The Hummingbird

by Kati Hiekkapelto

  When Anna had walked just over a kilometre, the path swung very close to the shoreline. The rush of iron-grey waves across the autumnal sea could be heard clearly. Anna looked out towards the sea. The wind whipped water into her eyes. If there had been flocks of sheep to clear the shrubs, as there had been centuries ago, she would have been able to see the shore, she thought. A white seagull braved the chilled air. Anna wondered how long it was planning on staying so far north. She gathered a handful of lingonberries and tasted the sweetness brought to them by the hoar frosts. I still haven’t managed to get out berry picking, though I’d planned to, she thought and turned her back to the sea and the wind. From that angle she saw in the distance a strange bulge in the terrain at the point where it formed a small hillock, almost hidden with twigs and thicket. As Anna clambered closer, she saw that the hillock was formed by two large boulders, now covered with moss and undergrowth that had sprung up from the build-up of soil and earth on top of them. Anna tensed as she stepped around the boulders. On the northern face of the boulders, the covering of moss had been torn as though someone had climbed up the rock. Anna followed the marks. Above the boulders the willows formed an impenetrable wall. When the trees were in leaf, the shelter from the wall would be perfect. Anna sat down on the damp moss, not caring about the moisture seeping through her trousers. The tangle of twigs in front of her face was thinner at this angle. At this height there was a gap in the willow, from which you looked down diagonally on to the running track a few hundred metres away. Of course, now it was easier to see through the bare branches, but the leaves had only just fallen. Though Anna was no expert, she could see clearly that the branches here hadn’t snapped by themselves. The breaks were too clean, too smooth, clearly pruned with a set of cutters. A shiver ran down her back.

  She remained sitting there, watching the running track, and ran her hand across the boulder’s ancient covering of moss. Its soft, moist surface had a calming effect. After a moment she saw Esko approaching from the left. Anna sat there, motionless, and stared at Esko who was walking briskly, glancing around, seemingly wondering where she was. Absent-mindedly Anna’s finger found a small hole in the moss. She stuck her fingertip into the cool of the hole. Something rustled. Anna took a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and carefully tugged a piece of paper out of the hole. A sweet wrapper. And another. Mariannes. Someone had sat here before her, looking through the gap in the willows at people jogging along the track, eating Mariannes. Another shiver, more violent than the first, made Anna’s body quiver.

  Anna cautiously took out her phone and called Esko. She heard his phone ringing somewhere beneath her.

  ‘Look up,’ she said. Esko turned his head but didn’t notice Anna until she stood up and started waving her arms.

  ‘Get Forensics up here,’ she spoke into the telephone.

  *

  Kaarina Helmerson lived about a kilometre from Riikka’s home. She didn’t look surprised as she opened the door of the white-brick detached house to Anna and Esko. Though she was probably approaching fifty, Kaarina was still an impressive sight. A pair of slimfit jeans accentuated her long legs and the beige wrap-round cardigan revealed her slender waist, a white top showing off her ample breasts. Anna noticed Esko standing up straighter and running his hand through his hair, checking himself in the hall mirror. Anna went to shake the woman’s hand. Kaarina’s face was now blotchy from tears and worry. Her hand was cold and the handshake weak and limp.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything. I don’t want pleasantries or condolences. I know. My husband is dead. I can feel it inside; I’ve felt it ever since I came home this morning. After 27 years of marriage, you just know these sorts of things,’ said Kaarina Helmerson, expressionless.

  Anna nodded. She took out her camera.

  ‘I have a few photographs here. I must warn you, they are quite shocking, but obviously we have to be sure this is your husband.’

  Kaarina Helmerson took the camera. She flicked through the photographs, her face impassive, and handed the camera back to Anna. Tears were running down her cheeks.

  ‘Good God,’ was all she could muster.

  Anna and Esko waited. Kaarina had closed her eyes and her body had begun to tremble. Her breathing was shallow and agitated. Anna was getting ready to fetch the first-aid kit from the car, in case the woman started hyperventilating, but then Kaarina took a few deep breaths in and out, opened her eyes and spoke calmly.

