Derailed

by Leena Lehtolainen

  I opened the main folder for the Vainikainen case and divided it into subfolders. These were the routines that always kicked off an investigation. Forensics had visited the MobAbility office the day before, and I was waiting for a report to appear on my computer at any moment. Anni hadn’t sealed off the office, so the employees had been able to get back to work once Forensics left. I called Tapani Ristiluoma and announced that we’d be coming by that afternoon.

  He sounded extremely irritated. A crime scene attracted more than police. He thought the whole incident was insane, and he didn’t like that their fitness campaign had been overshadowed. I understood his concerns. He was an entrepreneur, after all.

  “Did you already know Pentti Vainikainen or Jutta Särkikoski?” I asked.

  “I’ve been working with Jutta throughout the campaign, and I’d heard of her from the news. Pentti and I played a few rounds of golf together, but I wouldn’t say I knew him. Hey, I have a client meeting soon with a rehabilitation facility in Russia. Can we talk this afternoon?” Ristiluoma said.

  Puupponen had appeared at the door during our phone call. He was still as wiry as he’d been the first time I met him. Back then a mutual distaste for Pertti Ström had united us; having a common enemy created a strong bond. But it was hard to get to know the real Puupponen, because he concealed his feelings under a layer of buffoonery. Now was no different.

  “The compost heap sends its regards! I could almost smell the place through the phone. We can look for the two leftover gluten-free sandwiches if we want to. They won’t have decomposed completely yet, and there’s only a meter of other compost and desiccant over it. We would probably have to take Hillevi Litmanen with us to identify the sandwiches, though if she’s in the same shape as she was yesterday, she won’t even remember if it was white or dark bread.”

  “Is there such a thing as dark gluten-free bread?” I asked as Koivu came into the room.

  “Särkikoski is on her way here,” he said. “Mrs. Vainikainen is ready to receive us at our convenience. Ilpo Koskelo and Toni Väärä are in Turku, and Hillevi Litmanen is on sick leave at home. She’s still incoherent from the sedatives. She was just saying that this is a plot by her ex-husband to get her in prison with him so he can start beating her again.”

  “That’s imaginative. OK. Pekka, first let’s talk to Särkikoski, then head to the MobAbility offices at the Waterfall Building, then to Vainikainen’s house,” I said, then shooed the men into the conference room to join Ursula so all three of them could hear my instructions at the same time.

  “Ville, find out who from the media was at the launch event. You may be able to get a list from Adaptive Sports. Miikka Harju would be the person to contact. Tell him we’ll be expecting him here tomorrow at nine a.m. Also get the guys from Turku in here tomorrow. Don’t let them give you any guff about interrupting their training schedule. Call every single person who was at the launch and get their impressions of the event. Ursula, search for any and all media material related to the launch. Wasn’t there a TV camera there? Hopefully they haven’t deleted the tape.”

  Ursula made notes, and then she lifted her head and gave me a pointed look. “Is it wise to talk to the media so soon? You’ve always been careful about preventing our cases from leaking,” she said. “We haven’t even held a press conference about this one yet.”

  “No, we haven’t. I’ll arrange that with the department press officer next. Thanks for reminding me. Anyway, I think those reporters will fall all over themselves to be the hero who comes up with the detail that helps solve the case. And I wouldn’t be here if the big boys and girls didn’t think this was going to turn into a media shitstorm anyway. Just keep your heads cool.”

  I returned to my office to call the press officer about holding a briefing late that evening. Maybe I’d be able to get home in time to read Taneli a bedtime story and chat with Iida. These days she only let me read to her in exceptional circumstances.

  Deciding whether to search the dump could wait until the autopsy report came in. I didn’t want to start an expensive operation that would attract public scrutiny without a good reason. If it looked likely that the poison came from the sandwiches, we would definitely have to go looking for the remaining ones, and fast. A search that big would have to wait until the morning, right when the sun rose at around seven. Hopefully Hillevi Litmanen would be of some help.

