Helsinki Homicide: Nothing but the Truth
Page 7
“Still funny to me,” said Korpi, rubbing his bald head. He burst into a fit of artificial laughter, “Ha-ha-ha-haa!”
Joutsamo waited for him to finish. “Right. Do you wish to make a statement?”
Korpi’s face hardened. “First off I’d like to state for the record that this preliminary interview is illegal according to the criminal statutes. It’s a violation of my civil rights. Second, I want a lawyer. Third, as the homeowner, I demand to be a part of the search being conducted on my home in Kaarela at this very moment.”
Joutsamo had initially intended to stop the recorder, but she decided to let it roll. “Alright, then. That concludes the interview. But I should note that preliminary interviews are indeed permitted under chapter 38 of the criminal statutes. Secondly, you should know that a lawyer will be provided when such can be procured. Thirdly, according to the deed on file, the house in question is not yours, but it’s owned by the estate of Marjatta Saarnikangas. The attorney in charge of the estate has been notified of the search, and has not demanded anyone be present. But let me ask once more, do you have anything to say about Tomi Salmela’s death?”
“No. Nothing. I’m done talking.”
“So you won’t even claim that you’re innocent?”
“I’m done talking.”
Joutsamo stopped the recorder and rose without a word. Outside the interrogation room she turned to the guard, “Take him to his cell. Don’t let him talk to anyone.”
* * *
It was nearing eight o’clock when Kannas came into Takamäki’s office. The lieutenant was slaving away at his computer.
“Hey,” Kannas growled.
“Hey.”
Takamäki noticed the large plastic bag in the forensic investigator’s hand. “Well?”
“Right. Interesting place,” said Kannas, as he stepped inside and sat down. “Where to begin…”
“Hold on a sec.” Takamäki got up and shouted down the hallway, “Joutsamo! My office!”
Joutsamo came in shortly.
“OK, go ahead,” said Takamäki.
“Well, let’s start with the car. Pretty shitty set of wheels at any rate, but preliminary evidence strongly links it to Korpi and Nyberg. Both of their fingerprints were found inside. We also found a third set of prints belonging to Jere Siikala, aka Guerrilla, who was arrested today. Found plenty of fibers, too, but since these guys are such fans of jeans, I doubt they’ll get us anywhere. Too common.”
“The fingerprints are a good thing. Jibes with our other evidence,” said Joutsamo.
Takamäki wasn’t so convinced. “Obviously the car has been in Korpi’s possession for some time, so the significance of the prints to the murder case is questionable. What about the house?”
“Our investigation is still ongoing, but we found the same prints there, needless to say. We also turned up their arms stash.” Kannas reached into the plastic bag and drew two smaller transparent bags. In one was a sawed-off shotgun while the other held a large caliber handgun. “The pistol’s an interesting old classic. A Russian Stechkin M1951. Capable of firing on full automatic. I saw some of these for sale at the Hietalahti flea market in the early nineties, so one of the undercover boys and I picked one up. Not a bad piece. On full automatic you can’t hit a damn thing, though. Recoil kicks the barrel up…”
“Ahem,” Takamäki cut in. “What else?”
“Right. What I was getting to is that we don’t know the history on these weapons. Yet. But we found a couple other interesting things. On the wall above one of the wardrobes was a sort of secret compartment where we found these.” He held up two plastic bags. In one of them was a large quantity of cigarette butts, and in the other were several small Ziploc bags, each containing some dark flakes.
“What are those?” asked Joutsamo.
“Well, these are cigarette butts. But that there in the little bags is dried blood.”
“Huh?”
“We haven’t analyzed it yet, but I’d bet this stuff was intended to throw us off at some point when the time was right. In other words, Korpi or one of his goons has been collecting butts at the bars so they can muddle up the DNA trail. Same thing with this dried blood.”
Takamäki shook his head. “He’s pretty paranoid.”
