“I apologize if I expressed myself in a way that could be interpreted as an insult. I’d simply like to hear what your disagreement with Noora Nieminen was about. Could an argument on the same topic have continued with anyone else?” I could feel my own cheeks flush now. I hated groveling like this, but I only had myself to blame.
Weissenberg hesitated for a moment but decided to accept my apology.
“The argument had to do with a commercial for Valio. I just arranged a very lucrative marketing contract for the Skating Federation to endorse their dairy products, and Noora, Janne Kivi, and Silja Taskinen were supposed to be the stars. Now that will have to be canceled too. Or at least the script will have to change. Maybe Silja and Janne could . . .”
I could almost see the money symbols in Weissenberg’s eyes, and I started getting angry again. “Yes, the commercial?”
“Noora didn’t like the advertising agency’s idea. Valio is coming out with a new kind of frozen yogurt. The idea for the commercial was that Noora is so focused on licking a frozen yogurt bar that she doesn’t notice while Janne skates off with Silja. It was supposed to be funny, and I think we really succeeded.”
“But Noora didn’t?”
“Who does that girl think she is?” The anger of the night before flared again, and it took Weissenberg a moment to remember that Noora was dead. “Or ‘did,’ I guess I should have said. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but Noora could be a real piece of work. Everything had to go just the way she wanted. But I saw through her. She didn’t want the commercial because she would have had to compete with Silja for Janne’s attention. And in reality it was perfectly obvious who Janne liked better! Noora really wasn’t much of a beauty. Her backside was as wide as they come.”
“Isn’t that a bit cruel?” I knew how much appearances mattered in figure skating, but Weissenberg’s words still felt inappropriate. What had Noora done to make this woman so angry?
“Cruel? Yes. But it’s also a fact that has to be taken into consideration. It was strange that with that face and body type, Noora made it so far in figure skating. Her legs were far too short and her hips were too wide for singles, which was why she ended up as Janne’s partner.”
“So Noora was refusing to do the commercial?”
“She was trying to refuse. But I can’t allow things like that when so much money is at stake! And everything was already arranged, even the shooting schedule. Of course Noora had no concept of how difficult finding sponsors can be. And I don’t want to bother the skaters with it. Let them do their work, let me do mine.”
Weissenberg’s poodle bounded into the room and started whining. Without a word Weissenberg stood up and disappeared after the animal. Maybe it had needed to be let out. Attempting to banish the distaste I felt for Ulrika Weissenberg, I tried to come up with some sensible questions. Elena Grigorieva had said that Weissenberg left the ice rink long before practice ended. Could Weissenberg have hung around waiting for Noora to pressure her again to do the commercial? Could the killing have occurred in her car?
“So the others had agreed to the commercial?” I asked when Weissenberg returned, still without any explanation.
“Of course! Silja and Janne understood the realities. Training camps and trips to competitions aren’t free!”
“And you weren’t able to settle your disagreement with Noora?”
Weissenberg shook her head, not a single hair coming loose from her tight bun.
“What time did you leave the ice rink, and what did you do afterward?”
“I’d say around six. And I came home. But how is that any of your business? And why are you bothering me in the first place? Why don’t you go and arrest that stalker who’s always bothering Noora’s family? He’s the one who killed Noora!”
Pihko glanced at me in confusion. Obviously he didn’t know what Weissenberg was talking about. Pihko hadn’t been at the department when Vesku Teräsvuori’s harassment of the Nieminen family had been at its worst, and I’d only just arrived. I’d have to fill him in on the way back.
“Can anyone confirm when you arrived home?” I asked.
“No. My husband was at work. What’s going on here? Are you accusing me of Noora’s murder?”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything. These questions are simply a routine part of our investigation, and we’ll probably have to go over them again with you sometime later. Thank you for your time, though. And please do make sure you coordinate with Lieutenant Taskinen about that press release.”
