‘OK, so tell us, what did he do?’ I said.
Hornborg swallowed hard, hesitated.
‘That’s why you came here tonight, Hornborg. To spill the beans, as we say in the UK. To tell us. So what did he do?’ I asked.
‘Three times in the 1960s, and one time in the 1970s, Peter Laakso was arrested and charged with having sexual relations with minors. He was not convicted for any of these offences. None of these cases came to trial and if I was not from Oulu I would not know about them. The police records have been … I do not know the word in English.’
‘Expunged?’
‘Expunged.’
‘Boys or girls?’
‘Young boys. I did not think to bring it up with you until I heard you talking about the young offenders’ institution and the English journalist’s suspicions. But I thought you should know what I know.’
‘You did very well to tell us. This is important,’ I said.
‘How does this help us, sir?’ Lawson asked.
‘I think it finally provides us with a motive,’ I said.
Lawson looked puzzled. ‘How?’
‘The Finns go to the Eagle’s Nest brothel, they find that it does not cater to Mr Laakso’s needs. Tony takes the Finns back to the hotel, thinking that he’s done his duty above and beyond, but Laakso is still looking for action –’
‘At his age, sir? Surely not.’
‘Let me finish, please, Lawson.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Ek and Laakso have been told in advance of such a place that caters to Laakso’s needs. They know exactly where to go. They shake off Tony, they slip out of the hotel, they drive up to this Kinkaid place. They visit Kinkaid, they drive back to the hotel, and on the way home they notice that Lily Bigelow has been following them the whole time. Lily has been waiting for this opportunity. She knows that Laakso has been given the name of this place and that at some point during the trip Laakso might go there. This is the proof she needs to make a story. But she’s been spotted by Ek. Ek knows he has to silence her. He gets his opportunity the next day, on the tour in Carrick Castle, killing her with a blow to the head.’
‘Ek was back at the hotel with Mr Laakso,’ Lawson said.
‘He lied about that. He was with Lily in the castle killing her. It was a crime of opportunity. He had act to fast before she got a chance to write up the story for the paper, or tell anyone else.’
Lawson was shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t work, sir.’
‘It works. He kills her, he hides with her in the dungeon, he waits until the caretaker has gone to bed and then he carries her to the top of the keep. At some point, her shoes fall off and he puts them back on, wrongly. He waits for his moment and shoves the body off the keep. He knows that everybody will think it’s a suicide and if they don’t the only suspect will be Mr Underhill because no one else could have got out of the castle without being seen on the CCTV cameras.’
‘And how does he get out of the castle?’ Lawson said.
‘That part I haven’t figured out yet.’
‘There are no secret tunnels or anything like that. We talked to the site archaeologists.’
‘I know.’
‘So how does he get out?’
‘I don’t know, Lawson.’
‘And how does this tie to Chief Superintendent McBain’s death?’
‘Lily had coffee with Ed McBain and told him of her suspicions. Ek knew he had to kill McBain as well, before he started an investigation.’
Lawson was smiling at me indulgently. ‘So Ek concocts a plan to kill Lily Bigelow, magically escapes from Carrick Castle, goes back to his hotel room, somehow gets hold of two kilos of Semtex, spends the rest of the night making a highly complex mercury tilt switch bomb, drives to Glenoe, plants the bomb under the Chief Super’s car, calls him from a payphone and kills him too?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Sir, with all due respect, it’s ridiculous.’
‘What’s your explanation, Lawson?’
‘Laakso and Ek come back from the brothel having found nothing to cater to their needs and, being very old men, they go to bed. The next day, a depressed and slightly addled Lily Bigelow hides in Carrick Castle, where she thinks the keep might be a good place to commit suicide. She tops herself that night.’
‘And the livor mortis?’
‘Underhill panics, moves the body, realises he shouldn’t have done it and lies about it to us.’
‘And the timeline?’
‘She jumps as soon as it gets dark and Underhill lies about doing his inspection.’
‘Because?’
‘He’s a lazy old drunk who doesn’t give a shit any more?’
