Derailed

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “They took everything from the coffee machine to the sugar bowl,” Ristiluoma said accusingly.

  “You’ll get it all back once they’ve taken samples. What do you usually store in this kitchen?”

  “Mostly coffee and pastries. We usually go out to lunch, since there are a lot of restaurants near here.” Ristiluoma pointed out the window at the center of Tapiola. His dark suit looked a little tight on him, and he stopped his arm motion halfway.

  “I truly don’t understand how someone could have poisoned Pentti in front of all of us. Are you sure he didn’t ingest the poison somewhere else? I don’t think anyone went in the kitchen except the woman who was handling the food.”

  “Not even when she was gone?”

  “I don’t know! Merja organized that part, and I didn’t interfere.”

  “Who cleans your office? What time does the cleaner come?”

  Ristiluoma smiled faintly. “I don’t actually know. The property management company arranges the cleaning. Maybe my colleagues know. Just a moment.” Ristiluoma left the room, and I heard him knock on a door.

  I continued my inspection of the kitchen, opening all the drawers, the first of which turned out to be a cutting board. I told Koivu to pretend to be cutting bread and went into the conference room. The kitchen door opened in, and even at halfway open there would be no view of the cutting board.

  Ristiluoma came back. “Satu remembered. Here’s the name of the company. The cleaner comes at night, sometime around eight thirty or nine. I’m sure you can easily find out who cleaned on Tuesday night and where they took the trash. We haven’t been in this office long, just since last spring, and our office secretary, Satu Häkkinen, handles these sorts of practical matters.”

  “Was hosting the campaign launch here your idea?”

  “Both Merja Vainikainen and I came up with that. Merja is a great woman. She really wants to improve disability fitness services, not just competition sports. We offer mobility devices for anyone who needs them. Our factory is in Toijala, south of Tampere, and most of our employees are there, but we have to run our marketing operation here in the capital area. And business in Russia is really—”

  I interrupted Ristiluoma’s spiel and asked him about his version of events. Koivu taped our conversation. Ristiluoma’s account didn’t differ from Jutta Särkikoski’s, other than he thought the media had been extremely interested in the campaign. Toni Väärä had shown how a custom-made hip belt had helped him keep his lumbar spine properly oriented so it didn’t take too much stress when he ran.

  “I have pictures. Look!” Ristiluoma took out his phone. On the screen, a shirtless Toni Väärä showed off the belt system, looking a little self-conscious. His upper body was muscular, since his race, the 800 meter, required power. At that point everyone’s attention would have been on Väärä, and someone would have had no trouble slipping into the kitchen.

  “Do you smoke?” Koivu asked Ristiluoma. “Do any of your coworkers?”

  “No. Nicotine and sports don’t mix. Satu quit a couple of years ago, and I don’t think Anneli has ever smoked. Why?”

  “What are your sports, in addition to golf?” I asked.

  “When I was younger, I threw javelin, until I blew out my shoulder. Now it’s mostly just golf and cross-country skiing.”

  “What about discus throwing?” Koivu said. “Your family seems to have a talent for that.”

  For a moment Ristiluoma appeared confused, but then the lights went on. “Oh, you mean my cousin Sami, Sami Terävä. Yes, he was a gifted discus thrower, but not gifted enough. And definitely not smart enough. Can you imagine throwing away a whole career over that doping nonsense!”

  “You don’t approve of doping?” I asked, giving Ristiluoma my best interrogator look. His face flushed a little, but that wasn’t necessarily a sign of lying or even a rise in blood pressure.

  “Of course not! Sami tried to convince me that everyone does it, but I didn’t buy it.”

  “So you didn’t have any trouble working with the journalist who exposed your cousin?” Koivu’s voice was soft, practically gentle. Usually he brought out his sympathetic side with young people and women, and I wondered why he was trying it out on Ristiluoma. Ristiluoma stood up and nearly knocked Koivu’s little voice recorder off the table.

