Helsinki homicide: Cold Trail

by Sipila, Jarkko

  * * *

  The sleet had started coming down again. It was colder now, and the flakes formed a layer of slush on the asphalt. Repo was walking along Malmi Curve toward the Kirkonkylä Road bridge that spanned the train tracks. He glanced backwards again, but the only person there was the woman pushing a dark blue baby carriage who had been there ten seconds before.

  Apartment buildings rose to his right, and the train tracks ran to his left. Repo had wondered what to do. He couldn’t stay in Karppi’s house. The old man’s death was an accident, but of course no one would believe him. No one had listened to him the first time, either.

  He had left Karppi’s house and left the car on the street there. Maybe that was a mistake, but he wouldn’t go back now.

  Repo knew that he was innocent of his wife’s murder. Understanding that had taken him a couple of years. There’s no way he would have been able to slit Arja’s throat.

  On the other hand, he was sure that he wouldn’t have been capable of killing Karppi either, but it had still happened. Repo cursed the old man. Why did he have to go sticking his nose into Repo’s business? Everything had been set, but now it was all a huge mess again.

  Repo switched the bag over to his other shoulder and glanced backwards once more. Pain and exhaustion. Of course he had gotten used to it, but before he could go on, he had to get some sleep to clear his head. There was a headline about an escaped murderer on the front page of today’s Iltalehti. Maybe his photo was in there too, so Repo didn’t dare to buy the paper.

  A few hours’ sleep in some quiet spot and then the final preparations. After that he’d be ready. Where? Train, hotel, bus... Repo tried to come up with a quiet place, but couldn’t think of anything suitable. Repo arrived at the intersection and noticed an ad for the Eurokangas fabric shop on the light post.

  Eurokangas? That had been Juha’s nickname in the joint. He didn’t know anyone else who could help him. Maybe Saarnikangas—that was the guy’s real name—had a place where he could get a little sleep. Convicts were supposed to be loyal to their friends; that’s what Repo had understood.

  He had taken Karppi’s cell phone and money, which of course made him a robber-murderer, but that didn’t matter now. Repo pulled out a small notebook from the breast pocket of his black suit and flipped to “Eurokangas.”

  * * *

  Takamäki was having lunch in the canteen at police HQ. Beef soup was in his bowl, milk filled his glass. Suhonen was sitting at the same table. Takamäki had tried to ask him about his relationship with Raija, but no dice. The undercover detective evidently didn’t feel like talking about it—he had just grunted something that the lieutenant hadn’t been able to make out.

  It was coming up on one o’clock already, and there was plenty of room in the canteen. A few patrol officers in uniform walked in and over to the counter.

  Takamäki’s phone rang, and he saw that the caller was Joutsamo. “I’m eating, but tell me,” he answered.

  “Some of us have time for lunch, huh?” Joutsamo said.

  “Well?”

  “I dropped by Karppi’s place on the way back from Riihimäki. Thought I’d just ask him a few questions.”

  “And?” Takamäki stopped eating. He glanced at Suhonen, who began listening. “Did Karppi say anything?”

  “No. And he never will.”

  “Dead?” Takamäki said.

  “Killed, I’d say. I went in, and he was lying there in the living room. There was a major fracture at the back of his skull.”

  “Dead, back of his head bashed in,” Takamäki repeated for Suhonen’s benefit. “Classic blunt object?”

  “Or corner of a table. I didn’t stay to investigate, so I wouldn’t contaminate the scene any more than Ialready had.”

  “But Karppi hadn’t slipped?”

  “It’s possible, of course, but in that case I’d be interested in knowing who covered the body with a sheet.”

  “Okay, Okay,” Takamäki said. That was cause to suspect homicide, and the covering of the body indicated that the perpetrator knew the victim. “When?”

  “Looked fresh. I felt his diaphragm, which already exhibited signs of rigor mortis. I’d guess an hour, two at most.”