‘And her claustrophobia and fear of heights?’
‘That’s why she was taking the tablets.’
‘Listen, mate, it was you who got me thinking along these lines in the first place. You were the one who came up with the bloody Bayesian analysis allegedly explaining why I could possibly have a Lizzie Fitzpatrick case and a Lily Bigelow case in one bloody career.’
‘Yes, sir, but –’
I got to my feet.
‘They’re leaving tomorrow, eh?’ I said to Constable Hornborg.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘It has to be tonight, then. What say you, young Lochinvar? Are you going to come?’
‘Where?’
‘Netherby Hall, of course.’
‘Where?’
‘We’re going to interview Ek and Laakso before they leave. Our third interview with them. Third time’s a charm, eh, Lawson?’
‘Laakso has already gone. He flew to Helsinki when your interrogation was over,’ Hornborg said.
‘We’ll talk to the charming Mr Ek, then.’
‘I don’t think that is a good idea,’ Hornborg said. ‘There are certain protocols to be followed.’
‘We’ll need your car, love. I don’t think a taxi’s going to take us across that frozen sea and wait for us half the night.’
‘I can’t be involved, I have said too much already!’
‘You’re involved, Hornborg. Are you coming or staying, Lawson?’
Lawson got up with a predatory peeler’s grin on his face. ‘Let’s go, boss,’ he said.
20: ON THE ICE
Ice road over a frozen sea. A cold, clear sky.
Above us, the stars that make the Plough: Mizar, Alkaid, Alioth, Megrez, Phad, Merak, Dubhe … exotic, eastern names for an exotic, eastern night.
Oncoming headlights were looming towards us from the outer dark. By a weird optical effect they seemed to be coming right at us.
‘This is a two-lane road, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
Closer and closer and then, suddenly, a brief glimpse of a man and woman in furs before they entered their present, our past, in the rear-view mirror.
‘Everyone around here drives too fast,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ Hornborg agreed.
‘That thing you were saying earlier, does anyone really go off the road and into the sea?’
‘All the time. Especially in the spring.’
‘What happens to them?’
‘Usually they drown. Sometimes they die of shock or hypothermia.’
‘Good to know.’
We drove off the dangerous ice road and on to the island.
Through the forest to Harald Ek’s magnificent home. We parked in front, got out of the Volvo, rang the bell. A big, burly shaven-headed factotum opened the front door. A rather different character than the butler who had met us earlier.
‘Mitä haluat!’ he demanded.
‘Olemme alkaneet nähdä pomollesi,’ Hornborg explained.
We went inside and upstairs to a large living room area overlooking the woods at the back of the house. Huge leather sofas, a gleaming hard-wood floor, a roaring fire and there was Ek in beige slacks and a black jumper, playing some sort of board game with another man. Not quite the scene of debauch I’d been hoping for.
>
‘In light of the fact that we are both leaving tomorrow, I thought perhaps we could take this opportunity to ask you some more questions,’ I said, before Hornborg could get a word in.
Ek put down one of his game pieces and stood up. ‘I am not surprised to see you again, Inspector Duffy,’ he said ‘Sit down, please. Heikki will bring you drinks.’
We sat down and Heikki, the shaven-headed man, brought us a carafe of vodka, a carafe of water, caviar and crisp bread.
‘Allow me to introduce an old, old friend, Jasper Miller. Jasper this is Inspector Duffy of the Irish police and his comrade, Constable Lawson. And this young lady is Constable Hornborg of the Oulu police.’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ Jasper said, in an American accent.
‘How do you know Mr Ek?’ I asked Miller, conversationally.
‘Old war buddies,’ Miller said, with a grin.
‘Which war? Mr Ek has been in four of them.’
Miller laughed. ‘Don’t I know it! Harry and I were in Korea together.’
‘Let me see if I’ve got all the wars straight in my head, Mr Ek. In the Winter War you fought with the Finns and in Korea and Vietnam you fought with the Americans and in the Second World War you fought with the Germans. In the 11th SS Volunteer Panzergrenadier Division Nordland.’