  “You can’t seriously think that I . . . For a little shit like Sami? Hell no!” His guffaw surprised us both. Ristiluoma sat back down at the table. “C’mon. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to poison Jutta Särkikoski in my own office. Or let some other innocent person accidentally eat the poison! Is that your theory? Excuse my laughing, but that’s ridiculous! I can’t tell you how angry I am at Sami for his doping shenanigans. There’s more than fifteen years between us, and I tried to take him under my wing, but the kid is just a few bricks shy of a load, if you know what I mean. No, I think Jutta Särkikoski did Finnish sports a favor, and I tip my hat to her.”

  After we wrapped things up with Ristiluoma, we had a brief word with his accountant and secretary. Both were shocked by the incident. As Koivu drove toward the Vainikainens’ home in an old neighborhood on the east side of Helsinki, I called the property management company to find out who from the cleaning company handled the MobAbility office.

  “Waterfall Building . . . MobAbility . . . Hold on. Yes, our cleaner there is named Przemyslaw Siudek,” an energetic-sounding woman said.

  “What?”

  “Przemyslaw Siudek. First name: P-R-Z-E-M-Y-S-L-A-W, last name: S-I-U-D-E-K. He’s Polish.”

  “Could I have his cell phone number?”

  “He doesn’t have one. He doesn’t even have a landline. But he’s dependable, and we’ve never had a single complaint about his work. He starts at the Waterfall Building at eight thirty. I can give you his home address, if you’d like.”

  “No need, thanks.” I said, knowing that we’d find him at work. I hung up, then I called Puupponen and asked him to hunt down Siudek in the evening. I didn’t dare guess the nickname Puupponen would come up for a Pole named Przemyslaw.

  Street signs flashed past as we neared the Vainikainen home. Most of the names were familiar to me, since during our house hunt Antti and I had looked at a house on Lynx Road. It had a wonderfully large lot, but the kids didn’t want to move that far from their friends and the ice rink they were used to, and anyway the price of the home was more than we could afford. The trees in the neighborhood were taller than the apartment buildings, and the sounds of traffic on the East Highway were muffled.

  The Vainikainens’ house was the same subdued 1950s style of most of the housing stock in the area. The aspen in the yard already had some yellow leaves up high, and a few had fallen on the Volkswagen parked in front of the garage door.

  “Is Mrs. Vainikainen our prime suspect at this point?” Koivu asked. He succeeded in stopping the car without it bucking too much.

  “If the poison was meant for her husband, then yes. Mrs. Vainikainen hired Jutta Särkikoski to head up the campaign, so she must have known about Jutta’s past. And you’d suppose she would also know who her husband’s enemies were, if he had any. But let’s treat her like a grieving widow rather than a prime suspect. According to you, she was all over the place when you last spoke.”

  “Yes. That’s why I don’t like this case. Too many hysterical women.”

  “Well, at least you have me.” I patted Koivu on the shoulder. “Go have a look at Pentti Vainikainen’s personal effects while I try to form a sisterly bond with the wife.”

  “OK, boss.” Now Koivu patted me on the head. I elbowed him in the ribs and then rang the doorbell.

  The woman who answered the door didn’t seem at all hysterical. Her medium-length blond hair was styled in a fluffy helmet, and there was no sign of mascara running. She was wearing a black pantsuit and a white blouse, a work outfit clearly repurposed for mourning. I looked her in the eyes to see if her pupils betrayed the use of sedatives, but they revealed nothing. Her handshake was t
hat of a person who was used to meeting visitors and giving an impression of dependability.

  “Hello, I’m Detective Lieutenant Maria Kallio. I’ve taken over the investigation into the death of Pentti Vainikainen.”

  Merja Vainikainen said hello and motioned for us to enter. The entryway was narrow, and Koivu created a traffic jam as he paused to take off his coat. I looked at the patent leather men’s shoes shining on the shoe rack. Pentti Vainikainen wouldn’t need those anymore.

  “I heard that leadership of the investigation had changed. Was there some particular reason?”

  “Just prioritization. This case has been moved ahead of our other cases. Sergeant Koivu would like to inspect your husband’s personal effects. Where are they, Mrs. Vainikainen?”

  “In the bedroom and . . . Do you really have to rummage through everything?” Now there was a slight note of hysteria in Merja Vainikainen’s voice.

  “Did your husband have a home computer?”

  “We share one. It’s in the office, here on the main level.”

  “Was it just the two of you living here?”

