Below the Surface

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “Apparently! And now I’m reading about it in the paper even though we’re talking about my wife’s life work here. This is outrageous. Where’s the manuscript now?”

  “In our evidence locker. We’ll be sure to return it once the investigation is over.”

  “Well, at least you’ve found the killer. It’s just too bad we don’t have the death penalty. That man deserves it. And I’m going to tell him so if I get to see him in court. Who do I have to contact about getting my manuscript? I’m at least going to go talk to Suuronen.”

  “Go right ahead. For now the disk with the manuscript will remain with us.”

  “Well, shit!” At that point, the telephone started beeping. Perhaps Jääskeläinen would succeed in getting Suuronen to reveal how he got the manuscript. I certainly wanted to know that too.

  “Wake up, boss,” Puupponen said. “Dreaming about Christmas vacation?”

  “No, summer break on a beach full of ripped hunks bringing me beer,” I shot back.

  “Oh. What would Antti think about that?”

  “A girl can dream, can’t she? OK, where did we leave off?”

  Once we’d handled the paperwork, to my surprise Puupponen lingered in my office chatting about this and that. I knew he dreamed of becoming an author, and I assumed he wanted to talk about that. I let him beat around the bush for a while in the stereotypical way for people from Savo.

  “I guess she has some sort of mother complex,” Puupponen finally said.

  “Who?”

  “Ursula. Once, right after she joined the unit, we were having coffee, and she talked about her childhood. Her parents divorced when she was a year old, and her dad didn’t really keep in touch. Her mom is an economist, which is why Ursula studied economics at first too. There were plenty of stepfathers, and her mother blamed Ursula whenever one of those marriages failed. I guess Ursula felt like she could never be good enough for her mother. But that’s just my opinion, based on Finnish cop sauna psychology,” Puupponen said with a snort, then went on his way.

  Over the course of the day the cold eased up a bit, but the trees were still blanketed in snow, and the exhaust fumes from the Turku Highway hadn’t managed to foul the drifts in the yard of the police station. I hoped Iida and Taneli were wearing enough, because if Iida had to dress herself, she usually forgot her sweater and wool socks. Just as I was planning to head to lunch, Autio stopped by my office. He had a habit of wearing the same dark-gray double-breasted suit, and once someone had suggested that he must have bought two or three at the same time. In the summer his tie was light blue, in the winter dark red. Sometimes I envied men, because a suit was such a versatile piece of clothing. Once I’d worn a tie with a pantsuit, but I caught so much flak for it that I never tried again. And besides, the tie looked idiotic over my breasts.

  “We’ve run into some detours with the charges against Smeds. He’s retracted his confession, and, as you know, his brother’s providing him with an alibi. There isn’t any circumstantial evidence, so I don’t see any reason to hold him anymore.” Autio fiddled with his tiepin, which was an image of a jaguar.

  “What about a charge of intentionally misleading the authorities?”

  “And what would be the point of that?”

  “Has Smeds said why he confessed in the first place?”

  “He just claims he was so drunk he didn’t understand the questions. The interrogation is on video. You can look yourself.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just question him as a witness now. I’ll handle releasing him.”

  My stomach growled angrily, as if it were protesting releasing Andreas. After handling his release paperwork, I drafted a press release about the current state of the investigation, then went downstairs for a yogurt; low blood sugar was making me angry.

  I decided to stop in and see Andreas before he was released from his cell. In the past few days, he’d grown a short black beard and mustache, which looked strange on a man with blond hair and blue eyes. He lay on his cot looking indifferent, as if it was all the same whether he was in jail or at home.

  “How you doin’, Christer Pettersson?” I said. Andreas started.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s the same scenario as Olof Palme’s supposed murderer: you confess and then take it back depending on the circumstances. I’m sure it’s been nice hiding from the media in jail, but be ready to have a hundred of them piling on as soon as you’re out. The press release about your discharge is going out any second.”

