Saarnikangas smiled, “I know how the real cold war ended, now I just need to figure out who’s East and who’s West.”
“You know, Juha, that reminds me of Spain. Once in my younger days, we were on a drinking trip in Torremolinos. After three days in a beach-front cantina, I had quite a hangover. The weather was fantastic, but I just felt like hanging out under the canopy of the terrace bar. Well, that took care of the hangover quickly. But there was a sign in Spanish on the wall of the bar, and for some reason I just had to figure out what it said. The gray-whiskered bartender translated it for me, and I still remember it.”
Saarnikangas looked at Suhonen. “Well?”
“Talking about the bulls isn’t the same as being in the ring.”
“Yea-ah,” Saarnikangas said, amused. “Better that than ‘Drink sangria in moderation.’”
Suhonen finally got annoyed, “Enough bullshit. Let’s go down to the station. You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder.”
“Don’t I even get my one phone call?”
“Nope. You’ve watched one too many American TV shows,” said Suhonen bluntly. Saarnikangas’ jokes fell flat.
“But…”
“Game over.”
“If the game’s over, can’t we have a rematch?”
Suhonen looked at the junkie. He was no killer, but he knew more than he was willing to say. Joutsamo wouldn’t care one way or the other. She would pry all she could out of the guy.
“Let’s go. No more games. I don’t have cuffs with me, but I can have a cruiser here in four minutes. Either that or nice and easy in my car.”
Suhonen fished his cellphone out of his jacket pocket.
Saarnikangas knew he wasn’t kidding around. “Okay, Suhonen. Listen to me. I didn’t shoot him. I’m not a killer. Hey, I’m the one that called you about it…”
Suhonen pushed a button on his phone and raised it to his ear. “Suhonen from VCU. I need a unit out here to take someone to Pasila… Yeah. In Pihlajamäki, the apartments by Vuolukivi… I’ve got him, but we need transport to Pasila… Right… Thanks.” Suhonen put the phone back in his pocket.
“Shit,” Saarnikangas shrieked. “I didn’t kill him!”
“You have four minutes. Enlighten me, but without the history lesson.”
“Don’t you believe me? If I did it, there’s no way in hell I would have told you about the body.”
“Never heard that before,” Suhonen sneered, glancing at his phone.
“That’s not funny,” Juha said.
“I’m a cop, not a comedian.”
Saarnikangas paused for a second. The East or the West? Who would win? It made no difference; he was out of time. He had to resolve the immediate crisis first, just as Paasikivi would have done.
“Three and a half,” Suhonen said.
“I was there a while after he was shot,” he said in a defeated tone. “But I didn’t shoot nobody…it was some guy wearing a ski mask. I was supposed to get rid of the body, but I couldn’t do it.”
Suhonen let him talk, though he had plenty of questions.
“I’m not cut out for that. I was confused. The killer gave me the gun and told me to get rid of it along with the body. I thought about dropping the corpse in the sea or chopping it up, but I just ran. I drove north in a panic-I had to gas up at the Parkano ABC. Then I decided to go back. Somewhere around Valkeakoski I remembered I still had the gun. I got off the highway, pulled up to some dark cabin on a lake, wiped the fingerprints off the gun, and threw it as far as I could. I went back to the garage, but I couldn’t think of what to do… How much time do I have?”
“Ninety seconds.”
“What else do you need?”
“Who gave you the job?”
“A guy named Lydman. When he called me, he didn’t say what the job was. I owed him some money, and I figured I’d have to take someone’s drugs from point A to point B.”
Suhonen nodded. Saarnikangas seemed to be telling the truth.
“What kind of gun?”
“I don’t know the make…some kind of.22.”
“Where exactly was this cabin?”
Saarnikangas laughed. “Hey, I was all mixed up.”
“One minute.”
“If you’re going to Tampere, it’s where you turn off to Turku.”
“Highway Nine?”
“Probably. It’s on the way to the prison. After the interchange you take a right at the intersection and then head back towards the highway. The most I can tell you is that the cabin had white walls and a dark roof. You could see the highway from the dock; I saw a big semi cruise by. Hey, Suhonen. You believe me, right?”
