Jarkko Sipila - Darling

Lind finally got fed up with the constant aggravation when Francke blamed her for an oversight that ended up costing a client hundreds of thousands of euros. In reality, it had been Francke who forgot to file an appeal on time. Lind suspected that he did it on purpose. Fortunately, Francke didn’t demand that Lind repay the client from her own account, but the firm took care of it.

Lind’s patience had reached its limit, and she quit. But it was difficult for her to find a new position in the small, incestuous world of Helsinki corporate lawyers. Despite a confidentiality agreement, Francke spread rumors that made it impossible for Lind to get hired. She considered starting a small accounting firm, but thought it was too boring. So she started a firm specializing in criminal law. She was on her own but planned to get a partner at some point, and hire an intern, maybe even a secretary.

The captain announced that the plane would be landing at Helsinki-Vantaa airport in about twenty minutes. The pilot said that a couple of inches of snow had fallen overnight and more would come during the day. The temperature was twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit.

So far Lind had only handled small cases like drug-related charges and domestic abuse cases. She had also defended a man charged of bankruptcy fraud. While she was fully qualified, she realized she didn’t like numbers anymore. She wanted to do something different.

Instead of being focused on numbers and money, a criminal justice lawyer had to care about people and their bad luck, sob stories, and unfortunate fates; about stupid mistakes, hatred, and utter evil.

This was her first murder case. She wondered what it would feel like to defend a person who had killed another. For the justice system to work, the suspect had to have a capable attorney. With the police and prosecutor working against the defendant, a solid defense had to be provided, since everyone was presumed innocent until the court decided otherwise. Up until now, all of Lind’s clients had been found guilty, but there was one case she believed she had won. A woman accused of grand larceny could have been sentenced to prison, but Lind was able to get her probation.

The murder case made her nervous. As soon as she hung up the phone in Rome, she regretted not getting more details from the police.

* * *

Korpivaara lay on the cot. He felt like he hadn’t slept a wink, but drifted in and out of some sort of stupor. He had expected death, but it hadn’t come. The cell door clanged. His head pounding and eyes watering, Korpivaara clambered up to sit. He felt grungy.

The guard came in, and behind him a familiar-looking woman. Korpivaara remembered that the brunette had talked to him the night before. That seemed like a lifetime ago and his memory was muddled. During the night he had time to think.

“How are you feeling?” the detective asked. Korpivaara thought he detected a hint of empathy in her tone.

“Alright, I guess, no complaints. And if I had any, it wouldn’t do any good, would it?” Korpivaara said. He figured that’s how a murder suspect was supposed to talk. Not show any weakness.

The stone-faced guard, who was as big as a house, stared straight ahead, expressionless. Korpivaara thought the guard was probably dreaming of him making a sudden move just to get a chance to tackle him.

“I have a few questions,” said the woman in a gray sweater and blue jeans.

“What’s your name?” Korpivaara asked.

She didn’t laugh, but stated matter-of-factly, “Anna Joutsamo.”

“Okay. My memory is spotty.”

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

The woman’s tone was cooler than before. Korpivaara nodded.

“Because of Darling… I mean Laura. Something happened to her…” Korpivaara tried to find the words, but couldn’t. Finally he said, “Like something bad.”

“She was found dead in her apartment,” the woman said.

“That’s pretty bad,” Korpivaara smirked, and ran his fingers through his messy hair. The sergeant wasn’t amused.

“Yeah, I have a few questions about that.”

Korpivaara shrugged. The movement sent a sharp pain through his head. Apparently he’d had quite a few beers.

“Shoot,” he said.

“Not here,” she said. “Let’s go into the other room.”

“Fine with me.”

She turned to the guard and asked, “Did they bring him breakfast yet?”

The guard shook his head.

“Alright, we’ll talk after you’ve had your oatmeal and coffee.”

“No fresh-squeezed juice and bacon omelet?”

“Doubt that’s on the menu,” the woman said, and Korpivaara sensed the empathy was back. “But you’ll get your oatmeal and coffee before the others.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later Joutsamo and Korpivaara were sitting in the drab interrogation room.

Joutsamo sat near the door. She could smell the mixture of coffee and day-old booze on the man’s breath. The guard had administered a Breathalyzer test and Korpivaara’s blood alcohol content was now low enough so they could conduct the formal interrogation. The man’s hair was sticking up, his cheeks were flushed, and his green coveralls were a size too big.

“I take it you didn’t sleep very well,” Joutsamo began.

Korpivaara shrugged and said, “The mattress could be a bit thicker.”

“Alright. Well, here’s the situation. Yesterday you asked for an attorney. She’ll be here this afternoon to see you, but we can start now, if you’d like. Is that okay?”

“Guess so.”

Joutsamo was pleased. She wanted to hold the first interrogation as soon as possible. This would also affect how the other suspects would be treated. Korpivaara would be arrested no matter what, but as for the rest of the Alamo gang, she wasn’t sure.

Joutsamo told Korpivaara she was starting the recording and pressed the button. She glanced at her watch and stated the time: 9:50 A.M. She read aloud Korpivaara’s whole name, date of birth, and address. She stated that the procedure was to inform the suspect of his standing in the preliminary interview and what he had been detained for.

Joutsamo looked Korpivaara square in the eye and said, “You are a suspect in the murder of Laura Vatanen that took place yesterday. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been informed that you have the right to an attorney. But you don’t deem it necessary to have one for this interrogation?”

“That’s right, I don’t need an attorney,” Korpivaara replied. He recalled asking for one yesterday, but he had changed his mind. He was happy to talk now.

“So let’s begin,” Joutsamo said.

She had conducted hundreds of interrogations during her police career. The goal was straightforward: to find out what had happened and who had done what-simply to find out the truth.

“What can you tell me about the death of Laura Vatanen?”

It was an open question. Joutsamo didn’t want to ask him directly if he had done it, so she danced around the topic.

“I’ve got nothing to say about that. I am the custodian in the apartment complex. Well, the city pays me, but I don’t know what else to say about it.”

“But you knew Laura Vatanen?”

“Yeah, I knew her.”

“How well?”

“Pretty well, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“Uh, guess we knew each other well.”

Joutsamo saw it was hard for him to tell her about the sexual relationship. She had to help him.

“Were you lovers?”

“Well, we didn’t ‘love’ each other, but we cared about each other. You know…”

“Did you have sex?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“When was the last time?”

“A couple of weeks ago, I think.”

Joutsamo was glad she was able to get the suspect to admit his intimate relationship with the victim right away. She was pleased he hadn’t lied about it.