Helsinki Homicide: Vengeance

by Jarkko Sipila

* * *

  Nykänen fired up the car and stepped on the gas, not wanting to end up behind the approaching bus. From Helsinki Avenue, he swung left at the next intersection toward the fire station.

  “Thirty minutes is a long time when the trip only takes three,” said Nykänen.

  Suhonen held onto the hand-hold over the window as Nykänen floored the gas pedal. “Wonder what the Skulls want out of Salmela now.”

  The acceleration proved pointless—directly ahead of them was a stopped streetcar, and another approached from the opposite direction. No way to get around them. Nykänen drummed on the steering wheel as the passengers filed on and off.

  “Apparently enough that both Steiner and Larsson are after him.”

  They continued along behind the streetcar to the corner of a park, where Nykänen swung right past the fire station. In front of them was the gray-granite Kallio church, built in the early 1900s. The massive building accommodated 1,600 people, but the last time Suhonen had been there—at an old ex-con’s funeral—only four were in attendance: Two of the dead guy’s friends, himself, and the pastor.

  “Pull up slowly and park in front. Let’s look around a bit first.”

  At the corner, Agricola Street led to the left and directly ahead rose a six-story white stucco building.

  “Not this one—the next one down on the right,” Suhonen directed. Nykänen coasted down the hill and double-parked. Though the street was quiet, the curb was packed. The eight-story building, built in the sixties, seemed too new for the streets of Kallio. Suhonen bounded up the entry stairs, which were tucked into a recess. He noticed a gap between the doorjamb and the glass door. With a credit card, he slipped the lock aside and pulled it open. From the street, it appeared that he had simply used a key.

  “You got a skeleton key?” Nykänen smirked. Suhonen could sense the man’s uneasiness.

  “Doesn’t work on too many doors anymore, now that the maintenance guys have learned how to do things right.”

  The stairwell was dark and Suhonen snapped on the lights. Both men checked their weapons instinctively. They didn’t want backup; they’d take care of this one on their own. When Nykänen was still with the VCU, the two had occasionally worked as partners.

  Though Ear-Nurminen lived on the fourth floor, Nykänen and Suhonen opted for the stairs, which skirted the wall on the right-hand side. The climb took a few minutes. The stairwell was clean, as was the fourth floor landing. Surprisingly, the tag on the door actually read “Nurminen.”

  The door was ajar and a light was on inside.

  Suhonen took up his position to the side of the door with Nykänen just behind him. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Nobody. Suhonen recalled that the apartment was a studio. The bathroom was in the hallway on the left, and the only room was around the corner on the same side.

  Suhonen pulled out his black Glock and went in. He gestured for Nykänen to check the bathroom and continued on to the living room. Behind him, he heard Nykänen open the bathroom door. The worst thing he could encounter in the living room would be two bodies on the floor. The second worst thing would be Salmela and Nurminen on their knees with Larsson and Steiner holding pistols to the backs of their heads.

  The same quick peek around the corner. The room was messy and nobody was there. Huh, thought Suhonen as he advanced into the room. A bed, a plastic dining table and a TV were the only furnishings. There was nothing on the floor but clothing and newspapers.

  The search was over quickly. “Nobody in the living room,” he hollered.

  “Come in here,” Nykänen shouted back.

  Suhonen hurried back to the hallway and entered the bathroom.

  Nykänen didn’t need to say anything. In the bathtub lay a fat, naked man. It wasn’t Salmela, who was substantially thinner. The man’s face had been beaten so badly that Suhonen wasn’t able to recognize him as Ear-Nurminen.

  The bathroom was covered in blood and some had pooled at the bottom of the tub. Countless lacerations covered his body. There was no point in speculating on the cause-of-death without forensics. Oftentimes, knife wounds only became evident once the blood was wiped away, especially when there were multiple stab wounds.

  The amount of blood, however, proved that Nurminen had lived for some time during the attack. Had he died on the first stab wound, his heart would have stopped pumping blood.

  “Dead,” said Nykänen. “No pulse.”