“Thirty seconds. I can hear the cruiser coming up the block.”
“I don’t know anything more.”
“Who was the killer?”
“I don’t know. He was wearing blue overalls and a ski mask. He mumbled something about a Customs nark, but I didn’t hear anything else… Hey, the cruiser… I need to talk to you about something.”
Suhonen nodded and took his phone out of his pocket. He pushed the red button again and talked into the dead mic, “Suhonen from the VCU again… Yeah, that transport from Vuolukivi… Right, that’s it. Well, we just happened to have a couple homicide guys in the area, so you don’t need to bother with the cruiser… Yeah, cancel it.”
The trick worked. Saarnikangas looked like a twelve-year-old boy who just scored a game-tying goal with seconds to go in the third period. The game wasn’t over after all; it was headed for overtime.
“Good,” Juha went on, smiling. “I think you’ll be interested. I want you to take care of something for me.”
They talked for another ten minutes.
Afterwards, Suhonen got back in his car and Saarnikangas headed for the stairs. In the car, Suhonen took his phone and called Joutsamo.
“Hey,” Suhonen said.
“Where are you?”
Suhonen glanced at the bleak apartment buildings. “Around town.”
“Well?”
“Couple things. First, get the surveillance tape from the Pakila Teboil, from, say, around ten o’clock the night of the murder. We should be able to find Saarnikangas on it. Second, get the Parkano ABC’s surveillance tape from Monday night to Tuesday morning.”
“What?”
“Listen to what I’m telling you!”
“Okay,” Joutsamo eased up. “The footage from Teboil and Parkano. What are we looking for in Parkano?”
“Saarnikangas’ white van. He said he was there on the night of the murder. I don’t know the exact time.”
“Okay.”
A light turned on in the window of Saarnikangas’ apartment. Suhonen started the car.
“Third, tell the Valkeakoski Fire Department to go for a swim.”
“What are they looking for and where?”
“The murder weapon should be at the bottom of a lake near the highway,” Suhonen said, and described the location.
Joutsamo paused briefly before continuing. He assumed she was taking notes.
“Suhonen,” Joutsamo said in a serious tone. “Did you arrest him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Right now, he’s more use to us on the street than in jail,” he said. Suhonen couldn’t put Juha in a cell now, not after he had coughed up the truth.
“Is that so.”
“Yup.”
“Where’d you get all this? Saarnikangas, or what?”
“I heard it through the grapevine,” Suhonen crooned.
“That’s not funny. Are you coming back in?”
“At some point, yeah. I have to see what happens.” Saarnikangas was the key, but there were still a few more doors Suhonen wanted to try.
“You’ll have to explain this to Takamäki then.”
“Don’t worry. You take care of the surveillance tapes and find the gun.” Suhonen hung up the phone and took out another. He reserved a room in the Katajanokka Hotel under the name,
“Suikkanen.”
Suhonen backed out of the parking space and glanced up.
Saarnikangas was standing in the window.
CHAPTER 21
CORNER PUB, KALLIO, HELSINKI
THURSDAY, 7:55 P.M.
It was standing room only in the Corner Pub. In years past, the bar would have reeked of smoke, but now it smelled only of snow-dampened clothing and stale booze. Most of the customers were men. A few of them were sitting alone at round tables, the extra chairs having been slid away for other patrons.
A television that hung from the ceiling was showing the Eurosport channel: men soared off a ski jump in sixty-second intervals.
Suhonen stepped inside and shook the snow off his jacket. He elbowed his way to the bar and ordered a beer.
The undercover detective scanned the bar. He knew what the man looked like. Back at headquarters, he had checked his mug shot from the database. He had used a computer in Narcotics, so he wouldn’t run into Joutsamo. She would have wanted an explanation, but Suhonen wasn’t in the mood, nor did he have the time. Time would tell if this would go anywhere. If not, he’d have to go back and arrest Saarnikangas.
