Fatal Headwind

by Leena Lehtolainen

  I’d never learned to soften blows like this. Now I should have at least tried, though, since Anne immediately collapsed into the nearest chair. She quickly opened her left hand, revealing a blue stone about two inches long, and then clenched her hand around it again, as if drawing strength from it.

  “Homicide? You mean that someone killed Juha? But there wasn’t anyone on Rödskär but . . . Who of us would have wanted to kill Juha?”

  “Maybe we can think about that together,” I said and then issued assignments. While Kantelinen was looking into the business’s finances, Wang, Puupponen, and Koivu would interview the employees. Merivaara Nautical wasn’t a large company. Twenty people worked on the production side, and there were five in research and development. Seven people ran the office.

  As I gave instructions, Anne Merivaara sat still. She looked thunderstruck and continued to fiddle with the blue rock. When the door closed behind my colleagues and the secretary, her eyes lifted and she offered the rock for me to inspect.

  “Azurite. I got it from Seija. She says it’s supposed to give strength in making decisions.”

  “Is that hard for you?” I sat down at the conference table across from Anne.

  “Sometimes. I’m a Libra. I evaluate things from too many different perspectives without coming to a conclusion.”

  “Do you believe in horoscopes and crystals?”

  “I do. Just like I believe that Juha is continuing his life in some other form,” Anne said seriously. Luckily Puupponen wasn’t around, because he would have been sure to suggest that was true—as worm food.

  “It gives me comfort. Maybe Juha will be reborn as a seabird. They were always important to him. I’m sure Harri turned into a sea eagle.”

  A sea eagle—Harri would have liked that. I remembered how one morning he showed up on my doorstep glowing with enthusiasm. He had just heard confirmation of a sighting of a sea eagle nesting with two chicks on a wooded island south of Hanko Peninsula. Harri had been shocked by the losses in the sea-eagle population as a result of environmental contaminants and clear cutting, and had written a very pointed, un-Harri-like article about it for Finnish Nature.

  “What bird would Juha turn into?” I asked, even though the conversation felt inane. I wanted to try and put her at ease because I had to ask her questions that would be hard to answer.

  Anne looked at the azurite and shook her head. “Something big and loud,” she said. “The kind of bird that drove smaller birds away from the rock it was nesting on.” Anne said this neutrally; she knew that in business you had to have broad shoulders.

  Although I had drunk a huge coffee that morning, I wanted more already. Could I ask for a cup, or was Merivaara Nautical going to be one of those places that only had herbal tea? Just then the door opened and Juha Merivaara’s secretary came in with a tray in her hands. There was coffee and tea. As Paula Saarnio filled my cup, I had the thought that I’d like to interview her myself. Secretaries knew different things about their bosses than wives did. Saarnio told me that the pastries were carrot-cake scones and then left.

  The coffee recharged me. After quickly drinking the whole cup, I glanced at Anne, who was forcing herself to nibble on a scone.

  “What was the mood like at your birthday party?”

  Anne swallowed before answering.

  “Nice. Relaxed. Juha did his best to make everyone feel good and to keep me from thinking about Harri. But that wasn’t easy. Sometimes I couldn’t even look at Mikke because I knew he remembered too. Of course the wine helped the mood a bit.”

  “There was quite a bit of alcohol in Juha’s blood. Did he usually drink a lot?”

  Anne thought Juha had drunk more than was good for him. He was rarely drunk, but he had loved three-course dinners, which in his mind demanded the accompanying aperitifs, wine, and cognac. He used beer to quench his thirst in the evenings after work and in the summer when he was boating.

  “Alcohol wasn’t a problem for him, though,” Anne said defensively. “And I don’t think Juha drank particularly much last Saturday. I’m sure the memory of Harri’s death bothered him too, though.”

  “What did Juha think about Riikka’s relationship with Tapio Holma?”

  “Tapio is a pleasant man and a wonderful artist.” Anne took another bite of carrot scone and then washed it down with tea that smelled of peppermint.

  “As a possible son-in-law?”

