Derailed

by Leena Lehtolainen

  Even though Merja Vainikainen spoke calmly, she gave the impression of being on the verge of breaking down. Maybe she was one of those people who thought it impolite to show feelings to strangers. I asked her to tell me about her deceased husband’s friends, and she recited a list of names that were familiar not only from the sports section but also the financial and political pages of the newspaper. I was beginning to understand why the higher-ups at the Espoo Police Department had decided that his killing took precedence over all the other violent-crime investigations. Then I remembered the tabloid reporter’s comment about Pentti Vainikainen’s attitude toward support for fitness sports.

  “I’ve heard that Pentti was a strong proponent of directing more funds toward competitive athletes. So why was your husband at the launch for the MobAbility and Adaptive Sports campaign?” I asked.

  “The federation was one of the funding organizations. Why wouldn’t Pentti have been there? Toni Väärä is an excellent example of how an injured elite athlete can use mobility devices designed for the disabled.”

  “Did he protest when you hired Jutta Särkikoski to handle public relations for your campaign?”

  “How is that related? Of course Pentti was furious when he had to explain the nonsense with Salo and Terävä to the federation’s sponsors, but that was part of his job. If Jutta hadn’t exposed them, someone else would have, or they would have gotten caught eventually. The end result would have been the same no matter what. But yes, Pentti defended competitive sports. He is the social affairs director of an organization that supports competitive sports, after all. What else should he have done? Pentti was also at the campaign launch as my husband, but now I wish he would have stayed home . . . I’m going to blame myself for the rest of my life if it turns out Pentti is dead because I hired Jutta.”

  “Did your husband have celiac? Did he smoke?”

  “Neither. I have no idea why he ate that gluten-free sandwich. Maybe he was curious about how it would taste. Pentti was always trying new things. That’s why I liked him. He had a good head on his shoulders too, unlike Mona’s dad. Pentti had a wide circle of friends, because he was interested in all kinds of people. He didn’t have any prejudices. He didn’t even condemn those discus throwers. He just said that actions have consequences.”

  Koivu came out of the kitchen with a cell phone and a fat brown wallet.

  “This phone is locked. Do you know your husband’s PIN code?”

  “I’m sorry, no . . .”

  My own phone started ringing. It was Ursula.

  “I watched the tape of the launch event,” she said.

  “And?”

  “The runner, Toni Väärä, goes into the kitchen after he gives his speech. There’s also a man with dark hair who looks kind of shabby. He goes in the kitchen once too. I can’t tell if he’s a reporter or a representative from one of the organizations. He has a camera around his neck, so maybe he’s a photographer.”

  “Find out who he is. Anything else?”

  “I’m at the pathologist’s lab now. Based on initial findings, the tissue damage makes it look like there was nicotine in Vainikainen’s system, but that’s just a guess, and there’s no information yet about the amount.”

  I swallowed to stop myself from saying the word “nicotine” out loud. At least now we had an idea of what poison was used. “Pekka and I will be back at the station in a little while, if we don’t get stuck in traffic. See you soon.”

  A clatter came from upstairs again, and Merja Vainikainen cast an irritated glance in that direction. Even though I’d only caught a glimpse of Mona, I suspected that Merja was ashamed of her daughter. The teen was the opposite of her elite athlete mother. I decided to have a little chat with Mona while Koivu questioned Merja. He’d just asked about Pentti Vainikainen’s personal wealth and financial situation, and Merja was focused on answering and so didn’t stop me from leaving the office and going upstairs.

  I remembered which door Mona had come out of and knocked on it. Not a peep came from inside. I pressed down on the lever and opened the door. The room was nearly dark: the blinds were down, and the walls were painted black. The only light came from a reading lamp above the bed. The girl lay on top of her covers and didn’t even turn her head. She had long, thick, slightly curly auburn hair. She was wearing loose sweat pants and a hoodie, both also black. “Hi, Mona. I’m Detective Kallio from the Espoo Police Department, and I’m investigating Pentti Vainikainen’s death. I’d like to express my condolences. Would you mind speaking with me for a moment?”