  “Any signs of Repo?”

  “Can’t say. I checked the body and got out of there. I called in a patrol unit and thought I’d check out the vicinity. Of course I also called into the Emergency Ops Center, so the search is already on, but could you get Forensics over here? Vallesman Road,” Joutsamo said, followed by the precise address.

  Takamäki promised to call Kannas. The manhunt for escaped convict Timo Repo would turn into a high-profile case the moment the media caught whiff of Repo’s being implicated in Karppi’s death.

  Suhonen heard the whole story, since Takamäki called Kannas next and explained what had happened.

  “Pretty bad,” Suhonen said, once the call ended. He had finished his lunch. Takamäki’s soup had cooled in the bowl.

  “Yeah. Changes things.”

  “Did Repo want to get back at Karppi for something? He was his dad’s neighbor. Could there have been some schism between them?” Suhonen reflected. “Money? Some old grudge?”

  Takamäki thought Suhonen was asking the right questions. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. Let’s see what Forensics turns up. We’re not even certain that Repo has been inside Karppi’s house.”

  “Wanna bet?” Suhonen asked.

  “No,” the lieutenant replied. “I want to eat my cold soup.”

  Takamäki managed to take two spoonfuls before his phone rang again. Suhonen smiled.

  It was Solberg from the Espoo Police.

  “Can you talk?” Solberg asked, like he normally did.

  “Eating lunch,” Takamäki replied in a tired voice.

  “Then I can probably bother you for a second,” Solberg said aggressively.

  Takamäki disagreed, but he still answered, “Well?”

  “Those surveillance camera images—when are you going to get them to me, and why the hell can’t you just email them?”

  Goddammit, Takamäki thought. How was he going to explain this one?

  “What’s the status of the forensic investigation of that car and the house?”

  There was a momentary silence at the other end.

  “How about you let me ask the questions. This is a crime being investigated by the Espoo Police, and you’re in possession of evidence we need. No doubt you’ve acquired those images lawfully, so it would be best if you’d deliver them here before we need to turn this into a bigger deal than it is.”

  Takamäki tried to calm him. “Listen, Solberg. Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “Are you fucking with me? If you want, I’ll get a warrant from my lieutenant, and we’ll come over to Pasila right this second.”

  “Take it easy. You might not be grasping the whole picture here.”

  “I’m grasping it perfectly goddamn well. There’s something sketchy about this Manner case, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

  Takamäki strongly doubted Solberg’s ability to do so, especially since he wasn’t going to be allowed to get involved. He tried to think of a way to calm the guy down. He glanced at Suhonen, who was pretending to concentrate on his coffee but was listening to every word.

  Takamäki came up with a solution that would at least buy him some time. “I’ll bring the photos in an hour, if nothing acute comes up in the manhunt.”

  “I’m glad you’re coming to your senses,” Solberg said victoriously. “I’ll wait.”

  Takamäki didn’t bother telling him he’d be waiting for a long time; he just hung up. Then he looked at Suhonen, who gestured at the coffee cup in front of Takamäki.

  “That’s still hot,” Suhonen smirked.

  Takamäki tasted his lukewarm soup and decided to leave the rest.

  “That was that guy from Espoo I was telling Nykänen about.”

  Suhonen nodded. “Somehow I figured.”
<
br />   “The guy’s incorrigible. Hell, how can I explain something to him that I’m not allowed to talk about? He’ll probably suspect some conspiracy if he’s told to drop the case.”

  “I know the type,” Suhonen said, still smiling.

  Takamäki gave his grinning subordinate a questioning look.

  “He’s just like you,” Suhonen said.

  Takamäki was stunned. “But when I...”

  Suhonen laughed out loud.

  “Goddammit,” Takamäki said, joining in the laughter.

  “But Suhonen, remember that we have an escaped convict on the loose who we have cause to suspect of another homicide.”

