Allan Martin - Death in Tallinn

The case worried him, because it was out of the ordinary. Its sensational nature was a gift to the press, of course, but it was also highly unusual. Killing a policeman was in itself a very rare occurrence. The underworld was well aware that the police reaction would be heavy and dangerous, that an attack on their own was the worst crime in the book. The response would be unrelenting: raids on all the usual criminal haunts, sudden arrests and interrogations, random beatings of petty thieves, pimps, and other shady characters, bright lights shone into shadowy places. It was no good for the criminal business. Bribing policemen was a much more successful strategy than killing them.

The public nature of the event added another dimension. Yes, now and again someone jumped off Toompea Hill. It was a convenient spot for a suicide. But Vaher wasn’t the suicidal type – he was too fond of himself. So why was he killed? And by whom?

He had no answer to these questions yet. He doubted that Artur would come up with much from his trawl through the court records. The big players always managed to avoid being put away, and remained in their comfortable houses in Kadriorg or Nõmme. They tended to be discreet, and if a killing was required, it happened quietly, with a knife or a ligature. If it was a warning to rivals, that happened discreetly too. Perhaps a finger sent through the post. But nothing sensational. That wasn’t the Estonian style.

Unless it was the Russians. A lot of Russian refugees had ended up in Estonia after the Revolution. There had even been a white Russian army based in Estonia for a while. Until they’d tried to capture St. Petersburg, and been thrashed by the Reds. Most of them had drifted off by now – America was the destination of choice – but there were still plenty of them around, and, unlike the Estonians, they were more attracted to outward displays. But anything too outrageous, and they knew they’d be kicked out of the country.

It was certainly a puzzle. The first thing was to collect some information. And no time like the present. He finished his coffee, paid for his and Artur’s meals, put on his coat, and left. As he strode down Narva Street, he failed to notice a slim figure in a raincoat, hat pulled low, lurking in a doorway.

Returning to Police Headquarters, Hallmets noticed that no-one spoke to him. He guessed that his appointment to the Vaher case was not popular locally. The Tallinn police would be itching to react to the killing, and no doubt resented not being set off. He would have to deal with this soon, before somebody started doing things without waiting for orders.

As soon as he got to his office, he noticed there was now a phone on his desk. He asked to be put through to Captain Lind.

“ Tere , Peeter! Jüri here. I’m wondering if you’d mind me having a meeting with all the detectives here later this afternoon. I think I need to let them know what’s going on, forestall anyone who’s thinking of taking his own private revenge for Vaher. Bring them on board a bit.”

“Good idea, Jüri. Leave it with me, I’ll organise it and open it. What time – five suit you?”

On his desk sat a brown cardboard folder. On a white label stuck on the front was written, in a flowing hand, in black ink, ‘Nikolai Vaher’. This was the case file. But there was not much inside. The first item was a form completed by Patrolman Liiv. It was written in pencil in a simple but clear script. The report indicated that they had been despatched from Pikk Street to investigate a report of a body. They had located the body, on the roof of a kiosk near Nunne Street, and confirmed that it was dead. They identified the finder of the corpse, one Kaarel Rebane, and another witness, Artur Simm, who claimed to have summoned the police using the telephone in his flat in Nunne Street. This information was passed on to Inspector Sõnn on his arrival at the scene. The patrolmen then ensured the security of the site until the medical examiner, photographer and forensic technician had completed their work, and the body had been removed and taken to the transit morgue in the Pikk Street basement. At that point, they allowed Härra Rebane, the kiosk-owner, to open up, and returned to Police Headquarters.

The next sheet was Inspector Sõnn’s report on the discovery of the body. It was disappointing: brief and written in an almost illegible scrawl that should have gained the writer immediate entry to medical school. Sõnn identified the dead man as ‘probably Chief Inspector Vaher’ and opined that he had probably jumped from the viewpoint on Toompea Hill. Sõnn had taken a cursory look around the kiosk, and noticed nothing remarkable apart, of course, from the corpse on the roof. He had left the scene as soon as the medical examiner had arrived, and returned to Pikk Street. There was no indication that Sõnn had thought of examining the scene at the viewpoint.

A form completed by the medical examiner indicated that he had arrived at the scene at 6.55 am, and had pronounced the man dead. With some difficulty he and the patrolmen had removed the body from the roof and he had given it a brief examination on the ground. Cause of death appeared to be injuries consistent with falling from a height onto the flagstaff on top of the kiosk. However, this opinion was only provisional, and a post-mortem would be required to ascertain the exact cause of death, and to identify any further aspects which would be of interest to the police. Several large black-and-white photographs showed the corpse in situ and then laid out on the path in front of the kiosk, on a sheet which the doctor had brought.

A report by Einar Sepp, the forensic technician, indicated that there were large numbers of footprints around the kiosk, but that owing to the cold dry weather over the last few days, there were none which could be identified as belonging to the night of Vaher’s death. The eroded nature of the prints suggested they were all several days old. The roof of the kiosk had been dusted for fingerprints, but none found apart from those of Patrolmen Liiv and Kask. Large numbers of cardboard cigarette-ends were observed, which was usual for this type of location. Apart from other objects usually found in the vicinity of kiosks – small coins, scraps of paper, sweet wrappers, cracked cigarette holders, etc. – nothing which could be linked to the dead man or his arrival onto the kiosk had been found. It was presumed from this that the man had fallen from somewhere on Toompea Hill directly onto the roof of the kiosk.

That reminded Hallmets of something. He took from his pocket what he had found several metres behind the kiosk that morning, and laid it carefully on the desk. A cigarette holder, about eight centimetres long. Made of ivory, which was unusual, and almost new, which was also unusual. Most cigarette holders discarded around kiosks were cheap and broken. They were usually made of artificial horn, produced from casein, a by-product of butter-making, and were often broken due to firm gripping between the teeth rather than the lips. Replacements were obtainable at any kiosk, hence the likelihood of finding discarded ones nearby, as Sepp the technician had done. But this one was expensive, and it had hardly been used. Why should it have been discarded? He turned it over, and saw that there was something carved into the underside: a coat-of-arms maybe, or set of initials. He opened the desk drawer and was pleased to see that Marta had supplied him with writing materials and stationery. He took out a sheet of thin notepaper and placed it carefully across the incised work, then rubbed with a pencil to reveal, in gothic script, the letters NV. Perhaps Nikolai Vaher. Could it be too much of a coincidence for it to be lying there. It had not been there long, he was sure of that. Had it been there much longer it would have been either crushed into the dust by thoughtless heels, or spotted and picked up by a sharp-eyed individual who would either use it or sell it. Had it fallen out of Vaher’s pocket as he fell, or been thrown out when he landed? It was a luxury item, hand-carved, it must have cost a good few crowns. He took a small envelope from the drawer and put the cigarette holder inside, then slipped it into the top pocket of his jacket.