Jarkko Sipila - Against the Wall

“Well, there were others milling around on the street, but this guy with the hoodie was definitely alone. As far as I could tell.”

“Good,” Joutsamo remarked, though it would’ve been better had he had a companion. It would’ve been one more lead to follow up on.

Joutsamo noticed Takamäki standing in the doorway, looking impatient. She nodded.

“How’d the trip go, then?”

“I tried to strike up a conversation, but nothing. The guy didn’t say a word. He was kind of in his own

world. He didn’t seem so drunk or high that he’d have been nodding off. You know, for a cabby at that hour, the night is still young.”

“And where was he headed?”

“Yeah. Now that was a little strange. When he first got in, he said to go to Oulunkylä. But then when we got there, he asked me to keep going further north towards Beltway One and Pakila. All of a sudden, when we got to Pirjo’s Tavern, he told me to stop and he got out. Seemed to me like the trip was cut short. It wasn’t because he didn’t have the money, though. He paid with a fifty, if I remember right.”

“Do you remember if he had a cellphone? Did he call anyone during the trip?”

“I don’t think he called anyone,” Oinonen said. “But now that you mention it, he might have been fiddling with a cellphone. It’s also possible that it was an iPod or something. It was dark out and the back seat is even darker, so it was tough to see. But I do remember that he really wanted a receipt. He asked for one.”

“Okay,” Joutsamo said and jotted a note on her pad: Why receipt?

Joutsamo continued, “I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station to make a formal statement. It doesn’t have to be right away, but we’ll let you know.”

“Awright, must be a pretty serious case?”

“I’ll let you know when you get here,” Joutsamo said, to arouse his curiosity. “And please, don’t mention this conversation to anyone.”

“Okay,” the man said, and the call ended.

Takamäki was at the door again. “Any progress?”

“Some. Apparently, at 9:30 P.M., Eriksson took a taxi from Helsinki Avenue to Oulunkylä, just over a mile from the crime scene.”

“A taxi?” Takamäki wondered. “Well, let’s go to my office. Suhonen’s waiting for us.”

Joutsamo was still thinking about the conversation. “Damn. I can’t remember if there are any security cameras in that area.”

“That wouldn’t help if he was in the taxi alone.”

“No, but it’s possible that Eriksson met the killer somewhere else before going to the garage. They could have met at Pirjo’s Tavern and gone from there. Maybe the security camera could’ve caught a glimpse of a potential suspect.”

“It’s worth a shot, but let’s go talk to Suhonen.”

* * *

Suhonen was perched on the window sill in Takamäki’s cramped office. As usual, he kept his leather jacket on. The detective lieutenant took his seat behind the desk, and Joutsamo sat in the chair by the door.

A bookshelf against the wall was filled with different colored folders, containing case files. A diploma on the wall proved that Takamäki had participated in an international FBI course on profiling. Mr. Kari Takamaki , it read. A couple missing dots over the “a,” but at least they hadn’t called him Ms.

Outside, the morning wind had ushered in another low-pressure system. Beneath the street lamps, the sleet was driven nearly sideways.

Takamäki showed them a letter-sized printout of a photograph. “Forensics found this in Eriksson’s apartment. It was taped to the bottom of a desk drawer.”

Joutsamo examined what appeared to be a photo of a note. In capital letters, someone had written, “JUHA S. 14,000 DUE NOV 15,” followed by a couple of exclamation points.

“In the same drawer, Forensics found what they believe to be a bag of amphetamines.”

“Was Eriksson dealing?” Joutsamo said, more thinking aloud than asking a question.

Takamäki glanced at Suhonen, who added, “And why would he hide the note in his own home? Was he worried that someone would raid his apartment?”

“All good questions,” Takamäki said.

“Were there any prints on the note? When can we get a handwriting analysis?” Joutsamo asked.

“Not sure,” Takamäki said. “Kannas will take care of it… Suhonen, tell Anna.”

Suhonen was still sitting on the windowsill. “This Juha S. is the informant who told me about the body.”

“Wow,” Joutsamo let go.

“Right,” Takamäki said.

“Let’s take him in,” Joutsamo said immediately.

“Good idea,” Takamäki said.

“Naah,” Suhonen stalled.

Joutsamo looked at Suhonen. “I don’t suppose Saarnikangas told you that he owed the victim almost fifteen grand?”

“No, he didn’t. Nor did he tell me where he heard about the body.”

“Right,” Joutsamo continued. “Maybe you should have asked him where he saw the body, not where he heard about it. Or maybe even where he killed him.”

“Looks like probable cause,” Takamäki said.

Suhonen raised his hand, gesturing for some quiet. “Then why would he tell me about it?”

“To throw us off track.”

“Naah,” Suhonen said again. “I know this guy a bit. I can’t say well , but still… In my view, he’s not a killer. He’s more like a pawn, though he’s not as dumb as most junkies. He’s a kind of survivor, who always gets out of trouble by squeezing through some crack.”

“So you’re saying he’s not capable of murder?” Joutsamo asked.

“Everyone’s capable of murder in the right circumstances. Still, it seems to me that if Saarnikangas were in debt, he’d try to resolve it somehow, not bury it by shooting the guy.”

Joutsamo shook her head. “Seems to me we should take him in and interrogate him. If, like you say, he’s some kind of low-class junkie, then he’ll talk within a few days.”

Takamäki turned back to Suhonen.

“I think we should wait for more details from Forensics. The DNA evidence and what not,” Suhonen said. “I agree that Juha knows more about this case than he told me. I could try to get it out of him.”

“I disagree.” Joutsamo said.

“With what exactly?” Takamäki asked.

Joutsamo looked at Suhonen for a moment.

“Alright. This case started with your intel, so let’s see where you can go with it. Let’s try Suhonen’s way, for now at least. But we definitely shouldn’t tell Saarnikangas that we know about the debt,” Joutsamo said.

“Of course. I thought maybe we should use some old-fashioned police work, but blended with a little modern technology?”

“What do you mean?” Takamäki asked.

“Well, a phone tap and a GPS tail.”

“A tracking device?”

Suhonen nodded.

Police tracking devices could be easily attached to any automobile. Every twenty seconds or so, it sent out a signal with its location, which was picked up by police computers, or even a field officer’s cellphone. Narcotics had used them with great success. The cops no longer needed five units to follow a suspect’s vehicle. Instead, its location arrived automatically. Narcotics had made an art of planting the devices inconspicuously; it only took about twenty seconds, and the device was nearly invisible.

The tracking device could also be built into any interchangeable car part. A Finnish company had developed the technology, and now foreign police departments and various intelligence organizations had taken a keen interest in it. Everything related to the device had been declared a state secret in Finland.

“We’d know where he was at all times. He drives an old Fiat van. Let’s watch and listen before we arrest him and show our hand. If Saarnikangas is actually the culprit, I don’t think he did it because of the debt.”