The Hummingbird

by Kati Hiekkapelto

  ‘What time do you get to work?’ Esko asked sourly.

  ‘Well, tell us what you’ve found,’ said Sari, almost as sourly.

  ‘Guess,’ Rauno teased them.

  ‘Just tell us,’ Esko thundered.

  ‘The pendant. Look. It didn’t even take very long in the age of the internet. I scanned an image of the pendant on to my computer, ran it through a search engine and here you have it!’

  Rauno waved a sheet of A4 paper with a small dark square in the corner.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Esko snapped.

  ‘Take a closer look. This is it.’

  The fatigued atmosphere of a moment ago was gone. Everyone crowded around the sheet of paper and saw in the dark square the same figure as that in the pendant found in the pockets of both murdered joggers. It was like something drawn by a child. The figure had clumsily jutting limbs and was wearing a feather hat. It looked harmless, almost amusing.

  ‘What on earth is this?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Huitzilopochtli.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Huitzilopochtli,’ Rauno repeated. ‘I don’t know how you pronounce it. But this is how you spell it.’ Rauno wrote out the word beneath the image. The others looked on, speechless.

  ‘What a ridiculous word,’ said Esko.

  ‘And quite a terrible man by all accounts,’ Rauno added. ‘I’ve been reading up on him. Huitzilopochtli was the Aztec god of war and the sun, the most important of all their gods. A bloodthirsty man, a real beast. He craved human sacrifices and human blood; the Aztecs were required to sacrifice lots of people every day to appease him. Imagine, they used to kill hundreds, even thousands of people every single day. And it wasn’t a tidy affair; it was all blood and guts and religious fervour. Our killer is an amateur compared to this. And necklaces like this have never been handed out in any sports shop – I’ve already checked. So it certainly looks like the killer put them in the victims’ pockets.’

  Rauno had printed off a selection of different images of the ruthless god and the group leafed through them in silence. The black-and-white image on the pendant was a simplified version. The colour photographs showed the figure more clearly, complete with headdress and clothes adorned with numerous feathers, a staff fashioned like a snake in his hand and something that looked like a drum. In some of the images, the god’s face was black.

  The Aztecs were a warfaring people, who enslaved the weaker Indian tribes and sacrificed people to appease the gods. Huitzilopochtli, in particular, craved bloodshed. In some cases, live sacrifices had their hearts cut out. Victims were also routinely burned and drowned. Sometimes the Aztecs even ate their victims.

  ‘Pretty sick, if you ask me,’ Esko exclaimed after reading through Rauno’s print-offs.

  ‘And why does he need to have such a difficult name?’ Sari wondered. ‘It’s impossible to say it properly. And there are no instructions on how to pronounce it.’

  ‘No wonder they had to keep him happy; imagine how pissed off you’d be if you were the greatest of all the gods but nobody could pronounce your name,’ said Esko.

  ‘Does the name mean something?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Just a minute, it’s here somewhere,’ said Rauno and began flicking through his papers. ‘Here it is. It seems to have several meanings. Here’s one: “the one with the hummingbird in his left hand”.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘Should we be looking for a birdwatcher? Someone hunting for hummingbirds?’

  ‘I don’t think people hunt hummingbirds,’ Rauno mused. ‘Not round these parts, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Hunting, running and a bloodthirsty Aztec god whose name refers to the hummingbird. Christ! Can they all be linked to one another?’ Sari sighed.

  ‘They must be linked somehow,’ said Anna. ‘What does the hummingbird make you think of?’

  ‘Certainly not human sacrifices.’

  ‘A small, decorative bird whose wings beat so fast that you can’t see them move at all.’

  ‘I think of the hummingbird as somehow feminine. It’s delicate and graceful.’

  ‘Right, not exactly a grizzly Aztec god.’

  ‘It’s colourful. Tropical. Feeds on large flowers.’

  ‘Hummingbirds are endearing, ethereal. They’re not cold-blooded killers.’

  ‘Huitzilopochtli,’ Rauno repeated.

  ‘The killer hummingbird.’

  ‘Do such things even exist?’

