Before I Go

by Leena Lehtolainen

  On Thursday I was decked out and in full makeup. Antti, who rode to work in his sweats, laughed and said that I could be on the cover of any business magazine. I practiced an appropriately deep tone for my voice, because apparently the higher pitch of women’s voices wasn’t as credible. Then I climbed the stairs to have coffee with the leadership.

  I told my colleagues about the latest breaks in the Marko Seppälä murder case. The guys from Narcotics and Robbery listened with interest, and the deputy chief of police rubbed his eyes. The chief was currently in Stockholm at a Nordic policing conference. Taskinen looked elsewhere the whole time I was talking.

  “So Väinölä hasn’t been questioned yet?” Taskinen asked once I was through.

  “Agents Muukkonen and Hakala from the NBI are coming at nine. Muukkonen got a search warrant yesterday for Väinölä’s apartment, and they’re probably already working there.”

  “Who is your nameless source? Why should we believe him?” Laine asked.

  “He isn’t nameless, but I’m protecting him for now.”

  “Does he even exist? I don’t have anything against raking little shits like Väinölä over the coals, but are you sure you aren’t wasting NBI resources?” Laine continued.

  “Kallio, I’d like to hear who your source is too,” Taskinen said seriously.

  “All in good time.”

  “And what about Rahnasto? What evidence do you have? A matchbox and a gun that might fit a single bullet. Think before you go connecting one of the most powerful men in the city to a bunch of gangsters,” Laine said. “Secret land deals, drugs, and murder! It isn’t like we’re in Italy. This is just about a drug deal, and Salo has his fingerprints all over it.”

  “Seppälä doesn’t have any history with drugs,” the detective from Narcotics said.

  “Listen, Kallio, I know that your husband is an environmental activist. But that shouldn’t influence your objectivity as a police detective,” Deputy Chief of Police Kaartamo said coldly.

  “What do you mean? What do Antti’s opinions have to do with the destruction of Laajalahti Bay?”

  “‘Destruction’ . . . just using that word shows you can’t be objective about this case.”

  “So objectivity means accepting corruption in our government? Hell no!” I looked at Kaartamo, his graying, carefully groomed moustache, his 1930s-style three-piece suit, his round face, which was strangely unlined for a man nearing retirement. Kaartamo had been in the department for twenty years, and he was known as a man who could be counted on to oppose reform. The chief of police had had to force him to use a computer.

  “When the Ilveskivi investigation began, the chairman of the City Council requested that we be discreet. Didn’t Jyrki pass that on?”

  The rage came in waves, making me sweat and bringing a flush to my cheeks. I stood up and took a step toward the deputy chief.

  “Who paid you off? What did they promise you to get you to cover this up?”

  The deputy chief of police looked coldly past me to Taskinen and Laine.

  “I have five witnesses. I could sue you for slander, but I think we can handle this internally. How about we all just forget Kallio’s little theory. And you can forget it too, Maria. I understand that you’re upset since the bombing. A little rest might be in order. Why don’t you move up your summer vacation a little? Jyrki can take over the Seppälä murder investigation.”

  I spun around so quickly that Laine jumped and coffee splashed out of his cup and onto his immaculate white shirt. Taskinen’s disheartened voice stopped me on my way to the door.

  “Maria, at least wait to see what the NBI can get out of Väinölä. Then we’ll talk.”

  I didn’t look back to show that I had heard.

  All through our unit’s morning meeting, I pretended nothing was wrong. Seppälä’s murder was still on the shelf, and neither Koivu nor Wang commented on the investigation. But the previous nights had seen fists fly again in a couple of homes and at a park. We had a total of four assault reports, as well as a suspected violation of a restraining order. I divvied out the assignments as well as I could, but just as I thought I had everything arranged reasonably, we received word that someone had thrown himself in front of a train at a station on the west side. I sent Lähde and Mela there, leaving one of the assaults to wait.

  I had a chat with the department press officer about some final details for our booth at the Police Expo. The event was being held at the old Helsinki Cable Factory, and I had promised to man the booth on Saturday afternoon. Iida was excited to get to see the police horses.

