Fatal Headwind

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “Mrs. Merivaara is still in conference with her lawyer. She asked that you wait for fifteen minutes. Would you like some tea?”

  Of course I said yes, thank you. Apparently Paula Saarnio had been ordered to keep me company, because two cups and a platter of feta-spinach quiche were waiting on her table. I wolfed down half of a large piece before I realized I should take advantage of the situation and ask what she knew about Peders and Ramanauskas.

  “Oh, the Lithuanians we never paid dividends to.” Saarnio’s expression was amused. “Heikki and I, I mean Mr. Halonen, our CFO, and I wondered about that more than once, especially in recent years when the company could actually pay dividends. Mare Nostrum’s account always remained untouched.”

  “But you knew who the secret shareholders were, unlike Mr. Halonen and Anne Merivaara.” Evidently my tone was sharp, because Paula Saarnio glanced at me in surprise.

  “Yes, I knew, even though the deal was made before I was hired. Juha let it slip one night after drinking with clients. Anne and Juha gave a presentation on the company’s environmental goals, and then the customers were fed and liquored into a stupor. Anne came down with a fever and went home, but Juha asked me to stay and empty the last bottle of champagne with him. He raised a glass to the big show and laughed about what the customers would say if they knew that the whole eco-line was funded with money from a very different kind of paint. Then I think he was scared about what he’d said and explained that he’d just meant paint from his father’s time.”

  Paula Saarnio leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. The creases of her pinstripe pants were immaculate.

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “Well, the paints the company made back in Martti Merivaara’s time were full of lead. They used it to keep the bottoms of the boats clean. I probably would have believed Juha if the fax machine hadn’t started printing right then. I went to get it, and it was from Ramanauskas. The next load was due ashore on Saturday. When Juha realized that I had read the fax, which was for his eyes only, he had a hard time coming up with an explanation. Finally he said that it was just about a deal with his shareholding company and that after a few more arrangements he would be able to buy all the Merivaara Nautical stock back from Mare Nostrum. That was when I started suspecting that the shares had been sold to Mare Nostrum as part of some sort of scam.”

  Frowning, I wished that Kantelinen had been with me.

  “Some sort of scam? What do you mean?”

  “Several years ago the company needed more capital, but Juha didn’t want to sell shares to outsiders. Maybe Mare Nostrum was a front company, and Peders and Ramanauskas were paying Juha for a share in something else entirely.”

  Just then the door to the CEO’s office opened. Anne Merivaara led out a gray-haired gentleman with an expensive-looking three-piece suit and a pocket-watch chain that had to be twenty-four-karat gold. Anne looked as if she’d been crying.

  “Just one more moment,” she said to me and then asked Saarnio to escort out the man she called Mr. Heikkilä. I hoped Saarnio would return before Anne, but Anne only took a minute powdering her nose. When she came back, the signs of her tears had disappeared.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait. Is there any news?”

  “Yes, actually, quite a lot. For example, we have the names of the Mare Nostrum shareholders. Your husband, Juha, was the primary shareholder. Do you still want to claim you had no knowledge of these arrangements?”

  “None.” Anne tried to sound confident, but the muscles in her face twitched. “Apparently there were a lot of things I didn’t know about, for instance that the boat was completely paid for, even though Juha told me we still owed half of it and that last fall, after that first heart attack, he took out the most expensive life-insurance policy he could, given his health history. As if he sensed he was leaving soon.”

  “Is that speedboat in Juha’s name rather than the company’s?” I asked quickly, because tears were filling Anne’s eyes.

  “It’s in my name, and I don’t know where the money came from to pay for it. We should have had . . .”

  “There are probably a lot of things about the company that are different than you imagined. What do you intend to do with the company? Sell it?”

  “I don’t know if I want to sell, but what if Riikka and Jiri intend to keep their shares? Juha wouldn’t have wanted us to sell, which is why he took out that life insurance. I asked Mikke to consider taking over as CEO, even though I knew it was hopeless. Heikki Halonen would be interested, but I don’t trust him.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  Anne smiled faintly.