  “Alright. Let’s not mess up the prints anymore—give forensics a chance.”

  The men withdrew into the hallway. “They can’t have much of a head start. I’m sure that butcher job took a while, and if their lead at the Corner Pub was half an hour…”

  Suhonen dug out his phone. “That half an hour was Macho’s drunken guess. In reality, it could be more.”

  Nykänen eyed the bloody corpse from the door.

  “That there looks like Steiner’s work. You remember what he served those seven years for?”

  “His girlfriend.”

  Nykänen nodded.

  “Think Salmela was here?”

  “No. That looks like torture. If Salmela was here, they wouldn’t have had a reason for it.”

  “Steiner doesn’t always need a reason. You think he talked?” Nykänen wondered.

  “Tough to say. Most do and Nurminen sure would’ve. Based on this mess, I’d guess he didn’t know where Salmela was, but the Skulls didn’t believe him.”

  He glanced at the body and noticed a piece of paper lodged between the man’s arm and the side of the tub. Not wanting to touch it with his hands, he grabbed two knives from the kitchen drawer, slipped back into the bathroom and plucked out the note.

  In large shaky letters, it read, “RAT.”

  The officers examined the note. “How do we know Salmela didn’t do this? That’s a possibility,” said Nykänen.

  Suhonen shook his head and phoned Takamäki.

  * * *

  A blue Audi A4 rounded the west side of the circular Ympyrätalo building at the edge of Hakaniemi Market Square and stopped at a red light.

  The men had been largely silent since they left the apartment. Larsson was behind the wheel and Steiner sat next to him. The driver fumbled a joint out of a metal box and lit up. Larsson cracked a window as the sweet smell of marijuana filled the car.

  “Didn’t exactly go as planned,” said Larsson, offering the joint to his buddy.

  “What was the plan?” Steiner replied coolly. “I thought the whole point was to find the rat. I know that cauliflower-eared fool knew where he was.”

  Larsson knew it was fruitless to start an argument with this junkie, but he went on, “He didn’t know anything more. If he did, he would have talked… I believe his story. Salmela was there, but he went to get some pizza and beer.”

  “Well, maybe we should have stayed and waited for him to come back.”

  “Yeah, and wait for the cops too, with all the racket we made.”

  The lights changed and Larsson turned northbound onto Hämeen Street. “That pizza joint was practically across the street. The little shit probably smelled a trap and took off.”

  They had both taken five minutes to clean up their tracks, and they had worn gloves so there shouldn’t be any prints. Their beanie hats kept loose hairs from falling, so hopefully no DNA was left at the scene. At some point, they’d have to destroy their clothing, so no fibers could be linked to them, though both were wearing jeans, which had such a common fiber as to render them useless as evidence.

  Emptying a fire extinguisher into the car would wipe out the prints in it. Had they had more time, they would’ve taken the body along and properly disposed of it.

  On the other hand, the “rat” note made the murder look like Salmela’s work. Two friends got in a fight and Salmela made a break for it.

  In Larsson’s opinion, killing Nurminen was stupid. Roughing him up would have been enough, but Steiner had gotten out of hand. The stop at the Corner Pub wasn’t very smart eith
er, but he hoped the Skulls’ reputation would keep anyone from talking to the cops.

  At any rate, now they had to finish the job.

  CHAPTER 23

  MONDAY, 7:40 P.M.

  PASILA POLICE HEADQUARTERS, HELSINKI

  Honkala stared at Takamäki. “Shit.”

  “Brutal and bloody enough that it’ll be prosecuted as a murder,” Takamäki remarked. Finnish law divided homicide into three categories: murder, manslaughter, and killing. Murder, which carried a life sentence, was reserved for premeditated or particularly brutal acts causing serious danger to the public.

  Five detectives sat at their computers in the VCU’s conference room. Investigators from the NBI, Helsinki, and the neighboring Espoo police departments streamed in and out, reporting the latest news. The head of each investigative branch received the intel, sorted it out and then relayed the main points to Honkala. Takamäki was somewhat envious of how well the system worked. This was how he would have wanted the VCU to work, but they only had the staff for it in exceptional circumstances. This case was exceptional and was getting more so at every turn.