He didn’t find the guy in the front of the bar, though he saw two wanted men sitting under the TV. Though Suhonen knew their faces, he couldn’t recall their names. The pair was suspected of a string of car break-ins. Maybe tonight they were downing their profits.
Suhonen wandered off towards the rear. He noticed a few familiar faces, but not the one he was looking for. Markus Markkanen was big enough to stand out, even in this crowd. Suhonen didn’t know him, nor had he ever met him. According to the database, “Bogeyman” Markkanen was last released from prison at the beginning of the decade. He had done time for assault and battery, and aggravated assault.
Markkanen’s name didn’t show up in the organized crime intelligence database, so he wasn’t known to belong to any of the gangs. Either he had lived a clean life the past few years, or managed to avoid getting caught.
Suhonen sipped his beer at the bar. Saarnikangas had told him about Lydman’s orders that Juha was supposed to meet Markkanen here, and that Markkanen might be involved in Eriksson’s murder. He could even be the shooter, Saarnikangas had suggested. Based on his record, Suhonen figured it was more likely that Markkanen was the shooter than the planner.
Saarnikangas and Markkanen had never met, but even so, Suhonen couldn’t pretend to be Juha. Instead, he’d be Suikkanen, an ex-con. Most of the Corner Pub’s clientele knew him by that name anyway.
His beer mug was getting lighter, and he was starting to feel the adrenaline. He wasn’t sure what would happen tonight-he was only after intel. Saarnikangas hadn’t known what the new job was about. Suhonen wanted to find that out, as well as Markkanen’s role in the murder case.
* * *
Anna Joutsamo stopped by her boss’s office. It had been a long day, but that happened when the case called for it.
“I got the pics,” she said, and showed him some letter-sized color prints. The quality wasn’t much, but Saarnikangas was recognizable at the front door of the Pakila Teboil. He had arrived at 9:49 P.M. and left at 10:03; the camera behind the register had recorded him sitting alone at one of the tables. The pictures from the Parkano ABC showed him fueling up in the wee hours of the morning.
“Good. More nails in his coffin,” Takamäki said. “What about the weapon?”
“The lake isn’t frozen yet, so the Fire Department will search for it tonight. Kulta’s on his way to supervise the operation.”
“Good… By the way, did you find anything on Nyholm? Any connection?” Takamäki asked.
“They’re father and daughter. The dad has an unblemished career at Customs, and the girl has no record. Could it just be a coincidence that the girl falls in love with a criminal?” she wondered. “Or maybe some kind of rebellion against a straight-laced dad.”
“You don’t think the girl could have anything to do with Eriksson’s murder?”
“You mean that the dad could’ve killed her boyfriend?”
Takamäki looked out the window. “Or Kristiina, wasn’t that her name, had a former boyfriend-a jealous type?”
“In my conversations with her, she never mentioned any issues or dramas like that.”
“Just thinking out loud… We don’t know whether Saarnikangas knew Eriksson’s girlfriend.”
“No, I didn’t mention Saarnikangas, and neither did she.”
“A woman is always a good motive,” Takamäki said.
Joutsamo was still standing in the door. “By the way, has Suhonen called you?”
Takamäki shook his head. “Has he called you?”
“No. And no sign of Saarnikangas. Should I take a couple SWAT guys and pay a visit to Pihlajamäki?”
Takamäki rubbed his face-he looked worn. The case had been going full-bore for three days. He could use a sauna, two beers, and a long night’s sleep. Joutsamo had bags under her eyes.
“No. Suhonen got the tip about the pictures, and we might find the weapon in the lake. Saarnikangas isn’t going anywhere. Let’s take him down when the time is right.”
Joutsamo crossed her arms. “Sure would be nice if Suhonen told us what he’s up to.”
Takamäki shrugged. “You gonna be here much longer?”
“Should I?”
“Nope, as long as there’s nothing urgent. I’ll help Kohonen with the phone taps, but it doesn’t look like we’ll find anything there.”
“These prepaid phones seem to indicate a professional hit.”
“It’s odd that a junkie like Saarnikangas would get mixed up in a professional job like this. He’s more the type you’d find dead in the bathroom of a downtown bar.”