“Pretty clever, too. If DNA from fifty random people is found at the crime scene, then it’s pretty easy to claim yours was intentionally planted too.”
“And what about the laptop?” asked Joutsamo.
“Haven’t looked at it yet. The IT guys get it tomorrow morning. But it only had Korpi’s prints.”
Takamäki thought for a moment. “So the only thing we have pertaining to the case is a blue Mazda and some fingerprints. Whose name is the car in?”
“Registered to the same Marjatta Saarnikangas that owned the house. She’s dead and her son Juha is doing a four-year stint on drug charges,” Joutsamo explained.
“We’re taking it to a Mazda dealership to have them plug into the on-board computer and see how it’s been driven the last few days,” said Kannas. “At least it’s new enough that we can get that.”
Takamäki stroked his chin. “Good. We’ll have to put together a lineup for Mari Lehtonen tomorrow. Then we can decide whether to hold onto Korpi.”
“What about this Siikala?” asked Joutsamo.
“Did you interview him?”
“Couldn’t get anything out of him. Said he was home all day Sunday watching TV.”
“Did he say anything about Korpi’s whereabouts?”
“Couldn’t remember if he was there or not. So he’s playing the same game as the rest of them.”
“Right. Obviously we won’t crack the case on interviews,” said Takamäki, “The witness is our key. Let’s meet with the prosecutor tomorrow. You round up the fillers for the lineup—plenty of bald cops to choose from.”
* * *
Mari Lehtonen and twelve-year-old Laura Lehtonen were strolling along West Brahe Street toward Sture Street around nightfall. The rain was coming down hard enough that Mari had taken out her umbrella. Laura flipped up the hood of her raincoat.
The wind had stripped the wet leaves from the trees and scattered them on the sidewalk. A soccer team was practicing under the lights on the artificial turf at Brahe Field. The 3T streetcar rattled past, but otherwise, traffic was light.
Mari had been watching TV, but something had told her she should pick up Laura from theater rehearsals herself tonight. She couldn’t quite place what it was, she just went. Probably just on edge after her visit to the police station.
Laura had been surprised when her mother appeared.
“Wanna stop for tea somewhere?” she asked hopefully.
Mari didn’t hear the question. Her eyes were fixed on a couple of men in leather jackets approaching from the opposite direction. Now about fifty yards off, the men said nothing to one another, just stared at mother and daughter as they drew nearer.
Mari felt her pulse race as she considered her options. Should they cross the street?
“Did you hear what I said?” asked Laura, annoyed. “I wanted to tell you about the production—we got the framework ready today.”
The gap had closed to thirty yards, close enough to make out the men’s faces. The one on the left had a long ugly scar across his cheek. The other kept his hands in his jacket pockets.
The men were coming straight for them, and fast. Mari pulled her daughter to the edge of the sidewalk.
“What’s this?”
She didn’t answer. Ten yards now, and the men were looking straight at them. It occurred to Mari that she could jab them with the umbrella, and maybe shout for help from the soccer players.
They came within arm’s reach when one of them turned to Mari and said, “Boo!”
Both roared with laughter as they continued on their way.
Idiots, she thought, suppressing her urge to cuss them out. She glanced back. The men were still walking.
She took a deep breath.
“What was that about?” asked Laura.
“I dunno. Couple idiots.”
“Can we get some tea somewhere?”
Before Mari had the chance to respond, her cell phone rang. The caller was Anna Joutsamo.
TUESDAY,
SEPTEMBER 19
CHAPTER 9
TUESDAY, 10:30 A.M.
PASILA POLICE HEADQUARTERS
Mari Lehtonen was standing behind a mirrored window. On the opposite side stood six men with shaved heads.
“Number one, could you please step forward to the line,” said Lieutenant Ariel Kafka into the intercom. Takamäki had asked his colleague to conduct the proceedings. The protocol for police lineups explicitly stated that the officer conducting the proceedings must not know which of the subjects was the actual suspect.
