“Good morning,” said Judge Tuomela. “Are you Mari Lehtonen?”
“Yes.”
“Could you please approach the bench?”
Lehtonen did so. Just in front of the bench, resting on its own lectern, was a large, open Bible.
“Do you belong to the church?”
“Yes.”
“Then typically you would take the oath, but you can also choose a secular affirmation.”
“The oath is fine.”
“Good. Repeat after me. I, Mari Lehtonen.”
Before she began, she wondered if she should put two fingers on the Bible like they did on TV. Apparently not, since the judge hadn’t mentioned it. Lehtonen felt a mixture of confidence and self-doubt. She was confident she could relate what she saw, but the circumstances made her doubt herself.
“I, Mari Lehtonen.”
The drill was a familiar one for the judge and he rattled it off at a quick pace. Lehtonen repeated dutifully. “Swear by Almighty God…that the evidence I shall give…shall be the truth…the whole truth…and nothing but the truth.”
“Keep this oath in mind and tell the unvarnished truth,” said the judge, and he directed Lehtonen to take the stand. “Please sit. We’ll be recording your testimony, so speak clearly into the microphone.”
Lehtonen looked at the microphone, the same kind used by Formula One drivers in post-race interviews: a stand with a long stem and a small capsule. A red light on the base popped on.
“Prosecution, go ahead,” said the judge.
Muuri began, “Mari Lehtonen, you were on Porvoo Street on Sunday, the seventeenth of September, at four-thirty in the afternoon. Tell us in your own words what you saw.”
“Okay. Well, I was going to the convenience store and there, kind of in front of it, was a blue Mazda that was double parked. I wondered what it was doing there and so I looked inside. There was a man behind the wheel, so I figured he was just waiting for someone from the store. Then I went home.”
Muuri cringed a little at that last part-Lehtonen had just revealed that she lived nearby. At least she hadn’t recited her address. Muuri brushed it off and continued, “Take a look at the individuals in this courtroom. Is the man you saw in the car present here?”
Lehtonen let her gaze wander until it came to rest on Korpi.
“That’s him,” she said, nodding.
“Which one?”
“That one, right there.” Lehtonen extended a finger in Korpi’s direction and their eyes met. She disliked his cold stare. It was the same stare he had in the photograph, the same bald head and rigid features.
“Let the court note for the record that the witness is pointing to Risto Korpi. I’d like to ask again, are you absolutely certain? And remember the oath you just took.”
“Yes, I’m absolutely certain.”
“What was the man doing in the car?”
“Nothing. He was sitting in the driver’s seat with his hands on the wheel.”
“How did you get in contact with the police?”
“I saw an article in the newspaper and I remembered the car. The police were asking for eyewitnesses, so I thought I should call.”
“How did you identify Korpi once you were at the police station?”
“The police had me look through a bunch of
photographs. Then the next day I came in for a police lineup.”
“In those two instances, were you just as certain as you are now that the man in the car was Korpi?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have no further questions.”
“Defense, your turn,” said Judge Tuomela.
Martin stood up. “I have a few questions, too,” he said in a plucky tone. “What sort of work do
you do?”
Lehtonen was somewhat taken aback. “Uhh, I work in an office.”
“For what company?”
Muuri interjected before Lehtonen could respond. “The question has no bearing on the case.”
“Yes, it does. It’s my responsibility to evaluate the reliability of the witness. A janitor can work in an office, too.”
“A janitor’s testimony is every bit as reliable as anyone else’s,” said Muuri.
“She said that she works in an office-that will suffice,” said the judge dryly.
“I noticed that you’re not wearing eyeglasses. Do you wear glasses at work?”
“No. I don’t need them.”
Martin paused briefly and glanced at his papers. “When was the last time you went to an optometrist?”
Muuri cut in before Lehtonen could respond. “Objection. Irrelevant.”
“Sustained. Let’s stay on topic.”
“Well, then,” Martin grumbled. “How can you be so certain that the man in the car was the same as this man here, sitting next to me?”
“Uhh, well… Because I saw him.”
“Just like that, you saw him?”
“Yes.”
The lawyer’s questions were beginning to annoy her, but she tried to stay calm like she had been told.
“Would you say you have a sort of photographic memory?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that. Maybe.”
“In psychology, the term ‘photographic memory’ refers to an ability to remember an image in vivid detail. Some people can memorize a page of a telephone book in minutes. Do you have that ability, Ms. Lehtonen?”
“I don’t think I could memorize a telephone book.”
“So you don’t have a photographic memory.”
Muuri spoke up again, “Objection, leading. The witness never claimed to have a photographic memory.”
“Martin, get to the point,” the judge said.
The attorney fixed his eyes on Lehtonen’s. “Keep your eyes on mine for the time being. If your memory is as good as you claim, you should be able to describe Ms. Muuri’s clothing, right? Go ahead, no peeking, please.”
Muuri tried to object, but Lehtonen had already begun. Her eyes never wavered from Martin’s, “She’s wearing a gray pantsuit with a white shirt and a necklace with a reddish stone. She’s not wearing glasses and her hair is brown and medium length.”
