Death Spiral

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “We’re going to make this official,” I told Silja, then started reciting the time and location for the tape. The familiarity of routine helped me slip back into my professional role and forget, at least partially, that Silja Taskinen was more than just another witness.

  “You must have known Noora Nieminen pretty well, since you practiced together a lot and went to the same school. She was your friend. Do you have any idea who could have killed her?”

  “Well, she wasn’t actually my friend. But we’ve spent years around each other because we had to.”

  “You both went to school at TYK, right?”

  “Yeah. Noora was one grade below me. She was going to be a second year.” Silja pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of her hoodie and blew her nose before continuing. “She must have started school when she was six or something, since she was actually two years younger than me. She was a really unique girl. Sometimes she seemed a lot older than me, but sometimes she seemed like a little kid. She was so intense about everything.”

  “I heard about the issue with the commercial. What did you think about that?”

  “Well, I didn’t think it was the greatest idea in the world, and Janne didn’t either, but what were we supposed to do? All three of us are basically right at the edge of breaking through, but you don’t get on the medal stand without money. Maybe Noora could turn up her nose at it, since her dad’s company makes so much, but me and Janne . . .”

  “Were you angry at Noora?”

  “I didn’t want to get between her and Ulrika. Noora was always fighting with someone. Janne was the only one she ever listened to. But they’ve been having a really hard time the last couple of weeks too. After how well they did in Edmonton, I think Noora decided she was going to be world champion someday, and she didn’t think Janne was invested enough. But Noora didn’t have another choice for a partner because there isn’t anyone else as good as Janne in Finland.”

  “And Noora didn’t have any prospects as a singles skater?”

  “No, and neither did Janne. See, look at me. I represent the ideal skating body type,” Silja said without conceit. “A good figure skater has a slender, short build. Being too tall just makes jumps harder. Janne is just over six feet, which is like a couple inches too tall for a good triple axel. And Noora’s legs are too short and her hips are too wide, and she puts on weight easily. But she’s crazy flexible and so talented. Wait, what am I saying?”

  Silja realized she had been using the wrong tense and started crying. I’d been surprised how well she had controlled her nerves up to that point. I asked whether she wanted to stop the interview, but she said she could continue.

  “Rami and Elena were pretty tired of Noora’s tantrums too. I know Rami’s been trying to calm her down, but it hasn’t helped.” Silja choked on another sob. Koivu handed her a packet of tissues that was lying on the table, and I noticed he was blushing. Silja was gorgeous even when she was blubbering.

  “So, things have been pretty tense on the team lately, despite all the success. How did Elena Grigorieva and Rami Luoto divide up their work?”

  “Elena just moved to Finland a couple of years ago. In Russia she specialized in training pairs skaters, but now she also trains singles because there just aren’t very many pairs here. Rami has been coaching all of us since we were kids, and it was his idea that Janne and Noora should try pairs skating. He got pretty far with them, and now he’s started doing choreography for juniors and beginners competitions. I think he’s more interested in that than coaching. How they divide things up can be pretty confusing, though. Sometimes Rami handles things and sometimes Elena does, and I think that irritates her. But their results have been good.”

  Talking about skating instead of relationships was clearly helping Silja calm down. But we needed to get back to that.

  “And Rami and Elena’s relationship? Did they fight? Whose side did Noora take?”

  “No, they didn’t actually fight. Rami is sort of . . . he always gives in. I think he’s a little afraid of Elena. And Noora definitely trusted Elena more than him. Janne says Rami’s style fits him better, though.”

  Silja took another nose-blowing break and sat quietly as if considering something.

  Then she straightened her shoulders and looked at the wall as she said, “I’m really afraid Janne killed Noora. He was totally pissed last night. I’m surprised he didn’t throw Noora down on the ice in the middle of a lift. When I was leaving the rink, he came into the box where I was taking a drink. Elena was just showing Noora a free-foot position for the death spiral. Janne was furious. He said, ‘Stupid bitch, I could kill her right now.’”

  Silja burst out crying again, and I leaned forward in my chair to pat her on the shoulder, since I didn’t know what else to do. Koivu looked as if he would have liked to caress Silja’s hair pulled back in its ballerina bun.

  “Plenty of people say things like that without meaning anything by it,” I said. “I understand you feel like you’re betraying Janne by telling us, but don’t worry. We don’t go around arresting people just because of words. Is this the only reason you wanted to meet with us?”

  “No, not just that. Dad didn’t tell me how Noora was murdered, but I heard him talking to Mom . . . I don’t think they knew I could hear. Was Noora really beaten to death with her own skates?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Silja looked from Koivu to me with hopeless pleading in her eyes.

  “Please tell me the truth! If I don’t know what happened, I’m just going to imagine something worse!”

  “Noora was beaten with her skates, but the cause of death was a smashed skull,” I said quietly.

  “How long did it last? How much did Noora suffer?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but everything must have happened pretty quickly if Noora left the rink around seven and was found just before eight.”