  “Their romance isn’t going to last that long. As soon as Tapio gets his voice back, and Riikka recovers from her hero worship, it will be over.”

  Had Anne Merivaara said the same thing to her husband to calm him down? When I asked again, Anne admitted that Juha didn’t particularly like that his daughter’s boyfriend was almost his age. But apparently they hadn’t fought about it. Riikka was an adult and could date whomever she chose. Juha had opposed them moving in together mostly because they had only known each other for six months and Riikka had never even lived alone.

  “Juha thought a girl should learn to be independent, not rush straight from her mother to a man.”

  That didn’t sound the least bit unreasonable.

  Next I asked about Jiri. Anne Merivaara had indicated before that Juha didn’t approve of Jiri’s involvement with the Animal Revolution movement.

  For a while Anne didn’t say anything.

  Then she asked, “You said this was a homicide, but Mikke said Juha fell off the cliff. What really happened? How did Juha . . . how was Juha killed?”

  “Unfortunately we can’t share any of the details.”

  “Because my children and I are suspects too, is that right?”

  “Exactly.”

  Anne stood up and walked to the window. Putting the azurite stone in her pocket, she folded her arms across her chest. Wind rustled the willow trees beyond the fields, and crows chased each other. The leaves of the aspens were yellow and red, but the rest of the forest was still green. The next nighttime frost would turn the birches and willows too, and then the autumn storms would strip them bare.

  “It’s bad enough that Juha is dead. But the idea that one of us killed him . . . Things like that don’t happen!” Anne turned back to me. Today she wasn’t wearing glasses. The skin around her eyes was still lighter than her forehead and cheeks, probably from sunglasses. Her thin lips were colorless, and small wrinkles ran around her mouth. Although Anne Merivaara had a slender, almost boyish figure, her facial features were not sharp. Her cheeks were high, her nose narrow and well shaped. She looked like the kind of person who would be a perfect fit for a health-food commercial if she wore just a little makeup and more cheerful colors.

  “How can you think Jiri could have murdered his father? He wouldn’t even kill a horsefly if it bit him!”

  I didn’t answer. Surely Anne knew that after seeing Jiri’s fight with Officer Akkila at the McDonald’s, I wouldn’t be so easily convinced.

  “Let’s forget Jiri for a second. What was your marriage like? Were you happy?”

  Anne sat down at the table again and poured herself another cup of tea.

  “What do you mean by ‘happy’?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that, so I just drank more coffee.

  “I’ve wondered many times why people always have to be seeking happiness. Yes, I look for balance, but happiness? When I was younger I thought that happiness was the same as falling in love. Even though I constantly saw examples to the contrary, I still thought there was some sort of all-encompassing love that could last a lifetime. You know, ‘And they lived happily ever after to the end of their days.’ Maybe other people can make you unhappy, but only you can make yourself happy.”

  Anne took a sip of tea before continuing.

  “At first happiness for Juha meant having a cute little wife and a profitable company. Happiness was a new house and a bigger boat. Juha’s happiness was in things and accomplishments, like being able to sail nonstop without sleeping for fifty hours from Finland to Föglö. Happiness for him wasn’t
about our children’s smiles or even my love for him . . .”

  Tears filled Anne’s eyes, and one rolled slowly down her left cheek.

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that. For me happiness was knowing that Juha and the children were happy. But I wanted something more than new accomplishments. Although when we came up with the idea together to produce green boat paints, I was very happy.”

  Anne wiped her eyes and tried to smile. “Actually the whole idea started with Riikka. Since she was tiny she’s been crazy about animals, and it was a real tragedy when she was about ten and we realized that she was allergic to anything with hair: cats, dogs, horses, even hamsters. I started investigating where the allergies could come from, and part of that was learning about environmental toxins and that sort of thing. At the same time Juha was starting to think that the company needed to carve out a more specific niche to keep up with the competition in the paint business.”

  Anne lifted her cup to her lips and drained it. Her wrist looked too delicate even to hold the oversized cup. How could those hands have beaten a person to death?