Martin was dumbfounded by her answer-there was a pause of a few seconds. “What was the license plate number of the Mazda you saw?”
Lehtonen recited a plate number beginning
with K.
“How many stacks of paper does Ms. Muuri have in front of her?”
“Three.”
The judge interjected this time. “I think we’ve had enough of your memory games, Martin.”
“Then I have no further questions.”
“Alright,” said Judge Tuomela, turning to Nyberg’s counsel. “Aaltonen, would you like to cross-examine?”
“No, thank you.”
The judge nodded and turned back toward the witness stand. “Do you require any compensation for expenses or loss of wages? You’re eligible for half a day’s pay.”
“No, thank you,” said Lehtonen, though she could have used the money. She felt a wave of relief, and all she wanted was to get away from the tension of the courtroom.
“Alright, then,” said the judge. “In that case, the court thanks you. You are excused.”
Lehtonen nodded and rose. Before she closed the door behind her, she heard Judge Tuomela saying, “The court has now heard testimony from all witnesses and will take recess for lunch. Court will be back in session at one-thirty to hear closing arguments. The verdict will be delivered later on today.”
Joutsamo was waiting in the hallway. “How did
it go?”
“Good, actually,” said Lehtonen. Only now did Joutsamo detect a slight tremor in Mari’s voice as her body defused the tension. “Did you hear? They’re going to have a verdict today already.”
“Really? That’s kind of rare. Well, were you excused?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re free to go. I can drive you home or to work, your call.”
* *
*
Takamäki arrived at work around twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Joutsamo was already there to report on the trial. Apparently, everything had gone smoothly, though according to Lehtonen, Korpi’s counsel had tried to rattle her on the stand.
At this point, all the lieutenant cared about was the verdict. The case was out of his hands. Joutsamo’s coaching of the key witness had been an apparent success. Naturally, hearing that the verdict would be delivered today made him feel a little anxious. In the end, verdicts were the only real measure of police performance.
No homicides had crossed Takamäki’s desk since the Korpi case. Just as well. It was good to get a break every once in a while. Various assaults were abundant, of course, but recently they had had none of the tumult that came with a murder case.
On his desk were the case files for a few robberies. Some gangs that had been active around the Helsinki Central Train Station a year back had re-energized with the expanding nightfall of winter. Takamäki’s team had joined in the investigation.
As cases came, they were comparatively insignificant. None involved violence-the wave of a knife was all that was required to relieve a drunk of his wallet or laptop.
But the spate of incidents had captured the attention of the Helsinki media, at which point police brass started yet another collaborative task force. Takamäki had gotten involved against his own wishes. Several suspects had been taken into custody. The interrogations were all through and the case files had to be forwarded to the prosecutor, though some of the DNA evidence was still pending.
A knock came at the door and Takamäki looked up. Suhonen had grown a full beard, and with his leather jacket he looked more like a biker thug than a policeman.
“Heard we’ll get a verdict on that Korpi case today,” said Suhonen, raking his fingers through his beard.
Takamäki nodded. “That’s right.”
“What do you think?” asked Suhonen, lingering at the door. Takamäki took that as an indication that Suhonen had no pressing business, at least nothing relating to an open investigation.
“Hard to say. These types of trials can be unpredictable. I suppose the speed of the verdict would indicate the evidence is pretty convincing one way or the other.”
“So for the court, the case is cut and dried.”
“Yup. You coming tonight?”
“Of course,” Suhonen grinned. “High point of
the year.”
“Really.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Well, we’ve had a lot of fun. At least in the past. How’s things with the future Mrs. Suhonen?” Takamäki asked with a smirk.
Suhonen shifted his weight to the other foot. “Like I said before, ‘Mrs. Suhonen’ is a bit of a stretch. No talk of that with Raija yet. You eaten?”
“No. Let’s go grab something.”
The lieutenant stood up, unable to suppress his smile, for one word in Suhonen’s rebuttal had revealed a lot: yet.
CHAPTER 14
WEDNESDAY, 6:45 P.M.
CANTINA WEST RESTAURANT, DOWNTOWN HELSINKI
“One more round before we move on?” said Suhonen.
Seven cops were crowded into the private dining room of a Mexican restaurant. On one side of the table were Suhonen, Takamäki and Joutsamo. On the other were Kohonen, Kannas from Forensics, Kulta the rookie, and as a special guest, the bushy-whiskered Nykänen, now with the NBI. Homicide also organized a larger Christmas party for the entire unit, but a few years back, Takamäki had started this tradition with a smaller group.
“I could be talked into one more,” grunted Kannas. The table was littered with empty plates and a couple of wine bottles amongst the fajita toppings and baskets of tortillas.
“Fine with me,” said Joutsamo, and she pushed a button on the wall to signal the wait staff. Joutsamo ordered a cider, Kulta a gin and tonic, and the others ordered more beer.
Once the waitress left, there was a brief lull in the conversation and Suhonen took the opportunity. “Those white-collar crime detectives might actually make something of themselves one day.”