“Exactly the same thing Suhonen is wondering.”
* * *
Someone slapped Suhonen hard on the shoulder, and the impact nearly made him drop his glass.
“Damned if it ain’t Suikkanen,” the man bellowed.
Suhonen recognized the voice and dropped into a boxer’s crouch. He kept his glass in his left hand and swung a playful right hook, stopping just short of the man’s fat belly.
“Waltsu, you fat hog,” Suhonen grinned. The man grinned back with a broad, bearded face. He wore a tattered denim jacket.
“Suikkanen, you’re still quick as a hippo and sharp as Dumbo.”
They bumped glasses. “You’re almost empty there,” Waltsu growled and shouted at a skinny weasel-faced guy standing in front of the bar, “Hey pal, one more for Suikkanen. It’s on me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like you’ll pay,” the weasel muttered. Nevertheless, he ordered a beer from the barkeep and fished three euros out of his pocket.
Suhonen gave the man a quick nod of thanks and turned back to Waltsu, making sure he could still see the door. “Come on now, I’ve been to the gym a couple times at least.”
“Ha! In the pen, you mean?”
Suhonen laughed. “Nah, I’ve managed to stay out this time. At least so far.”
“Yeah, but seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”
The weasel handed the beer to Suhonen and glowered at Waltsu.
“Thanks,” said Suhonen, and he raised his glass.
“Forget it,” Waltsu said and lowered his voice. “You heard of anything going down? You know, anything where a guy could earn a little cash?”
Suhonen knew that unemployment checks and welfare benefits weren’t enough to fund a constant stream of liquor. In his time, Waltsu had owned an excavator and operated a variety of businesses around the country. His divorce had cost him the firm. Waltsu didn’t really miss his excavator, and the wife even less. Now he brokered small gigs: matching thieves to lucrative targets and getting a small cut of the action.
“Dunno,” Suhonen answered.
“You wouldn’t happen to be setting up a company? I have a couple clean guys. You can have their names for two hundred.”
“Do I look like I’d start up a company?” S
uhonen said. Suikkanen was no boss man-more the type to operate quietly in the background.
“No, but you never know nowadays. With globalization and all, it’s become trendy to have your own business.”
The entrance door swung open, and in came the plump “Princess.” Waltsu noticed her too. “Oh shit, here she comes again.”
“Who, Princess?”
“What, you know her?” Waltsu asked.
“Nah. Just know of her. Doesn’t everybody?”
“Steer clear of her,” he groaned.
The weasel had abruptly disappeared from the bar.
The crowd parted, and Princess waddled straight toward Suhonen and Waltsu. The bearded man took a couple steps backwards, “Sorry, Suikkanen. Gotta go.”
“Waltsu, stop!” the woman snarled, and he froze.
Suhonen dodged the perfume-drenched royalty and glanced at the door. At the same time, a tall man in a blue sports jacket entered. It seemed like he was looking for someone. Markkanen, Suhonen guessed.
He wasn’t going to rush right over; he wanted to eyeball the guy first. It was possible Markkanen wasn’t alone. A single glance could reveal an accomplice.
Princess was chewing out Waltsu, and the weasel smirked to himself. Suhonen took a swig of his beer. Markkanen glanced at his phone, and Suhonen decided that now was the time.
He weaved through the crowd towards Markkanen. The big man saw him coming in his leather jacket.
“Hi,” Suhonen said. “You’re Markkanen?”
“Maybe. Who are you?”
“We’re supposed to meet.”
He looked at Suhonen with surprise. “You’re not Saarnikangas.”
“No. But Juha asked me to come.”
Suhonen watched him tense up. He seemed nervous and looked around the room. Perhaps he suspected that Saarnikangas had set a trap.
“What the hell is this?”
Suhonen smiled. “Hey, I don’t know anything. I’m a friend of Juha’s, and he asked me to come. I was supposed to meet this Markkanen, and he described someone who looks like you. So here I am.”
Markkanen eyed Suhonen carefully.
“Well, get us a table, and we can talk.”
“A table?”
Against the Wall hh-1 Page 15