I felt like I might blow up at Weissenberg again if I didn’t get out of that house soon. For some reason I’d thought pregnancy would soften my disposition, but I was still the same hothead I had always been, and I was already getting worried about how my nerves would deal with a screaming baby. The spring had flown by, and I hadn’t had much chance to think about my impending motherhood. Maybe I was avoiding thinking about it.
Relieved once we were out of Weissenberg’s house, I jumped behind the wheel of our police car and floored it out past the lush front yard. At the next hill I had to brake hard, though, because a group consisting of a dachshund, four little kids on foot, a double stroller packed full of babies and groceries, and one adult woman filled the road. The children were well trained, because they quickly moved almost into the gutter and stood staring at us. The smallest, a cute thing of indeterminate gender with golden curls and big round eyes excitedly yelled, “Beep, beep!”
“Are all six of those hers?” I asked myself. Pihko wasn’t interested. The instant he’d climbed into the car he had pulled his law entrance exam prep book out of his bag. After deciding to go to the university, he had spent the whole previous winter taking courses at the community college. Apparently the fear of ending up as Ström’s subordinate was an incredible incentive to study hard. I interrupted his reading to explain what the stalking case was all about.
As we drove back to the station, rain started pelting the windshield again. My stomach was growling. Food was now the first order of business.
In the police station cafeteria, I wolfed down my bowl of Thursday pea soup and was just starting into a pancake when Ström showed up.
“Eating for two, are we, Kallio?”
“That’s real original, Ström. Why don’t you have a seat, though, since you’re here. I wanted to talk to you about those child-molestation cases.”
“Oh, you thought of that too?”
“No, but Taskinen told me you suspect the Noora Nieminen murder could be the same perp. Tell me a little about the cases. How old were the girls?”
“Eight to eleven.”
“So kids? Who looked like little girls, not teenagers?”
“Right.”
“What happened to them?”
Ström grimaced. Picking up a toothpick off the table, he started digging at his cuticles. “Two of the girls were forced to perform oral sex. He groped three others. Threatened them with a knife.”
Suddenly I didn’t feel like finishing my food. I pushed my plate aside.
“Noora’s murder doesn’t fit the profile at all. I think the suggestion the two cases have some sort of connection is a pretty big stretch.”
“Yeah, because you don’t want me getting involved in your case! A star athlete gets murdered—this is your big chance to get into the tabloids! And don’t even try denying it, Kallio. I can see right through you, even if you are so fat.” Ström stood up with a bang of his chair and went out for a smoke.
I didn’t have the energy to worry about Ström, so I just cleared my tray. I threw two pieces of xylitol gum in my mouth as I headed off to the archives to look up Vesku Teräsvuori’s file. The report had been written by Palo, who had died in the line of duty during the winter. Seeing his name still made me feel strange. It was pure chance that had led that psychopath to abduct him instead of me. The report was typical Palo, terse and to the point, only reporting the essentials of the case.
Vesa “Vesku” Teräsvuori, whose profession
was recorded as “karaoke king,” had fallen in love with Noora’s mother Hanna Nieminen two-and-a-half years earlier. Their relationship had lasted a few months, during which Hanna had moved in with Teräsvuori. However, after only a couple of months, Hanna had chosen her family and returned home.
The harassment began a couple of months after Mrs. Nieminen left. Teräsvuori had apparently realized she wasn’t intending to come back. He started with phone calls, and when the Nieminens switched to an unlisted number, he moved on to calling Hanna Nieminen’s husband’s trucking company, where Hanna also worked. Of course the company couldn’t use an unlisted number without hurting business. Teräsvuori also started sending threatening letters and hanging around outside the Nieminens’ house. Sometimes he even followed the Nieminen children, Noora and her brother, Sami, who was now thirteen.
Hanna delayed calling the police, perhaps because she was ashamed of her infidelity. And there wasn’t much the police could have done anyway. Finnish law didn’t prevent one person from approaching another. Once the harassment had gone on for a year, Kauko Nieminen, Hanna’s husband, sued Vesku Teräsvuori. The judgment had been astonishingly light, just a couple of thousand marks in fines.