  “But in the past few years we’ve been growing in different directions. Juha didn’t understand spiritual values, and he lacked the ability to stop and consider things or meditate. He always had to be charging forward in such a rush. And Juha didn’t feel like nature had intrinsic value—he believed in protecting it just so long as it benefited people. He and Jiri were always arguing about it because Jiri thought that every last bug was just as valuable as he was.”

  The conference room phone rang, and Anne looked at me apologetically before answering. Apparently it was the secretary asking about some sort of business negotiation. Anne said it would have to be moved to the following week. When she spoke about work, her voice was almost commanding, and her facial features turned sharper. I wondered at her ability to continue handling the business, even though her spouse had died just a few days earlier. Maybe she thought the best way to honor Juha’s memory was to continue his work.

  “How did your growing apart show in everyday life?” I asked once Anne returned the receiver to its cradle.

  “We didn’t do much together anymore. Juha wasn’t interested in my meditation retreats, and I wasn’t interested in tennis vacations in Portugal. It didn’t matter, though, because between work and home, we’ve spent almost every hour together the whole time we’ve been married. Getting a little extra space was good for us.”

  “Did this extra space also apply to your sexual relationship?”

  Anne Merivaara didn’t answer, but I noticed she pulled the azurite out of her pocket and started rubbing it again.

  “Did you have other relationships?”

  “I didn’t,” Anne said slowly. “I don’t really know about Juha . . . I imagine on the business trips he took, women were part of the entertainment, but I don’t think he had anyone permanent.”

  Could Anne Merivaara’s indifferent ignorance be genuine? Maybe she noticed the confusion in my eyes, because she continued talking.

  “Yes, I loved Juha. It isn’t that. Our needs were just so different. For the first ten years of our marriage just the idea of Juha being with someone else felt like such a horrible insult. Gradually my attitude changed, though. You can’t own another person—not their body or their soul. Commitment has to be voluntary, no matter what the topic.”

  As a cynic I figured Anne Merivaara knew it was in her best interest to give the police the impression that she didn’t care about her husband’s other women. That took care of at least one possible motive for killing a spouse.

  Now I was the one to stand up and walk to the window. If only my own office window gave a view onto brown fields of freshly tilled earth instead of the endless stream of cars on the Turku Highway.

  “Anne, when you’re dealing with a homicide, concealing information is unwise at best. Worst-case scenario, it can lead to charges of aiding and abetting,” I said, trying not to sound threatening. “I’d like to question Jiri as soon as possible. Is he going to be home today after school?”

  “Jiri doesn’t know anything!” Anne’s voice broke for the first time during our conversation. “And besides, he’s going straight from school to some demonstration.”

  Probably the same one Antti and Iida were attending, I thought with amusement. “How is Jiri doing in school?”

  “Fine, although he argues with his teachers. They say he criticizes their teaching too much. But Jiri wants to get into college. His big dream is to use science to demonstrate that consumer culture is unsustainable.”

  “Ah.” So maybe Jiri had adopted at least a little of his father’s attitude about how to influence the world.

  Just then I realized that if I still intended to interview Paula Saarnio before I had to get back to the station for yet another pointless organizational-development meeting, I would have to wrap up my conversation with Anne Merivaara, even though I didn’t feel like I had gotten anything from her. I took one more carrot scone, since I was hungry and there was no time for lunch. Tonight I would have to get out for a run. Otherwise my head would explode.

  “Six years ago your husband was in a boating accident in which one person died,” I said. “Did that bother him?”

  At first I had been excited about the boating accident, but after a close look at the case file, I learned that Juha Merivaara hadn’t been charged with anything. Back then the standard for boating under the influence had still been a BAC of 0.15, and according to water traffic regulations the boater who died, one Aaro Koponen, should have given Merivaara’s sailboat the right of way. There had been a thick fog, and Koponen’s BAC had been above 0.2. Based on Juha Merivaara’s account, the investigators decided that Koponen simply hadn’t seen the other boat with Juha Merivaara and a couple of business associates aboard.

