Jarkko Sipila - Nothing but the Truth

Suhonen didn’t know what to say, so he listened. That was probably best.

“Then I wound up in prison for a year, and the wife found someone else. That kind of meant game over for the whole dad thing… But those soccer games were really something. Sunk four goals in one game once. And he was playing on defense. When he got the ball, ain’t nobody was gonna stop him.” Salmela’s voice began to break up. “He stuck ’em in the net like Maradona at his best…”

Salmela put the cigarette between his lips. This time he lit it. “Maybe it’s best to shut up so I don’t get emotional.”

“The memories will never fade,” said Suhonen.

“You met him too once, over there at…”

“The Ruskeasuo Teboil station. A year ago. Seemed like quite the kid.”

Salmela laughed. “I dunno about quite the kid at that time. More like quite the crackhead. He was hooked on speed and moved here to peddle some dope for some friends from Lahti. He got enough money from that to pay rent. I helped him out a few times with a C-note or two.”

“Did you keep in touch?”

“Not so much. We met up a few times, but we were running in different circles. Last time I saw him he tried to sell me a hit of coke. Just about beat the shit out of the kid… Heh, tried to gouge me too.”

The mention of cocaine got Suhonen thinking. “When was this?”

“Don’t remember exactly. Two, three weeks ago.”

Suhonen waited for Salmela to connect the dots.

“You sayin’ the coke had something to do

with it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you’re thinking.”

Since Salmela had brought up motive, Suhonen decided to up the ante. “We have the shooter in custody.”

Salmela’s body stiffened and he flicked the remainder of his cigarette out the window. “Gimme his name.”

“I can’t, actually,” said Suhonen, though the moment he brought up the subject he had already decided to reveal it.

“Bullshit. Who is it?”

“Esa Nyberg.”

Salmela fell silent. “Shit… What the fuck was Tomi mixed up in for them to send that kind of firepower after him? That Nyberg is a militant psycho. Apparently talks about joining the Foreign Legion all the time. He can go ahead as far as I’m concerned… Shoulda gone long ago.”

“Back up a sec. Who do you mean by them ?”

Salmela looked at Suhonen with a stupefied expression. “Them. Don’t you know?”

“Nyberg could’ve switched employers.”

“In other words you don’t. Well let me fill you in. Nyberg is Risto Korpi’s godchild. He ain’t gonna switch employers.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Suhonen was striding down a long, quiet hallway at the VCU. Takamäki’s door

was open and the lieutenant was sitting in front of his computer.

Suhonen stepped inside and Takamäki looked up. “Well?”

“He took it hard.”

“Figured as much. Who wouldn’t.” Takamäki thought of his boys. The death of one’s own child would just as easily break a seasoned homicide cop.

“This Tomi hasn’t been close to his dad since he was a kid, though. The divorce split them up long ago. But I did get some intel,” said Suhonen, and he told Takamäki about the godchild relationship.

“So Korpi’s our target,” said Takamäki. “Unless Nyberg had side projects Korpi didn’t know about.”

“What about the surveillance?”

“We got the warrant and tapped the lines. According to records, the numbers have been inactive for two months. We’ll have to figure out Korpi’s current residence and means of communication.”

The power of phone taps was rapidly waning. Professional criminals knew how to avoid them by cycling through prepaid SIM cards and cell phones. The police didn’t bother to tap prepaids that were older than six months, since they automatically expired after that.

“Yeah, that’d be a nice surprise,” Suhonen remarked. “What’d Forensics find in the apartment?”

“Kannas promised…” Takamäki managed to say before a gruff voice boomed from the hallway.

“Did someone say the holy word?”

Suhonen moved aside to make room for Takamäki’s old friend, who soon filled the entire doorway.

“Tsk, tsk. Thou shalt not take your lord’s name in vain,” Kannas growled as he came into the room, a small briefcase tucked under his arm.

“Oh, really. A lord?” said Suhonen.

“Inspector Suhonen decided to show up for once, eh? And here I figured your type would just be stumbling out of the sack so you could go bar hopping and raiding whorehouses till dawn,” said Kannas with a wink.

Suhonen had a comeback at the ready, but Kannas never gave him the chance. “Just so there aren’t any misunderstandings, though, I should say I’m no god. Forensics is god. Everybody believes in it. Me, I’m just a humble servant of that god. A slave, I should say.”

“A lowly worm of the earth,” Suhonen went on. Takamäki smiled.

“Naah. No worms yet,” said Kannas in a more serious tone, “the body was still warm. Worms and other critters need a bit more time. That’s how it usually is, depending on the temperature, of course…”

“We get the picture,” Takamäki cut in. “What did you find?”

Kannas dug a stack of photographic printouts from his briefcase and handed them to Takamäki. “Here’s a little taste of blood for the paper-pushing lieutenant.”

As he reached for the printouts, Takamäki shot a hard enough look at Kannas that he thought better of his comment. “Sorry, long day. Plus it’s my day off. But a corpse beats the mother-in-law’s birthday party any time, no matter what the wife might think of it.”

“A milestone?”

“Luckily not.”

Takamäki looked over the photos. Tomi Salmela’s body lay on its back on a rag rug. The floor looked like grey linoleum. There wasn’t much blood, which was typical, since sudden death stopped the heart’s pumping immediately.

“The body’s at the coroner’s now, but based on experience and the diameter of the entry hole in his forehead I’d say it’s a nine-millimeter round. Not to mention the bullet tore off half his head when it came out the back. We dug the slug out of the far wall of the entry. Still at the lab, so nothing more on that

for now.”

Takamäki nodded. They had found a nine-millimeter pistol on Nyberg when he was arrested.

“We found the casing too,” said Kannas. “There among the shoes. Based on the location of the casing and the blood splatters, I’d guess he was shot right at the door or just inside. The door was intact, so the victim had apparently opened it himself. We got plenty of fingerprints, which we’re sifting through right now. That doesn’t cost much, but what about running some DNA? We found all kinds of cigarette butts, bloody kleenexes and a bunch of other junk that might tell us who’s been there.”

Takamäki thought for a moment. “I don’t think it’s necessary, at least not yet. Since the shooter is already in custody and apparently never entered the apartment I think we can save the NBI some time and money. But obviously we should archive the evidence in case we run into any surprises.”

Kannas approved. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Anything else of interest?”

“Not really. Just your typical drug hole: a bunch of stolen junk. We’ll see if we can find the original owners if we get around to it… Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Kannas’ lie was deliberately transparent. “The hiding spot was pretty unoriginal, but I suppose they figured the dogs wouldn’t find the drugs in the toilet tank. And they never do either, which is why we always look there. Found half a pound of coke.”

“Half a pound,” said Suhonen.