  My phone rang. It was the receptionist from downstairs, calling to announce that Jutta Särkikoski had arrived. I stopped by the conference room to ask Koivu to escort her up. Ursula and Puupponen were speaking heatedly into their phones. I grabbed some water and an orange soda from the machine in the hall, then returned to my office.

  “Maria! What are you doing here?” Jutta exclaimed when she arrived at the door. She looked as if she hadn’t slept since Midsummer. I felt guilty because I’d entertained the idea that she’d lied about the death threats to get attention. Of course, I knew I couldn’t completely write her off as a suspect for Pentti Vainikainen’s murder. Perhaps she believed that he had something to do with her car accident.

  “I’ve been ordered to take over this investigation.”

  “You? That can’t be . . .” For a moment I thought she was going to cry. “How . . .”

  “It’s a long story. Anyway, have a seat on the sofa and let’s get started. Who knew you have celiac disease? I mean, out of the people at the campaign launch?”

  “Everyone at the ASA . . . so Merja, Hillevi, and Miikka. But probably everyone knew after Merja made such a big deal about Hillevi forgetting to buy gluten-free bread. Hillevi left for the delicatessen under Stockmann downtown, while some of the media people were still around. Oh, and Ilpo Koskelo and Toni might have known, since we ate together when I interviewed them before the accident. Do you think the poison was meant for me?”

  “We haven’t ruled it out. Do you have information that someone might want to keep quiet?”

  A fire kindled in Jutta’s eyes, and she leaned over the desk from the sofa and took me by the hand. “This isn’t about that, Maria. This is about revenge. Just before I left to come here, I learned that Tapani Ristiluoma is Sami Terävä’s cousin. That’s right, the discus thrower I exposed. Apparently they’re really close. Isn’t it obvious? We were in Ristiluoma’s office. What better place to get rid of me?”

  6

  It took a while before Jutta calmed down. She even looked askance at the water glass I set in front of her.

  “I only found out about their connection by chance when I was chatting with a colleague. She was commenting on the campaign launch and said it was nice that there wasn’t a grudge between me and Ristiluoma. When I asked why there should be, she said that Ristiluoma is Sami Terävä’s cousin. How could I have known that?”

  “How has Ristiluoma treated you?”

  “Professionally, but of course he would do that if he intended to hurt me! Why would he attract suspicion?”

  “Who suggested that the launch should be held at MobAbility instead of at Adaptive Sports?”

  “Ristiluoma! They have a lot of their mobility aids on display there, and he thought it was a good idea to show that to the press. Free advertising. And I thought that was fine. Merja and I went to visit their office before we agreed. It seemed like it would work since we didn’t expect a huge crowd at the launch anyway. About fifteen journalists attended, in addition to a sports news camera team.”

  “Were any of them your enemies?”

  Jutta grimaced. “No. The ones who think I’m a traitor rarely write about disabled athletes, so they’d have no reason to be there. But how can I know who’s a friend and who’s an enemy anymore? I barely dare to eat anything that I haven’t made myself from scratch. If someone really wants to kill me, what can I do? I can’t spend the rest of my life cowering at home.”

  “Of course not.” I thought again about the resources Taskinen had promised. Would that cover a police guard detail for Jutta too? For that I’d have to prove
that the poison was intended for her. At the very least, she should have a friend stay with her for a few nights.

  I drank from my own water glass as if to show Jutta that it was safe.

  “I thought the whole to-do about the gluten-free rolls was completely blown out of proportion, but it was Merja’s way of exercising power over Hillevi. Merja is used to things being handled quickly, and Hillevi is . . . well, slow. Hillevi came from the store just before the event started and hid in the kitchen making the sandwiches. The regular sandwiches, with the regular bread.”