  Apparently the yogurt wasn’t enough lunch, because I was still irritated. “Also be prepared for a charge of misleading the authorities. Whether you were drunk or not when you confessed, we’ve wasted a crap load of time because of your nonsense, while the real murderer is still free.”

  Andreas turned his face to the wall.

  “Now get up. We need this bed!” I felt like grabbing him by the shoulder, but I kept myself under control. Andreas slowly sat up.

  “Now the whole world knows what a good man Sasha really is,” Andreas said bitterly. “So good he’ll even give his brother an alibi after he’s slept with his wife.”

  “And even while that same brother is acting like a three-year-old brat. Heli’s a mess, by the way.”

  Andreas turned to face me. “What do you mean?”

  “Read the papers on your way home.”

  “Are they writing bad things about Heli? Shit.” Andreas jumped up. “They have no right. I’m leaving the farm. Sasha has the money to hire a dozen farmhands to fill my job. Worse things have happened to people than not getting to be with the person they love.” Andreas tried to sound cynical, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

  “Yes, you can leave. That’s easy. But what about Heli? Do you intend to ask her what she wants?”

  “Heli won’t leave Sasha,” Andreas said and leaned his head against the wall.

  “Be sure you let us know where you end up. We’ll still need to question you.” I opened the door and yelled to the guard that Smeds was ready to go. Then I went upstairs to get my workout clothes from my closet and headed down to the gym to take out my frustrations on the punching bag. A right for Ursula, a left for Andreas, and another right for myself. Why the hell had I let Andreas’s confession upset my investigation since I’d known the whole time he was lying? Why was I letting what happened to the Smeds family bother me so much? And then there was the continuing problem of Ursula to deal with. God. I’d had enough of this.

  After an hour in the gym, I was so wiped out I couldn’t feel angry about anything anymore. I ate a meat pie, which left a sinfully greasy taste in my mouth. After washing that down with a glass of buttermilk, I felt like a new woman. I answered a few reporters’ calls, trying to make them think we still had a suspect even though Andreas Smeds had gone free. I didn’t do very well. Three weeks had passed since Annukka Hackman’s death. That was at least two-and-a-half weeks too long.

  And of course the coffee was out in our break room, so I went up a floor to find some. When I caught a glimpse of Taskinen at the end of the hall, I ran after him. Terttu’s surgery was scheduled for today, and Jyrki had said he’d call me so we could talk more yesterday, but he never did. When he saw me, his face quivered, and it took a second before he regained his composure.

  “Jyrki, how’s Terttu?”

  “Hard to say yet.” Jyrki took me by the arm, but the gesture didn’t quite constitute a hug.

  “You didn’t call yesterday.”

  “I can’t dump all of this on you. You have your own life to live!”

  The door to the next office opened, and Assistant Chief of Police Kaartamo appeared in the hallway. Quickly I pulled my arm from Taskinen’s hands. Kaartamo and I tolerated each other out of necessity, but we interacted as little as possible.

  “So I hear you’ve released your prime suspect,” Kaartamo said. “That investigation seems to be dragging. Is it still as wide open as before?”

  “We’re getting more lab
results all the time,” I replied.

  “The PR side of things could use some work. Can you trust all of your subordinates, Kallio? You need to get tough down there.” Kaartamo gave a wry smile. “At least you have a good relationship with your own superior. That’s a good thing.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find out who’s been leaking information,” I said, then hastily headed back to my office. Kaartamo had an annoying habit of prying into not only our investigations but also the private lives of everyone who worked in the department. Taskinen didn’t need any more worries. And neither did I. Still, Kaartamo was right about one thing: I had to put Ursula over a barrel, even if it meant visiting her at home.

  I was just opening my office door when my phone started ringing. When I tried to get it out of its belt holster, half my coffee splashed on the floor and my pants. Damn. By the time I got the phone out, the caller had hung up. I wiped up the worst of the mess on the floor, then went to the restroom to try to get some of the stain out of my pants. They were a light gray wool, so I was probably looking at a trip to the dry cleaners.

  After I’d dealt with the coffee spill, I dialed the number of the call I’d just missed.