The report described few details of the harassment. According to the Nieminens, in his phone messages, Teräsvuori had threatened to hurt Hanna and other family members if Hanna didn’t come back to him. There were copies of a few letters. The material Palo gathered had been used as evidence in the trial against Teräsvuori. The language of the letters seemed incriminating enough for at least a suspended jail sentence.
My dearest Hanna!
You are the woman of my dreams and I can’t live without you! Without you the world is as desolate as the Sahara! I don’t need water, and I don’t need food, but I can’t live without your love. If I can’t have you, I don’t want to give you to anyone else either, so I will have to take you with me across the River Styx where we can be together forever.
Hanna, my dearest love,
Why did you hang up when you heard my voice? I don’t wish you any ill; I just want to be close to you. But I’m jealous of your husband. What can you see in that bald tub of lard? You were the one who said his heart lacks tenderness. If you don’t have the strength to get rid of him, just leave that to me. Just give the word and Kauko will be history. He will never hurt you again.
I read the rest of the report carefully. There was no lack of threats, and because the last entries were from November, the harassment seemed to have continued even after the trial. Two weeks earlier I had seen Teräsvuori throw roses to Noora at the ice arena for myself. Had the Nieminens just resigned themselves to the situation? Maybe Vesku Teräsvuori had finally gone off the rails and decided to take revenge on Hanna by killing Noora, her greatest source of pride?
Even if the solution were that simple and Vesku Teräsvuori was Noora’s murderer, there was something extra revolting about the case. Theoretically, unpleasant cases were just another day on the job for me—what did detectives do other than root around in other people’s trash?—but I still felt sick to my stomach.
Vesku Teräsvuori, “the King of Karaoke.” A few years earlier he had won a karaoke singing competition on TV and spent a little while as a B-list celebrity. Now he made a living as an MC in restaurants and on cruise ships. I had unintentionally ended up at one myself for a bachelor party for one of Antti’s old school friends. The groom had done a karaoke serenade to all the women present, and his take on Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard. That seemed to irritate Teräsvuori.
“Best choirboy crooning I’ve heard all day,” he had joked from the microphone. “But how about some rock ’n’ roll? Next up, ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’”
The groom handled Elvis magnificently too, but after that our group was decidedly out of favor with the karaoke jockey. Antti had to wait for more than an hour to get a chance to sing what he always did after his fifth pint—Kirka’s hit Finnish version of the McCoys’ “Beat The Clock.” Just when his turn was coming up, Teräsvuori shut down the karaoke machine. I almost put on my cop hat and threw my weight around a little, but I had just downed my seventh shot of anise vodka and realized I only would have seemed silly. In the end, Vesku Teräsvuori’s oversized ego hadn’t ruined the party. Antti and I woke up the next morning with the hangover of the century, and the groom barely recovered enough to walk down the aisle.
Elena Grigorieva, Ulrika Weissenberg, Vesku Teräsvuori . . . not the cheeriest lineup I’d ever interrogated. When I looked up Teräsvuori’s address, I discovered he lived across the bay in Helsinki. We definitely needed to interview him next. The King of Karaoke would have to come to the police station, though—this one needed to be handled officially.
“This is Vesku’s answering machine,” a husky tenor voice sang. “Leave a message or try my cell.”
He hadn’t left his mobile phone number, but I got it from Information. On the second try Vesku Teräsvuori answered.
“Espoo Police? It’s nice to hear a female voice from you guys for a change. What’s going on?”
“We’d like to interview you as soon as possible. Could you come to the Espoo Police Station today at four o’clock?”
A vague rustling came from the phone, and the connection seemed to have gone dead for a second, but then he was back.
“Unfortunately there’s no way. I have a gig in Vaasa tonight, and I’m already on my way. What is this about?”
“You said you’re on your way to Vaasa? Where were you last night?”
