Darling
Page 7
“She was found dead in her apartment,” the woman said.
“That’s pretty bad,” Korpivaara smirked, and ran his fingers through his messy hair. The sergeant wasn’t amused.
“Yeah, I have a few questions about that.”
Korpivaara shrugged. The movement sent a sharp pain through his head. Apparently he’d had quite a few beers.
“Shoot,” he said.
“Not here,” she said. “Let’s go into the other room.”
“Fine with me.”
She turned to the guard and asked, “Did they bring him breakfast yet?”
The guard shook his head.
“Alright, we’ll talk after you’ve had your oatmeal and coffee.”
“No fresh-squeezed juice and bacon omelet?”
“Doubt that’s on the menu,” the woman said, and Korpivaara sensed the empathy was back. “But you’ll get your oatmeal and coffee before the others.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later Joutsamo and Korpivaara were sitting in the drab interrogation room.
Joutsamo sat near the door. She could smell the mixture of coffee and day-old booze on the man’s breath. The guard had administered a Breathalyzer test and Korpivaara’s blood alcohol content was now low enough so they could conduct the formal interrogation. The man’s hair was sticking up, his cheeks were flushed, and his green coveralls were a size too big.
“I take it you didn’t sleep very well,” Joutsamo began.
Korpivaara shrugged and said, “The mattress could be a bit thicker.”
“Alright. Well, here’s the situation. Yesterday you asked for an attorney. She’ll be here this afternoon to see you, but we can start now, if you’d like. Is that okay?”
“Guess so.”
Joutsamo was pleased. She wanted to hold the first interrogation as soon as possible. This would also affect how the other suspects would be treated. Korpivaara would be arrested no matter what, but as for the rest of the Alamo gang, she wasn’t sure.
Joutsamo told Korpivaara she was starting the recording and pressed the button. She glanced at her watch and stated the time: 9:50 A.M. She read aloud Korpivaara’s whole name, date of birth, and address. She stated that the procedure was to inform the suspect of his standing in the preliminary interview and what he had been detained for.
Joutsamo looked Korpivaara square in the eye and said, “You are a suspect in the murder of Laura Vatanen that took place yesterday. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been informed that you have the right to an attorney. But you don’t deem it necessary to have one for this interrogation?”
“That’s right, I don’t need an attorney,” Korpivaara replied. He recalled asking for one yesterday, but he had changed his mind. He was happy to talk now.
“So let’s begin,” Joutsamo said.
She had conducted hundreds of interrogations during her police career. The goal was straightforward: to find out what had happened and who had done what—simply to find out the truth.
“What can you tell me about the death of Laura Vatanen?”
It was an open question. Joutsamo didn’t want to ask him directly if he had done it, so she danced around the topic.
“I’ve got nothing to say about that. I am the custodian in the apartment complex. Well, the city pays me, but I don’t know what else to say about it.”
“But you knew Laura Vatanen?”
“Yeah, I knew her.”
“How well?”
“Pretty well, I guess.”
“What does that mean?”
“Uh, guess we knew each other well.”
Joutsamo saw it was hard for him to tell her about the sexual relationship. She had to help him.
“Were you lovers?”
“Well, we didn’t ‘love’ each other, but we cared about each other. You know…”
“Did you have sex?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I meant.”
“When was the last time?”
“A couple of weeks ago, I think.”
Joutsamo was glad she was able to get the suspect to admit his intimate relationship with the victim right away. She was pleased he hadn’t lied about it.
“Let’s talk about yesterday morning. Tell me what happened.”
“I already told you at the apartment,” Korpivaara snorted.
Joutsamo looked at the man. During an interrogation it was more important to listen than to ask questions. The suspect always started with what he or she wanted to talk about. Apparently what happened yesterday wasn’t it.
“We need to go over it again for the tape.”
“I got up around nine. It was my day off, and I had a beer and turned on the TV. You know, a usual day off.”
“Yeah, I know,” Joutsamo said with a smile. The idea was to appear to be on the same wavelength with the suspect. Being understanding and agreeable would help disarm him, which would make him more likely to talk. Using a small detail, like the morning beer, seemed like a good way to go about it.
Korpivaara liked that the officer appreciated his joke.
“As long as it doesn’t become a habit,” Joutsamo said.
“Yeah, I know. In my line of work I have to operate all sorts of machinery, and I gotta be sober.”
“But a day off is a day off,” Joutsamo said. Of course she had never started her day with a beer or even a cider.
“Right on. Sometimes you need to relax.”
“You said you turned the TV on. What did you watch?” Joutsamo asked, though she already knew the answer.
Korpivaara scratched his neck.
“Uh, well…”
“Go ahead and tell me.”
“I’m a bit embarrassed to tell a lady, but it was a porn flick.”
“You have quite a collection of those,” Joutsamo remarked.
“How do you know?” Korpivaara asked, confused.
“We searched your apartment last night.”