  I didn’t reveal to Jutta that I was previously acquainted with Hillevi, because that would be a breach of confidentiality. Jutta related what we already knew from Merja Vainikainen’s and Tapani Ristiluoma’s accounts: at the beginning of the press event, Ristiluoma had given a brief welcome speech, then Merja Vainikainen introduced the exercise campaign for the Adaptive Sports Association, and Toni Väärä talked about the importance of MobAbility products in his recovery. Jutta served as master of ceremonies. According to Jutta’s recollection, no one besides Hillevi had gone in the kitchen during the event.

  “At what point did the food service start? Did Hillevi or someone else distribute it? Was it person to person, or was it just set on a buffet table?”

  Jutta thought for a while. Apparently the food hadn’t interested her.

  “The sandwiches weren’t served to anyone specifically. They just appeared on a table before we started the toasts. And that was when Merja noticed that the gluten-free sandwiches were missing. The whole party was nearly derailed by it.”

  “Did Pentti Vainikainen have celiac?” I wanted to hear Jutta’s answer, even though Merja Vainikainen had already stated in her preliminary interview that her husband didn’t have any food allergies.

  “Not that I know of, but I’d only met him once or twice, and we didn’t talk about anything like that.”

  When I asked Jutta again whom she thought the poisoned sandwiches were meant for, she said it was obvious that she was the target. And that somehow Hillevi Litmanen had thrown a wrench into the murderer’s plan.

  “I’ll have to call Merja. I assume she isn’t at work. I wonder if anyone but Miikka is in the office,” Jutta said.

  “How well do you know Miikka Harju?” I asked. Harju had been the one who took her home after Pentti Vainikainen went to the hospital.

  “Not very well. He’s a former firefighter who had to leave his job because of back trouble. He seems trustworthy, and his own experience helps him empathize with people with disabilities. Wait. Does he have connections to . . . ?” Jutta was starting to sound more paranoid than an American conspiracy theory show. “I already have a burglar alarm, but do I need to start checking my car every time I go out too? Or would it be safer to take taxis?”

  I didn’t have any guidance for Jutta. Instead I told her that I was filing for a warrant to access her phone records, and that I would get back to her when I heard back. Finally, I asked whether she had gone in the kitchen at any point that day.

  “What do you mean? Like, I tried to poison myself—or someone else?”

  I scoffed mentally when I realized that Jutta’s paranoia was rubbing off on me. I recognized it from years past: during the initial stages of a criminal investigation, when everyone was a stranger and the chain of events unclear, I wouldn’t know who to trust. A couple of times I’d allowed my emotions to influence an investigation. I wasn’t going to do that again.

  Jutta described the death threats again, and now she seemed sure that the caller was Tapani Ristiluoma. I asked her not to answer any calls from numbers she didn’t recognize. Of course, the best thing would be if the perpetrator were careless enough to leave a voice mail again. I needed to get that warrant for her phone records pronto.

  After Jutta left, Puupponen came in to give me an interim report on his conversations with the media attendees. One reporter from a local paper in Southern Ostrobothnia had said flat out that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the disability sports campaign and that he had only come to see what shape Toni Väärä was in. According to another reporter, Jutta Särkikoski had seemed extremely tense throughout the press event. The TV crew had promised to send over their tape by the afternoon, and Ursula said she would review it. I decided to take Koivu to see the scene of the crime, the MobAbility office in the Waterfall Building.

  As promised, a car was waiting for me in the garage. The police department’s car policy had changed since I’d left. Now the police didn’t own any unmarked cars; they just rented them as necessary. A black Renault Scenic awaited us, and Koivu had to fight with the key for a while before figuring out how it worked. He also managed to kill the engine at the first stoplight.

  “Thank God this isn’t a cop car. That would be mortifying,” Koivu said, finally getting the car started again on the third try as the Audi riding his bumper started honking. “Let’s give him a ticket,” Koivu said. “Isn’t failing to maintain a proper distance a traffic violation?”

  “Just drive,” I said. Suddenly I missed the department’s old fleet of 1990s Russian Ladas, which lacked elegance and required real strength to shift.