“Yeah,” croaked Nykänen in his gravelly voice. “Heard you were giving them seminars on undercover work.”
The others pricked up their ears. Suhonen hadn’t mentioned teaching any classes. “Yep, instead of pushing paper, the financial crimes guys are actually out there actively looking for cases. Makes sense to me. They were pretty interested in tailing and infiltration.”
“Ha!” said Kulta. “What’d you teach ’em? How to infiltrate the fat cats on the rooftop bar of the Palace Hotel?”
Suhonen laughed. “Sure, we touched on that too. But also how to get a job, say, on a construction site. Those guys actually have some interesting stories. Apparently, the gray market is really booming. You know, wages paid off the books, hidden revenue…that sort of thing. They say things will only get worse till our eastern neighbors start getting their affairs in order.”
“Well, at least they’re starting to catch up with the rest of the police force,” said Joutsamo. “Actually, they use kind of an interesting tactic in their surveillance. First they set up all their wire taps, then they take the suspects in for questioning. But instead of arresting them, the suspects are released and then start calling each other, all on tape. Something for us to try, too, at least with some of our cold cases.”
Takamäki drank the last of his beer and smiled. “Don’t go getting too interested in this white-collar stuff. I don’t want you going anywhere.”
Suhonen smirked. “Might just be me, but I’d rather be posted on a stool in the Corner Pub than some swanky place like Savoy. You find a more honest crowd in the Corner Pub. Those financial guys were telling me about Morgan Stanley…”
“Morgan Stanley is a New York investment bank,” Joutsamo cut in.
Suhonen grinned. “Right, that’s the one. Anyhow, they were telling me the bank gives psychological tests as a part of their job interview process. Turns out that if the test shows a tendency toward dishonesty, you might want to consider a career on Wall Street.”
“Doesn’t sound much different from here in Finland,” said Joutsamo.
“Business is global,” said Takamäki.
“But seriously. We all need to cooperate on the big cases regardless of which unit or floor of the police station we find ourselves on,” said Nykänen. “We have no other choice.”
“Maybe so. Provided all units have the same objective,” Takamäki hedged. His experiences collaborating with other units had been awful, and everyone knew it.
The waitress broke the tension at an opportune time as she breezed in with the drinks.
Kannas spoke up. “I ever tell you about the time way back when I was standing guard at the presidential palace and saw two people going at it in the Supreme Court building?”
“Yes!” was the unanimous response followed by chuckles.
Kannas grinned. “Well, this one I know you haven’t heard. True story. A Helsinki rookie is out riding shotgun with a twenty-year veteran and he wants to show off what he’s got. So they’re driving around and the rookie spots a crowd of people standing on the corner. He cranks down the window and yells, ‘Let’s get off the corner, people.’ They just kind of glance around, so he yells again, ‘Get off the corner… Now!’ So they kind of shuffle off and he turns to his partner and says, ‘How’d I do?’ ‘Not bad,’ says the vet, ‘That’ll teach ’em to wait at the bus stop.’”
The others chuckled, though the joke had been told a hundred times before. Even the waitress laughed as she served up the last round of beers.
“We’ll take the check, please,” said Nykänen. He turned back to his colleagues. “But here’s an actual true story from Espoo. So a patrol car was kind of creeping along through this neighborhood, right? A cat runs out of the bushes, and the squad runs it over. So the officer stops the car and goes with his partner to take a look.”
“And this is supposed to be true?” said Joutsamo.
<
br /> “Didn’t I already say so? Well, the cat was just barely alive and kind of twitching, so the guys didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t really shoot it, but they didn’t want to let it suffer, either. So one of them suggests that they get back in the car and drive over it a few more times and that’s what they did. The cat was pretty much smeared into the pavement when one of them noticed a little granny-the cat’s owner-standing behind the bushes with her eyes like saucers.”
“Ohhh, man,” Joutsamo groaned while the others laughed.
Takamäki’s phone signaled a text message.
“Couldn’t be the wife yet,” laughed Kannas, but the others grew quiet with anticipation.
Takamäki dug his phone out of his belt holder and looked at the screen. His face was impassive. “From Muuri. Better read this out loud: Two life sentences. Unanimous decision. Lehtonen’s testimony was key. Puts Korpi at the scene. Well done!”
Suhonen cracked a smile and raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
The others joined in.
As he set down his glass, Suhonen took out his own phone and sent news of the verdict to Tomi Salmela’s father.
* * *
Counselor Martin and Risto Korpi were in a tiny holding cell in the basement of the courthouse. The room had space for a table and two chairs. Korpi couldn’t bring himself to sit, just paced around the cramped room like a caged animal: three steps one way, three steps back.
Martin, on the other hand, sat at the table watching his client. He couldn’t help but feel afraid.
“Fucking idiot,” Korpi hissed. “I trusted you. You said you’d take care of this.”
“I never promised anything.”
Korpi stopped and stared his lawyer in the eyes.
“Really? Think again.”
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