  “I have a daughter from my first marriage. She’s at her piano lesson. Mona and Pentti didn’t interact much, and obviously Mona doesn’t have anything to do with this. She didn’t know anything about Pentti that would be worth telling you.” Merja Vainikainen seemed to want to protect her daughter, which was understandable. The population registry had said that Mona Linnakangas was sixteen years old, so she wasn’t exactly a child anymore.

  I was in no rush to interview her. Koivu went off to look for the office, and Vainikainen and I went into the living room. The furniture was a lime green that glowed strangely in the waning September light. Wavy patterns were painted on the walls, suggesting the sea at night in June when it never gets completely dark.

  “You’ve been married for four years?”

  Merja Vainikainen sighed. “That sounds like such a short time. We met at the Finnish Athletics Federation while I was working there as the youth-fitness project manager. We fell in love. We were both unattached, but we still tried to keep our relationship secret as long as possible. Of course, it came out eventually, and after that we got married quite quickly. I probably would have been able to get a permanent training manager position at the federation, but I didn’t apply because I didn’t want anyone thinking I was sleeping my way to the top. Perhaps you know what that’s like, as a professional woman.” Merja Vainikainen looked at me as if expecting an answer. I nodded; I remembered how Pertti Ström had accused me of getting a promotion by sleeping with Taskinen.

  “That’s why I moved to Adaptive Sports, even though I took a small cut in my salary. But Pentti’s job was his dream. The government is appropriating funding for sports, and Pentti wanted to have an influence on that. It’s so wrong that this had to happen right now when . . .” Merja Vainikainen stopped and took a deep breath.

  “When what?” I asked, but Vainikainen shook her head. I let her calm down before continuing. “Did your husband have enemies, Mrs. Vainikainen?” I heard Koivu drop something and swear quietly, but Merja Vainikainen didn’t seem to register the noise.

  “Enemies . . . that’s quite a strong word. I can’t imagine anyone would have wanted to kill Pentti. He wasn’t always the easiest person to be around, but he treated people fairly. Pentti was especially liked by the athletes, and he always looked out for his own. He wanted us to send the most complete teams possible to all the big competitions. Pentti may have had some run-ins with the press, because he didn’t have much patience for criticism of our athletes. He always reminded people that Finland is a small country.” Merja Vainikainen gave a brave smile. “Maybe this is typical defensiveness for a grieving wife, but I do think the poison was meant for someone else. I practically had to force Hillevi to buy those gluten-free rolls! Maybe if she hadn’t . . .” Vainikainen’s words trailed off, and I let her dry her eyes before I continued.

  “Do you have an idea about whom the poison might have been meant for?”

  “Well, Jutta. Särkikoski. She’s been getting threats again, but I’m sure you know that. Or maybe Hillevi just got mixed up and put uncooked false morels in the sandwiches or something like that. I should have handled the food myself! I’ve tried to be understanding, and I know how hard Hillevi’s life has been, but she is such a burden on our organization. I’m not sure if she’s at all well.”

  “False morels? Were those in the sandwiches?”

  “No! That was just an example. We had parsley butter and garlic mayonnaise, and I don’t know which Hillevi used on the gluten-free sandwiches. Maybe the mayonnaise. Pentti loves . . . loved garlic. There was also smoked salmon, prosciutto, or chèvre, which were on the other sandwiches too. The one I ate, which was on normal bread, had parsley butter and prosciutto.”

  Those flavor combinations didn’t seem strong enough to cover the bitter taste of nicotine, and Hillevi would have smelled it too. I glanced at my watch: ten minutes to two. We still had time before the autopsy would even start.

  “Mrs. Vainikainen, I’m sorry for bringing this up, but I read that Pentti divorced his first wife. Do you know why? Did they keep in contact after the split?”

  “Not really. Eva moved back to Sweden. All he told me was that their flame had died, and Eva never really got used to life in Finland. They’d also lived in Latvia, when Pentti coached long-distance runners there in the early nineties. Another reason could have been that they couldn’t have children. For us that possibility had passed. And please, call me Merja. Being called Mrs. Vainikainen feels cold, like I’m being accused of something.”

  “OK. What brought you and Pentti together?”

  “Whatever brings anyone together . . . Things just fell into place. And there’s our love of sports.”

