The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 1994 by Leena Lehtolainen
English translation copyright © 2012 Owen Witesman
Published by agreement with Tammi Publishers and Elina Ahlbäck Literary Agency, Helsinki, Finland.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by AmazonCrossing
PO Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781611099645
ISBN-10: 1611099641
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012922284
For Mari
CONTENTS
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Out of the ash...
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
CAST OF CHARACTERS
THE INVESTIGATORS
Maria Kallio..........Legal counselor, ex-cop
Pekka Koivu..........Maria’s old partner at Helsinki VCU
Pertti Ström..........Espoo police detective
Ville “Dennis the Menace” Puupponen..........Espoo police officer
THE FAMILIES
Annamari Hänninen..........Kimmo’s mother
Henrik Hänninen..........Kimmo’s father
Kimmo Hänninen..........Armi’s fiancé
Marita Sarkela Hänninen..........Antti’s sister, Risto’s wife
Matti and Mikko..........Risto and Marita’s twin sons
Risto Hänninen..........Kimmo’s half brother
Sanna Hänninen..........Kimmo’s dead sister
Antti Sarkela..........Maria’s boyfriend
Marjatta Sarkela..........Antti’s mother
Tauno Sarkela..........Antti’s father
Armi Mäenpää..........Kimmo’s fiancée, nurse
Marja “Mallu” Laaksonen..........Armi’s sister
Paavo Mäenpää..........Armi’s father
Taisto Laaksonen..........Teemu’s father
Teemu Laaksonen..........Mallu’s husband
SUPPORTING CAST
Albert Gripenberg..........Lawyer
Annikki..........Legal secretary
Eeva and Jarmo..........Maria’s sister and husband
Einstein..........Antti’s cat
Elina “Angel” Kataja..........S&M club organizer
Erik Hellström..........Gynecologist
Erkki “Eki” Henttonen..........Maria’s boss, lawyer
Helena and Petri..........Maria’s sister and boyfriend
Herman Lindgren..........Witness
“Joke”..........S&M club organizer
Kerttu Mannila..........Witness
Markku “Makke” Ruosteenoja..........Sanna’s boyfriend
Martti Jaatinen..........Lawyer
Otso Hakala..........Sanna’s convict ex-boyfriend
Sari and Minna..........Armi’s girlfriends
Sebastian..........S&M club attendee
Steffan “Stögö” Brandt..........Makke’s friend
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
—Sylvia Plath
1
The cherry trees were the first thing I saw when I woke up. The spring had been warm, and now the trees were blossoming with fluffy, fragrant bunches of flowers. Antti always wanted to sleep with the curtains open so we could see the curled branches against the night sky. It made it hard for me to sleep, but I’d gradually gotten used to it.
Antti was still sleeping, and Einstein was stretching contentedly in a puddle of sunshine at the foot of the bed. It was already eight o’clock, and I needed to get ready for work.
Shuffling from the bedroom to the kitchen, I started the coffeemaker. I’m useless before my morning coffee. After rinsing my face with ice-cold water, I walked across the yard to pick up the paper. The grass tickled my bare feet, and, as I breathed in the scent of cherry blossoms, I could already sense the coming heat of the day. The only thing disturbing my idyllic moment was the noise from the constant construction on the West Highway.
Taking longer than I should have, I leisurely ate my breakfast and read the paper before letting Einstein out for his morning rounds along the shoreline. Pulling on cotton capri pants and a clean shirt, I threw on some mascara and a dab of lip gloss, then headed out to my bike. Antti was still in bed, one foot poking out from under the sheet like a child’s. He’d been up late struggling with his dissertation again and hadn’t crawled into bed until nearly dawn.
We had been living together for a little over a month, and so far, we’d managed to avoid any serious blowups, despite my occasional anxiety. New place, new job, new routines, no real sense of direction after graduating…plenty of stress for one woman.
I’d known Antti for a long time—he was friends with my roommate’s boyfriend years ago, and I remember there being electricity between us even then. We’d lost touch until last summer, when that boyfriend was murdered and I’d been assigned to the investigation. After I solved the case, Antti and I found we were still interested in each other. A romance didn’t fit in with either of our plans: I was grinding away like a madwoman at my master’s thesis, and Antti was working on his dissertation and teaching math courses. But then our lunches at the university started lasting longer, and after a while, we’d skip the food to make love on the couch in Antti’s office.
I eventually finished my thesis and started looking for work, which was much harder than I had imagined. For a moment, I even considered calling my old boss at the police department, though begging for another temporary posting would have meant swallowing my pride.
Then everything shifted: Antti received a large fellowship that made it possible for him to work on his dissertation full time for the next year. I found a job in a small law office with a laid-back atmosphere in the North Tapiola area of Espoo, and the same week, my great-aunt’s heirs told me they’d decided to sell the apartment I’d been living in for four years.