  Agent Muukkonen knocked on my door around noon.

  “Hakala is writing up the report downstairs, but there isn’t much to be happy about. Väinölä doesn’t have an alibi, but he won’t admit to anything, not even that he hates you. You can read it between the lines, though. We’ll continue tomorrow, although I doubt one more night in a cell is going to change anything for a guy like that. Isn’t he on his way to Sörnäinen soon anyway?”

  “Yes,” I said tiredly.

  Rahnasto had chosen his second torpedo well. Väinölä wasn’t going to crack easily, and if he revealed his client, no one would believe him anyway. And if we did find some sort of evidence against Rahnasto, he would just hire a pack of high-powered lawyers to defend him. I imagined the trial with the defense witnesses including the mayor, the chair of the City Council, and a long list of other city officials, while the prosecution called on Suvi Seppälä, Eila Honkavuori, and Mikke Sjöberg. No prosecutor would ever take a case like that. Not without solid evidence.

  Maybe I really should contact Rahnasto’s company and arrange to meet with him about security for our house, I thought. Antti could come with me. We just wouldn’t mention that we were only renting.

  But Rahnasto would see that instantly from the real estate database, and I couldn’t get Antti mixed up in my work. Best to forget that plan too.

  I was just forcing myself to go downstairs for lunch when my phone rang.

  “Agent Muukkonen here. Good news. We found traces of the same kind of explosives in Väinölä’s apartment that were used to blow your mailbox to bits. And that’s not all. There was also a diagram of your lot and a couple of pictures of your house. I’ll be there at seven tomorrow, and we’ll start turning the screws.”

  20

  I found Taskinen in the cafeteria. His lunch was more meager than usual: pea soup, a piece of crisp bread, and an oven-baked crepe with only a small dollop of jam. He was obviously trying to avoid gaining weight during his forced break from running. At the table with him were a couple of guys from Narcotics I’d always gotten along well with. Which was why I felt comfortable telling my news about the explosives.

  “Apparently your source knows what he’s talking about,” Taskinen said calmly. “Sit down.”

  “Let me get some food first.” Hunger pounded in my gut. Luckily there was a vegetarian option for the pea soup. The Narcotics detectives disappeared while I was in line for my soup, and by the time I got back, Taskinen had moved on to his crepe.

  “Now you and your family can sleep in peace,” Taskinen said with false pleasure. “The NBI knows their stuff. Väinölä’s going to be in prison for that much longer now. I’ll talk to Agent Muukkonen. We’ll be able to lock up Väinölä now, and he won’t be getting out on bail before his trial.”

  After shoveling some soup into my mouth, I said, “You really want to believe that Väinölä acted alone, don’t you?”

  “It isn’t a matter of what I believe. It’s a matter of evidence. Be patient, Maria. Don’t interfere with the NBI investigation, and make sure you don’t ever let me hear you say something like what you did this morning. Kaartamo let you off easy.”

  I attacked my own crepe. The strawberry jam was sticky and thick like fresh blood. Licking my lips greedily, I realized I should have taken a double portion. Taskinen started asking about the progress of our house hunting, and I let the conversion shift. Talking to Jy
rki was pointless. Was Mikke’s information nothing but hearsay? Maybe I had shaved a difficult corner off the puzzle so it would look the way I wanted.

  Over the course of the day, several people hinted at my exchange with the deputy chief. Apparently a rumor was circulating that I had finally blown it once and for all. I tried to act cheerful, like I didn’t care, but that became difficult during my APC meeting at three o’clock. Accelerated Comprehensive Processing aimed at preventing young offenders from having to wait up to a year or more for trial, instead putting them before a judge within a few days if all went well. The goal was to interrupt the cycle of criminality before it could really develop. If the penalty for a previous caper wasn’t overly severe, the likelihood of young offenders continuing to steal cars or break into houses would be lessened.

  Laine said he was at the meeting to make sure his unit gradually became unnecessary. Plans were already underway to merge Organized Crime and Recidivism with the other units in the Criminal Division. Until the midnineties, the unit had been a part of Violent Crime, but because most repeat offenders had diverse rap sheets and were increasingly involved in drugs, Organized Crime and Recidivism had become its own entity.

