The Nightingale Murder (The Maria Kallio Series Book 9)

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “Maybe. Best to follow a policy of silence. The police will make any necessary public statements.”

  I remembered promising to tell Arto Saarnio if we found Oksana, but I decided to put it off. I’d need to get Oksana’s permission first. I’d never expected to find Oksana alive, and dead people don’t have opinions. Now the situation was different.

  Outside, the wind buffeted Ursula’s small Renault as it clambered along Ring III.

  “Ursula, listen. It’s best if Kaartamo doesn’t hear about Oksana yet. You understand, don’t you?”

  “I don’t understand,” Ursula responded, “but have it your way. Anyway, Oksana may be a key witness. Lulu knew that Arto Saarnio was one of Oksana’s clients. What if that was the bombshell Lulu intended to drop on live TV? And what if Riitta Saarnio found out about it somehow? What if Lulu dropped too many hints? Lulu liked power, so maybe she liked making Mrs. Saarnio sweat, especially since the woman so clearly demonstrated that she hated Lulu and everyone like her. What if Riitta Saarnio was guilty after all?” Ursula said as she turned off Ring III onto the Turku Highway.

  I no longer felt like holding back what I knew. Ursula had sometimes accused me of high-handedness and bias, and she’d been right.

  “No, Ursula, I think this is about something much bigger than that. Länsimies wants to be president, and he has some powerful backers. I don’t know if he’s anything more than a megalomaniac, but he’s dangerous. We need to find some concrete evidence so we can lock him up before someone else becomes his next victim.”

  19

  At nine on Sunday morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee and the rustling of the newspaper. Antti was reading the real estate listings and taking notes on the properties worth seeing. By the time I’d returned home the previous night, he’d been fast asleep. I’d succeeded in crawling into bed next to him without waking him up, even though I’d wanted a hug. Then exhaustion won out over the need for intimacy.

  “Here’s a duplex in North Tapiola . . . the showing is at three. And then there’s a house in Suna. It’s pretty close to downtown Espoo.”

  I filled my coffee cup and kissed Antti on the neck.

  “I may have to go in this morning to handle one interview, if we can get a Russian interpreter. But it shouldn’t last long,” I lied, knowing that everything depended on the interpreter’s schedule. Ursula had promised to handle the arrangements and then call me. When I turned my phone on, a message from her was already waiting.

  “The interpreter will meet us at Jorvi at ten thirty. That’s the only time that worked. You’ll be up by then, right?”

  I texted her to tell her that I’d be there. Open houses rarely started before noon, and seeing two or three this first day would be enough. We didn’t intend to buy the first place we found. We weren’t in any hurry—we’d have to sell our apartment to avoid being saddled with two mortgages. I got ready to go, and Antti promised to contact potential real estate agents while I was gone.

  Officer Saari had taken over for Akkila, and we found him outside Oksana’s room, reading a car magazine. He said no one had tried to see her, and the assistant charge nurse told us that Oksana had been incredibly lucky. Her wounds had been so infected that they’d immediately begun an aggressive course of antibiotics. It was likely they would have to operate on her genital area because the wounds there were so severe. “Oksana needs rest,” the nurse said. “You have half an hour.”

  “I should have said yesterday that you don’t have to worry about Kaartamo. I’ve got him on a leash,” Ursula whispered as we walked into Oksana’s room, where the interpreter was already waiting at the door.

  “What do you mean?” I asked Ursula, but she didn’t have time to answer before the interpreter, Johanna Klimkin, came to greet us. She was a cheerful woman in her sixties, and working with her was always easy. Her amiable manner usually worked well with the witnesses too. Johanna was like padding between the police and the interviewee, offering comfort and tempering difficult questions, even though, as far as I understood, she translated everything with precision. Johanna spent a lot of time with her husband’s female Russian relatives and said that they were frequently taken for prostitutes in Finland even though they were professionals, from a medical physicist to a master of business administration. Just the language and a style of dress that differed from the Finnish norm was enough to mark them.

