Derailed

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “Then Merja came in. She was on her way to the Athletics Federation to get Pentti’s things. She returned after not too long, and she was irritated. They wouldn’t give his effects to her, saying that the police were coming later that day to look through everything . . .” Harju stopped talking and turned his face away when a television cameraman peeked through the door. It looked like Perävaara had allowed the media in. We hadn’t arranged anything about public relations yet, but apparently Perävaara thought that fell within his jurisdiction. For the time being, that was fine with me.

  “Did Merja Vainikainen arrange the meeting with Tapani Ristiluoma?” I asked Harju.

  “I don’t know who arranged it! Jutta came to the office sometime around two. Merja was just sitting at her desk, doing nothing. It was horrible to see, since she’s usually so full of energy. She’s the kind of woman you would think could handle anything. I’d imagined that she was as cold as steel, but apparently I was wrong. I asked her if it wouldn’t be better for her to go home and told her that Jutta and I could handle talking with Ristiluoma, though Jutta wasn’t in any better shape. It seemed like the women didn’t dare look at each other for fear that if they did some facade would crumble. And it did finally crumble when the lady with the dark hair poked her head through the door. I don’t know which organization she was from. I don’t know all these women. She brought flowers. Merja started bawling and left, saying she wasn’t ready to be there. As she went she said something to Jutta about calling the executive committee together next week. And she said to apologize to Ristiluoma for not being there when he came. I heard her burst into tears again when she got into the hall. I wondered if she’d be safe behind the wheel, but I didn’t offer to help. Is Merja alright?”

  That wasn’t my first concern, but one of my subordinates would need to contact her.

  “This explosion has something to do with Jutta, doesn’t it? At least Jutta has the same kind of car as the one that exploded. I drove her home in it a couple of times.”

  I didn’t respond, because the people around seemed to be listening to our conversation. The first cars were pulling out of the courtyard. They must have been cleared. The bomb squad was still moving from car to car in their blast suits, but they didn’t have the extreme caution in their movements as they had a few moments ago. But everything had to be inspected, even though it was unlikely they’d find another bomb.

  I guided Miikka Harju to the conference room, and Puupponen followed. Harju sat without being asked, his hands still in his pockets and a couple of beads of sweat running down his nose. He answered my next question only after a long delay.

  “Oh, when did Ristiluoma come? I guess sometime around two. I was in the meeting, although I wasn’t much use to anyone. Ristiluoma thought that the show must go on, and he seemed to believe that Vainikainen’s death was a strange accident, not an intentional act. He and Jutta left together, and I stayed to arrange the papers.”

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘arrange the papers’?”

  Harju blushed, his color going from pale to brick red.

  Puupponen sat down next to him, and compared to Harju’s red face, Puupponen’s looked nearly green even under all his freckles. Puupponen had seen the remains of Ristiluoma’s body, and that wasn’t a sight you soon forgot, even if you were an experienced police officer.

  “I stayed behind and played solitaire on the computer. Nothing ever happens in that office without Merja’s instructions. It’s better to do nothing than to do things wrong, but when you’ve got a time card, it isn’t like you can leave early. I guess I should have been arranging the winter athletes’ competition licenses. People with no feet skiing, blind people skating, deaf people dancing . . .” Harju giggled, but then he suddenly shouted, “A fucking hearse came! Tell me who died already! Jutta, probably, since you keep asking about her. Tell me, God damn it!” He’d taken his hands out of his pockets, and they were clenched in fists. He stood, staring in turn at me and Puupponen.

  “Why do you think it’s Jutta Särkikoski who died in the explosion?” I asked.

  “Because I saw her fucking car out the window! Jutta’s car! I already said I recognized it. I took her home in it after Pentti died. I don’t have my own car, not on this pay. Jutta was as frightened as a rabbit caught in a trap. I felt like staying to keep her safe, but she didn’t trust anyone, not even me, and why would she? Why the hell didn’t the police do anything? Jutta should have been taken somewhere safe. Why did you let them kill her?”

