Jarkko Sipila - Darling

Römpötti emptied her glass and went for her cell phone. She found the number for Mustikkamӓki, the cameraman. If he was free to go on a shoot, she’d go. She should probably call Lind and apologize for her blow-up from yesterday.

* * *

Lind saw the padlock the police had installed on Laura Vatanen’s door, and to her disappointment the place still had police tape around it. There was no way to get in-unless she broke in, which wasn’t a good idea. The police had more investigating to do-on the coffeemaker plug, for example.

Lind rang the doorbell of the apartment across the hall. The name on the door was Ridanpӓӓ.

“Coming,” a woman screeched from the apartment.

The attorney waited for the door to open. She could instantly tell from the woman’s face and the smell of red wine that she was an alcoholic.

“Hello,” Lind said and stated her business.

“Oh,” the woman said. “The police were already here and asked questions.”

“Of course. But I’m doing my own investigation.”

“I’m sure you are, just like Perry Mason. Listen, girl, I’ll talk to you if you go get a bottle of wine for me from the liquor store.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not far and a lady like you probably owns a car,” the woman said.

“I don’t have a car, but besides that today is Sunday and the store is closed.”

“Oh damn,” the woman said. “I’ve always been one for a liberal policy on alcohol sales. I’m glad they started selling beer in the convenience stores, but they should get wine in, too. That would be democratic. My stomach can’t stand beer; I’ve got a gluten allergy.”

Lind wasn’t convinced about the alcohol sales policy, but agreed with the woman in order to keep the conversation going.

“Wine would be okay,” she said, “but I wouldn’t want hard liquor in there.”

“Hard liquor is for troublemakers, the kind that Laura had for visitors.”

Lind was glad the old boozer had brought up Laura’s apartment.

“Who used to go in there?”

“Well, the custodian and his buddies were constantly over there. Hooligans, I say.”

This was no news.

“Did anyone else visit her?”

“Some girl, occasionally,” Ridanpӓӓ said.

“How do you know, by the way?” Lind asked.

“Sometimes I’d look through there,” the old woman said, pointing to the peephole on the door. “That was better than the reality shows on TV.”

Lind noticed a barstool by the door.

“What did you see?”

“Arguments, mostly. Those are the most interesting anyway. Laura had a pretty bad temper. Sometimes she was kind of weird, on account of her disability, but she was always nice to me. She’d go get me wine… Could you go get me some now?”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Oh yeah, you told me that already. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Lind said. “I can go tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You said something about arguments,” Lind said, to bring the conversation back on topic. “Did you see fights or anything like that?”

“No. The men were scared of her. She had a mouth like no other, and she didn’t think before she opened it.”

Lind noticed that the woman had to lean on the doorframe to steady her balance.

“Was anyone else there besides the custodian and his buddies?”

“Shh, be quiet,” the woman said, pursing her lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“About what?”

“I can’t say. I promised.”

“Promised whom?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore,” the intoxicated woman said.

“That’s not a problem, though. See, I’m a lawyer and I have to heed the attorney-client confidentiality privilege,” Lind said. “You can tell me.”

“Attorney-client privilege. What’s that?”

“As lawyers, we have to keep a lot of things to ourselves,” Lind said. “We can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, that’s good. I didn’t tell the police this, but you should go talk to the guy upstairs,” the woman said.

“What’s his name?”

“And you’ll keep this…a lawyer secret?”

“Of course,” Lind lied.

“His name is Aarnio. Ask him.”

* * *

The meeting at the police station ended a while ago. Suhonen was drinking coffee at his computer, which was prohibited by police department regulations after too many computers had to be replaced due to spilled drinks. But Suhonen didn’t care.

He had asked Salmela more details about Nortti, but Salmela didn’t know anything else. Suhonen didn’t want to bother the ailing man any further.

The lists of Korhonen’s cell mates and Nortti nicknames didn’t amount to anything. There was no clear breakthrough. Joutsamo would’ve loved to get the Rahkola case to investigate, but eventually Takamäki agreed with the Turku and Vantaa police that the case would go to the National Bureau of Investigation. They’d have more time to try to crack the complicated murder, while the city police departments dealt with daily assaults and rapes, robberies, and manslaughter cases. These used up a lot of manpower, and the NBI didn’t have that problem.

The Rahkola case was no longer their concern. Suhonen had given Nykänen Salmela’s name and asked to be present at Salmela’s video interrogation at the hospital. Nykänen wouldn’t head the case himself; it would be handed to Leppӓlӓ, who was experienced in dealing with complicated murder cases. Suhonen knew the veteran investigator well and was confident it wouldn’t be a problem to arrange Salmela’s questioning.

Suhonen glanced at the clock on the computer. It read 4:20 P.M. He had a couple of hours left of his weekend shift. He might be spared once again from having to go determine an elderly person’s cause of death. But it was no piece of cake to search for a decayed body, either. He remembered vividly how disgusting it had been earlier to stick his finger through the hole in the jeans and touch bone. He’d need a couple of beers tonight.

SUNDAY, 4:50 PM

NӒYTTELIJӒ STREET, HELSINKI

The name on the door read Aarnio, and Lind rang the doorbell lightly.

When she heard a dog barking inside, Lind instinctively took a step back, even though the door was still shut. A stout, fifty-year-old man wearing a plaid shirt opened the door. He had high cheekbones, a receding hairline, and piercing eyes.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, smiling.

Lind told him she was Jorma Korpivaara’s attorney and was asking questions about the homicide last week.

“Interesting,” the man said. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“Nothing?” Lind asked.

“Not really.”

The man cast a sharp glance at Lind.

“You can’t think of anything?” Lind pressed.

“Nothing of value, I don’t think.”

“Anything might be of value,” Lind said with a smile. Maybe the man knew something, and a little flirting might get him to talk.

“Without the whole picture, it’s hard to know what’s valuable,” she said. “You live right here by the murder scene.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“How well did you know Laura Vatanen?” Lind asked, getting straight to the point.

Maybe the man would talk if the questions were straightforward.

“Well,” the man relented. “C’mon in.”

Lind asked the man’s name and he said it was Mikael Aarnio. He took the dog into the bedroom and shut the door. The apartment was similar to Sini’s in the next building, but this one had only one bedroom. It was to the left of the entrance hall and the living room to the right.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” the man said apologetically, quickly picking up a few magazines.