Allan Martin - Death in Tallinn

“You’ve studied my file.”

The colonel smiled. “There’s nothing secret there. You don’t keep your views quiet.”

“Then we’d better get started. Is Captain Lind aware of my involvement?”

“This has been approved at the highest level. The Interior Minister spoke to the Tallinn Police Prefect personally, and he, Prefect Rotenbork that is, has spoken to Lind. But take this, just in case there are any problems – it’s a letter from me authorising you to be given whatever resources you need whilst investigating this case.” He handed over an envelope. “I’ll let you go and see Lind now. I’ll send you over our file on Vaher as soon as I’ve had it copied. We’ve arranged your accommodation at the Imperial Hotel, on Nunne Street, by the way. It’s actually quite close to where the body was found. I’ve had your suitcase sent there already. And the Ministry will put a car and driver at your disposal – the one that brought you here this morning. The driver’s name is Lembit, he’s a good man, very resourceful, and discreet. One other thing, which I hope you won’t mind. I’ve allocated Lieutenant Kadakas as liaison between your team and the ministry. Not to spy on you of course. But we need to be aware of what’s happening with the investigation on a regular basis. And he might be useful, too. Strictly speaking, he’s army, not police, but I’ve told him to defer to you. If you don’t feel he’s pulling his weight, let me know and I’ll have him shot.” He smiled. “Just a joke. Here’s my card. Any problems, phone me.”

As soon as Hallmets crossed the lane and entered Police Headquarters, he was shown to Captain Lind’s office on the first floor. More coffee arrived. The captain, thin, grey-haired and stooping, looked tired. But he shook Hallmets’ hand warmly. “Jüri, good to see you. Messy business, this. I’m sorry they’ve dragged you into it, but I suppose they’re right, bringing someone in from outside to run the investigation. I’m just glad it’s you.”

Lind and Hallmets were old comrades from the war, and both had joined the new police force of the Estonian Republic. Five years previously, when the Tallinn force was expanded, and they were seeking a deputy commander of CID, Lind tried to persuade Hallmets to take the job. Hallmets had refused. He was happy in Tartu. He liked the atmosphere and the culture, his wife had a job at the university, and his children were happy in school. He never regretted the refusal, though he was sorry for Lind when he saw that Vaher had been appointed.

“Good to see you again, too, Peeter, let’s hope we can get it tidied up without a lot of fuss.”

“Not much chance of that, I’m afraid. The papers are going to have a field day. If Pealinna Uudised hadn’t put out that Special this morning, we might have been able to persuade them to sit on it for a few days. But of course Hunt – he’s the editor – realised we’d try that, and rushed out his scoop before we could do anything. The politicians are furious, as you can imagine. Poor Viktor got a roasting from the Minister. Hardly his fault, but he’s the Prefect, so that’s where the buck stops.”

“What’s his view on the case?” Hallmets had met Viktor Rotenbork, Prefect of the Tallinn-Harjumaa Police Division, a couple of times and formed a positive impression of him as a straightforward policeman with a sound legal background.

“He knows this has to be sorted out as soon as possible, and that we need somebody above suspicion to do it.”

“What am I above suspicion of? Is there something going on in the police here that I should know about?”

Lind looked uneasy. “Chief Inspector Vaher was, shall I say, a divisive influence here. I was reluctant to appoint him. I’d heard enough about his methods when he was in Narva. But the committee was impressed by his results, and that was that. I’m afraid I never got on with him. But he was popular with many of his colleagues. His approach certainly made the job simpler: first decide who’s guilty, then find some evidence that fits, invented if necessary, then beat a confession out of the suspect. Saves a long trial too.”

“Weren’t the examining magistrates unhappy about that?”

“He tended to work with just a couple of them, people who valued law and order above justice, and were willing to let him get on with it. And you can’t argue with a signed confession, can you? Anyway, enough of that, let’s be positive. Let’s drink to my retirement, eh? Only six months to go, and I’m free.” Lind opened a drawer in his desk and produced a bottle of vodka and a couple of shot glasses. He opened the bottle and filled the glasses. “ Terviseks! ” They downed the clear liquid.

“That’s good stuff,” said Hallmets. He glanced at the bottle. “ Leikari? Sounds Finnish.” But can’t be, he thought. Alcohol production was banned under Finland’s Prohibition Law.

“A present at Christmas, from Vaher, as it happens. I was waiting for a good moment to open it. Maybe we should drink to him, too.” They swallowed another shot.

“And so to business,” said Lind, now rather more relaxed than when Hallmets had arrived. “I’ve got you an office with an investigators’ room next to it. And you’ll need some people to assist you. Can I suggest you take a couple of people from outwith the city force – that’ll underline that your team is above board?”

“I suspect you’re going to tell me you’ve already summoned them.”

The captain blushed. “You know me too well, Jüri. So that’s saved me beating about the bush. They’ll be here quite soon. I’ve worked with them both in the past. Eva Larsson and Oleg Maslov.”

“The names are vaguely familiar. Tell me more. And why I should take them.”

“Larsson’s Swedish-Estonian, from Saaremaa, currently stationed in Pärnu. Great sportswoman, would have qualified for the Olympic shooting team, er, if women had been admitted, that is. And she’s not found it easy in the police; many officers don’t think it’s a job for a woman. There are very few of them in the force, as you’ll know. As for Maslov, he comes from one of those villages down by Lake Peipsi. He’s based down at Petseri now, near the Russian border. Great judge of vodka, I hear. But those aren’t the reasons you should have them. They’re good detectives. Persistent, thoughtful, trustworthy. But of course, if you need other people to do some of the legwork, let me know, and you can have whoever you want. I’ve also assigned one of the secretaries to you – her name’s Marta Kukk. She’s reliable and doesn’t gossip. What about a car?”

“The ministry have supplied one, plus a driver and a liaison officer.”

“Ah. One of those. You’re dealing with Reinart at the Ministry?”

“Yes.”

Lind nodded. “I came across him during the war. Wherever the fighting’s thickest, you can be sure he won’t be there. Oh, you should have these – the keys to Vaher’s office. I’ve had it sealed till you decide to look at it. I’ll take you up to your office now. But first let’s drink a toast to the success of your investigation. Terviseks! ”

Hallmets’ office was on the fourth floor, the windows looking down into the lane between Police Headquarters and the Interior Ministry. One of the windows across and slightly below him must be Colonel Reinart’s. His office was spacious and bright, and next door was a large work room featuring an oak table which seemed to have come from the dining room of a manor house.

By the door leading from the work room to the corridor was a small desk behind which stood Marta Kukk, a woman in her early sixties, her grey hair tied in a bun and pince-nez hanging from a thin gold chain. She apologised to Hallmets that he must forgive her spelling, she couldn’t keep up with the changes in the written Estonian language that the experts kept introducing. “Up to 1918, you see, Sir, I was only typing in German. I worked for Herr Scheelmann then, he imported wine, sent it all over the empire. So after the war I came here, and had to switch to Estonian. Poor Herr Scheelmann went bankrupt. All his stock had been stolen in the war and after it, he couldn’t rebuild the business without the Russian market. He eventually went to Romania, I think it was, he had a cousin there.”