  “The name was Kauko Nurminen, you say?”

  Takamäki glanced at Joutsamo’s printout of Ear-Nurminen’s rap sheet and handed it to Honkala. “Minor stuff. A former burglar, but he’s been more focused on drinking and shooting the breeze lately.”

  Takamäki had already described the victim’s condition, as well as what Suhonen and Nykänen had told him. A team from forensics was already on the way.

  “So the duo that was kicked off the case is now on the hottest trail.”

  “How should I put it? Suhonen and Nykänen make a dynamic team. More often than not, they’ll end up on the right track.”

  Honkala chuckled. “The dynamic duo. Yes, of course.”

  Takamäki was glad that Honkala had loosened up his tie over the course of the evening. Managing an investigation involving nearly a hundred officers with a tight tie would have been too much. If nothing else, the blood supply to his head would be disrupted.

  “And the two top dogs at the Skulls are our prime suspects?” asked Honkala.

  “According to them, Larsson is second-in-command. The president is doing life in Turku. Steiner, well, he’s a psycho. Never know what to expect from him. But you’re right in that these two hold the most sway with the Skulls right now.”

  “What grounds do we have for suspicion?”

  Takamäki repeated Suhonen’s story and explained how Macho had told them that the two Skulls had come to the Corner Pub looking for Salmela, and how he had directed them to Nurminen’s apartment. Takamäki also told him about the note found in the bathtub, which got Honkala thinking.

  “There’s always the possibility that Salmela killed his buddy for ratting on him,” Honkala noted. “Let’s not forget about that.”

  “Of course not. We’ll follow every lead, but the one from the Corner Pub makes these two Skulls prime suspects.”

  “We should take this Macho in for questioning before he finds out what happened to his buddy. After he finds out, we won’t get anything out of him,” said Honkala as he glanced around the bustling room.

  “Listen, Kari. Would it be possible for you to take this Ear-Nurminen angle?”

  “Fine with me, but is that going to be okay with the bosses?”

  “Let them hash it out among themselves later on. We have crimes to solve here.”

  “Good call. And I can use Nykänen and Suhonen?”

  “We’ll need Nykänen back at the NBI tomorrow. Otherwise, I don’t see why not. Let them have at it. It’ll do Nykänen good to be back in the field and away from the coffeemaker for a while.”

  Takamäki looked at Honkala. “I’m guessing you have the S.W.A.T. team on standby. When are you looking to raid the Skulls’ compound?”

  “You’re thinking now?”

  “For two reasons. First: we might get some forensic evidence for the bombing. Second: I’m thinking about this Nurminen’s murder. The top brass at the Skulls are suspects, so it’s possible we’ll find them at the compound. We have plenty of probable cause for a search warrant.”

  “We’ll have to hit Larsson’s and Steiner’s apartments at the same time,” Honkala said.

  “I’ll dig up the addresses. You let the S.W.A.T. team know so they’re ready.”

  * * *

  Salmela paid no attention to the cars hurtling past on Hämeen Street in Kallio.

  “Can you help me out?” Salmela asked over the phone as he walked down the street.

  “What do you need?” asked Juha Saarnikangas.

  “A place to crash for the night. I gotta figure out some stuff…can’t go home right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Help me out,” he begged. The ex-junkie was the only one he could think of who could help—even if Saarnikangas didn’t have a fat wad of cash in his pocket.

  “Where are you?”

  “On Hämeen Street. If nothing else, I’ve got a door code for a basement nearby that should still work. But can’t you help me out?”

  Saarnikangas promised to look into it and call him back shortly. He hung up.

  A couple of minutes later, Salmela reached the unemployment office building. Its entry lights glared off the pavement. A car turned onto Hämeen Street and slowed down as it came abreast of Salmela. He turned abruptly into the courtyard of the unemployment office, picking up the pace. The car sped up and followed him in.