  ‘It’s Veli-Matti. Please, come in. I know you have to interview me, interrogate me. I’ve made some coffee. Or would you prefer tea?’

  Kaarina gestured them into the stylishly fitted white kitchen, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. The room was bare and clinical, like something straight out of the pages of an interior-design magazine. An enormous espresso machine stood on the counter.

  ‘Do you have any children?’ Anna asked.

  Kaarina seemed startled. It took a moment before she answered. She hadn’t expected this question.

  ‘No. We wanted some, but that was all a long time ago.’

  ‘How did that affect your marriage?’ Anna was surprised by her own line of questioning.

  ‘What’s it got to do with anything?’ Kaarina snapped.

  ‘I don’t know. Our job is to ask … all sorts of things,’ Anna explained, trying to find a friendly tone.

  ‘Very well. It brought us to something of a marital crisis, but as I said, this all happened about twenty years ago. We almost divorced over it, actually, but as time passed we came to accept the situation and realised that through our work we were able to share the love that we thought we should have given our own children. It was a very liberating realisation, and it’s motivated both of us in our careers. Watching our friends’ exhaustion, the stress, the rushing around, we eventually felt a sense of gratitude for having no children. We haven’t had to cut back on any hobbies, holidays, anything. Of course, you can’t really say these things out loud, at least not to their faces.’

  Kaarina gave a dry laugh and sighed deeply. Anna was perplexed at how calm she seemed.

  ‘Did you know Riikka Rautio?’ asked Esko.

  Kaarina looked at him sternly and answered instantly.

  ‘Terrible, isn’t it? We were absolutely shocked when we heard – what a nice girl. Riikka graduated from our school last spring. I know her parents, though not particularly well. Round here everybody knows everybody else, at least by name, and as teachers we obviously know all the families with children.’

  ‘Did your husband ever teach Riikka?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I’m sure he would have mentioned it when Riikka died.’

  ‘So he didn’t say anything?’

  ‘No, though we talked about it a lot.’

  ‘Did you ever teach her?’

  ‘Yes. I was her Finnish teacher.’

  ‘Throughout high school?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Virve Sarlin and Jere Koski?’

  ‘Virve was in the same class. I’ve never taught Jere, though I know who he is.’

  At last, some kind of connection, thought Anna. Two murders have happened in the same location, and two of the victims at least knew one another, lived in the same village, the place where everybody knew everybody else.

  ‘Do you also know a Ville Pollari from the village of Asemakylä near Simonkoski?’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Victim number two.’

  ‘I don’t know him.’

  ‘Take a look at this photograph of him. Perhaps you have met one another somewhere?’

  Kaarina held the photograph in her hand and stared at it for a long while. Ville, smiling and alive.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him. What was his name again?’

  ‘Ville Pollari.’

  ‘What did he do for a living?’

  ‘He was a software engineer at Nokia, worked down town.’

  Kaarina thought hard for a moment, then answer
ed unequivocally.

  ‘I haven’t heard that name and I’ve never seen that man before.’

  ‘What about your husband?’

  ‘I don’t know. In addition to our common friends, we have friends of our own, though of course we each know most of them by name. I don’t recall my husband ever mentioning that name. Was he a jogger too?’

  ‘Yes. He was an orienteering enthusiast.’

  ‘Veli-Matti always went running by himself. It was his way of emptying his thoughts, of forgetting work. I don’t think Veli-Matti knew this man, though I can’t be sure.’

  Kaarina placed the photograph on the kitchen table and her apparent calm began to fracture once again.

  ‘What’s going on here? What kind of madman is on the loose? Why aren’t the police doing anything?’ Kaarina burst into tears and left the kitchen. Anna and Esko sat at the table in silence, their untouched coffee cups in front of them. Anna thought of all the evenings and nights they had spent, without once looking at the clock, trying to catch this killer. All for nothing. They had done everything in their power, and still they had a new victim. Anna felt like throwing herself to the floor and screaming like a child to banish the agony of her frustration and exhaustion. She no longer wanted to do anything at all.