“Oh,” the man said.
Joutsamo didn’t have to disclose it, but she figured it would send a message to the suspect. Korpivaara need not bother lying about things that she already knew.
“The DVD player had a movie in it. Is that what you watched?”
“Could be, they’re all pretty much the same.”
Joutsamo had found out about the movies from Kohonen and Kulta, who had searched the apartment. They also told her about the trash bin guy; the Forensics team was now examining the bag that the guy had given them. The detectives had gone to the park where the bag was found to look for possible footprints, cigarette butts, or other evidence, but the snow made it difficult.
“What happened then?”
“I was in my apartment, drinking beer and watching the tube. Then the police called and asked me to come unlock Darling’s…uh, Laura’s apartment.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Korpivaara asked, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Do you have something to hide?”
“N-no…”
“It’s best to tell the truth. Less trouble that way.”
“I don’t wanna cause any trouble.”
Then tell me what you’ve done, Joutsamo thought.
“You don’t look so good. Would you like something to drink?”
“Well, if you’ve got a Coke or some water.”
Joutsamo stated the time of day on the recorder and said there would be a short break. She was glad to give Korpivaara time to squirm while he sat there thinking about his predicament.
She fetched a white paper cup and a bottle of Coca Cola, intentionally stalling and stopping to chat with the guard.
Korpivaara looked miserable when Joutsamo returned to the gray room. She opened the bottle and poured the cold drink into the cup. She noticed Korpivaara’s hand trembling as he downed the drink.
Joutsamo restarted the recording and stated the time again.
“Feel better?”
Joutsamo had a theory: Korpivaara had gotten horny watching porn in the morning and then headed to Vatanen’s apartment with the intention of having sex with her. They had sat down for some coffee, but something had gone wrong and the quick-tempered Laura had lost her life as the result of an argument. It was obvious that the perpetrator—whom Joutsamo believed to be Korpivaara—hadn’t gone to the apartment with the intention to kill. The Forensics guys noticed a knife was missing from the set in the kitchen, which could mean that the murder weapon was from the apartment.
“Let’s get back to business. I asked if you had something to hide in the case.”
“What would I have to hide?” Korpivaara asked.
Apparently he wasn’t aware that the police knew about his morning visit to the apartment.
“Jorma, I know you were in Vatanen’s apartment yesterday morning.”
“How would you know that?”
“Your fingerprints are there.”
“They could be old.”
“Jorma, your prints were on the coffeemaker switch and the coffeemaker was on when the police arrived.”
“But…,” Korpivaara began and closed his mouth. He thought hard for a moment as Joutsamo gave him a pressing look. He scratched his head.
“I don’t remember anything like that. But I do have a doctor’s statement saying I forget things sometimes.”
Joutsamo had read about his health problems. Korpivaara had been exempted from compulsory military service based on a physician’s report.
“What happened to you?” Joutsamo asked.
“I got beat up bad when I was twenty. I didn’t report it to the police, though. I got all sorts of injuries and the surgeon had to do some reconstruction on my face. Wish he’d given me a better mug while he was at it.”
“No police report? Didn’t the hospital ask you questions?”
“I told them I’d had a motorcycle accident.”
“Why’s that?”
“It was complicated. But it’s in the past. Now I’ve got some memory loss problems.”
Joutsamo looked at the man.
“Do you think it’s possible you had a memory lapse yesterday morning?”
“I guess that’s possible. They come and go. I can’t remember them…well, due to the memory loss.”
“Did you kill Laura Vatanen?”
“I…uh…”
“Just tell me. You were in her apartment yesterday morning. Did you two have a disagreement?”
“We had a tiff now and then.”
“And yesterday?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Try,” Joutsamo urged.
Korpivaara looked defeated.
“If I was in the apartment, I suppose it’s possible.”
“Possible?”
“Yeah…”
Joutsamo waited a moment, and asked, “Did you do it?”
“Could be.”
“What do you remember about the morning?”
“I was in my apartment, and I guess I went somewhere and came back.”
“Where did you go?”
“That’s what I can’t remember.”
“Did you go to Laura’s apartment?”
“Possibly. Maybe. I have to think.”
“Take your time,” Joutsamo said.
The two were silent for a few minutes. Joutsamo’s gaze stayed firm and merciless. She wanted to make him uncomfortable.
Joutsamo spoke again, “Sometimes life’s about taking responsibility. You do something, you answer for it. Are you responsible for your actions?”
“I’ve not been too good at that.”
“But it’s never been as serious as this before.”
“You’re right, it hasn’t.”
“Can you really not remember? Or maybe you don’t want to remember?”
“I don’t know,” Korpivaara agonized, burying his head in his hands.
“Do you remember going to Laura’s door?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you use your own key to go in or did Laura open the door?”
“I don’t…”
The next question followed quickly. “Do you remember making coffee?”
“Damn.”
“Do you remember what Laura was wearing?”