  Mona didn’t look at me, but she did answer, in a voice so quiet I could barely hear.

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “What kind of man was your stepfather?”

  I couldn’t hear her muttered reply, so I stepped closer. Then she flinched and curled up in a loose fetal position, her round stomach and bulky limbs in the way so that she couldn’t curl up tight.

  “Mona, I didn’t hear what you said. What kind of man was your stepfather?”

  “Gone,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pentti was always gone,” she repeated, pausing between each word as if speaking was an enormous effort. Then Merja Vainikainen was in the room.

  “My daughter is a minor, and the police can’t question her without me present! Will you please leave her in peace? This could set off another attack . . . She’ll start eating potato flour straight from the bag.”

  “Mona, do you have anything you’d like to tell the police?” I asked anyway, but she didn’t answer. The darkness of the room seemed to absorb all sound. The bedspread and curtains were black, and the wood floor was also painted black, with no rug. On the desk was a computer, and there were a few books and CDs on the shelf, but there were no pictures or posters, no photographs or decorations of any kind. There were also no stuffed animals or any of the other knickknacks teenage girls usually had. It was like a bare cave or a cell, whose owner was a prisoner within herself. I felt sorry for both mother and daughter.

  “Get up, girl! You can’t spend the rest of your life lying there!” Merja Vainikainen’s voice had become shrill, and she half dragged Mona into a sitting position. Mona avoided my gaze, staring at the floor.

  “No one keeps track of kids’ school attendance anymore now that they all go to different classes every hour, and because Pentti wasn’t Mona’s father, she can’t jump the line for therapy even though he just died. Mona and Pentti had a good relationship, didn’t you, Mona?”

  At first Mona didn’t answer, but when Merja repeated the question, she nodded. Maybe that was all we were going to get out of her. Before her accident, Leena’s son had responded to almost every question with “meh.” So maybe it was just the usual teenage reticence. I left them to it; we could come back if needed.

  As we drove toward the police station, Koivu related what he’d learned.

  “Vainikainen’s finances were in order, and no wonder. They had to be careful. The loan on the house is more than two hundred thousand euros. The Vainikainens bought it a little before they got married, and it’s in both of their names. They have thirty thousand in debt on their cars, and those are also jointly owned. Vainikainen’s salary was surprisingly small, just a little over three thousand a month. The wife barely makes two thousand.”

  “Sports associations run on government grants, so they aren’t big moneymakers. It’s a calling, almost like our job. Was there anything suspicious in the account statements? Repeating unexplained transfers? Anything that might indicate a mistress?”

  “Everything was just as boring as my own accounts. And Merja Vainikainen didn’t have anything to inherit from her husband but debt, unless there’s some property he kept off the books. Who was hiding upstairs? An undocumented Polish maid?”

  “Merja’s daughter, Mona.” I told Koivu about the girl, and he shook his head. If we had to interview Mona again, I’d put Koivu on the case. He knew how to make women of any age trust him.<
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  Koivu’s driving went better this time, but he couldn’t do anything about the traffic on the Ring 1 beltway. He looked for some appropriate music on the radio and came up with Rammstein’s “Mutter.” He turned it up so loud that the bass thumping must have been audible in the car next to us, whose driver glanced at us in irritation. It was almost five o’clock by the time we reached the police station. I had exactly two hours to script my press conference. Koivu ordered takeout for our meeting, and only Ursula declined sharing the family-size tuna pizza, muttering something about dinner plans.

  I watched the tape of the event while I ate. The disheveled, dark-haired man Ursula had mentioned went into the kitchen, and he also showed up in many of the shots with the Adaptive Sports group, so I assumed he was Miikka Harju, the office temp. When I visited the Adaptive Sports website, my guess proved correct. Puupponen had an appointment scheduled with him for first thing in the morning.