  ‘Seriously, how come you know fancy words like “ethereal”? I’d probably never use a word like that – and it’s my native language,’ said Rauno.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Anna replied. ‘It was probably by accident.’

  ‘You’re got a natural flair for this. How many languages do you speak?’ Rauno asked and looked at Anna in admiration. Anna almost started blushing.

  ‘Come on,’ Sari chipped in. ‘We all want to know something about you.’

  ‘Well, Hungarian, of course; that’s my native language.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re not Serbian?’ Sari asked, surprised.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Anna laughed. ‘But I can speak a bit of Serbian and Croatian and Bosnian, all fairly similar languages. During the Yugoslav years they were all called Serbo-Croat, though they’re not exactly identical. Serbian was the national language, and everybody had to learn it from the time they went to nursery school, though the village we were from, Magyarkanizsa, is entirely Hungarian.’

  ‘What language did you speak at school?’

  ‘Hungarians spoke Hungarian and Serbs Serbian. We were always allowed to maintain our own language and culture, to a certain degree, which is more than you can say for the Hungarian minority in Romania. But anyway, my Serbian is fairly rusty these days. Thankfully I’ve got a couple of friends who help me keep it up,’ said Anna and found herself thinking of Zoran.

  ‘Wow, with your help we could infiltrate the Yugoslav mafia,’ Rauno suggested.

  Anna suddenly felt Zoran’s hairy chest against hers, the sound of his gasping breath in her ear.

  ‘No thanks,’ she said.

  ‘What other languages do you speak?’ Sari asked, fascinated.

  ‘Well, English, of course, like everybody else. And German. And Finnish and Swedish.’

  ‘That’s six languages,’ said Rauno. ‘Impressive.’

  ‘Your Finnish is really flawless,’ Sari enthused. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard you make a single mistake.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Anna, embarrassed. She never got used to people’s compliments, though she knew they were justified. ‘It’s because I was only a child when we arrived here. I’ve lived in Finland most of my life, gone to school here. It would be weird if I still had a foreign accent.’

  Anna turned her attention to the papers on her desk and started looking through them.

  ‘Let’s think for a minute about what this Aztec pendant really means,’ she said, trying to divert attention away from her own history and back to the matter at hand. ‘What is the killer trying to tell us?’

  ‘That he’s bloodthirsty?’ Sari suggested.

  ‘Wasn’t that obvious without the pendants?’ Esko scoffed. ‘Could someone who’s not bloodthirsty shoot two people to pieces? As a peace offering?’

  ‘Could it mean there’s more to come?’ asked Anna. ‘Aztec gods required tens, even hundreds of sacrifices every day. Does this clue simply mean that the murders aren’t going to stop here, that there will be more victims, that the killer isn’t satisfied?’

  Silence fell across the room.

  ‘It’s a chilling thought,’ said Rauno eventually.

  ‘Like something straight out of a thriller,’ said Sari.

  ‘Perhaps he simply wants to tell us that he is a serial killer,’ said Rauno.

  ‘Someone full of hatred, someone who craves human sacrifices,’ said Anna.

  ‘Jesus,’ Sari whispered.

  ‘What was this what’s-his-name angry about?’ ask
ed Esko. ‘Why did people have to keep him sweet?’

  Rauno flicked through his papers.

  ‘It doesn’t say anything about that. He was a god, and people were afraid of the gods’ wrath. I’ll have to check whether there was a specific reason why Huitzilopochtli required so many human sacrifices. And who is our killer trying to appease? Himself? What if he’s involved with some kind of Aztec cult?’

  ‘Doesn’t seem like an easy-going kind of guy,’ Esko commented, and Anna noted how long Esko had been involved in a conversation in which she too was taking part, and how relatively well-behaved he was being.

  ‘This person could be almost anyone – outwardly, at least. It could be someone very decent, very proper. A priest or something.’

  ‘They’re the worst of the bunch,’ Esko scoffed. ‘They make me sick, those Catholic paedoph—’

  Sari interrupted him. ‘At least we now have something concrete to investigate. Rauno, try and find out where you can get hold of these pendants. I can’t imagine these things are very popular; at least, I’ve never seen them before. And how can we ask the relatives if they know anything about it without giving too much away?’