  I had been trying to comfort myself all day by telling myself that at least Noora hadn’t had to suffer much. But who could measure another person’s pain and fear, and did it really matter in the end how long the fear of death lasted? I remembered Noora’s gaze again as she played a girl looking her own death in the eyes. I didn’t want to imagine how she had looked in the actual situation, so I quickly asked another question.

  “You left the ice rink around six, right? Had Ulrika Weissenberg already left too? Did you see anyone around the building who wasn’t usually there?”

  “Ulrika’s gold BMW was still in the parking lot. I remember because it had started raining and I wondered whether she could drop me off at the bus stop. When I didn’t see her, though, I just ran. Tomi, Elena’s husband, drove up while I was leaving.”

  “So you didn’t see Vesku Teräsvuori?” I asked directly.

  “No, although he does hang around the rink sometimes, waiting for Noora and her mom. I didn’t notice him yesterday, though.”

  Silja went quiet again and grabbed a furry teddy bear to hold too. The pile of animals seemed strange in the otherwise grown-up girl’s room, but maybe they were presents from fans. Nothing in the room indicated that a top-level figure skater lived in it. On the walls there were a couple of posters of calming forest landscapes, and the dried bouquet of roses on top of the bookshelf looked more like a confirmation gift than anything from an admirer. A trophy case wouldn’t have fit in the room. Maybe the cups and medals were in the living room.

  Silja blew her nose loudly but still managed to look elegant while doing it. She squeezed the bear and the raccoon tightly.

  Suddenly she looked up and almost yelled. “You know the skates are a really important piece of evidence, right? Whoever killed Noora knew that she had the perfect murder weapon in her bag. It had to be someone who knew her!”

  “Since Edmonton, a lot of people know Noora,” I replied, although I had been thinking the same thing. “But yes, whoever killed Noora may well have been someone who knew her, even if she didn’t know them. And it wouldn’t have been hard to guess that Noor
a had skates in her bag, since she was coming out of the ice rink.”

  “But how would a stranger have been able to get the skates in the first place? Actually, though, I can imagine exactly how it happened.” Silja blew her nose again before continuing. “Noora had a really deep hollow sharpened in her blades so she could get a really tight, low arc on her death spiral. We were all looking at it yesterday at the rink. Someone must have asked Noora to show it to them on the way home. Someone Noora trusted . . .”

  Silja started sobbing so hard it was difficult to understand her. “Instead of looking at the blades, whoever it was started hitting her with them . . .” Silja buried her face in the raccoon.

  Koivu glanced at me. He clearly wanted to stop the tape and end the interview. Terttu Taskinen came to the door, but she didn’t say anything. She just sat down next to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her.

  “Let’s stop now, Silja. I respect your theory, but try not to think too much about Noora’s murderer being one of your friends. It’s more likely it was someone else. You’re very brave for talking to us.” I gingerly patted her trembling shoulder.

  After wrapping up the interview tape, I nodded to Koivu that we should go.

  “One more thing,” Silja said as we were leaving. “Noora had this big blow up because she couldn’t find her skate bags. Her mom must have left them on her old ones. Because her skates were in her bag with everything else, she put blade guards on them. She was worried about them rusting even though they were brand new.”

  Rubber skate guards were soft and porous, so fingerprints would stick to them. Where were they now?

  In the car my blond bear cub of a partner was strangely quiet.

  “Have you seen Silja skate?” he finally asked, glancing at me as if ashamed.

  “Yes, in person and on TV. I like her style. A lot of female skaters are too sugary for my taste, but Silja has just the right edge.”

  “Yeah, even though she looks like that princess from Monaco when she was young.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. She’s just like Grace Kelly in Rear Window! But Koivu, Silja is ten years younger than you.”

  “So what! Age isn’t everything,” Koivu said, blushing disarmingly. He had a serious crush on Silja Taskinen. “Is Silja dating this Janne Kivi character?” Koivu continued. “I just mean, Noora might have been jealous. And Silja was so worried about him . . .” Koivu tripped over his words, but his clumsy inquiry felt refreshing in the midst of all the darkness. The rain had started falling again, and the blanket of gray clouds had fallen almost to tree level. Tiny droplets drizzled on the windshield.

  “I haven’t heard anything like that. As far as I know Silja is single. I promise, I’ll let you go get her signature for the affidavit on the interview transcript.”

  Koivu blushed even worse, and I mussed his hair as if he really were my little brother.

  Then I took my phone out and called Antti to let him know he shouldn’t expect me for a few more hours.

  “Something bad?” Antti asked cautiously. He was used to me not saying much about my work.

  “A murder.”

  I heard Antti sigh on the other side of the line. He hadn’t dared tell me directly that he was afraid of my work since my coworker’s death that winter. Of course he was also afraid for the baby I was carrying. I didn’t quite know what to think about his anxiety. It was true that I often acted impulsively, and it was also true that a pregnant woman had to think about her baby too. But avoiding emotionally taxing jobs at work was entirely different than quitting drinking. I didn’t want anyone mollycoddling me because I was pregnant.

  From the Taskinens’ apartment we drove to the parking garage where Noora’s body had been found, following a narrow, winding ramp to the upper level.