Takamäki wasn’t sure if Kafka knew Korpi. He certainly might, but he hadn’t said anything, and his demeanor was perfectly impartial.
Number one stepped forward and Lehtonen shook her head.
Joutsamo was also in the room taking notes. Two video cameras were capturing the event, one trained on the lineup, the other on Lehtonen and Kafka.
“Thank you. Number two, please.”
Lehtonen shook her head again, and did the same over the next minute as numbers three, four and five stepped up to the line.
“Number six, please,” said Kafka.
Lehtonen nodded. “That’s the one. He was in
the car.”
Number six was Korpi.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
Kafka returned to the microphone. “Thank you for participating. Please exit through the door on
your left.”
On the other side of the glass, the men filed out slowly.
Joutsamo finished off the last few words of her notes and Kafka stopped the video cameras.
“Alright. That’s that,” said Joutsamo, as she offered Lehtonen her hand. “Thanks again.”
“What happens now?”
“We’ll finish up the investigation and then send the case to the prosecutor. As I said before, you’ll receive a summons from the court informing you of the date and time of the trial.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep. In court, the prosecutor will ask you a few questions and possibly show this video.”
Kafka handed the tape to Joutsamo as he left. “No need for me anymore?”
“Nah. I’ll just type up my notes and bring them for your sign-off.”
“Sounds good.”
Joutsamo turned to Lehtonen. “I’ll show you out. You need a ride?”
Mari shook her head.
* * *
Helena Muuri, district prosecutor, was sitting in the VCU’s conference room, her expression grim, as usual. Takamäki didn’t know if she was capable of a smile, at least he had never seen one on her.
Muuri was wearing a black-collared shirt and a gray blazer with a red bird-themed brooch. Takamäki likewise wore a blazer and tie. He always dressed up for meetings with district prosecutors.
Joutsamo came in wearing a sweater.
“Do you two know each other?” asked Takamäki. “Anna Joutsamo is my lead investigator on the case.”
Muuri stood and the women shook hands. “Seems like we’ve met somewhere,” said Joutsamo.
“Well, anyway, let’s get to it,” said Takamäki, and he explained the events of the last few days, as well as the highlights of the investigation from the time of the murder to the interrogation of the suspects. Muuri took notes in her notepad.
Takamäki was encouraged that the prosecutor was getting involved with the case before the investigation was closed. This way, she’d know the details much better than if a pile of paper just appeared on her desk.
Takamäki went over the police lineup as well.
“Tsk, tsk…” said Muuri. “Didn’t you mention that you also showed Lehtonen photographs before the lineup?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Well, nothing serious, but you can only ask a witness to identify a suspect once. That happened when you showed her the photographs. The lineup is irrelevant since the witness already identified the suspect earlier.”
“That we didn’t know,” said Joutsamo. “Normally once is enough, but we just thought we’d double check.”
“It just means that the police lineup is inadmissible. It doesn’t really matter, since the witness had already identified the suspect from a photograph.”
“Alright,” said Takamäki. “Though I’d imagine using a lineup would better ensure due process for the suspect, since photographs tend to be older and less accurate.”
“True enough, but the rules are explicit. Do you have a motive for the crime?”
“No,” said Takamäki. “Nobody’s talking. We found cocaine in Tomi Salmela’s apartment, which could be a possible motive.”
“Could be, but motives aren’t always clear cut, either. The forensic evidence against Nyberg is pretty unambiguous, but with Korpi there are still quite a few question marks. Mari Lehtonen’s account puts Korpi near the scene of the crime, but what level of involvement did he really have? It’s a difficult question.”
“Right.”
Muuri continued to reflect, “What we know is that Korpi was in the car with the killer, who left the vehicle, committed the crime and returned to the car. Korpi then drove away and dropped off the murderer somewhere else in the city. We have no information on Korpi’s activities after that. Essentially what we need is proof that Korpi was complicit in the crime, or even ordered Nyberg to commit it. The problem is that Korpi’s a professional criminal, so it’s unlikely you’ll get a single word out of him in the interrogations.”