  “This is Sini,” said a young voice.

  “This is Maria Kallio from the Espoo Police. Did you just try to call?”

  Sini sighed. “Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s anything. I was home because we don’t have classes this week, and I heard Dad yelling at you over the phone about that book Annukka was writing. I remembered something. When I heard Annukka talking to Kervinen that time, she said she was going to ‘give it to him’ at Tapiontori. Of course I thought she meant sex. But what if she gave Kervinen the manuscript and my dad found out about it?”

  “What do you mean, Sini?”

  “Well, Dad’s been storming around all day shouting about how he didn’t really know Annukka and she was such a bitch for not telling him important things. He’s been really messed up ever since she died. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore. He gets drunk and cries and yells a lot. But he’s all I’ve got.”

  Atro Jääskeläinen. The spouse was usually the perpetrator. And Jääskeläinen had admitted to going to Kervinen’s building the night he died. Maybe he killed Annukka out of jealousy. After all, who besides Atro Jääskeläinen would have known about Annukka’s swimming excursion at the lake?

  “Where is your dad now?”

  “He just left somewhere,” Sini said, sniffing. “He said something about some manager that he wanted to go punch in the mouth.”

  Despite it all, I nearly started laughing. Suuronen wanted to beat up Andreas, and Jääskeläinen wanted to beat up Suuronen. Such manly men! I tried to calm Sini down and thanked her for calling. For her sake I hoped Atro Jääskeläinen wasn’t guilty.

  For our sakes, I hoped he was.

  20

  That evening I could barely stay awake long enough to give Iida her good-night hug. Apparently that session with the punching bag had really drained me. Antti tried to come on to me after Iida fell asleep. Hearing about the job in Vaasa had put him in a better mood, and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. So I went along with it, even though I knew my responses to his caresses were purely mechanical. Some things are easier for women than for men.

  “If I get that job, we can say good-bye to this apartment,” Antti murmured against my neck as we lay quietly side by side after making love. “Housing costs can’t go up any more than they already have. And I’m up to taking on some renovations, so we’ll find something.”

  “Of course,” I replied from the border between sleep and wakefulness. I fell asleep in Antti’s arms. At three o’clock I woke up shivering without my nightgown. I went to the kitchen for a drink of water, then crawled back in next to Antti, but by then I was wide awake. Antti turned over, but his steady breathing told me he was still asleep. I tried to relax using the techniques I’d learned in my prenatal classes, but my thoughts started wandering to other people. Was Heli sleeping? And where? In a double bed with an empty space for Sasha or in one of the smaller rooms at the farm? Was Taskinen awake? I heard Taneli laugh in his sleep. That relaxed me a bit, and eventually I slipped back into unconsciousness.

  In the morning I learned that Atro Jääskeläinen really had visited Suuronen and kicked up a fuss outside his house, resulting in Suuronen calling the police. Jääskeläinen didn’t get arrested, though.

  “Bring him in for questioning,” I told my team during that day’s meeting. “Suuronen too. Let’s see if he’s still claiming he got that disk from Hackman. That seems like the only way forward. We haven’t ever failed to solve a homicide before, right?”

  I knew my smile was fake, and Koivu’s grin seemed forced too. I had to speed through the agenda before my next meeting started. Somehow I’d been roped into helping to plan the next Women’s Police Day, which was being held in Espoo. I didn’t quite know what I thought about it—no one ever organized a Men’s Police Day. And did male nurses or midwives ever get together? I’d told Antti I was never joining the Association of Professors’ Wives.

  The meeting was held outside of town at the hotel that would host the event. The world shimmered in the light of the rising sun. Antti would have a beautiful day traveling up to Vaasa.

  Fortunately the woman in charge of the meeting had some verve, and none of the other women seemed to have any need to repeat things that had already been said just to hear themselves talk. If we’d wanted that, we would have invited some men. I promised to deliver a presentation on the increase in female violent crime, even though I knew I’d regret it when it came time to prepare. Fortunately that wouldn’t be for months. The meeting ended an hour earlier than I’d expected, so on a whim I decided to visit Lake Humaljärvi. The scene of the crime hadn’t received enough attention. Maybe it hadn’t been the site of Annukka Hackman’s death simply because it was an easy place to steal her gun. Maybe the lake itself had some significance.

