I tried not to vomit. Luckily, the back door to the house was open. I found the telephone in the entryway. Holding the receiver with a paper towel, I called the police. Next, I rushed to the bathroom and, still using the paper towel, turned on the shower and plunged my head under the running water. After that and drinking nearly a liter of water, I felt ready to go back out to the yard to meet the police.
Every detail burned into my brain. The little black-and-white bird hopping around in the flowerbeds. The bumblebee buzzing from one red blossom to another. The iridescent fly that had parked itself on the lip of the juice pitcher, gleaming in the hot sun. I didn’t want to look at Armi, but I couldn’t help it. And why wouldn’t I look? The movie running in my brain was superimposing her mottled face over the other images the whole time anyway.
I was used to registering the details of a crime scene. And this was most certainly a crime scene. Judging from the marks on the ground, Armi had put up stiff resistance while she was being strangled. I couldn’t make out any actual footprints in the grass, but maybe the forensic laboratory would be able to get more out of the jumble of scrapes and gouges.
The patrol cars were quick in coming, the local officers’ eager eyes saying that a murder was clearly a welcome break in their usual routine of rounding up drunks. The ranking officer introduced himself as Detective Makkonen and started asking me questions, but the rest of his squad just stood there, wondering what they were supposed to do. Their dithering irritated me, and I had to exercise serious restraint to keep myself from ordering them to start taking pictures and looking for fingerprints. However, these were just beat cops—they didn’t even have the proper equipment or investigative training.
The medical examiner and county forensics team took longer to show up. The lead detective was familiar to me from my time at the police academy: Detective Sergeant Pertti Ström. He, Tapsa Helminen—who worked in the Helsinki Narcotics Unit now—and I were all at the top of our class. The men were rising through the ranks nicely now, I thought, while I’d bailed out of the profession. Though, Ström had spent some time in law school too—in Turku, if I remembered correctly.
“Hi, Kallio,” Ström said, seemingly a little thrown off guard when he saw me. “When did you transfer to the Espoo?”
“I didn’t. I found the body.”
“Do you know her?”
“Not very well. She’s my…my boyfriend’s brother-in-law’s stepbrother’s fiancée,” I explained, confusing even myself. “I met her yesterday for the first time, and I was only coming to borrow her sewing machine.”
Once Ström took the lead, things started to roll along in the usual rhythm. The medical examiner arrived at two forty-five, and his initial opinion was that Armi had died one to three hours earlier. The killer had stood behind her, he said, and choked her with his hands. Judging from the size and location of the bruises, the murderer had relatively large hands and was more likely a man than a woman. There was something strange about the marks, though, which indicated that the hands had not been bare.
“Possibly rubber gloves,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find some dishwashing gloves in the house.”
At this point, it dawned on Ström that he shouldn’t be letting me listen in on the results of the investigation. As he asked me to leave, he requested that I refrain from telling anyone but Antti about Armi’s death. He didn’t have to explain—I knew the drill.
Once I got out of the neighborhood and back onto the main bike path, I started feeling ill again, and vomited up the water and my breakfast in a ditch carpeted with buttercups. A few passersby glanced at me pityingly. My legs were shaking so badly that I could barely pedal home. Luckily, the end of the trip was downhill.
Nothing had changed in the yard. Antti was still lounging in the yard with his book of poems. Einstein was sleeping with his tail in the sun and the rest of his body in the shade, and neither of them seemed to notice me.
“You’re back soon,” Antti lazily observed. “Still want to go swimming? Hey, what’s wrong?” He had finally lifted his eyes from his book.
I explained briefly. Antti’s face took on a strange expression, and, for a little while, he couldn’t say anything. Suddenly the day felt cold, and even the cat was tense, awakening with a swish of his tail and hissing angrily at a swallow that flew low over him.
“You mean Armi is dead…murdered?” Antti finally said. The words came out slowly, as if he were punching at a piano with stuck keys. “Are you sure?”
“I wasn’t the only one who checked her pulse. Half of the cops in the county were there.”