At first, neither of us suggested moving in together. Antti’s one-bedroom apartment would have been entirely too small since he was working at home. I started searching for a new place of my own, but then Antti found out that his building would be undergoing an extensive exterior renovation.
“I’m never going to be able to concentrate with all that racket,” he told me over the phone. “My parents are planning to spend the whole summer at their cabin in Inkoo, so I’ll probably move into their place in Tapiola while they’re away. When are you supposed to be out of your place?”
“Beginning of June, at the latest. Why?”
“I was just thinking…what if you came with me to Tapiola for the summer? We could just see how it goes, if we get along.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment and stared at it.
“You don’t decide this kind of thing over the phone,” I finally said, trying to stall him. Moving in together felt too final. Too frightening.
After hours of talking at his place that night, I had eventually agreed. Antti’s parents were going to move to Inkoo on May Day and stay until the end of September, maybe longer. Antti’s father had retired in the spring, and it seemed likely th
ey might even move to Inkoo permanently. I hadn’t thought through anything past the summer, but I knew that with my new salary from Henttonen & Associates, I could afford to find an apartment if things didn’t work out with Antti.
I nearly always rode to work on the north side of Tapiola, keeping to the shoreline and grassy meadows along the way as much as I could. As I was passing the shopping center downtown, I spotted a familiar blond head. Makke Ruosteenoja was next to a dumpster, breaking down a huge pile of cardboard boxes from his sporting goods store.
“Hey, Makke. Did you get tired of building your fort?” I brought my bike to a stop next to him.
“Just organizing the stockroom for our summer clearance sale. You don’t need a new swimsuit, do you? You could get a good one cheap.”
“Ugh, trying on swimsuits first thing in the morning—no thanks. So will we see you tonight at the Hänninens’?”
“Yeah, they invited me, although I don’t understand why,” Makke said, letting the top of the dumpster slam shut. “See you there.”
As I continued my ride to work, just a quarter of a mile away, I thought about my first meeting with Makke.
A couple of days after starting my new job, I’d gone to buy some bicycle saddlebags I’d seen in the window of Makke’s shop. I’d been the only customer in the store, so Makke spent a long time going over all the various models.
The next night, we happened to be at the local gym at the same time. While I was working my triceps on one of the machines, Makke sat down on the military press bench next to me. We continued our conversation, talking about bikes, whenever we were at adjacent stations. We seemed to be in sync: as I walked out of the women’s dressing room after unwinding in the sauna, Makke was just coming out of the men’s side.
“I could go for a beer right about now,” he said. “You?”
I nodded, and we walked a block to a café and took a seat on the patio. Makke insisted on buying the round, and I watched him as he walked inside to get the drinks. The silhouette created by his worn jeans and tight purple T-shirt revealed a surprising mass of muscle. His straight straw-colored hair was a little longer in the front than the back, and it swung in front of his eyes as he turned back. There was something about those eyes, something there that seemed more than rambunctious.
“This is typical for me: first sports, and then a sports drink,” I said. “My name is Maria Kallio, by the way.”
“I know. I looked when you signed your credit card receipt yesterday. Markku Ruosteenoja, but most people just call me Makke. I live in Hakalehto, in the apartment buildings behind the tennis center. Are you from around here?”
“No. I just started working here last month, in a law office.”
“For Eki Henttonen? He said he’d just landed a feisty new lady lawyer. That must be you. Eki helped me out with some stuff last year.”
Even though it was nearly nine o’clock at night, the sun was still in my face, the light bouncing off the windows of the five-story office building that also housed the café. Ducks were splashing in the reflecting pool, and an energetic golden retriever plunged in, chasing them away. The beer tasted too good—half of mine was already gone.
Makke lifted his own to his lips. He was the sort of well-built jock I probably wouldn’t have looked at twice if I’d just seen him walking down the street, unless I had noticed that flash of something deeper in his eyes.
“Lawyer, gym rat, biker—what else are you?” he asked, teasing.
“Ex-cop and punk till I die,” I rattled off. “And you?”
“Well, not much of anything. Sporting goods salesman. Do you live close?”
“I don’t really know where I live. This summer I’m staying in my possible future in-laws’ row house on the shore in Itäranta, but I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen after September.”
“Possible future in-laws?” Makke said sadly. “So you’re taken. Of course you are.” Then he drained his glass, and for a second I thought he was going to get up and leave right then and there. When he instead stayed sitting, it seemed as though continuing the conversation was now my responsibility.
“‘Taken’ sounds depressing. Let’s just say I’ve been dating the same guy for almost a year. Which is a pretty big accomplishment for me.”
Makke grinned, although he probably didn’t realize exactly how serious I was.
“So this boyfriend of yours doesn’t mind if you go out for a beer with another guy?”
“I wouldn’t be going out with the kind of man who wanted me sitting at home. Even if we were married and had five kids, I’d still need to have the right to go out for a beer with whoever I chose.”