  They heard the sound of someone blowing their nose, and Kaarina returned to the kitchen. She stood leaning against the sink and asked whether they would like more coffee. Anna and Esko politely declined.

  ‘I’m afraid there are still many questions we’ll have to ask you. I’m sure you understand, this will help us find the killer.’

  ‘Of course. Ask whatever you want. I can cope.’

  ‘You spent last night at your mother’s place, but where were you on the evenings of 21 August and 14 September?’

  ‘I can’t remember that, can I? Why do you ask?’

  ‘Would you rather we didn’t ask a possible suspect that question?’ Anna said.

  The woman looked at Anna unflinchingly and snorted.

  ‘Of course not. I’m being silly, sorry. But I really don’t remember where I was on those evenings. Probably at home or with my mother. Or at Body Pump or the cinema or yoga or at my riding class. I have lots of hobbies. I’ll have to check my diary.’

  ‘Could you do that now, please?’

  A furrow of irritation appeared between Kaarina’s eyes.

  ‘Do I have any choice in the matter?’ she said and left the room. A moment later she returned with her diary.

  ‘What days was it again?’

  ‘On 21 August and 14 September,’ Anna repeated.

  ‘Let me see. On 21 August, I had Body Pump at seven, followed immediately by relaxation yoga at eight. I use the BodyFitness gym on Suvantokatu, it’s right next to my mother’s house. I spent that night at my mother’s place – that’s what this moon here means,’ said Kaarina and indicated a small crescent drawn in pencil at the bottom of the entry for that day. Anna noticed that the same symbol appeared very regularly.

  ‘And the other day … Ah yes, I should have remembered that: the school’s autumn conference on leadership. It lasted all day: lectures, workshops and a cocktail reception in the evening. I wanted to take part in everything, so I can keep on top of things at work. And there were a few colleagues that I don’t see all that often. I spent that night at my mother’s place too. I almost always try and combine things in town with looking after my mother. I go to her apartment, we eat something together, I do the dishes and tidy up, go to the gym for a few hours and come back in time to make sure my mother is washed and takes her pills. She sleeps much better when I’m there. And in the morning I can change her diapers straight away and we don’t need to wait for the home help to arrive. My mother sometimes has to wait quite a while for them.’

  ‘What time did you leave the cocktail reception?’

  ‘Let me think … around ten, maybe?’

  ‘Who else was there?’

  ‘Do you think I did this? Good God, surely you can’t suspect me?’ Kaarina was becoming agitated.

  ‘We don’t suspect you, and verifiable alibis will help us quite a lot,’ said Esko amiably.

  ‘Well, there was Lea Haapala and Kirsti Tuulonen, colleagues and friends from years back. Ask them.’

  ‘Excellent. I’m sure everything’s in perfect order,’ said Esko so smoothly that Anna wondered whether he had the nerve to start hitting on a widow in shock.

  ‘Do you own any firearms?’ asked Anna.

  Kaarina looked increasingly uneasy.

  ‘Yes. Veli-Matti sometimes went shooting in the woods. He wasn’t

  a fanatical hunter, but every now and then he would go off and find

  us something gourmet for dinner – well, he tried, at least,’ she said

  with a forced laugh.

  ‘Could you show us the guns?’

  ‘Of course. They’re in Veli-Matti’s gun cabinet. Where is it he

  keeps the key? Bear with me a second.’

  She stood up and started rummaging through one of the kitchen

  drawers. When she found what she was looking for, she led them

  through the utility room and into the garage, in the far corner

  of which stood the firearms cabinet. She unlocked the cabinet to

  reveal a Sako rifle and two shotguns: a slender .20-calibre Merkel

  and a beautiful .12-calibre Benelli, both engraved. Made to measure.

  Expensive.

  Esko looked down the barrel of the Benelli.

  ‘Has this been fired recently? It hasn’t been cleaned.’