  “Are you a former competitive athlete as well?”

  “Oh, yes. When I was younger, I was pretty good in the 100 meter and the long jump, but my best sport was speed skiing. Too bad it wasn’t an Olympic event. Still, I have a silver and a bronze medal from the world championships. Maybe you remember? My maiden name was Ikonen. Merja Ikonen.”

  The name didn’t ring a bell, but I nodded politely. Merja didn’t seem to notice.

  “I also tried ski jumping, but in the 1980s, they didn’t want girls, and no one would coach me, even though I jumped farther than most of the boys. Sometimes on the hill they would announce that no women were allowed, and this one time, someone broke my skis when my dad forgot to put them in the car. But I landed more than forty meters on a thirty-meter hill . . .” Merja Vainikainen’s expression was wistful. “Sometimes I watch the ski jumpers at the hill here and wonder if I would still dare. Maybe now . . . I don’t have anything left to lose.”

  There was the sound of a door opening upstairs, and I saw Merja Vainikainen stiffen. “Oh my God, who’s up there? Isn’t the other detective in Pentti’s office? Who could that be? You don’t think . . .”

  I acted on instinct. I didn’t have a sidearm, but I grabbed a heavy candlestick off a table and rushed up the stairs, ready for almost anything. Fortunately, Koivu was in the house too. But upstairs there was no lurking murderer, just a young, scared-looking, obese girl. When she saw me with the candlestick, she howled like a cat with its tail caught in a door and rushed into the nearest room.

  7

  “Mona! What on earth are you doing here? You were supposed to be . . .” Merja Vainikainen had followed me up the stairs, and now she jerked open the door the girl had slipped behind. It looked like a bathroom. I turned away. As I walked back downstairs, I berated myself for my overreaction. I heard Merja Vainikainen speaking quietly, but I couldn’t make out the girl’s voice. Were there two ways to get upstairs, or had Mona been skulking inside this whole time, when she was supposed to be at piano practice?

  I peeked in the office, where Koivu was flipping through binders.

  “I haven’t found anything interesting yet,” he said. He seemed bored. “Not even any
porn. And Vainikainen’s finances seem to be in order. I went over his bank statements.”

  I thanked my lucky stars that Merja Vainikainen hadn’t thought to ask us for a search warrant, since we didn’t have one. We would need to get one for the Athletics Federation office.

  The home office seemed to also serve as a spare guest bedroom, with a dark-blue pullout sofa against one wall. Vainikainen’s workstation was orderly, with a bulky old desktop computer and a multifunction printer. On a separate writing desk there were a few pens and a picture of Merja Vainikainen smiling broadly in a bikini. It wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of a fitness magazine.

  I heard Merja Vainikainen’s heels clicking on the stairs. She entered the office, an expression of irritation on her face, but her anger was not directed at Koivu’s opening of drawers. “She canceled her piano lesson without telling me,” Vainikainen said. “She hasn’t been able to practice with what’s going on. Mona . . . well, you saw her.”

  “Only a glimpse.”

  “She’s sick, but what can we do? She has to go to school, but as soon as no one is watching, she goes and buys junk food.”

  “Does she suffer from bulimia?”

  “If only she threw up! No, I don’t mean that. I’m just so tired of all of this, and now Pentti is dead. That certainly won’t help Mona’s condition.”

  “Does she go to therapy?”

  “We can’t get public assistance, since she isn’t in immediate danger. You should see the queue to get into the eating disorder clinic! I’m considering private therapy, if it gets any worse. I don’t expect to get any support from her deadbeat father. He couldn’t care less about her.”

  “Who is Mona’s father?”

  “Jari Linnakangas. He lives in a commune somewhere in Lapland and practices free love with his harem. I imagine they think they’re artists, although mostly they’re just welfare bums. Jari has two years of alimony judgements against him, but what are they supposed to garnish when he doesn’t have any income and all his property belongs to those women? That man was the biggest mistake of my life—it’s true what they say about love being blind. After him, I married his exact opposite, a career army officer, thinking he would be a stable father for Mona. Unfortunately, Olli believed he should be able to issue orders at home the same way he did at the barracks. The third time was the charm, but I guess that didn’t last long either.”