“You want another?” Makke had emptied his glass and was getting up to fetch more.
“Bring a bottle, but it’s my turn to pay now.”
Makke had already gone, and when he came back, he wouldn’t take any money. We continued our slightly stiff conversation about bicycles and bodybuilding, until Makke suddenly asked, “Were you joking when you said you were an ex-cop?”
“No. I went to the police academy and then worked for a couple of years before going to law school. I’ve done some temporary stints on the force too, including last summer.”
“You don’t really seem like a cop. Or like a lawyer, for that matter.” Makke looked at my sweatpants and at my red hair twisted into a messy swirl on top of my head. No, my freckles and snub nose don’t exactly give the impression of a sober defender of the law.
“Although I guess there isn’t much point judging people on how they look,” Makke continued. “Winter before last I was still drinking pretty damn hard, but now two pints in the evening is plenty.”
I felt a life story coming on. Oh well, I was used to listening to life stories. But no—Makke fell silent, sipping his beer and looking off somewhere in the distance. He suddenly came to, and raised his arm in a wave as Kimmo Hänninen biked past.
“Hey, guys!” Kimmo yelled as his bike curved down the underpass and disappeared from sight.
“You know Kimmo too?” Makke asked, rotating his beer glass.
“Kimmo lived in the same small town as me for a couple of years when we were in high school. I didn’t really know him; he’s four years younger than me, but I hung out with his sister sometimes. Sanna, the one who died last spring. And Kimmo’s brother is married to Antti’s—my boyfriend’s—sister.”
Makke looked at me as if he were expecting a punch in the teeth.
“I was Sanna’s boyfriend. I was on the beach when she drowned.”
I didn’t know what to say. Sanna drowned on her thirtieth birthday in the cold March waters of the Baltic Sea. Her blood-alcohol level was considerable, and tests also showed traces of sedatives. Her boyfriend had been found drunk out of his mind and half-frozen on the beach, with no memory of what had happened. According to the official explanation, Sanna tried to go swimming and drowned. A lot of people, including Antti, thought she did it on purpose.
“So your Antti is Antti Sarkela,” Makke said quietly.
“Yeah.” I drained my beer, trying to decide if I should give in to my desire for another.
“So this little date we’re having is perfect payback. I was always jealous when Sanna talked about how smart Antti was.” Makke forced a smile, and I grinned too, although nothing about the conversation made me feel good.
Three weeks had passed since that conversation. Afterward, I would see Makke at the gym sometimes and joke with him in the weight room. We didn’t talk about Sanna, or anything else serious, but there was always something more under the surface of his wisecracks. I liked Makke, but he also frightened me a bit.
Anyway, I was surprised how quickly I was meeting people in Tapiola, and they all seemed to know each other—my boss was a friend of the Sarkela family and of Kimmo Hänninen’s parents. Sometimes I wondered whether my job offer had come thanks to Antti’s dad helping me out, but with the amount of student debt I had, there was no room for moralizing.
/> The day turned out hot, and to be able to walk out the back door and jump straight into the water after work was heavenly. Although I had my doubts about the purity of Otsolahti Bay, I risked it, bobbing in the seawater for fifteen minutes before going in to bother Antti.
He was sitting at the kitchen table chewing on a sandwich.
“Were you swimming? I’ll come too if you’re going back out. What time are we supposed to be at Risto and Marita’s?”
“Seven. We still have a couple of hours. Are you going to work anymore?”
“Well, not if you have a better suggestion,” Antti said hopefully, brushing his hand against my body. I let my towel fall to the floor. We weren’t in any hurry.
We didn’t realize it was time to start getting dressed until after six. Antti mixed us cocktails from his parents’ generously stocked bar while I tried to calm down with a cold shower. The birthday party, for Antti’s brother-in-law’s fortieth, had me tied up in knots.
Usually I don’t care much about how I’m dressed—I’m happiest in jeans—but I’d bought a new dress in honor of the occasion. I’d liked it at the time, but staring at myself in the entryway mirror, I thought the bright-green fabric seemed too garish, the hem too high, the neckline too open. The cap sleeves barely fit over my shoulders, making me look like a drag queen.
“Wow.” Antti looked at me admiringly. Clearly, he didn’t think the dress was too revealing. Antti’s idea of formalwear was a flower-print dress shirt with a violet leather bow tie and his best black jeans. As far as I knew, the only suit he’d ever worn was on his confirmation. The purple suede shoes were new to me.
“I found them for three pounds in London. Overstock, I guess,” Antti said in reply to my incredulous look.
Well, demand for that particular style in men’s size twelve probably wasn’t all that high.
I slipped into my own size six-and-a-half black stilettos, which made me walk like a newly birthed calf. Three inches isn’t much these days—plenty of style gurus think a five-foot-three woman should wear at least four-inch heels—but these still weren’t made for walking.
Her Enemy Page 1