  ‘Veli-Matti went down to the shore on the first day of the season,

  first thing in the morning, spent the whole day there but didn’t catch

  anything.’

  ‘Is that the shore at Selkämaa?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I don’t know. There’s a lot of shoreline around here. He didn’t

  say.’

  ‘We’ll have to take this gun for further inspection.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Esko packed the firearm into its carry case, propped at the back

  of the cabinet. He picked up a packet of ammunition too. Anna

  noticed that the rounds were the Armusa make. Kaarina looked on

  restlessly, as though she were about to say something.

  ‘Then we’ll need a DNA sample. Here’s a warrant,’ said Anna.

  ‘What on earth for?’ Kaarina snapped and opened her mouth.

  ‘Routine stuff,’ said Anna and swabbed the inside of the woman’s

  cheek with a Q-tip, which she then packed in a protective plastic

  container.

  ‘How bad is your mother’s condition?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Very bad. She can’t really get around without assistance. On a good day she can get to the toilet by herself with the Zimmer frame. She can’t really see or hear properly any more, and she sometimes has terrible memory lapses. She has Alzheimer’s. But she has lucid moments too, and she doesn’t want to go into a home. She would prefer to die at home. What else is there to do except help her as much as I can? It’s not like I have any brothers or sisters.’

  ‘It’s admirable that you look after her so well,’ said Esko.

  ‘Yes, well, now it’s my turn to look after her,’ said Kaarina and gave Esko a faint smile. ‘I think people should be allowed to decide for themselves what they do with their lives, even if they don’t have very long left. I can’t force her into an institution. And thankfully the council provides services, home-helpers and that sort of thing. They visit two or three times a day, depending on how often I can be there.’

  ‘Can your mother confirm the nights that you were with her?’ asked Anna.

  Kaarina looked doubtful. Then she said: ‘I wish I could say, of course she could, but that would be an exaggeration. She might be able to, but then again maybe not. Like I said, she has good days and bad.’

  ‘Does your husband keep old student registers? We�
�d like to check whether Riikka was ever in his class.’

  ‘We don’t keep things like that at home. The school secretary will have them filed away somewhere. Ask her.’

  ‘Fine. And do the Aztecs or the name Huitzilopochtli mean anything to you?’ Anna asked.

  Kaarina stood staring at Anna and Esko in bewilderment. She wiped the tears from her eyes, which again betrayed a flash of coldness, perhaps hatred or arrogance.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘For technical reasons, we can’t go into too much detail, but believe me, the question is highly relevant.’

  ‘Of course I know this and that about the Aztecs – I’m a teacher, after all, and one with a reasonable grasp of general knowledge. But I don’t have any personal connection to the subject. Not remotely.’

  ‘What about your husband?’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, no! Why are you asking me such nonsense?’

  ‘Does this necklace look familiar?’ Anna asked and showed her the image of Huitzilopochtli.

  ‘I’ve never seen it before. What on earth is it?’

  ‘A necklace like this has been found on all the victims – including your husband.’

  ‘Terrible. What is it?’

  ‘Huitzilopochtli was the highest deity of the Aztecs, a deity to whom the people offered human sacrifices.’

  ‘My God,’ Kaarina gasped in shock.

  Anna heard her phone beep as a text message arrived. She withdrew into the corridor to read it. Again it had been sent from a newly changed, unlisted number.

  A wave of fear and disgust gave Anna goose bumps. The tone of the message had changed; now it was even more threatening. Still, Anna felt a faint sense of relief: at least there was one suspect she could now rule out.

  Esko appeared in the hallway.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  It’s not you, that’s for sure, Anna said to herself.

  Anna’s doorbell rang at around 8.45 p.m. On arriving home, Anna has climbed straight into bed and tried to get some sleep, but she felt so cold that she couldn’t relax. Perhaps she had caught a chill after sitting on the damp moss. She wished she had an elevated temperature, a fever that would force her to stay in bed and would drain her so much that she would be able to sleep many days in a row.