  “Them who?” I tried to catch Harju’s gaze, but his brown eyes avoided mine. The phone rang again. It was Koivu calling from outside to confirm what we already knew: the car was definitely Jutta Särkikoski’s. I asked him to get ready to go with me to the emergency room at Töölö Hospital. Harju had slumped back down in his chair, and he was crying. Puupponen looked at him and rolled his eyes. Harju had put on quite a show, and his hysteria nearly outdid even Hillevi’s. But where Hillevi’s terror had felt genuine, there was something carefully calculated about Harju’s act, or at least that’s how I felt.

  “Jutta Särkikoski was only injured in the explosion,” I announced, because I wanted to see Harju’s reaction. He shot to his feet again, and instantly his head hovered sixteen inches over my own.

  “What the hell? Then, who died?”

  “Tapani Ristiluoma. We don’t know yet why he was in Särkikoski’s car.” I tried to assess Harju’s expression. At least he wasn’t crying anymore. He just stared in bewilderment at an old picture of the ski jumper Jari Puikkonen hanging on the conference room wall as we left the room.

  Once we were out of Harju’s earshot, I asked Puupponen to find out from the employment office how he had ended up working at the Adaptive Sports office. Had he been assigned there, or had he chosen the job himself? Puupponen was already working on finding out more about Harju, but so far he’d only had time to question a couple of neighbors over the phone, all of whom thought Harju was a respectable fellow now that he’d stopped drinking. According to the neighbor he shared a wall with, goings-on in Harju’s apartment before he sobered up about a year earlier had been rowdy. Of course, an alcoholic fired for drinking on the taxpayer’s dime would have been a perfect bribery target for someone who wanted to get rid of Jutta Särkikoski.

  Koivu was waiting in the courtyard while the bomb squad finished up its work. “They picked up Salo near his home in Siuro. He was sitting in his usual bar. According to the local police, he practically lives there. They asked if they should keep him locked up until he dries out. He blew a 0.25.”

  “Was Salo in that bar all day today?”

  “Probably. And yesterday. And all last week. The Nokia cops said they chatted up the bartender and some of the regulars. They said Salo has been a wreck since he got nailed. Terävä hasn’t shown up at his apartment in Tikkurila or at his job at the Tikkurila Sports Park. He got to keep his cushy job despite the bust, but today no one has seen him, and he hasn’t called in. Are we heading to the hospital now? Juuso sent a text message. Look.” Koivu tapped at his phone and then turned the display to me.

  When are you coming home dad. We can play table hockey again. Juuso.

  “Have I told you what a good table hockey player he is for a boy his age?”

  I snorted. I was feeling guilty too, but that wasn’t going to change anything. I told Perävaara where we were going, and we agreed to keep in touch. He would retain responsibility for public relations. But as soon as the media realized whose car had exploded, I would have to get in front of the cameras too.

  I decided to take the wheel for a change, even though readjusting the steering wheel, seat, and mirrors took time. Traffic to the south was at a complete standstill because of the police roadblocks, but I didn’t bother turning on the siren. Sitting in traffic would give Koivu and me time to chew things over. I told him about Miikka Harju’s behavior. Koivu also wondered if Harju might be bluffing.

  “Does he go to AA? Not many people can g
et sober without it. They’re bound to keep everything they say confidential, but do you think Ursula might be able to bribe his sponsor or something? They admit all their evil deeds there, right?”

  “Koivu, come off it. AA meetings aren’t Catholic confession or something to joke about. And maybe I’m getting too stuck on Harju since we have so little else to go on. If only someone saw whoever messed with Jutta’s car, or maybe, say, Sami Terävä in the Sports Building just before the explosion. But I doubt we’re going to be that lucky. What about what Hillevi said about the bread rolls being poisoned while she was in the bathroom? It sounds far-fetched, but there was a small window of time when they were unguarded.”

  “So . . . you’re suggesting Terävä followed Hillevi and knew that the gluten-free rolls were purchased specifically for Jutta Särkikoski? Come on, Maria. That’s ridiculous!”