  Laine had come to take over the unit from the State Intelligence Service, but apparently his current position didn’t live up to his expectations.

  I was completely wiped out by the time I left for soccer practice. Wang and Rasilainen bummed a ride with me to the field. Rasilainen had been involved in Väinölä’s arrest and repeated in detail all the curses and vituperation Väinölä had ladled out. According to Rasilainen, Väinölä had asked whether I would question him.

  “Tell that to Agent Muukkonen,” Wang suggested. “It shows that Väinölä knew he was suspected of a violent crime.”

  More women were on the field than last time, and we were able to put together two full teams. As we limbered up, I worked up a full sweat. My T-shirt and black tights were too heavy for the hot weather. The draw put me on opposite sides with Wang. Rasilainen volunteered to play goalie for my team, and I ended up sweeper. The game was more serious than the previous time, but we still had our heads about us enough to stop and whistle at a good-looking guy jogging by with his shirt off.

  We played for about half an hour and then took a break. To my surprise, I realized we had an audience. A couple of male officers from Patrol were sitting on the grass with a six-pack. Rasilainen went over and bawled them out for disorderly drunkenness, which only made them yell louder. Officer Yliaho started playing sports commentator. When he began to describe each player’s appearance in detail, I started to get peeved. Fortunately I only heard snatches of it because the game was so fast.

  Near the end of the second half, Wang managed to fake out the rest of our defenders. Rasilainen yelled for me to help, so I sprinted for the goal, but instead of a clean tackle, I just managed to trip Wang, who fell against the goal post. She lay on the field holding her head, and blood trickled between her fingers. Rasilainen and I were by her instantly, and Liisa pulled off her headband to use as a dressing.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I blubbered as blood ran down Anu’s face. She’d hit her forehead on a rusty bolt protruding from the goal post. “Can you see OK? How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Don’t worry,” Anu groaned. “Heads always bleed a lot. It’ll calm down soon.”

  “Are you sure? Should we take you to the hospital just in case?”

  “No.” Wang walked off the field, and I followed, still worried.

  “Chicks are always like that, fussing over a little scratch,” Yliaho said to Makkonen. “A guy would just keep playing. If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen,” he said and then took a long swig of beer.

  I grabbed the first-aid kit from my car and cleaned up Anu’s forehead as best I could. The cut didn’t look like it would need stitches; a Band-Aid would suffice. Anu waited on the sidelines while the rest of us stretched. I noticed that she was sitting as far away from our male colleagues as possible.

  “When do we get to play you?” Makkonen asked once we were done. “We could get up close and personal . . .”

  “Don’t hold your breath. We started a women’s league exactly so we wouldn’t have to listen your lame jokes during our free time.”

  “What does it matter if it’s girls or men playing? Kallio did that illegal tackle because she was mad about getting slapped down by the boss this morning,” Yliaho said.

  “Oh, your simple, tiny brains,” Rasilainen said with a sigh, but I wasn’t laughing. Yliaho was right. I started walking back to the car with Wang following.

  “Where should I take you two?

  “I have my bike at the station,” Rasilainen said. “You’ll have to explain to everyone tomorrow morning that Pekka didn’t hit you, Anu.”

  “As if. The Yliaho News Agency is sure to report to the entire department where Anu got her cut,” I said. As I drove onto the highway, I unintentionally channeled all my anger into pressing on the gas pedal. Then I realized I was being an idiot and slowed down.

  “Hey, Maria, you aren’t fighting a one-woman war against the bosses,” Wang said suddenly. “I think you’re right about Rahnasto. Pekka was just tense yesterday because we were fighting again. He’s worried about you. He didn’t think seeing Sjöberg would be good for you.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I said, “but it helped solve the case.”

  “Let’s nail Rahnasto together,” Liisa said. “I can try to come up with some reason to go to his office.”