  “The attendees from Turku are being more difficult,” he said. “Koskelo is demanding that we go to them. That would take a whole day, four hours just traveling, so I said no dice. They’re coming on the nine a.m. train, which will be at the Espoo station at about 10:45. Will we be done with Harju by then?”

  “If not, we can interview them in shifts. Did you learn anything interesting this afternoon?”

  “Some of the reporters expressed regret about not being on the scene when Vainikainen died. That would have been the scoop of the century. But I guess issues related to people with disabilities rarely interest the scandalmongers unless the story involves sex.” Puupponen shook his head, and then a few minutes later, he and Koivu took off to question a couple of Pentti Vainikainen’s coworkers, who had promised to keep the federation office open. That left me and Ursula alone. Finally, I had a chance to call Antti.

  “Hi, it’s me. I’ll be home around eight. Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” he said, sounding resigned. “Iida got a nine out of ten on an English test and is all bent out of shape about it. Taneli is out in the yard with the neighbor boys.”

  “Tell them I’ll be home to read them their bedtime stories.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Antti, I didn’t choose this! I’m working long hours so I can get this solved and be done with it. We still have a press conference tonight—” But Antti had already hung up.

  Ursula had heard the call. She seemed restive and clicked the tabletop with her long fingernails.

  “I’ve done everything I can. May I leave now?”

  “Do you have a date?”

  She glared at me. “My private life is none of your business! But yes, I have a date. A free dinner. On this salary, that’s always welcome.”

  “See you back here at eight tomorrow for our morning meeting,” I said. I would welcome some time to myself before the briefing. Once Ursula was gone, I put my feet up on the conference room table and closed my eyes. If only I at least had some salmiakki to give me a jump start, but in all the rush that morning, I hadn’t thought to buy any.

  Facing the press made me anxious. Too many of the reporters knew what had been done to me a few years before, and they might dredge that back up if they didn’t have anything more interesting to report on. What if Iida’s or Taneli’s friends’ parents read about the incident in the tabloids? I desperately wanted to deflect attention from myself and the fact that I’d returned to the police department to investigate this one case, but so far, I didn’t have anything earth-shattering to share about the investigation.

  I turned on the computer and looked up the article the reporter had tipped me off about. Pentti Vainikainen had been quite the orator. In the strongest terms he condemned the continued dependence of sports grants on lottery proceeds.

  Our runners put Finland on the map soon after independence, but things have changed now that we’re in the new millennium. The stakes are much higher, and the impact is more far-reaching than in the days of Paavo Nurmi or even Lasse Virén. In order for us to defend the reputation and tradition of Finnish sports, we have to invest in our top athletes and stop begging for handouts. Our young people need star athletes as role models to inspire them to get away from their computer screens. In the past few years, there has been entirely too much focus on fitness programs. Nordic walkers don’t need their own special paths, but track-and-field athletes do need indoor facilities here and proper training camps in warmer climates. Political decision makers are always ready for a photo op with a medalist, but few of them understand the day-to-day life of an elite athlete. The fight for medals can only be won through smart investments. We lost Vyborg in the Continuation War because our army ran out of bullets. Let’s not let that happen in this struggle. Sponsors are important for our federation, but we can’t build success solely on private money.

  Through my kids’ figure-skating hobby, I’d seen how strapped for resources most of the sports clubs were. Coaching was practically a volunteer activity, and parents also devoted enormous amounts of time to keep the whole thing going. To tell the truth, I was relieved when Iida didn’t turn out to have the kind of talent that could have made her a star. She was content to have fun. We didn’t know yet about Taneli, though.

  I tried to reach Liisa Rasilainen from Patrol Division to ask her to join me for coffee. Liisa was the most senior female officer in the Espoo Police Department, and even at nearly sixty she’d been a member of our soccer club. I hadn’t seen her in far too long. Unfortunately, her voice mail greeting said she was at the EGPN conference in Amsterdam. The acronym stood for the European Gay Police Network, which Liisa was trying to expand into Finland. I left a message for her to say hello to a Swedish colleague I was sure would be there.