  “If I was going to kill someone, I would definitely find out about all their movements and habits beforehand.” I stopped at a crosswalk for an old man with a walker who had been waiting at the median. “Come on already, grandpa!” I said more to myself than anyone else. Someone honked behind us, and Koivu shook his head, opened the car window, and thrust his right hand out. We were in the left lane, and the person driving in the right lane had to brake hard when they noticed the old man appearing from in front of our car.

  “Last week I was talking to one of the women in Traffic Division. She said that it isn’t actually a good idea to stop at a crosswalk on a four-lane road. If I wouldn’t have waved my arm at that car coming on the right, they would have hit that guy. And don’t start preaching to me about traffic laws. The only law now is might is right.”

  I watched the old man, who struggled to turn his walker onto the sidewalk. The walker had a basket, which had a cloth bag with rye bread and a bag of flour poking out. I recognized the generic packaging from the Salvation Army bread line.

  “Might is right, huh? OK, turn on the siren and let’s scare some poor elderly people,” I said to Koivu as I took off, engine revving hard. Koivu did as ordered, and I felt like Moses parting the Red Sea. When we reached Mannerheim Street, I turned off the siren, since I didn’t want to gridlock all of downtown Helsinki. Antti would have detested my behavior, and I wasn’t particularly proud of it either.

  A police emblem did allow us to leave the car in an otherwise illegal spot. The Töölö Hospital emergency room was in its normal state of chaos. This was where all the most serious and urgent cases were treated, and the junkies and confused elderly that shuffled the halls of other metro hospitals were conspicuous in their absence. After announcing ourselves at the reception desk, we were told that Jutta Särkikoski was out of the procedure room and had been taken to a carefully guarded private suite. I set off following the lines on the floor leading toward the correct ward. Apparently, the entire staff had been put on alert, because when we reached the ward, the duty nurse stopped us immediately. She carefully inspected our police identification before informing us of Jutta’s condition.

  “Ms. Särkikoski has lacerations on her face and upper torso, but thankfully she didn’t lose too much blood. She’s received a heavy dose of pain medication and sedatives. Does she know you?”

  When I replied in the affirmative, the nurse agreed to allow us into Jutta’s room but ordered us to be quick. At the door waited a guard who made Koivu look slender. We had to show him our badges too. I suggested to Koivu that he stay outside and have a conversation with the guard about ensuring Jutta’s safety. The fewer the people coming and going, the easier it would be for Jutta to talk. This was just a preliminary interview, not an official interrogation.

  Jutta’s room was dimly lit, the blinds down and only a small bedside lamp switched on. Jutta lay on a pile of pillows with her eyes closed, but at the sound of me entering, her eyes snapped open. A bandage covered her left cheek, but apparently her vision was unharmed.

  “Maria!” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no doubt of her terror. “Maria, they tried again! They tried and failed. How . . . was Tapani still in the car?”

  Rather than answering, I grabbed the chair by the window and moved it next to Jutta’s bed. I took her by the right hand, noted the bandage around the wrist, and asked what happened in the parking lot. Jutta hesitated, not wanting to remember. I let her think in peace. Next to the bed was a cup with a sip top, which Jutta motioned toward. I handed it to her. She drank carefully, then handed it back. As I was setting the cup back on the table, Jutta began to talk.

  “I tried to start my car, but it just sort of jammed, and I couldn’t get the steering wheel to turn. Like it was locked. Ristiluoma was there, on the way to his own car, and I asked him to help. Sometimes the steering wheel in that car would stick, and getting it unstuck took some strength.”

  “So you drove your car from home to the meeting?” I asked, interrupting.

  Jutta nodded.

  “Did it work normally then, without any trouble starting it?”

  “Yes, it was fine. I thought I would take the bus this morning or maybe a taxi, but since it was raining, it was easier to drive my own car. If only I’d left it home. I got out of the car and Ristiluoma took my seat. And then it just exploded! What . . . what happened to Tapani?”

  “I’m sorry, Jutta. He died.”