  “I haven’t had much time to think. I’m lucky to get through one day at a time. Seija and I have talked about starting an educational center on Rödskär. Seija could teach crystal classes, one of my other friends could teach raw veganism, and so forth. Rödskär is an inspiring place. We could hold retreats there too. I don’t believe in the bad energy Seija complains about. All I feel is peace when I think of the island, even after Juha’s death.”

  I took another piece of quiche and focused on eating it. A crow sped past the window, and the motion of its wings gave Anne a start. I felt in my pocket for the red granite from Rödskär and the amazonite Seija Saarela had given me, but handling them didn’t make asking the following question any easier.

  “You were afraid that Juha killed Harri Immonen—or were you certain of it?”

  “No!” Anne jumped so violently that the knee she had crossed over the other banged against the underside of the table and made the teacups jingle. “I was just afraid that if Harri could fall and die on those cliffs, then any of us could.”

  I didn’t believe her, so I asked Anne to tell me how they had found Harri’s body. Anne said that I had read the case files and knew the chain of events as well as anyone. Reminiscing about them would be too hard for her. I didn’t want to lean on her too much and say outright that we could just as well talk about it at the police station with a witness and a voice recorder. Fortunately the slightest hint in that direction worked, and Anne started talking.

  Juha had come in on the morning ferry from Tallinn. He said he was tired after difficult negotiations. Anne believed his red eyes and shaking hands were a result of drinking and suggested they not go to Rödskär and instead spend her birthday at home. But Juha wanted to go to the island because they hadn’t been spending enough time alone, just the two of them. Anne agreed on the condition that she steer the boat. Juha refused, and Anne was terrified as he sped toward Rödskär as if sea monsters had been on their heels.

  At the dock they hadn’t noticed anything strange. It wasn’t until they found Harri’s things in the hut that they grew worried. Juha was angry: Harri should have known that they would want to be alone that weekend. First they called for Harri indoors and then went outside to search the rocks. Juha noticed the body and ordered Anne to keep away. Anne had no problem complying—the very thought of seeing a dead body filled her with dread. Juha tried in vain to revive Harri.

  “I must have gone into some sort of shock. All I could do was sit on a rock and stare. Juha called the police and covered the body.”

  “How did Juha react to finding the body?”

  “I can’t really say, since I was so upset myself. At least he was able to act rationally. Once while we were engaged he told me he wasn’t afraid of the dead because he spent his whole childhood watching his mother die. When the end came, it was a relief to everyone. I’m not completely convinced that the experience was as easy for him as it appeared, though. He had his first heart attack just before Harri’s funeral.”

  It would have been a clever trick to arrange to find the body himself with a witness present. And attempting CPR would be an easy way to explain the fibers, hairs, and so forth found on the body. Now no one even questioned that.

  “Was Juha alone on his trip to Tallinn? Who was he meeting with?”

  Anne didn’t know and told me
to ask Paula Saarnio. I cursed to myself that more than a year had passed since the trip. Getting a passenger manifest from the ferry would be impossible now. Hopefully Saarnio had kept a record of travel reservations and business meetings. Anne called her in and asked her to look through their records from the previous year.

  “Any meetings will be listed on the calendar, and Accounting will have the travel receipts. Just a moment and I’ll check. I’ll do it in Juha’s office so I don’t bother you,” Saarnio said.

  “Do you really think Juha could have been mixed up in Harri’s death?” Anne hissed after Saarnio closed the door. When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Do you know why I was worried Harri killed himself? Because of what Katrina told me. I think you know Mikke dropped Harri off on the island and then continued on to Åland to visit his mother. Before Mikke arrived, Harri called Katrina and left a message for Mikke. Katrina didn’t remember it until Mikke was already in Denmark and Harri had been found dead. Katrina said that Harri had sounded anxious. Even though Katrina doesn’t talk much about her thoughts, this had clearly been bothering her. I guess she worries that Harri killed himself and wonders whether maybe he wouldn’t have if she had remembered to tell Mikke to call Harri back.”