Ek nodded. ‘That story is well known. I hope you didn’t come here tonight to blackmail me with old news.’
‘Blackmail you into doing what?’ I asked.
Ek took a sip of vodka and moved a game piece. They were playing the Chinese game Go, by the looks of it.
‘I have been an officer in the Finnish army, in the Wehrmacht, and in the American army. My military record is public knowledge,’ Ek said.
‘Where did you go after the Eagle’s Nest brothel on the night of February 6th?’ I asked.
Ek looked at me for a moment, before placing another tile on the board.
‘You know where we went, Inspector. We went back to the hotel.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t go somewhere else?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘I know about Peter Laakso. I know that his record isn’t public knowledge.’
‘What record, what do you think you are talking about?’
‘Laakso is a convicted pederast.’
Ek looked at Hornborg. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Mr Laakso has been convicted of nothing.’
‘Oh, that’s right. He hasn’t actually been convicted, has he? Arrested many times, but never convicted of anything.’
‘Rumour and innuendo. Rumour and innuendo perpetuated by Lennätin’s business rivals.’
‘A twenty-year campaign of rumour and innuendo that included police investigations?’
‘Finland, like Ireland, is a conservative country. Unlike America, or even Sweden, homosexuality is taboo here,’ Ek said. ‘If you wish to join those reactionary forces who have been trying to persecute Mr Laakso, feel free to join them, Inspector Duffy. I expect no less from the Finnish police. Following our brief meetings, I had expected a little better from you.’
‘It is your move,’ Miller said.
‘I never mentioned the word “homosexuality”. The word wasn’t mentioned to me. But thank you for confirming the allegations, Mr Ek,’ I said.
‘I have confirmed nothing!’ he barked, and finished another shot of vodka.
Constable Hornborg was looking nervous now and clearly wanted us to leave, but Lawson gave me an encouraging nod of the head. Through the gigantic glass windows, snow was coming down like cherry blossom, floating in big, lazy flakes as large as popped corn.
‘We returned to the hotel on February 6th. We know nothing about Lily Bigelow’s death. As I have told you now, three times!’ Ek said.
The music on the stereo had stopped and the room was spookily quiet. I stared at him and he met my gaze easily. Close up Ek cut an impressive figure. Lean, long-jawed, clean-shaved, with a Samuel Beckett intensity of eye.
‘I shall change the music,’ Ek said.
‘Allow me to help. I’m a bit of a buff,’ I said.
We went to the CD collection and I picked out a Magnus Lindberg CD and gave it to Ek. He nodded and put it on the player.
Lindberg’s disconcerting Kinetics began playing through the stereo’s speakers.
I leaned towards him. ‘I know that you killed Lily Bigelow, or had her killed,’ I said, in a low voice. ‘I know that killing’s always been easy for you. How many civilians did you slaughter as the 11th Panzergrenadiers made their way back to Berlin? Eh?’
Ek grinned mirthlessly. ‘You have no idea who you are dealing with, Inspector Duffy,’ he said, with black malice radiating from his eyes.
‘You killed Lily Bigelow, didn’t you?’
‘What would be my motive?’
‘To protect your boss’s reputation after Lily Bigelow found out that he was consorting with rent boys, possibly supplied by the paramilitaries from Kinkaid Young Offenders’ Institution. To protect Lennätin’s investment in Ireland.’
‘Rent boys? Kinkaid? What are you talking about, Inspector Duffy? And murder? How could I, or anyone else, have killed poor Miss Bigelow? An impossible crime, Inspector Duffy. How would I have achieved this crime? Necromancy?’
‘Even before you came to Ireland you had Kinkaid sussed out as a place that might cater to Mr Laakso’s interests, didn’t you? You asked around. And it leaked. Somebody found out and that somebody called a reporter. But the reporter underestimated you, didn’t she? You saw her. You sussed her out. That missing wallet? Maybe that was staged to get Lily Bigelow out of her room so that you could go in there and look through her stuff.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘Killing her was foolish. An overreaction. Laakso was panicking and panicked people make mistakes.’