  Jutta began to cry. I held her hand, and I felt like crying along with her, but that wouldn’t have helped anyone. Blubbering wouldn’t bring back the dead. I told Jutta that we had arranged for a guard to be with her around the clock until we discovered who was trying to kill her. There was every reason to believe the perpetrator wouldn’t hesitate to try a third time. In the hospital, Jutta would be safe, but we would have to think about what would happen once she was released. Police had their ways of protecting people. It was expensive, but I remembered the unlimited budget Taskinen had promised. This was so different from what I was used to. Usually we counted all costs carefully and only ordered expensive lab work if it was absolutely necessary. What had caused this sudden change in spending culture? Was it this case, or that Taskinen wanted to lure me specifically to investigate it? But why?

  I urged Jutta to remember anything strange that had happened during the day, but she was sleepy and couldn’t focus. I felt bad leaving her alone to think about Ristiluoma’s death. She hadn’t caused it, and neither had I, but we were both wallowing in guilt. When I stepped out into the corridor, I realized that I had no clue what to do next, whom to interview, or what questions to ask. I wanted out of this situation, so I could enjoy a normal Friday where the biggest question would be what to fix my family for dinner over the weekend. Whoever killed Pentti Vainikainen and Tapani Ristiluoma had stolen the weekend from dozens of people. Merja Vainikainen’s life would never be the same, and neither would Jutta Särkikoski’s. If I wanted my life back, I had to endure this trial by fire. I had to find a solution. And we absolutely could not allow for any more victims.

  “I’m hitting the restroom. Then we can go,” I said to Koivu in the hospital lobby, because I didn’t want even him, one of my best friends, to see how lost I was. I rinsed my face with cold water. The makeup I’d thrown on that morning was long gone, and only waterproof mascara came off in little smears on my hands when I rubbed my eyes. And then my damn phone rang again. I recognized the ring tone. I didn’t have the energy to talk to Taskinen. It would have been easy to blame him for this, to say that it was his fault Tapani Ristiluoma had died, because he’d assigned the wrong person to this investigation. I let the phone ring, and finally it pinged with a message notification. Before I went back out, I pinched the skin around my eyes. Giving the car keys to Koivu, I told him to drive me wherever he thought best. So he turned us toward Espoo and our home base.

  11

  I couldn’t get rid of Taskinen that easily. He was waiting in our conference room when I walked in. Taskinen’s expression was agitated, and he grabbed my arm when I tried to walk past him.

  “Hi, Maria. Is your phone no
t working? You didn’t return my call. I need to know about the explosion in Pasila.”

  “Why did you need to hear it from me? You could see the report on the Dragnet.” I looked Taskinen in the eye. He was significantly taller than me, and he had bags under his eyes and wrinkles deepening around them.

  “Isn’t the explosion connected to your case?”

  “It is one of our lines of investigation. I’ve already arranged cooperation with Lieutenant Perävaara in Helsinki, so no need to worry. As I recall, I wasn’t ordered to file regular reports with anyone. Let me know if that’s changed since I last heard.” I tried to push past him, but Taskinen grabbed me again, this time by the shoulder. My subordinates watched the situation unfold. Ursula’s face bore a crooked, amused smile, and Puupponen looked resigned. Koivu was pouring himself some coffee and had his back to us. Taskinen tried to avoid my gaze, so I pushed in even closer. I could smell his aftershave.

  “I just thought I’d ask if you need any additional resources,” he finally said gently and dropped his hand from my shoulder. As he did so, his hand brushed against my hair. I was sure Ursula noticed it. “In theory I’ll be home all weekend, but you can contact me anytime. If your phone is working.” Taskinen tried to give a conspiratorial grin, but the attempt was clumsy. And then to top it all off, my phone started ringing. There was no reason not to answer.

  “Hi, it’s Liisa Rasilainen. So you snuck back into the department, did you? Do you have time to catch up over coffee?”

  “Hi! You’re back from your conference! Sorry, but it doesn’t look good for coffee. It’s nice to hear your voice, though,” I replied, and meant it. Liisa had always been one of my favorite colleagues.

  “I also called to let you know you have a package from Vantaa. It answers to the name of Sami Terävä. They caught him at the Tikkurila train station. He’s waiting in a holding cell. And he wants to know why he’s been brought to Espoo.”