  Anne sounded increasingly confused, as if she were desperately trying to transfer guilt for Harri’s death to anyone but Juha. Still, I would have to talk to Katrina Sjöberg. What time did the morning flight for Åland leave? If I couldn’t go to Corsica, at least I could visit a slightly closer island. Who would I take with me on my last-minute getaway? My thoughts bolted headlong like a pack of foxes released from their fur-farm cages. After a few moments Paula Saarnio appeared at the door, looking confused.

  “I can’t find any record of a meeting in Tallinn last year on the third of October, and there aren’t any ferry tickets either. Anne, are you sure Juha had a meeting there?”

  “Yes, of course! Juha took the overnight ferry and brought home champagne and caviar!” Anne said, but her voice was unsure. I looked at Anne’s hands, remembered their strong grip. Maybe Anne had known that Juha killed Harri, and maybe she had discovered why. Although Anne had endured Juha’s other women, she couldn’t endure that her spouse had been concealing something unsavory about the family business. Had Anne killed Juha when she learned that they were selling lead paint to Lithuania?

  I still didn’t know enough about the paint can Jiri found, so I decided to quit grilling Anne and go book my flight for Åland. I cursed like a sailor when I learned that the morning flight left at seven twenty. That would mean waking up before six. I made sure Katrina Sjöberg would be home before confirming the reservation and then arranged for a rental car to be waiting at the airport. Just as I finished making the travel arrangements, a call came in from the crime lab.

  “About this paint you sent us. Where is this from?”

  I said I didn’t know but that I suspected the Soviet navy.

  “We’re just on our first assay, but based on our results so far I can tell you it contains tributyltin,” the chemist, whose name was Niinimaa, said happily.

  “Tributyltin? What’s that?”

  “An organotin compound used in bottom paint for boats. It stops things from growing on the hull.”

  “Holy shit!” I said with such gusto that Niinimaa seemed taken aback.

  “Does that not fit your theory?” he asked.

  “A little too well. Is it a prohibited substance?”

  “The 1988 Helsinki Commission banned its use in paint, but there have been reports of continued use in former Soviet countries.”

  “Effects, briefly?”

  “It hasn’t been researched much, but there have been observations of male features developing in female snails. Rainbow trout have shown changes in blood and liver metabolism as well as eye deformations. Salmon spawn die if the concentrations are high enough. There have also been reports of blue-mussel deaths and breakdowns in the immune systems of birds that feed on the mussels. The half-life of the chemical in water is about three months.”

  What were we facing? Jiri had talked about barrels of paint. Would a few barrels of tributyltin in the water system cause permanent damage?

  I asked Niinimaa to fast-track his investigation as I thought of the dead eider duck and the files on Harri’s laptop. Approving the expense of sending divers to Rödskär would be premature before I knew where in the sea the toxins might be.

  Mikke Sjöberg didn’t answer when I called him again. The IT specialist working on Harri’s computer did answer, though, and he sounded irritated.

  “This is going to take a while. The current owner said he formatted the hard drive. I can’t promise I can save the files from before the format, but I’ll do my best. We’re just a little swamped right now, what with this big bank-hacking case.”

  “I know,” I said without sympathy. Everyone in the department was working at their limit, and I had realized it was hopeless trying to take anyone to Åland with me because every single one of our detectives was up to his eyeballs in cases. If I needed a witness for an official interview, I could turn to the local police.

  I delegated the morning meeting to Lähde and asked him to request volunteers to carry Ström’s casket. Our relationship had always been formal, since Lähde had been Ström’s confidant, and he had never made it a secret that he thought the wrong person had been appointed as unit commander. That was why I was surprised at what he said next.

  “Oh, pallbearers. I know what Ström would have said.”

  “Yeah?”