‘What mistakes?’
‘I’ll find the mistakes, don’t worry about that.’
Ek’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps you are not so stupid as you look.’
‘Is that a confession, Mr Ek?’
‘A confession to what? A murder I could not have committed, for no reason at all?’
‘Aha! I have you!’ Miller said from the Go table. ‘Come over here, Harry. I am on the verge of the kami no itte!’
‘I must return to my game, please excuse me, Inspector Duffy.’
He crossed the room and sat back down at the Go board. I turned Magnus Lindberg up another notch and joined them at the table.
‘You have made me lose my game, Inspector Duffy,’ Ek said, in good humour. ‘Jasper here is on the edge of the kami no itte.’
‘I don’t think I’m familiar with that expression,’ I said, returning his smile.
‘The word itte has te – hand – as its root and can be directly translated into English as “move”. The word kami means “divine”. Hence “the divine move”: the move whose sheer beauty inspires an almost religious awe in those who witness it.’
I examined the Go board, but I was none the wiser.
Ek stood. ‘Our games are ended and I am tired. I have a guest to put to bed and I have a flight in the morning. I believe I am finished with your questions, Inspector Duffy,’ he said. He looked at Constable Hornborg ‘And you should take these gentlemen back to the mainland before the storm comes in.’
‘Yes. Thank you for your time, Mr Ek, I know this was an unscheduled –’
Suddenly there was a yell from downstairs.
‘Se onsusi! Se onsusi!’
‘Heikki!’ Ek yelled back.
The factotum came running up the stairs, carrying a Kalashnikov assault rifle. There was a rapid conversation in Finnish, before a gleeful Ek turned to us. ‘Would any of you gentlemen care for some sport?’ he said.
‘What’s going on, Harry?’ Miller asked.
‘Heikki thinks he saw a wolf in the grounds! We’ve had reports that a pack chased a moose on to the sea ice a few days ago. Jasper? Inspector Duffy? Constable Lawson?’
‘Yes
!’ Jasper said.
‘We’ll go with you,’ I said, grateful for another opportunity to take the measure of the man.
‘Excellent!’ Ek declared. ‘Heikki will get you both a coat and a gun.’
We went downstairs, where Heikki handed Lawson and myself an anorak and an AK-47 each. I had never handled one before, but Heikki showed me the basics while I put the coat on.
‘Shouldn’t we have a rifle for this kind of job?’ I asked.
‘No rifle!’ Heikki grunted.
‘Lawson, on second thoughts, maybe you should stay here,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for getting you shot.’
‘Floodlights!’ Ek said, pulling a lever, and the entire wood at the back of the house was lit up by a brilliant white light.
I carried the AK two-handed and safety-gripped, the way I would carry an MP5, and followed Ek out into the trees.
The snow was heavier now and the fresh powder was difficult to wade through. My DMs were soaked in seconds.
‘Tracks!’ Ek exclaimed, and sure enough there were fresh paw prints in the newly fallen snow. Huge prints, bigger than any dog, and if I hadn’t been carrying the world’s most reliable assault rifle I would have been nervous.
Ek was running now but I kept up with him and in half a minute we had left Miller behind us. For a 60-something-year-old man he was impressively agile and strong.
‘It’s making for the ice. Heikki must have startled it! Come on!’ Ek said.
I followed him down a wooded slope towards what must have been the shoreline. Through the snow I could see the lights of Oulu some five kilometres away over the frozen sea. Above and behind us, the big grey snow clouds had covered the stars and moon.
‘We are on the ice now!’ Ek said, just ahead of me.
I couldn’t see anything. Snow was in my eyes. I was breathing hard, and my socks were soaked.
‘We must have lost it. If it has sense at all it will have gone to … There! My God! There!’ Ek exclaimed, and a burst of gunfire startled me as a jet of flame shot from the barrel of his AK-47.
I saw something strobe at his shoulder. Something big and grey.
It bounded past me.
A thick white tail and a powerful back, the wolf a beautiful metaphor of speed and power.
Rain Dogs Page 22