  “I’ve been through the possible poisons and also got a preliminary guess from the forensic pathologist. So far Vainikainen’s symptoms are consistent with nicotine poisoning. They present quickly. Could Vainikainen have received the poison before the event?” Koivu asked.

  “What doesn’t add up is the fact that nicotine tastes really, really bad. Vainikainen doesn’t smoke, so he would have tasted it. Särkikoski doesn’t smoke either. Do you remember how much nicotine it takes to kill?” I asked Koivu.

  “Sixty milligrams will take out an adult, and twenty or so is enough for a kid. This one time, right after Juuso learned to walk, he stuck a cigarette butt in his mouth, but he spat it out because it tasted so bad. We called poison control, and Anu got the lethal dosage information from them. But nicotine is just a guess. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy and drug panels.”

  I opened my laptop and looked up the forensic pictures from the MobAbility office, which I’d downloaded. Koivu managed to kill the car again in the middle of the ramp into the parking garage. I wondered whether I should offer to drive when we headed for the Vainikainen residence.

  A flock of geese had gathered on the lawn in front of the Waterfall Building. A couple of ducks stood with them, looking like they were trying to blend in. In the lobby, two people stopped us, one of whom had a camera. I recognized the one without a camera as a crime reporter. Apparently one of the tabloids was staking out the lobby.

  “Look, it’s Lieutenant Kallio. Back at Espoo police, I see.”

  “Temporarily.” I tried to pass him, but he was persistent.

  “Why did you return to the police? Is this some sort of special case? Anything new you can tell us? Is it true that Pentti Vainikainen was killed accidentally?”

  “We don’t know yet. We’ll see you at seven o’clock at the press conference at the Espoo police station. I’ll give you an update on the investigation then,” I replied, sidestepping the cameraman, who was trying to get a shot of me and Koivu together.

  “Could the case have some connection to Pentti Vainikainen advocating for increased funding for star professional athletes at the expense of amateur programs? His opinion was that the only way to develop star athletes was to support star athletes, and the ‘everyone plays’ agenda is detrimental. You can find his latest statements on our website.”

  “We’re investigating all avenues. Thanks for the tip. If you could allow us to continue our work now, we can move this case forward.” I practically pushed the cameraman out of my way and stepped into the elevator with Koivu in tow. The MobAbility offices were on the second-highest floor. I rang the doorbell, and a large man of about forty with a beard answered the door. He wore a dark suit as if he was going to a funeral. I introduced us.

  “Yes, come in. I’m Tapani Ristiluoma. I understand that you’re trying
to solve this case, but this is taking up an awful lot of our work time, and it doesn’t help the situation that your forensic team took some of our sample devices. The papers are claiming that Pentti was poisoned. Is that true?”

  I didn’t answer and instead looked around. On the far side of the reception area were four doors. Three had nameplates: “Ristiluoma,” “Häkkinen,” and “Vainio,” and the fourth was the restroom.

  “May I?” I asked. Ristiluoma nodded, and Koivu and I started our tour of the office. A hall led to a glassed-in conference room, where there was a table that would seat six, two couches, and a few glass display cases, some of which were empty. Some contained elbow supports, water therapy belts, and various balls, which apparently were intended for arm and finger muscle therapy. The kitchen was located at the back of the conference room. The windows had a marvelous view across the sea toward Helsinki. The flock of geese was just taking off from the grass. The first birds rose to the south as others followed, and within seconds the grass was empty. Slowly the flock disappeared into the horizon. Antti and I had a habit of waving to migrating birds, and the children had adopted the tradition. I raised my hand but then quickly dropped it when I noticed Ristiluoma watching me. I didn’t bother explaining. He could go ahead and think that waving at windows was normal police procedure.

  The kitchen was a typical office kitchen with space for a small table. There were three chairs. The refrigerator, stove, and cupboards were the same as in my family’s previous apartment, which we’d dubbed the “White Cube.” Because Forensics had already visited, I didn’t need to put on gloves. I opened the refrigerator. There was nothing but an unopened carton of yogurt and two apples, apparently someone’s lunch.