Jarkko Sipila - Against the Wall

Lindström chuckled dryly, his manner serious. “Listen, find out who’s behind this and let me handle the business side. Let’s both stick to what we know.”

* * *

Dressed in new police-issue green overalls, Lydman sat in the dreary, windowless interrogation room, his bald head hung low.

Joutsamo read off Lydman’s ID into the microphone. The video camera sat in the back corner, so Lydman could see it. He had declined counsel-at this stage, getting a lawyer might seem like an admission of guilt.

“What can you tell us about Jerry Eriksson’s murder?”

“No comment.”

“What were you doing between last Monday evening and Tuesday morning?”

“No comment.”

Joutsamo was not surprised by his answers. She and Kulta had picked him up from the airport detention cell, and he had said nothing on the way back to Pasila.

“Why were you going to Thailand?”

“No comment.”

“Why don’t you want to answer my questions?”

“No comment.”

At this point, Joutsamo wouldn’t reveal that they had connected Saarnikangas to the case, and Lydman to Saarnikangas. If Lydman wanted to share any relevant information, he’d volunteer it of his own accord.

He was on their turf now and his “no comment” strategy suited them just fine. It would provide further grounds for his arrest and continued detention. In upcoming interrogations, Joutsamo would gradually reveal more about how he’d been connected to Saarnikangas, slowly breaking down Lydman’s protective armor.

She was sure Lydman would talk. It might take a few weeks or even a month. He would talk, though. Well, maybe.

“Can you tell us anything about the circumstances surrounding Jerry Eriksson’s death?”

“No comment.”

Joutsamo ended the interrogation.

* * *

Eero Salmela was in the cellblock kitchenette, plugging in the coffeemaker. The window opened onto the empty prison yard.

The kitchen boasted a refrigerator, a microwave oven and a sink. The range had been removed after someone accused of narking got their palms fried on the burner.

Salmela measured the coffee carefully. Two cups would be plenty. He’d drink both himself.

The majority of inmates in his cellblock were employed in the license plate factory or in other workshops. Some were still trying to finish their education, but Salmela wasn’t interested in working. His days were spent loafing, reading, and filling out crossword puzzles.

Salmela turned on the coffeemaker and heard footsteps in the corridor. Curiosity got the better of him and he peeked out. Someone was standing at the door to his cell.

“What’s up?” Salmela asked.

An enormous man covered in tattoos turned to face him. Salmela recognized him as one of Larsson’s gorillas. He stared at Salmela without speaking. The tattooed gorilla moved towards him, and Salmela considered his choices. He couldn’t get out; he was trapped in the kitchen. Maybe he could use the wooden chair as a weapon. The gorilla grinned.

“You’re having a visitor today.”

“Huh?” was all that Salmela managed.

“A visitor. Get it?”

Salmela bobbed his head. Of course he understood.

“Good. Talk with him, then tell Larsson what he wants. Immediately. If he has any requests, figure out a code.”

“A code,” Salmela repeated.

“Right,” the gorilla went on. “So we can let him know over the phone whether we agree or not.”

“Okay,” Salmela said, and the messenger left.

The coffeemaker gurgled and Salmela wondered what it all meant. Apparently, he had become a messenger for the Skulls.

* * *

“Strange,” Mikko Kulta remarked.

“What?” Kirsi Kohonen asked. Joutsamo and Suhonen were there too, seated at the VCU conference table. The meeting was due to begin soon, but they were waiting for the boss.

“Just happened to see this report about a pig’s head turning up in a downtown garage.”

“A pig’s head?” Kohonen marveled.

“Who wants coffee?” Suhonen asked, getting up.

“Yeah. Someone broke into a garage on Tehdas Street and dropped a real pig’s head on the hood of a car. It was a shared garage, and the neighbor filed a complaint.”

“Whose car was it?” Kohonen went on.

“Don’t know. I didn’t get to the end yet.”

Suhonen was getting the coffeemaker going when Takamäki stepped in. The lieutenant was wearing a suit coat, but no tie.

“Mornin’,” Takamäki grunted, and took his seat at the head of the table. He glanced at the timelines on the wall. Apparently, nothing new had come up.

“Okay,” the lieutenant said. “Let’s go around the table and figure out where we’re at. Anna?”

“We’ve made the first arrest in the case,” Joutsamo began. “Lydman was taken into custody at the airport trying to leave for Bangkok. At this point, he’s suspected of murder. Our case against him isn’t very strong, but in my opinion, we can detain him on the grounds that he answered all our questions with ‘no comment.’ Even so, the evidence is pretty thin so far. Our suspicion is primarily based on the fact that he met with Saarnikangas a couple of times after the murder. On Saarnikangas’ end, we’ve confirmed his story with security camera footage. He was at the Teboil on the night of the murder, and we also found pictures of him at the Parkano ABC. Seems like Saarnikangas has been telling Suhonen the truth. Mikko has the details from Valkeakoski.”

Takamäki continued around. “What’s new over there?”

“What’s ever new over there? Friggin’ cold and wet. But the Fire Department divers fished out the murder weapon for us. It took until two in the morning, but they finally found it about a hundred feet from the shore…well within throwing distance. It’s a.22 caliber pistol and at the lab now… Haven’t heard from them yet. The local police are scouring the beach and the area around the cabin. The soil wasn’t the right consistency to hold tire tracks or foot prints. The owner of the cabin is apparently not connected to the case in any way. I spoke to him last night and seems he hasn’t been there since the beginning of September.”

“Kirsi, anything new on the phone front?”

“Surveillance is still quiet-no traffic at all. I did manage to get through the phone records. We got a cell number from Lydman, but it didn’t match any numbers on the lists. Apparently, these guys have been using so many single-use phones that it’s become impossible to track them all.”

“Or they could have used a CB radio,” Kulta interjected.

“Possible,” Takamäki said. “So the evidence is still leaning strongly toward Saarnikangas. He was linked to the crime scene with forensic evidence, and furthermore, we found a possible murder weapon based on his story.”

Joutsamo was nodding.

“Where is Saarnikangas now?”

Suhonen glanced at his cellphone. “His van’s still at his apartment in Pihlajamäki; I would assume he’s there too.”

“Assume?” Joutsamo asked.

“That’s what I said.”

“Since we have Lydman, we should bring Saarnikangas in, too. Let’s get the two of ’em tangled up in their own stories. Can we assume he’ll go on record?”

“That I don’t know,” Suhonen said.

“Did you make any progress last night?” Takamäki asked.

“Well, a little. As far as I can tell, Saarnikangas is on the bottom rung. Next up is Lydman, and then one step further is this Markus Markkanen.”

“Who’s that?” Takamäki asked.

“Not a major player. He’s been a low- to mid-level violent offender. Goes by the nickname ‘Bogeyman’, which says a lot. Various beatings and debt collections, but recently he’s been clean. Not even a speeding ticket…”