  “‘Make that goddamn feminist carry me. She always wanted to take a man’s job anyway,’” Lähde said, and there was nothing in his voice but the pain we all shared.

  “Sure, I’ll help carry, just so long as there’s someone on the other side who’s willing to walk with his knees bent,” I said and then fled toward my office. From the hall I heard the phone ringing and made it in just before the answering machine picked up.

  “Hey, it’s Puustjärvi. I found that bird carcass.”

  “Good! Where?”

  “At the Veterinary and Food Research Institute. But it wasn’t murdered. It died a natural death.”

  It was silly to be disappointed. If Juha Merivaara didn’t cause an environmental catastrophe, it was a good thing.

  “But I did find another carcass Immonen brought in,” Puustjärvi continued. “A real nice-looking salmon. It had deformations in its liver, circulatory system, and eyes. Which can all be caused by a chemical named—”

  “I know. Tributyltin.”

  17

  The world was dark when the plane from Helsinki to Turku lifted off. I had left Antti and Iida sleeping when the taxi arrived. The mercury had been at twenty degrees: winter was coming early.

  I had spent the whole night on the phone handling work. Iida whined and tugged at me for attention as I tried to understand a Corsican colleague’s limited English. Peders and Ramanauskas had been extremely put out when they were taken to the Calvi police station for questioning. Yes, they owned shares in a company called Mare Nostrum, which in turn held shares in Merivaara Nautical, but that wasn’t any crime. They had been shocked to hear of Juha Merivaara’s death. According to them, the purpose of Mare Nostrum had been to import paint from Finland to the Baltics, but sales had never taken off as planned. For the past few years, the company had only really existed on paper, and Juha Merivaara had offered to buy back their shares. They had intended to complete the deal the next time the men happened to be in Finland.

  The Corsican police had released Peders and Ramanauskas. On Saturday, the fourth of October, they had been dining with French and Monacan friends in a restaurant on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice. There were numerous witnesses.

  Iida had started to scream so loudly that the Corsican detective couldn’t understand me either. I shouted for Antti to come get Iida and then asked the detective for the registration number of the Lithuanians’ boat.

  Antti had tromped in, and I
ida wailed like a banshee when he dragged her away to help with the baking. After I got off the phone I joined them in the kitchen. Iida’s face was wet with tears, but she was happily patting cakes of dough.

  “You should have known she’d be glued to you as soon as you came home from work,” Antti said irritably. There was flour on his face and in his stubble.

  “I know, I know, but I had to handle this before tomorrow morning. Just one more quick call and then I can take her.”

  I had tried Mikke Sjöberg again, and then asked a uniformed patrol to go by the marina to make sure the Leanda was still there. It was at the dock, and light shone from the cabin windows. The thought of Mikke sitting out there by himself shivering in the dark was sad, but I didn’t let myself dwell on him.

  The lights of Turku appeared through the clouds. Aggravated by the early-morning flight, my stomach lurched as the plane descended. A cold sweat spread over my body, and the coffee-like substance the flight attendant had served nearly came back up.

  Behind us, the sun began glowing in the eastern sky, but after a brief layover the plane took off again toward the darkness and Åland beyond. The sea was gray and frigidly still, with islands shining gold or lingonberry red, rising from the water as if the world were trying to adorn itself one last time with the gems of summer and fall before sinking through shades of brown and gray to purest white. Antti and Iida were probably cooking their morning porridge right now. I realized I enjoyed sitting in an airplane where no family members, colleagues, or clients could demand anything of me.

  Had I gone to Åland to be alone? Was that what I needed, a chance to not speak to anyone at some time other than the commute to work and back home, a space in which I wasn’t always available for others? Had I overestimated my strength when I accepted this position, imagining I could command an entire police unit and raise Iida?

  Occasionally we had considered whether Iida needed siblings. Right now leaving work again to have another child was impossible to think about. My sisters kept saying that only children grow up selfish, but they had been wrong before.