My First Murder (11 page)

“That what?”

“Well, that I owed him money! I didn’t know he’d be so goddamn unfair!” Riku punched a cushion angrily.

“Was two grand enough reason to kill a friend?”

Riku’s expression turned horrified and he jumped up off the bed.

“I didn’t kill him! He was totally normal on Friday and didn’t say a word about any of it. So I thought it was all fine, that he’d just panicked a bit or something. But then when we were racing the cars on the way out there, I was kinda afraid ’cause it was like he really did want to run me off the road...I don’t know. Maybe he was trying to threaten me. But I didn’t kill him, Maria. I’m not like that. You gotta believe me!” His puppy dog face looked at me with the expression a small creature wears
when it is attacked by a larger, far more powerful animal. But I couldn’t relent.

“Tommi’s death was convenient for you though,” I said cruelly. I couldn’t bring myself to be nice to Riku because he reminded me far too much of Pete. Those same puppy dog eyes, the same careless spending. Pete was an ex-boyfriend. I had never bothered keeping track of the money I loaned him, but he probably squandered half of my salary in the watering holes of this very neighborhood the first year I was on the force. Then he left to do his civilian service, instead of going into the army, and decided that he couldn’t actually go out with a cop because I represented the established social order. I cried for a couple of weeks, then mostly just mourned my lost money.

Riku had made his way over to the window again, as if trying to escape. Though he might be guilty, his motive struck me as pretty weak.

“Do you even remember what happened Saturday night?”

“Oh, so you think I killed Tommi and don’t remember? Don’t make me laugh. Are you going to arrest me?”

Riku’s voice had risen to a shrill falsetto, and the hand holding his cigarette shook uncontrollably. His attempt at playing man-of-the-world had completely fallen apart.

“If I had any evidence, you would already be in a holding cell in Pasila, but we’ll let it be for now,” I said antagonistically. “Tell me about the other people who owed Tommi money.”

Riku walked over to the kitchenette and opened the pantry, which seemed to contain mostly bottles. “I need a shot of whiskey,” he muttered to himself. “Do you want one, or are you on duty?”

“Just a little,” I said, even though I knew I shouldn’t. However, I thought that having a drink together might make him feel more
inclined to confide in me. Evidently shots came in drinking glasses in this apartment.

“Actually, I don’t know who else owed Tommi money, although he did have more money than anybody else I know. He had already graduated and had a good job. I guess all of us probably borrowed from him every now and then—like if we were in a bar and we ran out of money, we just got Tommi to pull out his Visa card. Tuulia said something once about how much she owed Tommi, but she sounded like she meant it in the sense of being thankful. Maybe Tommi helped her get a job or something like that. And I think he and Timo probably had some dealings.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know exactly. Ask Timo yourself.” Riku had a cagey look about him that made me think he knew more than he wanted to tell. “If you ask me, Mira is the murderer,” Riku said, pouring himself more whiskey. I still hadn’t gotten past the first sip, although Riku’s Ballantine’s was decent.

“Based on what?”

“Well, because the rest of us are so strung out, but she’s just so damn calm. Like she knows something. But I don’t have any idea why she would have wanted to kill Tommi. It’s Antti she’s stuck on.”

There it was again: Mira’s infatuation with Antti. I couldn’t stand the thought of having to ask either one of them about their love lives.

“How is all this whiskey going to affect your game play?”

“We always bring beer. It doesn’t affect
kyykkä
throwing, and I doubt we’ll play much anyway. I guess you don’t know much about the sport. We’ll probably just plan what we’re going to sing at Tommi’s funeral, which is happening next Saturday. Did you know that?”

“Yeah...” Forensics and the pathologists had just finished investigating Tommi’s body and released it to the family. I still hadn’t received all of the fiber analysis.

“I don’t think I could sing at a friend’s funeral,” I said.

“I think it’s terrible too. We’ll see how it goes. You could come to the funeral and arrest whoever doesn’t cry—but then it would be Mira for sure.”

Riku had relaxed after realizing that I didn’t intend to drag him to Pasila after all. I sipped slowly at my whiskey, savoring the feeling of relaxation that flowed through me. I hadn’t noticed how tense and keyed up I’d been all day. I suddenly longed for a walk in the fresh air, which was usually a good way for me to clear my thoughts.

Riku started to get ready to leave and asked me to wait for him to change his clothes so we could go together. He’d already figured out that I didn’t have a police car with me. A third whiskey had completely loosened him up, and he began telling me familiar-sounding choir gossip, mostly talking up his own singing ability and berating the others’, the other tenors in particular. Back when I lived with Jaana, I had observed how eager the singers were to criticize each other’s abilities. As I listened to Riku, I got the feeling that EFSAS was a veritable breeding ground for jealousy. Hard to believe someone would murder a friend just for singing a little off-key though, I thought, as Riku complained about Timo.

On the tram, Riku suggested that I come and get better acquainted with the finer points of the game of
kyykkä
, but I wasn’t interested. After Riku jumped off at the Kaisaniemi stop, I continued on to Eira, where I set off for a stroll along the shoreline. There wasn’t much to praise in Helsinki’s beaches, but the sea was always the sea. I was born inland, but for some reason I’ve
always enjoyed being near open water. For a moment, I found myself wishing I weren’t walking alone, that there was someone with whom I could have laughed at the crows cawing irritably at each other and admired that little elephant-shaped cloud, but the thought passed quickly.

A sailboat bobbing on the horizon brought my thoughts back around to Tommi. I knew I should have a talk with Pia Wahlroos pretty soon; she might know something about Tommi’s love life. I didn’t quite know what to make of Pia, but I sensed that she belonged high on my list of possible killers. As did Riku, despite his assurances to the contrary. I had a hard time placing Timo and Sirkku anywhere but at the bottom of the list, because a fling a couple of years earlier seemed like an insufficient motive for either of them. It was hard for me to imagine Sirkku hitting anyone with an ax anyway. Maybe I should switch my focus to the way Tommi was killed. Thinking about the killer’s method felt like an important line of inquiry.