“Come on, baby. Driving and talking on a cell phone is dangerous, right? I’ll be back in Helsinki tomorrow. You can get a hold of me after twelve. Call me then if it’s important!”
Teräsvuori hung up.
I called back on his home phone and left a message with my number. Then Taskinen marched into my office. He had shaved and changed his shirt while he was home and maybe slept a little, since the pallor was gone from his face.
“Hi, Maria. How’s it going?”
“I just talked to Vesku Teräsvuori. He’s on his way to Vaasa. Should I have him picked up when he gets back?”
“Yeah, go ahead. He’s our most likely suspect. But Silja wants to talk to you. She doesn’t think this case is as simple as it seems.”
“Oh, why?”
“Go ask her yourself. This will be hard on her, but I want everything run by the book.”
“Silja isn’t eighteen yet. Can I just interview her?”
“Her mom is home, so you don’t need a child-welfare officer. Just take someone else with you. Silja is ready to make a statement.”
Taskinen’s tone was serious, which made me wonder what could be going on. I knew my boss well enough not to ask for an explanation. His private life crossing into his official role was probably weighing on him. I was surprised he hadn’t requested that another unit take over the case.
“Ulrika Weissenberg called too. Take it easy with her. Ulrika is pretty conceited, but we may need her help.”
I nodded. This wasn’t the first time Taskinen had felt the need to step between me and someone else. My usual sparring partner was the current head of the Criminal Division, who couldn’t stand me.
“I was thinking of contacting Janne Kivi and Rami Luoto next.”
“You should go to our place first. You’ll be able to find Janne and Rami at the ice rink tonight if you’re up to pulling some overtime.”
“Yeah, I’m up to it.” I tried to grin, but something in Taskinen’s expression frightened me. What on earth did Silja have to tell me that was so horrible?
Koivu had just arrived back from the shopping center, so I took him with me. He and Lähde had managed to find two people who were in the parking garage last night just before eight. Lähde promised to call Koivu’s cell phone if anything relevant to the investigation came out of it. But I was more interested in what Silja Taskinen had to say. Did she know who Noora’s murderer was?
3
“Are you nervous about interviewing the boss’s daughter?” Koivu asked as we turned off the Ring I beltway.
“It’s a strange situation, but I’ve dealt with something like it before. You remember the Meritta Flöjt murder? Almost all of the suspects were my old school friends.”
“Didn’t you meet Antti during a murder investigation?”
“Yep. Actually, he was a pretty strong suspect at one point. It’s a little silly now, thinking I ever suspected him. He doesn’t even like killing the fish he catches. It’s that building there, behind the church.”
The apartment building looked a little worse for wear. It was relatively new but built quickly out of poor materials. Most of the Taskinen family’s income went to supporting Silja’s skating, but I had never heard Taskinen complain. Although the Taskinens definitely needed the sponsorship money Ulrika Weissenberg had mentioned, Noora’s death wouldn’t necessarily affect Silja’s position. At number twelve in the world, a beautiful ice princess like her would see many more advertising opportunities come along.
Terttu Taskinen answered the door.
“Silja insisted on talking to you today, but I have to tell you, I’m not sure I think it’s a good idea.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We can stop if we need to. It would be good for you to stay with us, though.”
“Silja wants to see you without me. I’ll wait in the kitchen. She is in her room. Go on through.”
Silja’s bedroom was narrow, with only room for a bed, desk, and a small armchair. We found her sitting curled up on her bed surrounded by a flock of stuffed animals. In her arms she clutched a life-sized raccoon. Her eyes were swollen, and a fresh-looking coat of lip balm couldn’t conceal how chapped her lips were. She didn’t look like she was in any shape for an interview, but she responded to my greeting surprisingly energetically. I didn’t really know how to start. Koivu sat down in the chair at the desk and started setting up the tape recorder. I thought about whether I should sit in the armchair or on the bed next to Silja. I didn’t know her very well, so I chose the chair.
Death Spiral Page 4