  Anne looked at me as if she didn’t understand my question at first.

  “Oh, that,” she finally said. “I had forgotten the whole thing. Juha couldn’t do anything about it. The man came straight at them out of the fog. Juha even jumped in the water and tried to save him. He almost drowned himself.”

  Even so, I decided I should at least find out who Aaro Koponen was. The possibility of revenge from someone on his side couldn’t be completely ruled out.

  Paula Saarnio’s office was between Juha Merivaara’s office and the front hall. Saarnio was talking on a cell phone and typing at her computer. I knocked, and without a pause she managed to nod to me to enter. I stepped into the room and walked through into Juha Merivaara’s office. Kantelinen was working on copying Merivaara’s hard drive. But I was more interested in personal belongings than the company finances.

  I opened the door to one side of a large closet. A dark-brown wool suit, dress shirts that were perfectly pressed, and several ties hung from a row of hangers. There was a pair of brown brogue-pattern leather shoes and a tennis racket on the floor, and I found tennis attire and a pair of the latest Adidas tennis shoes on the shelf.

  I reached into one pocket of the jacket and then the other, where I found a coin. I tried the breast pocket, which was empty. There was nothing in the pants pockets or in the tennis shorts.

  The other side of the closet was full of binders. According to the labels, they contained correspondence and product-development memos.

  “I’ll go through those soon,” Kantelinen said calmly.

  “Have you found anything interesting?”

  Kantelinen shook his head. “I’m just doing a general survey right now. I’ll get into more detail back at the station. What are you looking for?”

  “A motive.” I walked over to the desk and opened the top drawer, which contained a thick daily planner that I would take with me. On the desk stood a picture of a smiling Juha Merivaara with his family. They were on the deck of a sailboat, and it must have been from a few years earlier. Riikka and Jiri had long hair, and Jiri still looked like a child.

  The next drawer contained papers, company PR brochures, financial
reports, and such. In the bottom drawer I found brochures from Tapiola Tennis and the Esport Center and a flyer from a boat show.

  On the wall were two framed black-and-white photographs. One was of a man with a carefully trimmed mustache and glasses. On the frame was a small metal plate that read “Mikael Merivaara, 1874–1947.” The narrow face and prominent Adam’s apple of the man in the other picture was familiar, and I wasn’t surprised to read that this was Martti Merivaara, Juha and Mikke’s father, who had lived from 1919–1982.

  I remembered the family tree Katrina Sjöberg had given during her interview. Mikael Merivaara’s father and brothers had been sea captains, but he had left Åland for Helsinki to study engineering. Mikael fell in love with the daughter of an ardent Finnish nationalist, changed his name from the Swedish Sjöberg to Finnish Merivaara, and used the money he inherited from his father-in-law to found a shipping-equipment company, Merivaara Nautical. Martti Merivaara was Mikael’s only child. Martti inherited the company, but he was not a particularly skilled businessman. Only a couple of years after his father’s death, he had been forced to sell half of his stock in the company.

  The shares were purchased by Gustav Enckell, whose daughter, Fredrika, was ten years older than Martti. Enckell died soon after the purchase, and Martti came up with a plan to marry Fredrika in order to win back control of the company. Martti and Fredrika married in 1950, and Juha was born the next year. They didn’t have any more children because Fredrika was diagnosed with leukemia, which she died of in 1959.

  Juha inherited his mother’s half of the company. Martti controlled Juha’s assets, but the trustees of the boy’s estate forced him to take better care of them. The company began to thrive in the 1960s as Finns began to have more money for things like recreational boating.

  Both Mikael and Martti Merivaara looked uncompromising and stubborn, the sort of men who would brook no argument. How soon would Juha Merivaara’s picture be added to the wall?

  There were more binders on the shelves, along with a few trophies and some model ships. I took down one of the trophies to inspect it. Hanko Six Meter Regatta Champion 1978. So Juha Merivaara had sailed competitively, unlike Mikke, who just liked sailing for itself.