny black-gray, and fog shrouded its top like a mourning veil. Almost no one was in the Museum of Mining tunnel, and only a few tourists were watching the slideshow. On the silver screen was a demonstration of how an ore wagon moved down a tunnel. From the speakers came the screeching sound of wheels.
No one noticed as I fumbled with the door to the elevator. It opened easily, and Johnny stood in the darkness beyond, although all I could see were his shining gold-flecked eyes. Suddenly I was yanked into the room. The door slammed shut behind me. And locked.
The bulb in the elevator was the only light in the small chamber. The stench of fear and old booze wafted from Johnny, but under that I detected another fragrance—a discreet, sophisticated aftershave. We weren’t alone. Kivinen stood behind Johnny. In his hand shone a pistol, which he pressed against Johnny’s head.
“Nice to see you, Maria,” Kivinen said. “I’ve spent enough time listening to the town gossip to know you would come if Johnny-boy asked you to. No tricks now, or Johnny dies.”
On Kivinen’s head was a helmet with a headlamp, which he now switched on. In Johnny’s hand hung a large flashlight. He seemed to move gruelingly slow, as if fear had left his muscles stiff. I was scared too. What the hell did Kivinen intend to do?
“Maria, would you please open the door to the elevator and lead the way? We’re going on a little outing to a place not many people have been recently.”
I had no choice but to obey. As the elevator began its creaking way down the shaft, I had the feeling that going back up to ground level was going to be difficult. I didn’t know what Kivinen was up to, but I had finally realized which of these two men killed Jaska and Meritta.
When we arrived at the bottom, Kivinen handed me a set of keys.
“Lock the elevator. So no one can get down even if they do manage to get the door open.”
If only I had known what shape Johnny was in! Had he been Kivinen’s prisoner since Thursday? Based on how he was acting, I suspected he had sedatives in addition to alcohol in his system. Given that, how well could I expect him to work with me? If I could count on him reacting now as fast as he used to on the soccer field, I would throw the keys in Kivinen’s eyes and shout to Johnny to hit the deck. I only needed a few seconds to get my gun out.
But I had no idea how drugged-up Johnny was, and I wanted us both to come back up alive. So I decided to continue playing Kivinen’s game. Compliantly locking the elevator door, I hoped he wouldn’t think to search me.
“Good girl,” he said when I handed him the keys. “Did you follow Johnny’s other instructions? There aren’t any reinforcements up top? You don’t want Johnny being charged with two murders, do you?”
I nodded obediently.
“Now Johnny’s going to check to make sure you don’t have a gun.”
With that, Kivinen pushed Johnny against me and he began patting my back and thighs mechanically. I felt his hands stiffen when he found the holster under my arm.
Don’t expose us, Johnny, keep your cool! I stopped holding my breath when his hands kept moving from my armpits to my stomach. Hopefully Kivinen wouldn’t order him to open my jacket. But he believed Johnny when he said, “There’s nothing here.”
I had to struggle not to show my relief. Now Johnny knew that I had a weapon too. And Kivinen had shown what an amateur he was. Maybe we had a chance.
Kivinen ordered Johnny to turn on his flashlight and told me to walk first along the tunnel. I moved slowly in the light of Johnny’s flashlight beam, which flickered in his trembling hands. Kivinen followed with his pistol still drawn and the flicker of his helmet headlamp forming a weaker beam a little higher up. Outside the beams of light the black silence of the tunnel sucked us deeper in.
A tomb. A grave
deeper than any other, the Tower as our headstone. I saw Meritta, orange and twisted on the yellow sand, and Jaska, a dried trail of blood running from his head into the crimson water of the pond. Down here only black, rough stone would surround Johnny and me. But I couldn’t let myself think of that.
We arrived at the fork in the tunnels.
“Maria, I seem to remember you being interested in seeing where Meritta painted those damned paintings. You’re about to get your wish. Walk to the right, please.”
Under both tunnels crisscrossed miles of excavations, the actual shafts extending to the veins of ore. I had managed to glance at the map of the mine just long enough to know that this tunnel really did end at the cave-in area. The left-hand corridor, on the other hand, rose back toward the surface after about a mile, close to the Sump, its mouth in the basement of some building in the ore-milling area. That was another way to get back to the surface if I could take care of Kivinen. If. The anger glinting in his eyes scared me, but I forced myself to focus on the terrain and Kivinen’s movements. I forced my legs to move despite their shaking.
The tunnel we were in began to decline steeply. Copper pyrite glistened in the rocks, and the floor was damper than before, with little rivulets running down the walls. The corridor was also narrower, only six feet wide. The guide rope had ended a ways back, but on the right-hand wall there were still pins to attach one.
“I expected even Meritta to have enough sense of self-preservation not to go anywhere near the subsidence zone.” Kivinen’s voice echoed several times off the rock walls. “But no, she just had to take the risk and see something she shouldn’t have. And now both of you are going to have the honor of seeing it too.”
Kivinen and Johnny were walking right next to me now. I heard them both breathing intensely and concentrated on trying to relax. The gun weighed heavily under my arm, but I was too keyed up to be able to get it out fast enough without Kivinen noticing. In the beam of Johnny’s flashlight I began to see yellow sand and then a familiar-looking cavern opened out. I was looking at the picture from one of Meritta’s darker canvases.
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