“Same goes for Nyberg.”
“Right,” said Muuri, returning to her papers. “With that in mind, we can assume that Korpi must have something to hide. His activities would likely cross the threshold for a murder charge, and he’d certainly be an accessory.”
“He’s the leader of a criminal organization where nothing is done without his approval,” said Takamäki. “And he has a long record.”
“Good points,” said Muuri. “And this is a good angle to focus on in the investigation. Can Korpi be tied more closely to Nyberg? Do we have evidence from previous investigations clearly indicating that Nyberg takes orders from Korpi? What about Nyberg’s weapon? Can it be tied to Korpi? Did Nyberg ever live in the same house in Kaarela? What about the drug trade in Korpi’s organization? His funds and other assets?”
Joutsamo was jotting everything down in her notepad. This was plenty to go on, thought Takamäki. They’d need help from Narcotics and the Financial Crimes Division. Takamäki knew from experience that the drug bosses commonly moved their assets abroad, while keeping some funds in the form of loans to street pushers and others. This way, the police wouldn’t be able to confiscate them, but the money was always accessible with the help of hired muscle.
Muuri went on, “This is also important because Nyberg will almost certainly try to exonerate his boss in court and shoulder the blame for everything. At that point we’d need some facts to sling at Korpi. Something that will stick, not just generic observations about criminal organizations.”
“We’ll do our best,” said Takamäki.
“I have to wonder, though. If this Korpi is such a high-ranking boss, why is he chauffeuring some guy around on a hit job. Why didn’t they take care of this Tomi Salmela by some other means if it was so important?”
“You got me,” said Joutsamo.
“Is it possible he truly wasn’t aware of Nyberg’s intent?”
“Possible,” said Takamäki, “but if that were the case you’d think he’d say so instead of insisting on keeping his mouth shut. We’ll try to find out in the interrogations and otherwise.”
A momentary silence fell over the room.
“About your witness, this Mari Lehtonen…”
“Yes?”
“No,” said Joutsamo. “She’s understandably a little nervous, but who wouldn’t be. We haven’t talked about anything like that. All I promised was that no address or personal information would appear in the case files.”
“That’s fine. But in court we’ll need her to show her face and point out who she saw in the car.”
“Then that’s what she’ll do,” said Joutsamo.
“And what about her safety?” Muuri asked. “She’s so central to the case here that we have to consider whether Korpi’s gang represents a threat to her. They’ll know her identity once they receive the
case files.”
“Right,” said Takamäki.
“You’ll certainly have to keep an eye on that. Witnesses have been threatened and blackmailed for much less. And if this organization is capable of killing competing dealers, then I’d think there’s potential for violence toward the witness.”
“That’ll depend on how good a chance Korpi thinks he has at an acquittal,” said Takamäki.
“Well, I’ll chat with Lehtonen about it.”
“But don’t scare her, of course.”
“Will do,” said Joutsamo. “Won’t do, that is.”
* * *
Suhonen was driving a rustbucket VW Golf eastbound on Helsinki Avenue. He passed Brahe Field on the right. The Corner Pub wasn’t far off, but he wasn’t headed there. Maybe he’d stop by later in the evening to see what he’d find out. The lunchtime crowd was just a bunch of blowhards anyway. Loose talk on last night’s petty thefts didn’t interest him.
Actually, his intentions had nothing to do with work. Maybe in a way they did, since Suhonen had met her while on a stakeout at a downtown pub on Friday night. Deputy Chief Skoog had decided to crack down on the Subutex street trade, so Suhonen had volunteered to help bust a drug ring that was hawking it out of the bars. The operation targeted a number of dealers across various locations where the pills were known to be peddled, and Suhonen wound up staking out a Belgian pub. No traffic in Subutex that night, but at the bar he had met Raija.