  Suhonen couldn’t stop laughing. “And a few beer thieves to find, too. It’s not easy being a criminal investigator. I should probably transfer to the Auto Theft unit.”

  * * *

  The forensic investigators were wearing white paper overalls. There had been no need to discuss tactics, because Joutsamo had pronounced Karppi dead. Kannas had ordered a slow approach, which meant that the body would be examined last.

  The scene had been photographed starting from the door, and afterwards the investigators had started combing the floor inch by inch. Joutsamo’s footprints had been taken too, so they could later be distinguished from those of any potential suspects. Kannas knew that Joutsamo’s DNA sample was already in the database, so it would also be possible to look it up later. Joutsamo had said that she had only touched the door, the sheet covering the deceased, and the deceased himself.

  Kannas had seen hundreds of old people’s houses like this, usually in cause-of-death investigations where no crime was involved. In those instances, the investigation was significantly easier. The police showed up and did a superficial examination of the scene. The house was only investigated more thoroughly if the medical examiner decided there was any ambiguity involved.

  A couple of younger investigators were combing the floor. Kannas’ knees were in such bad shape that he left the floor work to others. He dusted powder on the door and looked for prints. When he found them, he used tape to transfer the print to paper. Then he documented the precise location where he found each print.

  Many death scenes smelled atrocious, with papers, garbage, bottles, and moldy food piled up to the investigators’ ankles in addition to the decomposing body. This was different: very tidy, even if the decor was heavily indicative of the fifties. The family had probably been established and the furniture bought back then. Old people weren’t big on change.

  Kannas moved inside after finishing the door, once the techs crawling along the floor had moved onward. The area around the light switch was usually good. This time was no exception. The problem here appeared to be that the majority of prints that he had found so far resembled each other. In all likelihood they were from the deceased. Of course he couldn’t say for sure yet, because even the dead had ten fingers, with a different print on each one.

  The techs put the strands of hair and other items they found into zip-lock bags and documented the exact spot where each had been discovered.

  This is going to take hours, Kannas thought. But there was no rush. Least of all for the deceased, who was the customer in this case. Kannas liked doing the dead one last service. If someone had taken another person’s life, the living should do everything in their power to figure out who the killer was.

  The techs had split up. The one on the left circled around toward the living room while the other one continued on toward the body. They should probably take a break soon. Working on all fours was hard on the knees and the back. If anyone knew that, Kannas did. The tech who was closer to the body had about ten more feet to go.

  If there was evidence of the killer in the house, Forensics would find it. That had been clear from the start. Tying their findings to suspects was Takamäki’s team’s job.

  CHAPTER 16

  WEDNESDAY, 4:57 P.M.

  HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS, PASILA

  The meeting had been set for five. Kannas had promised preliminary results by then. Suhonen entered the conference room, where Takamäki, Joutsamo, and Kohonen, the pull-up champ, were already waiting.

  “Wow, you’re on time,” Kohonen said.

  Suhonen grinned and made some remark about showing up late usually paying off, because meetings normally began with pointless chit-chat. He joined the others around the gray table-top.

  “Didn’t find him out in Malmi?” Suhonen asked.

  Joutsamo shook her head.

  “That Riihimäki thing,” Joutsamo began, giving a Takamäki a glance. “We can probably talk about that for a second before we begin the meeting proper.”

  Takamäki was amenable to the suggestion.

  Joutsamo gave the background. “So about that case where Repo got life. Something about it just doesn’t click. The entire investigation aimed solely at Repo being the only possible perpetrator. And I think there’s something really wrong there.”

  “Brief explanation,” Takamäki said.

  Joutsamo raised her thumb. “One. The act was extremely cruel. Repo’s wife’s throat was slit from the front in such a way that the killer saw her face.”

  A forefinger rose up next to Joutsamo’s thumb. “Two. None of the neighbors heard any fighting to speak of that night.”

