Jarkko Sipila - Nothing but the Truth

The window slid up and the car zoomed off.

Laura was confused, but she continued on her way home. Still ten minutes to go.

Their 1930s seven-story building was situated at what used to be the end of the number 3 streetcar line, just opposite Porvoo Street 21, the site of the murder.

Laura dashed up the stairs. The new lock was still stiff, but she got it open. “Hi,” she hollered from the door.

“Have you eaten?” asked mom from the kitchen.

“What do we have?”

“Pork sausage soup.”

It wasn’t really her favorite. She hung her parka on the entry hook and went into the kitchen with the envelope.

“Some policeman gave me this. It’s for you,” she said, handing over the envelope.

Mari stopped stirring the soup and took it.

“What policeman?”

“I dunno. I was walking home past the ice rink and this car pulled up.”

“What car? A police car?”

“No, it was smaller. I didn’t see what kind.” Her mother’s grilling was making her wonder.

“How do you know it was a policeman?”

“That’s what he said. It wasn’t?”

“I don’t know. But how many times have I told you not to talk to strangers?”

“Well, he just handed it over and took off. What is it?”

Mari was still holding the envelope. She took out a kitchen knife, neatly cut open the flap, removed the letter and began to read.

“What is it?” said Laura. “Why are you shaking?”

Mari didn’t respond. The letter was terse: THAT’S HOW EASY IT WOULD BE .

The paper slipped out of Mari’s hand. She felt like screaming, but no sound came. She sunk to the floor and leaned back against the kitchen cabinets, her whole body seeming to tremble. She wrapped her arms around her folded knees.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Sweetie…uhh…my phone, please.”

Laura dashed back into the entryway.

THURSDAY, 8:25 P.M.

PASILA POLICE HEADQUARTERS

Takamäki glanced around the VCU conference room where Suhonen, Kulta, Kohonen, Kannas and a couple of men from Lieutenant Kafka’s division had gathered. Kafka’s men were currently on duty, and had come to listen to the briefing in case they were called to help.

“Okay, let’s get started,” said Takamäki. The briefing was primarily intended for Kafka’s men. “I’ll run through the key points of the case first so we’re all on the same page, then we can talk about how to proceed.”

The others nodded.

“A single parent by the name of Mari Lehtonen recently testified against Risto Korpi. I’m sure everyone is familiar with Korpi’s gang?”

“Yeah,” answered Kulta, and the others nodded.

“Good,” said Takamäki. “Well, this Lehtonen testified that she saw Korpi waiting in the car while Esa Nyberg shot Tomi Salmela back in September. The trial was yesterday, and everything went smoothly. Since the verdict, we’ve had two incidents. Today, either late morning or early afternoon, somebody filled her door lock with super glue, and about an hour and a half ago, a man claiming to be a police officer gave Lehtonen’s daughter Laura a letter as she was walking home along Western Brahe Street. The letter said, ‘ that’s how easy it would be .’ Clearly referring to kidnapping the girl. Right now, Joutsamo is at their apartment and we have a patrol posted at the entrance of the building. Last I heard, the situation was secure.”

“How are they doing?” asked Kulta.

“According to Joutsamo, they’ve calmed down. Just watching TV, but Mari is definitely scared, which is rubbing off on her daughter.”

“So Joutsamo’s spending the night?”

“Yes, same with the patrol. Kannas, what’d you find out about the paper and the marker?”

Forensics had done a quick analysis of the threat letter. “Standard 20-pound stationery. Same stuff you see everywhere. We found some fingerprints, but they all belonged to the mom. The envelope was also standard store-bought stock, and no fingerprints. As far as the marker, it was more felt-tip pen than marker. One-millimeter line width, which is about consistent with a Text Mark 700.”

“With a what?” asked Kulta.

Kannas pointed to the flip chart in the corner, which held three different-colored felt-tip pens on the tray. “Those. Garden variety markers.”

“So not much to go on, then,” said Takamäki.

“Right… But the envelope was apparently sealed with moisture-sensitive adhesive, not the peel-and-stick type. If that’s the case and somebody licked it, we can get the DNA. Same thing with the envelope itself if it has any hairs or sweat drops. We sent the envelope and letter to the NBI’s lab for further testing with a rush on it.”

“Good,” said Takamäki. “Sounds like we could get somewhere on that.” Still, they’d need a matching DNA sample on file. And of course, the envelope could have been sealed with water. “Anybody have anything else?”

“So the girl didn’t catch the plate number?” said Kulta.

“Nope.”

“I can look for the car on the surveillance cameras in the area,” said Kulta. “Unless there’s a better idea.”

“Sounds good. Check the database for any cameras on Brahe Street, but be sure to look further out, too. The suspect was probably trailing her all the way from the theater academy on Haapaniemi Street.”

Suhonen’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and excused himself from the conference room.

“Hey,” said Suhonen in the hallway.

“Hey,” said Salmela.

“What’s up?”

“This is kind of a strange thing, but there’s a lot of buzz going around about this Mari Lehtonen.”

“What kinda buzz you talking about?”

Salmela paused for a while. “She seems to have found herself on someone’s hit list…”

“Tell me more.”

“Well, someone’s got a lotta dime and wants to give her a real hard time. Damn, that was like a poem. Not exactly Tommy Tabermann, but not far off. I oughta pick up the pen…”

“Stick to the point,” Suhonen snapped.

Salmela was silent for a moment. “What, something happened?”

“First tell me what you know. What kind of hard time, and who?”

“That’s the whole problem. I don’t know whether it’s true or just talk…”

“Get to the point.”

“Right. Well, word is you can make some good money for pushing her around.”

“What kind of pushing.”

“What do you think? Harassment…threats against the family…that kind of thing. Problem is, word’s going around a bit too much.”

Suhonen knew what he meant. In that case, it was probably planted. Such a rumor was bound to spread quickly in the bars with everyone wanting to crow about what they knew.

“What’s your guess?”

“I dunno. I’m sure there’s some truth to it, but it sounds more like a plant. True or not I figured I’d call.”

Suhonen thought for a moment. “Well, thanks. All I can tell you is someone gave Lehtonen’s daughter a letter threatening to kidnap her.”

“No shit.”

“Nothing happened, but we got our hackles up over here.”

“No kidding…”

“And then earlier someone squirted glue in

her door.”

“In the lock?”

“Right.”

Salmela didn’t respond.

“Helloo,” said Suhonen after a while.

“Well, if this someone’s already doing it, then why would they trumpet it all over the place. Unless these things happened because of all the talk?”

“Good question. Did you have a particular ‘someone’ in mind?”

Salmela smiled. “Well, someone someone… Isn’t it pretty obvious?”

“Well, yeah. But still, why all the talk?”