“Does Kimmo know?”
“I suppose the police have gone to tell him. They asked about next of kin, and I told them Kimmo.”
“I’m going to his place.” Antti stood up.
“No, you are not! Let the police do their jobs. And don’t tell anyone yet either, not the Hänninens…or…”
“Why?”
“This is a murder. Someone did this to Armi, probably someone she knew. Someone she had served juice to.”
“Goddamn it! I can’t do this again! Last summer my friends, and now my relatives! You and your murders can go to hell!” Antti rushed inside, and I heard through the open window as his feet pounded down the stairs to his basement office. We had agreed that the office was off-limits to me; I would go down there only in extreme circumstances, so Antti could have somewhere to be in peace if he wanted.
I felt abandoned. I mean, I was the one who needed comforting here. I was the one who had found the body. I couldn’t say I would mourn for Armi, because I barely knew her, but finding a body is traumatic, even for someone with experience on the police force. Indignation and anger won out over my nausea, so I marched out to the shed and started chopping wood.
After splitting a few logs’ worth, I had managed to calm down. I took a shower to wash off the sweat, and started getting hungry and thirsty. Of course, I understood Antti. The previous summer, one of his childhood friends had murdered another. That had been a hard experience for Antti and still haunted us both. That case had been more than routine police work for me too, but it had turned Antti’s life completely upside down. I guess our relationship was the only good thing to come out of it.
I made myself a couple of open-faced salami sandwiches and emptied a bottle of pilsner. Still, Antti was being a stupid ass. Was it supposed to be my fault that someone killed Armi?
Unless…unless Armi’s parting words the previous night had meant something other than her wanting to gossip and ask me nosy questions about my relationship with Antti. What if Armi had wanted to talk to the lawyer and former police officer, not compare wedding plans? Maybe someone who didn’t want us talking had gotten to her first. Someone who was at the Hänninens’ garden party and heard us arranging our two o’clock get-together.
I was trying to think of who might have been listening, when the phone rang.
“Hi, it’s Kimmo,” said a frightened voice.
“Kimmo! I’m so sorry. Do you want to come over? Or do you want to talk to Antti?”
“No, I want to talk to you. They’ve arrested me for Armi’s murder. Will you be my lawyer?”
“Arrested? Did you do it?”
“No!” I could hear he was crying. “But I…Come here, Maria, and I’ll explain.”
“Come where?”
“The Espoo police station.”
“Is there a police officer close? Give the phone to him for a minute. I’ll be there as soon as I can, hopefully in about half an hour. Try to keep it together that long. Don’t say anything to them.”
The officer guarding Kimmo was terse but would at least tell me that Kimmo was under arrest for suspicion of the murder of Armi Mäenpää, with sufficient evidence to hold him.
“Is Detective Sergeant Ström available?”
“He’s at the suspect’s apartment.”
I didn’t bother calling Ström. The most important thing was to get to Kimmo and calm him down. Arrested for murder, suff
icient evidence. Kimmo being the murderer was logical. It was usually someone close to the victim. Did they have a fight? Was he drunk? But picturing Kimmo as a strangler was a stretch.
Figuring this was an extreme circumstance, I headed down to Antti’s office and knocked on the door before entering. He was lying on the sofa staring at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry for bothering you, but Kimmo called. He’s under arrest and needs a lawyer. I’m going to the police station.”
“Kimmo? I’m coming with you.”
“They won’t let you see him. Stay here. You can probably call the Hänninens now, since Kimmo is in custody.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense. Kimmo! Are they complete idiots?”
“Can you call me a taxi? I have to change clothes.”
I dressed, did my hair, and threw on some makeup in record time. After five minutes of furious activity, I stood in front of the mirror with a competent young lawyer staring back at me, the hungover party girl buried under a layer of concealer and blush. I penciled in my eyebrows, preparing for battle. The taxi was waiting in the driveway, and within a quarter of an hour from receiving Kimmo’s call, I was in the police station.
