James Thompson - Snow angels

“But the way he did it, with the tire from his own car, would be an act of complete idiocy. If he killed his wife, he’s made himself the main suspect.”

“He’s not the brightest bulb, but yeah, the stupidity involved makes me question his guilt.”

“You said four theories. That’s three.”

“Sufia’s relationship with Peter Eklund is the piece of the puzzle still unaccounted for. She performed oral sex on both Seppo and Peter earlier in the day of her murder, had traces of semen from both of them in her mouth. Peter and Seppo knew each other in Helsinki, maybe they both like young boys. If they both had sex with Sufia, maybe they also shared Heikki. It’s ugly, but it’s a possibility.”

The chief mulls it over. “What do you think now that Heli is dead?”

“I haven’t had a chance to think about it.”

“Think about it.”

“Honestly, my gut feeling was that Heli and Heikki did it, but now I just don’t know anymore.”

He barks it out, surprises me. “Don’t recuse yourself.”

“Jyri, that’s ridiculous. I may have been the last one to see her alive. It makes me a possible suspect.”

“Did you kill her?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you weren’t the last one to see her alive. Have you seen the papers or watched TV today?”

I’ve been avoiding them. “Not for a couple days. I haven’t had time.”

“You’re all over the news, national and international. They’re flashing pictures of Sufia Elmi, talking about how the handling of the Finnish Black Dahlia case is all fucked up. The implication is that a dumb redneck cop, a reindeer biter from Lapland, abused his authority and used the murder of a sweet and innocent but talented Somali refugee-who worked her way to fame and fortune against all odds-as a way to get back at his ex-wife and the guy who fucked her when they were married. If you’d written the press release the way I told you, been up-front about your relationship to the accused, then painted the shithead black, you would have seemed like a good guy. Now you could end up losing your job over it. Or worse.”

Now I see why Jyri is the national chief of police. He understands politics. I knew the media might make me look bad, maybe incompetent, but I didn’t expect them to crucify me. “What should I do?”

“Finish the case and solve it.”

“My friend’s son and my ex-wife are dead. I’m too emotionally involved and I feel like I’ve lost my judgment and perspective. I’ve done my best, but I’ve had about all I can take. You were right in the beginning-I never should have taken the case.”

“But you did take it. In for a dime, in for a dollar, they say.”

“Let someone who’s better equipped take over.”

“If you give up the case after already being demonized in the press for malfeasance, you might end up getting prosecuted for your ex-wife’s murder. My willingness to let you continue the investigation will demonstrate official belief in you. If you solve the case, you save yourself.”

“I didn’t do it, so they can’t prove it. They can write what they want.”

“You can’t be that naive.”

“I guess I am.”

He yells into the phone, hurts my ear. “Fuck you! Do you have any idea how much fucking flack I’m taking over this goddamned murder? I’m trying to help you and you won’t let me. When you took this case, against my better judgment, I told you it was on your head. Now I want you to pull yourself together and do your goddamned job.”

I don’t know what to do. I try to think.

He lowers his voice. “It’s three days before Christmas. It would be hard as hell for me to get a homicide team up there, and even if I could, it would take a couple days for you to get them up to speed. You know the statistics. Every minute that goes by lessens our chance of solving this murder. The case will lose momentum, it might even slip through our fingers and go unsolved. Are you willing to let that happen?”

He’s pushing my buttons, trying to manipulate me, but what he said is true and I’m not willing to let it happen. “No.”

“I realize this is hard for you, but when you told me you wanted this case, you mentioned your career. You solve the murders, both of Sufia Elmi and your ex-wife, and I’ll show my gratitude. You can have the job of your choice.”

I think about how unhappy Kate is in Kittila. “Tell me how you think I should continue.”

“It’s obvious. Everybody else in this case is dead. Seppo Niemi is in custody. Arrest the Eklund boy too. Charge them both with conspiracy to murder. Neither one of them is tough enough to face double-homicide charges. One of them will talk.”

“What about Eklund’s father?”

“He and I play golf together. I’ll deal with him, and I’ll get the arrest warrant for you and smooth things over.”

He’s right about everything. “Jyri, I want to thank you for your faith in me and the support you’ve given me.”

“Thank me by solving the case.” He hangs up.

Kate listened to my end of the conversation and understood enough to get the idea. She shakes her head like I’m a child she can’t reason with. “It’s almost Christmas,” she says. “Stay here with me where it’s warm and safe.”

I shake my head no.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“It’s what I’ve got to do.”

“I didn’t tell you because you were already so upset. I saw a report on BBC World about the murder. They’re making you out to be a corrupt policeman abusing his authority. They raised the question of whether you’re really a hero decorated for bravery, or a cop that got away with murder once before. You’re risking everything.”

“He offered me any job I want if I do this. You wanted to get away from Kittila, I’m doing it for you too.”

“Don’t do it for me, I don’t want you to.”

“I have to.”

Kate turns her back on me. Her voice radiates anger and disappointment. “This will end badly,” she says.

In downtown Kittila, what passes for our shopping district is decked out for Christmas. The main square has a tall tree, over-decorated with gaudy blinking lights and laden with thick snow. Store window banners say Hyvaa Joulua, Merry Christmas, or some variation on the theme, and advertise special holiday offers. I hate the commercialization of Christmas. Maybe because when I was a kid, we were poor and couldn’t afford expensive gifts, maybe because it just sucks.

Last year, Kate and I spent our first Christmas together. I made a traditional Finnish Christmas Eve dinner: rosolli (a salad with pickles, beets, onions and herring), a fifteen-pound ham and three different casseroles made out of potatoes, turnips and carrots. She said we’d never eat it all, but it was gone in four days. It comes to me that Heikki was supposed to help out Kate, but he’s dead, and I don’t even know if she has anything to eat at home. This case has made me a negligent husband.

I feel like shit from the hangover, and whatever I do is wrong, damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I haven’t even considered how my insistence in pursuing my ex-wife’s murderer makes Kate feel. Judging by her reaction, I’ve already ruined her holidays. I don’t want to further destroy them by having nothing to eat but takeout pizza on Christmas. Luckily, I bought Kate’s gifts weeks ago, but on the way to work, I stop at the grocery and buy all the food for the holidays. I’m afraid if I don’t do it now, I’ll forget later.

I leave the supermarket and look around. Almost every small Finnish town has the same eight or ten chain stores, and Kittila looks like all the rest, as if it had been stamped out of a sheet with a cookie cutter. Standing in the cold and dark, looking at my hometown done up in fake Christmas bullshit, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing, why I’m not at home with my wife. Finnish people are obedient, we do what we’re told. Maybe I’m as faceless as this community.