  ‘Hello there, what do you think about Hutsipochilly? Did your daughter have any connection with the ancient Aztecs? It has come to light that certain Aztec gods might be behind your daughter’s murder,’ Esko joked.

  ‘It’s Huitzilopochtli,’ said Rauno.

  ‘No normal person can pronounce a name like that. Except our linguistic genius over there,’ he said.

  Anna stepped out of the police station into the driving rain. The wind whipped freezing raindrops from the north into her face. Anna decided to walk regardless. She wanted to clear her head, and it was best to do this when she was on the move. She had missed far too many runs. There had been short periods before when she’d gone running much less than usual, but she had always had a good reason, like studying for her final exams. Once she went through an intense period of listening to music. She had lain in bed for three weeks with her headphones on and sucked up the music the way someone dying of thirst might gulp down water. That was back at the time when she had accidentally discovered electronic music. To this day she couldn’t explain what it was that fascinated her about it. She had never been a nerd, and she didn’t enjoy going to clubs or raves. But there was something so unreal about electronic music; it was so estranged from the world, so full of strange sounds, so marginal and lonely.

  Sometimes she hated it.

  And now she didn’t have the energy to run at all. She smoked every day, drank a beer or two every evening before going to bed, then found she couldn’t sleep. She tried to tell herself it was just to do with the murders, but she knew this wasn’t the whole truth. She wasn’t really afraid, not much at any rate. She was skilled in self-defence – and she was a police officer. She had been trained to react in unexpected, dangerous situations and her route took her through the built-up areas around Koivuharju, far away from the hunting grounds along the shore. These cases had awoken within her something other than fear: they had brought to life a raft of indistinct memories, and fighting them off was beginning to take its toll.

  Riikka. Ville. Bihar.

  Keeping watch over the girl was too much.

  She simply couldn’t find the energy to go out running.

  Anna was soaked through by the time she arrived at Pizzeria Hazileklek. The restaurant was situated near the centre of town, in a property on the ground floor of a brown, roughcast apartment block from the 1950s, between Pedal&Saddle and TechnoService, a TV repair shop that looked like something from a bygone age.

  The aroma of the wood-burner stove and exotic spices struck her as she opened the door. A female voice emanated softly from the speakers attached to the walls, her voice shimmering with distant strangeness. The music bore a faint resemblance to Balkan folk song. The warmth inside felt all the more pleasant after the freezing rain. The candles glowing on the tables and the relaxed buzz of conversation gave the illusion of a late-night evening out, not a quick weekday lunch break. Anna knew the restaurant owners; Maalik and Farzad had fled from Afghanistan. The former university lecturers hadn’t wanted to open any old pizzeria or lunch café. They wanted to give people a moment of relaxation for the duration of a meal, an experience that would allow them to forget the stress of work for a moment and take them on a short journey. In addition to the obligatory pizzas, they also served an array of Afghan specialities. It was a popular restaurant.

  Water dripped from Anna’s dark hair and trickled inside the neck of her jumper as she took off her jacket and scarf and shook off the rain.

  ‘Hello, Anna! Long time no see.’ Maalik came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on the white towel dangling from his apron strings.

  ‘Hi, Maalik. How are you?’ Anna placed a gentle kiss on both cheeks and they hugged. Farzad appeared and pulled her away.

  ‘My beautiful girl! We’re so pleased you moved back home. Where they have kept you? Locked in a closet somewhere?’

  ‘Things at work have been quite busy. But now I’m starving. What delicious food have you got for me today?’

  ‘Help yourself to salad at the buffet and take the quabili pilau. A wonderful Afghan dish with vegetables, lamb and raisins. Is very good.’

  ‘Sounds delicious. I’ll have one of those, please.’

  Anna sat alone for a moment. More customers arrived and the kitchen looked busy.