  According to the patrol officers who responded the night before to the initial call, the upper level had been nearly deserted. Now the afternoon rush was on because people were trying to get their shopping in before The Bold and the Beautiful came on. Why our entire country practically shut down at five thirty every day for an American soap opera was beyond me, but it was a reality we frequently had to take into consideration when setting appointments with people. There were only a couple of empty stalls in the low, echoing parking structure. None of them had been cordoned off for the investigation because a search of the area had revealed no evidence of Noora’s murderer or car. The more important thing was interviewing the people who had been in the area.

  I asked Koivu whether he’d heard anything new, at which point he realized his phone was turned off.

  “Crap . . . sorry . . . Lähde was handling it. I’ll call him. Should I check how it’s going with the video from the surveillance camera?”

  “Sure.”

  “This damn cell phone doesn’t want to work in here. I’m going to have to go outside. Wait here.”

  Koivu climbed out of the car, and I got out to wait in the middle of the crowded, bleak garage. Where did Noora’s murderer get the idea to dump her body here? He must have transported her body here in his car and then noticed that Kati Järvenperä had left her trunk unlocked. But the risk of being seen was so great. The killer’s actions didn’t seem terribly premeditated. Maybe we would find the person we were looking for by interviewing the other people who had used the parking garage the night before. Someone must have seen him.

  Then it occurred to me how little attention I had paid to the cars parked around me in the garage, and my mood darkened. Even so, I decided to call the Department of Motor Vehicles and get the license plate numbers of all of Noora’s close acquaintances. A gray Volvo station wagon started up next to me, and it made me wonder how Järvenperä had parked her Mercedes. If she had backed in and the murderer had too, then the raised trunk lids would have mostly sheltered the body transfer from view.

  But where was Noora killed? In the forest near her house? If so, how did the killer get the body in his car without anyone noticing? Did he kill Noora in his car? There was no way I was going to get warrants to search all six or seven possible cars without any evidence that the murder was actually committed in one of them.

  Koivu returned, and I could tell from his expression there wasn’t any news.

  “Lähde and Puupponen are still interviewing the people from the garage last night. They found at least one person who parked on the upper level around seven thirty. But there was no luck with the security camera. The tape was almost black. Come look and you can see why.”

  The security camera was located on the lower level above the entrance. Some enterprising person had sprayed the lens with black paint. Probably the same genius who had covered the walls and ceiling with illegible tags. I didn’t usually get too upset about taggers, since they rarely destroyed anything beautiful, but now I was irked.

  “When did that happen?”

  “Apparently last week. They wash the camera once a month, but the graffiti artists around here always take it out before doing their thing. And the owners have given up caring. Parking here is free, so the cameras are just to protect customers’ cars. Usually there’s enough traffic that break-ins don’t happen anyway.”

  “I still don’t understand how the body could have gotten into Järvenperä’s car without anyone noticing! Hopefully she recovers enough to talk to us soon. And Noora’s parents. That’s going to be fun.”

  “When are you going on maternity leave, by the way?” Koivu asked.

  “At Midsummer. So I have a few weeks left to get this case figured out. Didn’t Järvenperä say there were only a couple of cars here when she came? We need to find them. Put a notice in the papers, and if that doesn’t work, use Police TV too, even though I hate that program. What are you laughing at?”

  “You’re so worked up about this case. You really are trying to show everyone you’re boss material, aren’t you?”

  “Come on, it isn’t that. I . . . I don’t know. You asked whether I’d seen Silja skate. She definitely made an impression, but
Noora was the one that really affected me. That girl was something special.”

  As a pair, Noora and Janne had started making waves at the European Championships in Sofia, Bulgaria. Janne did fall during a triple toe loop, and the pair’s pirouette was slightly out of sync. Their free skate, set to the soundtrack of the movie Hair, went better, despite Janne landing on his backside during a combination jump and Noora coming out of a triple Salchow on two feet. They still placed tenth, which was very good for first-timers coming from outside of one of the figure-skating powerhouse countries. The Eurosport commentators gushed about Noora’s temperament and personality.

  The World Championships in Edmonton went even better. Their routines were more polished, with Noora playing a brilliant Snow White in the short program and Janne sticking his triple toe loop, even though his free leg did graze the ice. I thought their free skate was fantastic, although Janne did botch one of his combination jumps again. According to the commentators, the pair’s death spiral was the best of the entire competition. Not all of the judges were thrilled about the Hair music or the skaters’ costumes, and their points for artistic presentation hurt their score. Ninth place was still fantastic for Finland, and I had listened almost with tears in my eyes as the commentators from Eurosport hailed Noora as the most promising female pairs skater since Irina Rodnina and Ekaterina Gordeeva. And now she was dead.

  “We should have time to stop for coffee before their practice starts. I’ll buy,” Koivu said.

  “OK, but make mine half milk. This damn heartburn is killing me,” I said, which seemed to embarrass Koivu. He was clearly having a hard time figuring out how to act naturally around pregnant me. Any deviation from the sweet expectant mother routine totally threw him off, even if it was just a single swearword. He should have known me better than that. One pregnancy wasn’t going to suddenly change somebody’s personality.