Detective Sergeant Ström had arrived in the meantime. I explained my position, and he sized me up as he would an enemy.
“Well, your common sense is going to tell you Hänninen is guilty too, when you see him and hear what he was doing when we found him,” Ström said ominously. “He claims he left Mäenpää’s place at twelve fifteen, that she was alive and painting her nails, but of course she was already dead by then. And the jerkoff was celebrating what he’d done!”
Now I was lost. Ström’s harsh language was surprisingly unprofessional. But I started to catch on to what he meant by “jerkoff” once he led me to the small interview room.
After the bright sunshine outside and in the glassed-in lobby, the interview room felt dark, with dim overhead lights. Kimmo sat in the gloom like a shiny black shadow, his curls standing out in a frizzy golden halo.
Then I realized what Kimmo was wearing: a rubber suit, overalls that looked like a wetsuit, only thinner. I thought he must be cold, because his face looked blue and withdrawn.
“What the hell are you wearing?” I asked Kimmo. I snapped at Ström, “Were you in such a damn hurry to arrest him that you couldn’t even let him put on some decent clothes? Do you still have someone at his house? If you don’t, then send one of your boys to get him some clothes. Otherwise, I’ll file a complaint for inhumane treatment of a prisoner. Kimmo, is there anyone at home at your house?”
“Mom is with Matti and Mikko in Helsinki, and Dad is on his way to Ecuador.”
“Ström, give me the phone.”
Antti answered after two rings. I asked him to go get clothes for Kimmo. When I hung up, Ström was staring at me angrily.
“You really have switched camps,” he said, lighting a cigarette.
“What do you mean ‘switched camps’? As I recall, the academy taught us both the same fundamentals of how to treat someone in custody. And smoke your cancer stick outside. You’ve fumigated this room quite enough already.”
“So you’re a tight-ass now too?” Ström ground his cigarette into the floor, dangerously close to my left shoe. “When we went to interview the victim’s boyfriend here, we found him jacking off in that rubber suit, surrounded by sadist porn magazines. I can show you the evidence if you want! The girl’s fingerprints were all over the suit, and do you see the rip on the left calf? We found the missing piece in her yard. Looks like his little sex game got out of hand.”
“Did you find any evidence of sexual assault?”
“Guess he didn’t have time. He got cold feet and went home to rub one out!”
Ström left, slamming the door behind him. The guard left with us scowled. Kimmo’s attire probably wasn’t helping my mood, but Ström’s behavior was infuriating. He’d always been cocky, but his quick advancement through the ranks was obviously going to his head. Tapsa Helminen had almost made me break his elbow before he’d started treating me as an equal, and with Ström, I’d had to wipe the floor with him repeatedly on our theory exams. He found comfort in being the best sharpshooter in our class, though.
“Kimmo! I’m really sorry about this whole mess.”
The guard didn’t try to stop me from wrapping my arms around Kimmo, although technically it was against the rules. As if I hadn’t broken any other rules in my life. The rubber surrounding him felt surprisingly warm and smooth, and my hands slid easily across it.
“Can you tell me what happened? When did you last see Armi?” I sat down next to him and dug my notepad out of my bag.
“I saw her this morning…I spent the night there. I was a little hungover, but I was up by nine a.m. Armi was still sleeping. I put this on and went out to lounge in the sun in Armi’s backyard. I guess I fell asleep again. Armi came out around ten thirty and woke me up. She startled me, and I guess that’s when I ripped my suit. I took it off and we made coffee. We talked for a while, and then I went home. She wanted me to leave—she said she wanted to speak to you privately and that she still had some calls to make before you got there.”
“Did she tell you what she wanted to talk to me about? Or who she needed to call?”
“No, she didn’t. She was a little…crabby.”
“Did you have a fight? About what?”
“We weren’t really fighting. Armi just didn’t like this rubber suit.” Kimmo blushed, his cheeks turning the same cherry color as the trees in my yard. “We had…an agreement. That I wouldn’t…when she could see. And then I asked her to touch me…” Kimmo labored over every word, his face turning redder and redder, until he finally started crying. I dug out a tissue and let him cry.