  “There’s one thing we could do right now,” Anu said. “Liisa, let’s go say hi to Jani Väinölä. Maria, can I borrow a picture of Iida? I want to make a color copy.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked in confusion, but Anu only grinned and said she would explain in the morning. I went home to shower and eat Iida’s favorite food, a cabbage casserole Antti had made.

  The phone rang just as I was reading Iida her bedtime story.

  “It’s somebody named Kim Kajanus,” Antti shouted from downstairs.

  “Tell him I’ll call back as soon as I get Iida down!” I yelled back and continued reading the animal book. Iida snuffled happily in the crook of my arm, and I thought of a languid mother cat nursing six kittens at a time.

  “Who is Kim Kajanus?” Antti asked as we tucked Iida in together.

  “Just someone from work. He might have a connection to the explosion.”

  Antti had asked surprisingly little about the progress of the investigation. Of course he was relieved when I told him about Väinölä’s arrest, but he sensed the police still didn’t know the whole truth. I told Antti as much as I would have told any victim of a crime. Which wasn’t very much.

  Kajanus answered on the first ring. He must have been sitting with the phone in his hand.

  “I had a chance to look at Reijo’s gun collection. Eriikka bought a painting in Brussels that we needed to hang, but neither of us had a masonry drill. Eriikka asked me to pick up a drill at her dad’s company in Westend. I stayed to chat with Reijo, and suddenly thought to start talking about guns. I said I had thought about buying a pistol or a revolver, since I’m always carrying hundreds of thousands in camera equipment around with me. I asked if he could recommend something and what kind of gun would be most useful. You told me Seppälä was shot with a .22-caliber pistol and that Reijo has permits for a couple of those. His collection was missing a .22-caliber Hämmerli. I asked if that’s the one he always carries with him, and he went quiet for a second.”

  I could hear Kim shifting position. He was pausing as if intentionally for effect.

  “Reijo said it was stolen from his car a month ago. When I asked if he filed a police report, he said he didn’t because it would be bad press for his security company. Then he slapped me on the back and suggested an air pistol. An inexperienced shooter couldn’t kill anyone with that. Reijo promised to take me to the company shooting range to practice.”

&nbs
p; I listened intently. Kim had been too transparent. He tried to help, but his questions had probably only put Rahnasto on guard. Claiming a pistol like Seppälä’s murder weapon was stolen was the obvious smart thing to do. Maybe he had sold it on the black market, or maybe it was resting at the bottom of the sea. The possibility that our ballistics experts would ever be able to test it was nonexistent.

  That night I had troubled dreams in which I wandered through empty houses trying to find Iida before she stepped on a land mine. I woke up a little before six to full daylight outside. The yard looked peaceful, with a jolly hare bouncing toward the edge of the field while a blackbird pulled a worm out of the potato patch. The potato sprouts had started breaking ground, and soon we’d need to start weeding. I took Iida to day care and arranged with Antti to pick up Einstein. We were halfway through our morning meeting when my cell phone rang. Agent Muukkonen was calling from downstairs.

  “Väinölä is significantly more talkative today, but he wants you here for the interrogation.”

  “I’m sure you told him that isn’t possible, since I’m one of his victims?”

  “Can you come anyway? Väinölä is seriously wound up. We need something to calm him down. The guard said he didn’t sleep all night.”

  I thought about my schedule. The July personnel budget would have to wait. I promised to be down in half an hour, although that meant rushing through the rest of the meeting. Wang, whose forehead sported two Band-Aids, gave me a broad smile when I said we wouldn’t talk about Seppälä yet because on Monday we might know a lot more than we did now.

  Jani Väinölä really was upset. His fingers were twitching, and his legs seemed as if they were trying to move in different directions from each other and the chair. Withdrawal symptoms, but something more too: naked fear. His sparse stubble accentuated the anguish on his face, and the swastika on the back of his head was nearly covered by his hair.

  In the closeness of Interrogation Room 2, four people felt like a crowd. Agent Muukkonen’s aftershave smelled of vanilla and burnt rubber. Agent Hakala sat behind the computer looking tense. Muukkonen drank coffee at the table. I took up my place in the shadow next to him. The desk lamp was intentionally turned to shine in Väinölä’s eyes.