  “Good morning, Oksana. I hope you’re feeling better,” I said with Johanna interpreting. Oksana nodded. Half of Oksana’s face was covered in bandages, and she was obviously under the influence of painkillers. “We want to talk about Lulu.”

  Through Johanna, Oksana said, “I didn’t know if the Finnish police would help me. I was afraid of going to prison, either here or in Ukraine. We Russians never get to meet regular Finns beyond our clients. Meeting Lulu at the Mikado was pure coincidence. She confirmed my fears about the Finnish police. Another time we met again in the hallway at the Hesperia Hotel. Both of us had just left clients and we got to talking. When you police came to see me in the hospital, I knew I had to get away. I borrowed one of the nurse’s phones. She’d left it on the desk. Lulu came to get me and took me to that cabin. She promised to come back on Friday.” Oksana pulled the covers tighter around her. The IV needle looked large in her slender arm resting on the white sheet.

  “You said yesterday that Lulu encouraged you to watch Surprise Guests on TV because she was going to deliver a big surprise. What did Lulu say about that?”

  Oksana shook her head. “Lulu talked a lot, but it was all English, which I don’t understand very well. This morning I’ve been trying to think about what she was trying to say. Lulu was good to me, and I want to help catch her murderer. I won’t be able to help much if I get locked up or deported. Am I going to be put in prison?” Oksana asked, her voice pleading. I wondered why she hadn’t asked Arto Saarnio for more help. Or had he intentionally kept her in the dark to make her more dependent on him?

  “Illegal immigration can result in deportation. And according to Finnish law, selling sex in a public place is a punishable offense, but the pimps are the real criminals, so you won’t go to prison for it,” I replied. Who would even testify against Oksana for that crime anyway? “You can help us convict them.”

  “Lesha said that he bribes the police so we don’t get arrested, and that was why we had to give him almost all our money. I only got ten euros out of a hundred, but Lesha also brought us food. All my money got left in that apartment. Hundreds of euros. Will I be able to get it back?”

  I thought of the empty apartment in downtown Espoo. Oksana would never see the money she’d earned. I didn’t know what had been promised to her, but none of those promises meant anything. Hope for a better life was a good sales pitch, but most people lost out in the deal.

  “Oksana, what did Lulu say about the TV show?” I repeated.

  “Lulu said that they could buy her body but not her soul and that no one could use her for something she didn’t believe in. And something about the president or some wannabe president,” Johanna Klimkin translated.

  “Do you remember what this wannabe’s name was?” Ursula asked before I could.

  “No . . . some man. For some reason, I thought it was the man who asked the questions on the TV, on that program where Lulu was, but I really didn’t understand everything. I didn’t dare call Lulu on the phone she gave me after the TV show went so strangely, and later I understood that Lulu was dead . . . And I just . . . I was afraid.”

  “Why didn’t you call Arto?”

  “I didn’t want him to see me like this, so . . . ugly. And I’ve had time to think. Men will say anything when they want a woman. But in the end, all their promises are empty. Arto claimed I was the only other woman besides his wife, and I was stupid enough to believe him. I thought I was something more than a whore to him. He even gave me this ring.” Oksana pointed at her finger where a line of garnets sparkled. That seemed like the only glint of light in the young
woman’s being.

  Oksana told us that she’d only dared to go to the outhouse in the dark. She borrowed Lulu’s father’s boots so she wouldn’t leave her own tracks in the snow. In the end, she accepted that she would probably never leave the Mäkinens’ cabin.

  “It was my prison,” she said.

  I let Oksana talk for a while, because I could tell that she was enjoying talking to someone who understood Russian after so long being isolated and alone. Our time was running out, however, so eventually Ursula changed the subject.

  “I looked for you last Saturday at the Mikado. Two guys came after me when I left. One was big and bald, with bushy black eyebrows and a broken tooth. His coat had a fur collar. The other one was big too and had red hair, and a big nose that looked like it’d been broken at least once. They beat me and another girl who works at the railway station.”

  Oksana listened to Johanna’s translation with wide eyes.