“If I would have known I was seeing her for the last time…” He sniffed. “Is she really dead? Did you see that she was dead?”
“Yes, Armi is dead. But she was alive when you left. What did you talk about?”
“We were supposed to be getting married this fall when my thesis is done. I even have a job all lined up. We were talking about how I…I can’t…” Kimmo burst into tears again, and, at the same moment, Ström opened the door and walked in with a bundle of clothes.
“Get dressed, Hänninen. That pervert suit is staying with us.”
I stood to leave so he could change clothes. I seemed to remember being in a sauna once with Kimmo, but I wanted to show an example of how to respect the dignity of a detainee. Ström and the guard stayed inside.
Antti was standing in the hallway looking confused.
“Why are you still here?” I sounded more unfriendly than I meant to.
“It would be nice to know why you sent me running all over Espoo looking for Kimmo’s clothes. And then Kimmo’s mom came home while I was there, and the cops scared her out of her wits. What am I supposed to tell Annamari? And what about Risto and Marita? Did Kimmo do it?”
“I don’t think so. Tell them that. But in any case, someone did kill her. Not me and not you, but maybe one of the others.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We’ll talk about it at home. You can’t do any good here now. They won’t let you in to see Kimmo. I’ll tell him you were here.” I wrapped my arm around Antti’s waist for a moment, trying to relieve the stiffness between us.
“Annamari went to see Marita and Risto. I guess I should go there too, although I’d rather be alone.”
“Once I finish up here, I’ll swing by the Hänninens’ house and then come get you so we can go home together.”
Getting dressed in normal clothing had clearly calmed Kimmo down. Ström left to take the rubber suit somewhere, pinching it with gloved fingers and holding it away from him like a leper’s garment. I wondered whether they had dusted it for fingerprints while it was still on Kimmo.
“Antti says he’s sorry for your loss and wishes he could see you. Do you feel up to answering some more questions?”
Ki
mmo nodded feebly.
“So what were you and Armi talking about this morning?”
“Our sex life. I like dressing up in rubber, and I thought making love in it sometimes would be nice, but Armi didn’t want to. We agreed a long time ago that I can do whatever I want by myself so long as I don’t get Armi involved. This morning, I just wanted to make love, but she got mad at me for breaking our agreement. We were talking about what we were going to do about it after we were married, but we couldn’t agree on anything. Then we both felt like it would be better for me to go home. That was about twelve fifteen.”
I glanced at the guard, who was listening with open interest. Professional confidentiality or not, it was a sure bet that half of Espoo would soon know about Kimmo Hänninen’s curious sexual proclivities. He’d gotten himself into a real bind. Every new thing he told me just made his situation seem worse. I wished I could talk to him alone, because I was going to have to make him reveal more about his sexual interests.
“So you weren’t actually fighting?”
“Well, no. We’ve talked about this so many times; it didn’t go that far.”
“And then you went home?”
“Yeah. Mom was going into the city with the twins, and since I was left home alone…”
“You put the rubber suit back on and browsed through some of the…uh…appropriate magazines.” For some reason I was blushing too.
“Yeah. And I didn’t hear anything. Maybe the police rang the doorbell, but I guess Mom left the door open, and suddenly a crowd of guys was standing at my bedroom door and I…”
“And they arrested you, just like that?”
“At first, they didn’t even say why they had barged into the house. They just started going through my magazines and digging around in the closets. Then someone told me that Armi was dead. Then they brought me here. I still don’t completely understand. When we got here, they asked if I wanted a lawyer, and I remembered you.”
“Well, they did a hell of a job! Listen, Kimmo, I don’t think there is any conclusive evidence here. Legally they can’t hold you here any longer than forty-eight hours. I know this is a nightmare for you, with Armi gone and you accused of a murder you didn’t commit. But just try to hold on, and you’ll be a free man again soon.”
Her Enemy Page 3