  Pentti Vainikainen’s preliminary autopsy report landed in my e-mail inbox at 6:15 p.m., earlier than I’d expected. Vainikainen had been in good shape. There were no signs in his lungs of smoking, and the rest of his internal organs were of normal size and weight. The apparent cause of death was poisoning, and the likely agent was nicotine. It had badly corroded the mucous membranes of his mouth. He’d recently had new dental veneers installed. Under his right collarbone was a bite mark a few days old, and there were external injuries present on his body sustained before death, probably related to the fall caused by his convulsions and subsequent attempts at CPR. That much I could share at the press conference, but because the role of nicotine was still unconfirmed, I decided to mention poisoning without getting too specific. At fifteen minutes to seven, I freshened up my makeup and redid my hair. A clean blouse would have done me good, so I set myself a reminder on my phone to bring some extra clothes in the morning along with the salmiakki. Finally, the press officer and I went over the script for the briefing, and then it was time to face the lions again.

  On the table were six microphones set up alongside the department one. A television crew was also present. When I revealed that this was likely a case of poisoning, many of the reporters immediately jumped to the conclusion that the poison hadn’t been meant for Pentti Vainikainen and asked directly about Jutta Särkikoski. Apparently, Jutta had refused to answer her colleagues’ questions, which was wise from a journalistic standpoint and good for our investigation.

  When the press conference was finished, there were damp spots under the arms of my blouse and jacket. I spent a moment sitting in my office gathering my strength before heading home. I felt like I’d stepped into a nightmare. I didn’t want this. Researching violence was one thing, hunting its perpetrators was something else entirely. Even though I could focus on only this case, to me that made the investigation feel all the more fraught. Before, at least I’d been able to rest my brain and nerves occasionally on more simple cases when a homicide investigation stalled. Why hadn’t I told Taskinen and Rajakoski to go take a flying leap? I could go on sick leave. I could get a doctor to certify that homicide investigations were too psychologically difficult for me.

  That possibility was comforting, even though I knew that with
drawing from the case would definitely make the media dredge up the events of three years ago. In short, all of my options were bad options. Angry at the world, I pedaled home furiously, dodging the birch leaves that had already dried from the morning’s showers and now flew at my face.

  At home it was the usual weeknight chaos. Taneli had spread his Legos across the living room floor, and Iida sprawled on the sofa, reading with Venjamin at her feet. I put the tea kettle on to boil and enlisted Taneli to clean up. Antti went out for a walk. Soon it was time for bedtime stories, and Iida came to listen to Pippi Longstocking too. We were reading the second book in the series, Pippi Goes on Board.

  Puupponen called at eight thirty as Taneli was brushing his teeth.

  “Hi, it’s Ville. I found the office cleaner Siudek. I’m talking to him soon. We’re going to have some language trouble, but I’ll do my best with English.”

  “If he knows something important, let’s get an interpreter. We have an unlimited budget, after all.”

  “In that case, let’s go to the Savoy for lunch tomorrow,” Puupponen said. “Although with me and Koivu, it would be tossing pearls before swine. Ursula’s probably there right at this very moment . . . Have you heard who she’s dating?”

  “No. I expect she’s moved up to government ministers by now.”

  “I’m sure she’ll tell you soon. Our Ursula is never one for keeping quiet. Pr . . . przem . . . the cleaner is on his way. I’ll have to ask him how to pronounce his name. Bye!”

  I drank my tea and ironed clothes while I chatted with Iida about her day, then talked to my sister Eeva on the phone. I hadn’t bothered to tell my wider family about my sudden change of jobs, mostly because I knew my mom would worry. She’d had to take sleeping pills for months after I was assaulted. Before, whenever I’d been involved in a violent incident, I’d been able to gloss over it because we didn’t release all the details to the media for investigative reasons. Now I had to tell my parents and sisters what was going on before they read about it in the paper, so, being the coward that I was, I chose Eeva as my messenger.