“Uh…”
“Do you remember if you two had an argument?”
“I don’t… I, uh…”
Joutsamo waited for Korpivaara to go on, but he didn’t.
“Why did you go to her place?”
“Well, uh, I went there for sex. That was the only reason.”
“What did you argue about yesterday?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Was it about sex?”
“Dammit… But I don’t get why I would’ve slashed her throat.”
Joutsamo jumped on it, “What makes you think her throat was slashed?”
Korpivaara looked at her. “Well, wasn’t it?”
“I haven’t said that. How did you know?”
“I dunno. Maybe somebody mentioned it in the stairwell, or something.”
Or something. Joutsamo pondered the response. She didn’t buy his story about the memory loss, though it was common with head trauma.
In the course of the morning, Joutsamo questioned the rest of the bar gang: Jaakko Niskala, Pekka Rautalampi, and Heikki Lahtela. Lahtela’s interview didn’t take long—it wasn’t an interrogation since his Breathalyzer test still showed over 0.1, and all he could remember from the previous day was that he woke up at some point and went into the Alamo Bar. He had no idea what time, or anything else. The guy wondered why he was at the police station, and when Joutsamo told him the reason, he vomited. Most of it spewed into the trash can, but the interview was over.
Rautalampi, Mustache Guy, claimed he was driving the delivery van all day. It was difficult to pinpoint where he had been, so he was given a pad of paper and a pen to jot down his route. It would be easy to check his story with the delivery company and its customers.
Joutsamo asked the men about Korpivaara. They confirmed that he had told them about his memory loss. He also told them about the beating, but gave no further details. Korpivaara obviously didn’t want to talk about it, not even with his best buddies.
The previous day they had met in the bar between three and four o’clock. They never set a time; it was just their routine to meet there at some point. Sometimes they were all present, other times only some of them came. On occasion, someone else would join in.
That left Jaakko Niskala. It was his fingerprints on the door that sent the police on the trail to the bar. The man sat behind the table in the interrogation room, wearing overalls, when Joutsamo stepped in. His hair was too short to be messed up from sleep—or anything else for that matter. His high hairline gave the impression of an oval face. He had an unusually weak chin.
“Good morning,” Joutsamo said matter-of-factly as she settled in the chair. She went through the regular routine and informed Niskala that she was recording the interrogation. She asked Niskala if he needed an attorney.
“No,” the man said curtly, his expression hard.
“What can you tell me about the death of Laura Vatanen?”
“No comment.”
Joutsamo was confused. She wondered what Niskala had to hide. Joutsamo strongly suspected that Korpivaara was the killer, and that the others weren’t involved.
“Really?”
“Still no comment.”
Joutsamo sighed and kept her gaze on the man. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were focusing on her or the wall.
“Is that going to be your answer to all my questions?”
“No comment.”
Joutsamo stopped the recording.
“As I said, this is a murder investigation. We’re not talking about a theft or an assault, where you may be released once the interrogations are over. You can play tough, if you want. But the fact that you refuse to answer
questions is grounds to have you placed under arrest, and the next thing you know you’re in custody, and we’ll keep you here while we very thoroughly and deliberately investigate the case,” Joutsamo said as she got up.
Joutsamo opened the door and called for the guard.
“Hey, listen,” Niskala pleaded. “Please, don’t go.”
“Yeah, I know the TANK song. And now I’m goin’,” Joutsamo remarked coldly and turned to the guard. “This guy goes back in the cell. We’ll try again in a couple of days.”
“No, let’s do it now,” Niskala said. “I wanna talk.”
“You mean it or are you giving me a load of shit? I’m busy as hell.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Joutsamo shrugged at the guard, who knew the routine and shut the door. Joutsamo returned to the table.
She had a sour look on her face, though in her mind she wondered why Niskala broke so easily and was ready to talk. She figured the guys from the Narcotics Unit were right; the man was a dime-a-dozen crook.
Joutsamo restarted the recording.
“We are resuming the interrogation after a two-minute recess. What can you tell me about the death of Laura Vatanen?”
“I know nothin’ about it.”
Joutsamo shot the guy a reproachful look, aiming to pressure him.
“For real. I had nothin’ to do with it.”
“Did you know Vatanen?”
“Yeah, she was sort of everyone’s honey in the bar. Not all there, but that didn’t bother us. No one forced her into anything; the men and her all did it voluntarily. But she was weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Her mood would change just like that. It was hard as hell to predict what she’d do next.”
“How would that show?”
“She’d invite you to her place, but when you got there, she’d suddenly kick you out. Not every time, of course. Otherwise we wouldn’t have let her hang with us.”
“So sex was the only reason you let her hang with you?”
“Well, we weren’t interested in her stories.”
Joutsamo forced herself to stay calm, even though she wanted to beat the shit out of him. But the only feelings she could acknowledge right now were the suspect’s possible feelings of guilt.
“You think that was a good thing?”