  Salmela glanced back at the car. In the dim lighting from the entryway and the street lamps, the shadowy faces of Larsson and Steiner were visible. Larsson had a phone to his ear.

  The parking lot of the courtyard had room for about thirty cars. Salmela looked about frantically for an escape route, but he was cornered. He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the parking lot.

  His swirling thoughts brought him back to the cliff in Nuuksio. There had been no escape there either. He didn’t stand a chance—struggle was futile. Fate usually proved more merciful than a fight.

  The car stopped a few feet short of him. Back at Ear-Nurminen’s place, luck had struck when he spotted Larsson and Steiner walking into the building from the window of the pizzeria. He had known better than to go back. Salmela had taken off walking—he didn’t dare run. He had passed the fire station along Agricola Street. Then the streets had seemed too dangerous, and he ducked into a bar for a beer.

  For a moment, the familiar surroundings had made him feel safe, but then anxiety struck. He thought about calling Suhonen, but the officer had only caused him trouble recently. That wasn’t the right answer, and he couldn’t just sit there in the bar, waiting for the inevitable. He had to keep moving. The labyrinthine streets of Merihaka had crossed his mind and he headed in that direction. He might be able to find some unlocked door to a warm cellar and sleep there for the night. That had its risks, though. Security guards made their rounds, and getting caught could land him in jail. He had hoped Saarnikangas could’ve provided refuge, but now it didn’t matter.

  Salmela stood in the headlights, resigned to his fate as Larsson and Steiner climbed out of the car.

  * * *

  “Shit,” Nykänen said as he gunned the car through the tunnel under Merihaka. “This is hopeless.”

  “You have any better ideas?” asked Suhonen.

  The NBI lieutenant mulled it over. Technology couldn’t help—they had no way to use GPS tracking, phone records, wire taps or any other means of pinpointing the target. Nykänen’s thoughts wandered back to the nineties, when he had been chasing violent offenders in the same manner. If somebody ran, walked in a peculiar manner or fit the description, they were stopped and questioned. They had criss-crossed the city by car, watching for anything suspicious. Now, it seemed a complete waste of time.

  “No.”

  “Let’s take a spin through those parking ramps,” Suhonen suggested. He recalled an old case that had given the parking ramp a grim reputation. A homele
ss bum had beaten a tax official to death with a roofing hammer. The VCU had dumped countless hours into solving the case. When he was drunk, Salmela had bragged a few times about how he could break into the Merihaka cellars if he ever needed to.

  They weren’t the only ones on the prowl anymore. To help in the murder investigation, Takamäki had dispatched five squad cars to patrol the streets of Kallio for Larsson and Steiner. The patrol officers had been given a description of Salmela as well.

  Nykänen swung the car right into the first entrance to the concrete ramp. There were lots of cars, though the corporate spots were empty. Nykänen drove at a crawl through the ramp, but nobody was in sight.

  On the left, an escalator ascended to street level.

  “Can’t get up there by car,” said Nykänen.

  “Sure we can, but not through there.”

  They came upon a concrete wall and Nykänen turned left. The route through the ramp led back to the same entrance they had just descended. On the right was a vast parking lot.

  “If someone wanted to hide here, we wouldn’t have a chance of finding him.”

  “Unless he was nervous enough that he couldn’t sit tight,” said Suhonen, his eyes scanning the cars. He was ready to burst out of the vehicle in a foot pursuit at any moment.

  “Right or left?”

  “Left. Let’s go back to Kallio and comb the streets for another half hour. Then let’s start leaning on a few people and see what we can find out.”

  * * *

  Larsson raised the gun and pressed it against Salmela’s forehead. “Goddamn bastard!” he hissed.

  Larsson was amazed that Salmela didn’t respond. He didn’t cry, beg, complain or even soil himself.

  “Pull the trigger and let’s get outta here,” Steiner said, standing beside the door of the car. He took a swig from a water bottle. Smoking weed always made him thirsty. The parking lot was empty.

  “I’m not gonna shoot this pathetic asshole here. That’d be too nice,” Larsson said and lowered his weapon.