James Thompson: Lucifer's tears

The others look at me for a long minute and try to decide if I’m joking or not. Jari decides that I am and starts laughing, so the others do, too. I’m pleased that Milo feels remorse. It lessens my worry that he’s disturbed beyond repair.

Jyri walks in and comes up behind me. “A word, Inspector.”

He’s disconcerted, uncomfortable. I feel like toying with him. “When you bring a round of beers and shots for the table, we can chat.” My voice turns sarcastic. “We’ll use veiled and secretive language to keep the others in the dark.”

He has no choice, does as he’s told. When he comes back, I ask, “What do you want to know?”

My phone rings again. I don’t see the caller on the display, but answer to interrupt and further disconcert Jyri.

“Inspector, this is Sulo Polvinen. Can I talk to you?”

I give him my stock drunken answer for the evening. “I’m celebrating the birth of my daughter at Hilpea Hauki. The address is Vaasankatu 7. Come here if you want to talk to me.” I hang up on him, too.

“What happened at Kamp?” Jyri asks.

He’s brought a round of kossu. I insist we drink it and toast to Kate again before I answer. Then I give him a most succinct account.

“Arvid Lahtinen murdered Filippov, because if he stands trial for murder in Finland, he won’t be extradited to Germany. He also did it as a favor to me, so you and your buddies won’t fuck me later. Filippov believed he was murdering his wife, but Iisa tricked him into murdering Linda, the woman he loved. I let Iisa go. She’s going to embezzle the funds from Filippov Construction, disappear and live out her life-I believe-as Linda Pohjola, probably in another country.”

“Did you retrieve the things we discussed?”

“I know where they are and will retrieve them in due course.”

He looks like he wants to reach across the table and choke me. “I want those things.”

“No, Jyri,” I say, “I think I’ll hang on to them for a while. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He doesn’t know how to answer and scowls at me.

I have pity on him. “You’re safe now. Everything has been resolved to your satisfaction. You have my word. And about the job you offered me. I’ll take it.”

He brightens. “You will?”

“Yes. And now that we’re partners in crime, I’ll regard you as just that, a partner, rather than my boss.”

His brightness withers.

Sulo Polvinen comes in. I tell him to take a seat. “There’s no need,” he says. “I’ve come to turn myself in for attacking the bouncers at the Silver Dollar.”

“Have you got any money?” I ask.

He looks baffled. “Why?”

“Because the price of admission to sit at this table is a round of kossu. Until you bring it and drink with us, I won’t even consider arresting you.”

He screws up his mouth, doesn’t know what to say, goes to the bar and does as he’s told. He spreads the shots around the table and sits. “To my lovely wife and my darling daughter,” I say.

Our crowd is drunk now, and the toast is loud and raucous. “So, Sulo,” I say, “tell me why I should arrest you.”

“I tried to kill two men. My father is going to be punished for my crime.”

I chase the kossu with beer. “Your father is going to jail for murder. He’ll get ten years. If you confess to the attack, you go to jail and he still gets ten years. What would it help for you to sit in prison, too?”

“I did wrong. I deserve punishment.”

“Your father is a piece of shit who put you up to the attack in the first place. If you go to jail, your mother has no one. Your request for incarceration is denied.”

He didn’t expect this. It stuns him to momentary silence. “Well,” he stammers, “what am I supposed to do, then?”

Jyri sits across from me, still disconcerted. He wanted something, I told him no. He’s not used to it.

I say, “What you’re supposed to do, Sulo, is get on with your life and make something out of yourself.”

He stares down at the table. I slide him a pint of beer. He says, “I don’t know how to do anything.”

Jyri says he wants a black-ops team. It needs tough guys, and Jyri says I can staff it as I like. I test Jyri’s sincerity. “Sure you can. Do something about people like the ones that killed your brother. Be a cop. I’m starting a new unit and could use a mountain-sized kid who’s not afraid to take out two bouncers with a box cutter.” I look at Jyri. “That’s okay with you, right?”

We’re playing big dog/little dog again-only this time our roles are reversed. “Sure,” he says. “Whatever.”

“And you’ll see to it that Arvid Lahtinen is released from custody tomorrow. Right?”

Jyri nods.

“Don’t you have to go to school to be a cop?” Sulo asks.

I do this because I feel my power, because I can. “Your employment is contingent upon studying while you work.” I point at Jyri. “He’ll see to your admission into a law enforcement program. I’ll pay you two thousand a month cash out of my slush fund while you study.”

Sulo can’t grasp his sudden change in fortune, toys with his glass, sloshes some beer on the table. “Okay,” he says.

“Of course,” I say, “I don’t know you, and your employment is subject to termination at my whim. You have to prove yourself. Don’t fucking disappoint me.”

Jari is baffled, can’t comprehend the conversation. I guess he thinks the booze is confusing him. Milo gets it all. He loves watching me abuse Jyri, is working hard to keep from bursting out laughing.

I feel satisfied, even giddy. “Well, gentlemen,” I say, “I believe I’ve done my duty pertaining to alcohol here this evening. It’s time for me to go home. I have a wife and a child to attend to in the morning.”

“Don’t forget, you have an MRI in the morning,” Jari says.

I had forgotten.

“Is Kate coming home tomorrow?” he asks.

“She should be.”

“We have some things to drop off for your family. Do you mind if we come over? It’s important to Taina. She wants to make amends.”

“Jari, you never have to ask if you can come to my home,” I say, and don my coat.

Except for John, who didn’t understand the conversation but is content to drink heavily, the men I leave at the table look mystified, furious or amused, each for his own reasons.

I get up early the next morning. I drank a fair amount, but wasn’t out too late, so my hangover is mild, and despite it, the migraine remains absent. The snow has stopped falling for the time being, and the drive to Meilahti hospital isn’t difficult. I make my nine o’clock appointment, and technicians roll me into something resembling a thrumming spacecraft. They put earphones on me to dull the MRI machine’s cacophony. I lie still and listen to classical music for half an hour while they shoot hundreds of pictures of my brain. As hospital tests go, it isn’t so bad.

Afterward, I drive to Katiloopiston hospital. Kate is up and about, packing her things. “Mary told me you were here most of the day yesterday,” she says. “I’ve never been so tired in all my life. I slept nearly around the clock. But they tell me I can go home now.”

Mary has stayed at the hospital with Kate and the baby since I brought her here. I appreciate that, it makes me value Mary more than I thought possible. I sit in a chair with our little girl. She grabs my little finger and hangs on for dear life. “We may have a female wrestler in the making,” I say.

I drive Kate, Mary and the wee one home. John is on the couch, sleeping off his hangover. We all follow his example and nap for a while. Our baby lies on the bed between us. I can’t sleep, because I’m afraid I’ll roll over and crush her. Around noon, we all rouse, and I start to make lunch for everyone, but it isn’t needed. Jari and Taina arrive, arms full of food and gifts.