  “The big bald one with the fur collar is named Urmanov. I don’t know the other one’s name, but they’re from the same gang. They work for Mishin. Urmanov is very bad. He’s the one I’m most afraid of finding me here. Once he . . .” Oksana pulled down her collar so we could see a knife scar. “Even though they usually don’t want to leave marks on us. So we won’t scare off customers. Now I’m not fit for anyone, not even a good man . . .” Oksana began to cry. I walked to Oksana’s bed and took her by the hand.

  “Everything you remember is extremely important. We might need you to testify in court later. We only have a couple minutes left, so I need to ask you: Was Lulu afraid to go on the television show?” I asked, even as the nurse appeared at the door.

  “No. She was happy,” Oksana replied and continued before Johanna had finished interpreting. “A photo. She had a photo she was in. She was angry about it and angry at that man.”

  Bingo, I thought to myself. The evidence against Länsimies was starting to stack up. It was about time to bring him in for questioning.

  “Your client Arto’s full name is Arto Saarnio,” I said, and Johanna Klimkin drew a sharp breath. “He’s a big boss. He himself came to the police and told us who you were. He was very worried about you. His wife is dead now. Can I notify him that you’re safe here in the hospital?”

  Oksana burst into tears, and I understood without any translation that she thought she was too mutilated to see him. But then the knowledge that his wife was dead sunk in, and a new spark kindled in her eye.

  “Please. Maybe poor Arto needs someone to comfort him.”

  “Thank you, Oksana. We’ll talk again later.” Ursula and I shook Oksana’s hand and thanked the interpreter, who now shared the knowledge of these dangerous names, Mishin and Urmanov. And Arto Saarnio. But Johanna Klimkin knew the risks of her job.

  We didn’t say a word until we were in the car. Then Ursula blurted out, “So it must be Länsimies. Why didn’t we arrest that asshole yesterday?”

  “We didn’t have enough evidence.” My cell phone beeped. Even though I knew it was dangerous while driving, I looked at the text message. It was from the officer coordinating the emptying of the trash bins at the Big Apple. They had actually found the K-Market bag I was looking for, in the trash at the movie theater.

  “Ha! Now we might have some hard evidence! Let’s see what this plastic bag can tell us. Ursula, this is a dance without any room for false steps. Länsimies’s backers have been preparing a kompromat smear campaign against the president. They were using Lulu, but she didn’t want to be a part of it. OK, let’s think about this. How would Länsimies know that Lulu had decided to be difficult? He would have had to hide the cyanide in Lulu’s car when he was in it, before the show. Because of the show Länsimies had a plausible opportunity to meet Lulu and leave fingerprints and DNA in her car and in her dressing room. So none of that will work as evidence.”

  “Sometimes risk-takers overestimate their abilities. Pamela may be able to help ID Länsimies. All we have to do is get him for shooting Sulonen. Why would he have done that unless he killed Lulu Nightingale first?” Ursula said. Because she wasn’t arguing against my theory connecting the crime to Länsimies’s run for the presidency, I was starting to believe it more.

  “I’m going to stop by the station. Antti and I have our open house at two, but I’d like to handle a couple of things first. How do you think Ilari Länsimies might react if he heard that Tero Sulonen was regaining consciousness? Would he try to silence him again?”

  “Maybe.”

  Cyanide worked fast, but wouldn’t Länsimies realize that Sulonen was under guard? The papers hadn’t mentioned it, but still. Should the guard hide rather than sit in the hall per the usual protocol? No, that would be too risky. And besides, entrapment was illegal. But you could always give people rope to hang themselves with. Arto Saarnio could be my puppet. It would be perfectly natural for him to call his wife’s business partner and hint that he’d heard Sulonen was coming to. Saarnio could claim the police were hoping Sulonen would tell them why Riitta had shot him.

  I was starting to believe that Länsimies had killed Riitta Saarnio and tried to frame her for Lulu’s murder and the attempt on Sulonen’s life, because Sulonen had called Riitta’s phone in his attempt to reach Länsimies. We had evidence of that, even though we didn’t know what they had discussed. Länsimies certainly had the cool head and the ambition necessary to attempt such a scheme. What had Arto Saarnio said about psychopaths at the top of the social ladder? Sometimes people’s calling every criminal a psychopath amused me, although I knew from experience that there were plenty of violent repeat offenders who lacked any sense of empathy. But was Länsimies a psychopath? Judging that wasn’t my job.