  I left my car at the same turnout where Hackman’s vehicle had been found. Trading my high-heeled ankle boots for proper galoshes, I set out trudging through the snow. In the forest it was only about four inches deep, so walking was relatively easy. I could see animal tracks everywhere: A moose had gone here, a fox over there, and what creature left those tiny double tracks—a weasel? The sun warmed the back of my coat, and great blue tits twittered as they flitted from tree to tree. For a moment I could imagine it was spring. Finding the trail under the snow was a challenge, and a few times I took wrong turns and ended up too far to the west, near the old Soviet trenches. During the lease of the naval base to the Soviets, known as the Porkkala Parenthesis, the border had gone through Lake Humaljärvi. That’s what Puustjärvi had said. Part of the Soviet Union had been inside Finland, within artillery range of the capital. Trains moving between Helsinki and Turku shuttered their windows when traveling through the Parenthesis area, and any fisherman who accidentally crossed the border was subjected to intense interrogation at the Soviet base and then again on the Finnish side of the border. Smedsbo Farm had also been in the Parenthesis area. Could that have something to do with Hackman’s death? She’d been poking around the farm. Had she found something there related to the Soviet period that the Smeds family didn’t want revealed?

  I walked to the shore near the place where Hackman’s things had been found. This was where she’d undressed and donned her wet suit and dive boots. Did Hackman see her murderer or did the shot come as a surprise? And how many shots were fired? Maybe Hackman had tried to swim away from her attacker, diving for as long as she could without coming up for air, then . . .

  I tried to imagine how this peaceful landscape had looked during the Soviet period before the bunkers were demolished and the guard towers were torn down. I stared at the ice, which rippled a little as the wind pushed water under it. It probably wouldn’t support a person yet. I threw a rock onto it and heard a deep, clanging sound. The rock skittered across the surface, then disappeared under a small sn
owdrift in the middle of the ice.

  On the other side of the lake I could see fields and farmhouses. We’d repeatedly interviewed the residents, with little result. Did those houses exist during the Parenthesis? I tried to ask the landscape, but the only reply I received was the melancholy song of the ice. So I gave up and returned to my car.

  Back at the office, I found a note on my desk telling me that Koivu and Autio had been downstairs going at Atro Jääskeläinen for half an hour already. Jääskeläinen had come to the station voluntarily. I headed down to take the temperature of the interrogation. Jääskeläinen was still being questioned as a witness, but I hoped my boys could also start poking some holes in his story.

  “Detective Lieutenant Kallio joined the interview at thirteen thirty-two,” Autio dictated to the tape. It was easy to understand what Sini had meant when she talked about the change in her father’s personality. It was apparent just looking at him. In the space of three weeks, Jääskeläinen had put on considerable weight. His clothes didn’t fit anymore, he’d developed a third chin, and he was now wearing his wedding ring on his little finger. He’d shaved carelessly, leaving long hairs sprouting here and there on his cheeks.

  “Finally, Detective Kallio! Your damn minions here keep reading me the riot act while robbers and murderers are running around free. Why did you let Smeds go?”

  “There wasn’t enough evidence against him. Did you see Jouko Suuronen last night?” I asked, knowing that my subordinates had probably already asked the same thing.

  “How many reports of that do you need? At first he opened the door, but when he saw who it was, he closed it again. I could charge him with assault. My arm got caught in the door. Do you want to see the bruise? How dare he claim Annukka gave him that disk? Annukka never would have done that!”

  “At any point have you suspected that your home or office was broken into?”

  “No! And we have an alarm system. A few CDs were stolen from Annukka’s car in August, but they didn’t take the stereo, so I didn’t bother calling the police. Annukka didn’t want to. But . . .”