  Maalik and Farzad worked at Pizzeria Hazileklek every day from morning to night and never complained about a thing, though soon after arriving in Finland they realised that here you might as well wipe your arse with a doctoral degree and years of work experience. They were simply grateful that they could be together, that they had food in the fridge and that nobody would try to kill them or put restrictions on their lives. Those were things for which every Finnish citizen should be thankful, Anna thought as Farzad brought her steaming dish to the table. The incredible scent of spices and rice rushed into her nostrils, making her mouth water.

  She ate heartily, observing the buzz of people around her, and read the à la carte menu to pass the time. Here, too, you could order salmon and pine nuts.

  After finishing her meal, she looked at the freezing weather outside, and the thought of walking back to the station didn’t appeal in the least.

  ‘There’s a storm brewing,’ said Farzad as he brought Anna a tin cup of coffee. ‘This one’s on the house.’

  ‘Thank you, this is so nice,’ Anna said, genuinely touched. ‘If ever I can help you guys in any way…’

  ‘There’s no need. Come and visit us at home some time. That would be nice.’

  ‘I’ll have to come round some evening,’ she replied and wondered whether they would ever be able to arrange something.

  ‘You must. How about next weekend?’

  ‘Let’s see,’ she said as she took out the photographs of Riikka and Ville and handed them to Farzad. He examined them carefully, shook his head and took them into the kitchen to show Maalik. When he came back, he was beaming.

  ‘Maalik see this girl in August. We had an assistant all August. I took holiday. Perhaps I show her the photo. She was serving tables.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Anna was thrilled and gave Farzad her card. ‘Call me as soon as you’ve spoken to her.’

  Then Anna plucked up the courage to call Rauno and ask him to pick her up. She sipped the black coffee, which was so strong that she had to stir in two spoons of sugar.

  It was Esko who came to pick her up. He didn’t venture inside but pulled the blue-and-white patrol car up in front of the window and pressed down on the horn. People began looking at one another, and Maalik and Farzad seemed concerned, though they hid this behind their smiles. Anna was ashamed. Furious at his behaviour, she sat in the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. Neither of them said anything, but Anna felt like shouting something nasty. She reminded herself that she had decided not to rise to his childish behaviour
and concentrated on staring out of the window. The windscreen wipers opened up a view into the city. The thermometer showed 6°c, but the wind blowing in from the north dragged the temperature down to around zero. The streets were quiet. Only a few people had decided to brave the autumn weather front, and now they were struggling as the wind blew their umbrellas inside out.

  ‘How come you picked me up?’ she asked once she felt calmer.

  ‘Don’t say you didn’t enjoy it. That was an impressive entrance, don’t you think?’

  I will not shout at him, she thought. I will keep my mouth shut.

  ‘Joke. Virkkunen said that you and I have to interview everyone again in the light of this Hutsilo thing. I thought we’d start with Jere, pay him a surprise visit.’

  ‘Why Jere? He was hundreds of kilometres away when Riikka was shot and there’s nothing to link him to Ville.’

  ‘And how do you know that? We haven’t asked him anything about the guy. There’s something not right about him. We stopped grilling him too early, all because of some half-baked hiking trip. He was still our first suspect.’

  ‘Not officially, he wasn’t.’

  ‘You know what I mean. Do you eat there often?’

  ‘Every now and then. Why?’

  ‘The owners are poofs, apparently.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘No matter. I suppose you think everything’s perfectly normal.’

  Anna bit her lip to stop herself responding.

  24

  THE FAMILIAR, STUFFY AIR hung heavy in the stairwell. The door to Jere’s apartment was already open and he was standing in the doorway like a boy scout.

  ‘I saw you from the window; they face out on to the street. That’s why I enjoy sleeping out in the wilderness. It’s so quiet your head almost aches – in a good way.’

  Anna glanced around the hallway. She had the strange impression that something had changed; there was something that hadn’t been there before.

  Jere closed the door behind them and handed them a pair of coat hangers. Anna declined with a wave of the hand and said they wouldn’t be staying long. She wondered why Jere was on such an obvious charm offensive. Anna heard a noise as the door downstairs slammed shut and she quickly made her way to living-room window.