  “What did you mean when you said I didn’t have to worry about Kaartamo?” I asked Ursula as I pulled over at the bus stop to drop her off.

  “I meant about the Mikado thing. If he turns me in, Mrs. Kaartamo will receive a very interesting phone call,” she said with a giggle.

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “I mean that he’s made it quite clear that he’s in the market for a fling.” Ursula looked at herself in the mirror, took out a compact, and dabbed some powder on her flawless skin. “I intend to toy with him for a little while longer and then end the game. He’s disgusting. How could he think I’d be interested in a sixty-year-old geezer like him?” She laughed.

  “There are a lot of women who are interested in money and power.”

  “Oh, I definitely am, but not in a package like that. Arto Saarnio might be another story, though. He doesn’t come across as sixty at all. Do you consider me immoral?”

  “No, but you’re taking some pretty big risks. Kaartamo isn’t the kind of person I’d play games with.”

  Ursula climbed out of the car, taking care to keep the hem of her bright-blue winter coat from touching the muddy ground. “See you tomorrow,” she said. I saw in the rearview mirror how her blond hair shone above the blue hood of her coat like a halo.

  Driving toward the station, I picked up my phone and called Arto Saarnio. A long time passed before he picked up.

  “Hi, this is Maria Kallio.”

  “Hello.” Saarnio’s voice was raspy.

  “We found Oksana Petrenko. She’s alive.”

  “What? Wait just a second. My son’s and daughter’s families are here . . .” I heard a rustling of clothing and a cat’s meow. “Yes, Miisi, you can come out too,” I heard Saarnio murmur. Then a door banged, and I heard footsteps. “OK, I’m in the front yard. Where did you find her?”

  “In a cabin where she’s been hiding since her disappearance. She’s at Jorvi Hospital now, but she can’t have visitors yet.” I heard a long sigh, which ended in a cough.

  “Will she recover?”

  “Yes. And she’s been a big help to our investigation of Lulu Nightingale’s murder and, indirectly, your wife’s murder too. That’s why I’d like to ask your help. I need you to call Ilari Länsimies and hint that Tero Sulonen is waking up.”r />
  “So you’re sure that Ilari . . . I could strangle him with my bare hands!” It took a while for Saarnio to calm down. He didn’t ask any more questions, just promised to contact Länsimies and then hung up. I knew that my trap wouldn’t stand up to the brightest light of day, but I decided to take the risk and accept responsibility for whatever happened.

  At the police station I wrote an arrest warrant and then ordered a patrol car to be sent to Ilari Länsimies’s home. Before leaving, I watched some tape of Surprise Guests and reviewed the material from the mall security cameras. Despite being larger, the shooter’s movements were very similar to Länsimies’s.

  “No sign of him,” Liisa Rasilainen said, reporting from outside Länsimies’s home. “Only his wife is here. Should we hang around?”

  “Yes, please. Did you tell the wife why you’re there?”

  “We just said we had some routine questions. We’ll park around the corner so he doesn’t see us immediately. According to his wife, he’s in a meeting about the future of his show. On a Sunday. Apparently network executives don’t have it any easier than cops,” Rasilainen said.

  Since there wasn’t anything else I could do, I decided to head home. Länsimies would have a much harder time fleeing than a normal criminal would, because three-fourths of the country knew him. He’d need that Putin mask again.

  Antti had lunch ready, and after we ate we went to look at houses. We’d done plenty of apartment hunting a few years earlier, but with houses there were different things you had to consider. The house in Suna had three stories, which would be impractical for a family with children. The duplex in North Tapiola would have needed a lot more than the splash of paint the listing mentioned to get it in decent shape.

  At least Iida was excited about both houses. She thought it would be amazing to live on the top floor of the three-story house, in particular because of the balcony and an aquarium. I reminded her that the aquarium wouldn’t be part of the sale. At the duplex, we had to restrain Taneli to keep him away from the current residents’ Lego collection.