The murderer had clearly wanted to be rid of Tommi quickly. So it was likely that the killer was either enraged or afraid. Who was capable of really losing his temper? Probably Antti, as well as Timo. Of the women, Sirkku was the excitable type, but it was easier imagining her crying coquettishly and beating Tommi on the chest with her neatly manicured fists than doing something genuinely violent.

And Mira? I knew a lot of extremely calm people who rarely lost their cool, but who, when they did, unleashed their wrath like all hell had broken loose. What could Tommi have done to make Mira that angry? I could imagine Tuulia could really bite your head off too, but for some reason it was hard for me to picture her striking anyone. Tuulia would definitely opt for poison.

What if Tommi had assaulted Pia? Maybe he’d come on to her while he was drunk and Pia couldn’t see any way to break free of him
other than grabbing the ax and walloping him. Oh, if only this case could turn out to be self-defense! I suddenly felt terrible that I might be sending someone to prison for years and years, even though that was where a successful conclusion to the case would inevitably lead.

Coming back to police work had been one of my most idiotic ideas. I thought back to the announcement in
Policeman
(although I always felt like boycotting the magazine because of the irritating name) about the temporary post I was filling. I suppose I had gotten the job because I was a woman, which, of course, was what everyone thought. At times I wished I were ten years older and had a family. Early on in my career, some of the boys had asked me out on dates. It had been the same when we were at the academy. When I never took any of them up on their offers, it naturally caused all kinds of rumors. “She’s good looking, but she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She must be a lesbian. Why else would she have wanted to do men’s work?” I had heard that phrase more times than I could count.

Why did I need to explain myself to my colleagues? I had a love life—albeit not a very active one—but time was slipping away, and there were plenty of guys who chose the highway when they heard I was a cop. Lately I had been so busy that I had forgotten sex even existed. I wanted to do my job well, and there was a lot for me to learn in the Violent Crime Unit. When things ended with Pete, I thought I would never fall in love again. About a year later, Harri, an avid botanist and ornithologist, had entered the picture, but his most exciting trait had unfortunately been that he could identify every plant and bird in Finland—and could teach me to do the same. Harri wasn’t much of a match for me in any other ways either. He was entirely too nice, soft, and empathetic, and I had treated him badly. Fortunately, he had finally gotten tired of me bossing him around.

No, I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. I was beginning to be so set in my routines that I couldn’t imagine sharing them with anyone else. I wanted to eat my breakfast without anyone stealing my newspaper or talking to me before I drank my coffee. I wanted to watch chick flicks on TV without anyone commenting on how stupid they were or being surprised when I cried at the happy ending. I wanted to lounge in the bathtub at two in the morning eating chocolate and drinking whiskey if I felt like it. I sometimes wanted a sympathetic ear for my dark monologues...I had thought about getting a cat. A cat and I would be relatively little trouble to each other. A cat might be possible despite my long work hours. A man would be much more problematic. Making love from time to time would be nice, but I had been getting along just fine without sex for a long time already. Maybe my libido just wasn’t very strong.

Lost in thought, I had arrived at Ratakatu, where a loud greeting from a police academy comrade who had ended up in the Finnish Security Intelligence Service snapped me back to reality. I realized I’d been thinking more about myself than about Tommi, which irked me. It was possible that we would find the answer to Tommi’s death in his apartment, and I hoped that the search warrant would come through tomorrow. It was terrible how a person became public property when he was murdered. First, open the body, evaluate the state of its inner workings, inspect what he ate last. Then rummage through the rest of the life—home, relationships, finances, friends. Invading the private lives of both the victim and the suspects. I was peeping into their lives too, but I only knew how to read some of the signs on display.

But within each heart the tick of a clock

When I came to work on Tuesday morning, the search warrant was waiting on my desk. Next to it was a confirmation that neither Jaana nor Franz Schön had entered the country during the past week. Koivu had called the phone numbers provided by Heikki Peltonen and confirmed the movements of the
Maisetta
with the Peltonens’ sailing companions. The proprietor of the Barösund service station also remembered them well, because Heikki Peltonen had demanded a refund for a package of sausages he claimed were bad. During the night, I hadn’t been able to come up with any possible reason for the Peltonens to have murdered their own son, so they were probably out of the running now. We might still uncover some unknown perpetrator or perpetrators, but for the time being, the only remaining suspects were the choir. If I was going to find the truth, it would only be by dragging it out of these seven people.

When I called the lab to inquire about the results of the blood analysis, the forensic chemist was obviously pissed about something.

“Oh, it’s you, dollface. This blood stain of yours from the dock might be
really
important.”

“Oh, how so?” I asked, ignoring the sarcastic tone.

“It was really strange blood. If I hadn’t had that ax, I would have been totally up a creek. Which is to say”—he paused—“it’s the same blood from the pike,” he continued dryly.

“So it isn’t Peltonen’s?” I asked, even though what I felt like doing was slamming the receiver down in the little pissant’s ear. He grumbled cynically for another minute about the time he’d wasted on this irrelevant analysis before I got rid of him.

If Tommi’s blood wasn’t on the dock, he must have fallen straight into the water from the force of the blow. Sounded pretty cold-blooded. Maybe the killer hadn’t even hung around long enough to see what had become of his victim. I felt like vomiting. As luck would have it, the captain stuck his head into my office at that very moment, his ever-present cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. Before I had a chance to say anything, he barged in and started smoking up the place. I could feel the vein in my forehead starting to throb.