  Middle finger. “Three. They weren’t troubled alcoholics, who had gone off the deep end; it was a family with a young child where both of the parents had jobs.”

  Ring finger. “I’ve read all of the preliminary investigation reports and court verdicts, but nowhere is there a mention of a possible motive.”

  Joutsamo’s pinky rose last of all. “And on top of all that, you take into account that the police were informed of the homicide by some external party while the woman was lying dead in the kitchen and the husband in all likelihood passed out in bed. The call didn’t come from the apartment. In other words, something stinks here. And I’d say pretty bad.” Joutsamo’s gaze circled her colleagues, seeking support, but no one responded immediately. “Well, at a minimum. it wasn’t a clear-cut case like that asinine lieutenant in Riihimäki claimed.”

  Kohonen glanced at Takamäki before jumping in. “I agree. There’s something weird about the case. It doesn’t add up.”

  Suhonen shrugged. “Of course you’re more familiar with the paperwork, but the truth is that the motive in those domestic violence cases can be incredibly minor. Something the other person said or did two months earlier that’s been eating at the killer. Then when they get enough liquor in them and they’re not thinking so straight, it just happens.”

  Joutsamo looked at Suhonen. “But who called the police?”

  “What time did it happen?” Suhonen asked, continuing without waiting for an answer: “Where did the wife work? Was she supposed to be somewhere at some time, and someone who knew her called the police?”

  Joutsamo laughed. “That’s pretty...”

  Suhonen interrupted her. “If you’re fixated on that innocence theory, that’s just as bad as the Riihimäki police being stuck on the guilt theory, but you have to understand that this thing isn’t based solely on the police investigation. Both the district court and the appeals court found the guy guilty of murder.”

  Kulta came in. “Sorry, couldn’t get off the phone.”

  Takamäki rubbed his face. Discord was the last thing he needed in his team.

  “I think Anna’s approach in that old case is something we should definitely follow up on, but only once Repo is back in prison.”

  “Okay, I’ll write up a memo,” Joutsamo said, but didn’t bother to add that she had already sent the evidence she had got from the Riihimäki police station in for DNA analysis. The question she had posed to the lab was simple: whose DNA was on it?

  “Karppi’s death makes the hunt for Repo top priority,” Takamäki continued. “Karila promised us more resources, as long as we figure out where we need them and can use them. The number one question is, do we have definite proof that Repo
has been in Karppi’s home?”

  All eyes turned toward Joutsamo. “I don’t know.”

  Big, burly Kannas appeared at the door. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Definite proof of what?”

  Takamäki looked at his old patrol partner. “Glad you could make it.”

  “What do we need definite proof of?” Kannas repeated.

  Before Joutsamo could say anything, Takamäki continued. “A simple question: has Repo been inside Karppi’s home?”

  “A simple answer to a simple question: yes.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “But…I only give simple answers to simple questions,” Kannas said.

  Takamäki tried to smile, but it was forced. “Could you give us a little more information—explain in a little greater detail?”

  “Fingerprints?”

  “Yes,” Takamäki said, in a tone of feigned friendliness.

  Kannas sighed. “Of course. A fingerprint is a unique identifier made up of patterns formed on the skin of an individual’s finger. They have been utilized in criminal investigations since the 1890s. The first fingerprint...”

  “Not now,” Takamäki interrupted with a smile. “Not now. Just give us the information.”

  Kannas glanced at the others and realized that it might be best to get down to business.

  “All right. Let’s fast-forward 120 years into Karppi’s house. Timo Repo’s fingerprints were found there in several locations. We can’t tell when he was there or for how long, but he was definitely there. Prints were found on the dining room and kitchen tables, the couch’s wooden backrest, the coffee maker, and in the bathroom. Based on this, we can deduce that he wasn’t there just for a quick visit. And yes... Those prints can’t be eight years old, because the house has been cleaned regularly. And, it’s not likely that Karppi had sworn off coffee for that long, either.”