“Tero, don’t give up. You still have poems to write. You at least need to write one to remember Lulu by. Stay alive.”
Sulonen’s belongings had been moved to storage to await forwarding to the police. I borrowed some gloves and a hair cap before looking through them. The jacket was stiff with blood, but I still shoved my hand into the pockets. Nothing. The pockets of his jeans were also empty. Sulonen’s underwear had Mickey Mouse pictures on them. His wallet and cell phone were in separate bags.
“I’m taking these,” I said, and the nurse on duty didn’t object. I wrote her a receipt and set off driving through the darkness back to the station. Of course, Sulonen’s phone was locked, but we could always try to crack the PIN code.
My stomach growled angrily to let me know that it objected to its diet of coffee and pain pills. I would have paid a lot for a glass of buttermilk. Antti had tried to call my phone again, but he hadn’t left a message. I didn’t have the energy to think about him right now. All my brain could focus on was the investigation at hand. I broke the speed limit as I drove, enjoying the empty streets and the stars twinkling beyond the lights of the city.
Only Koivu was in the conference room, talking on the phone. I peeked in the refrigerator and found some milk. I’d given up drinking milk as a sixteen-year-old and only used it in coffee these days. Now I forced myself to drink a glass, even though it felt harder to do so than eating blood pudding. Turning on the conference room computer, I checked the date. Then I pulled on a fresh set of gloves and got to work on Tero Sulonen’s phone. Maybe the PIN code would be 1511, Lulu’s birthday. I tried that first. I was right.
We could check Sulonen’s phone records, but we might find other interesting things on his phone itself, such as a contacts list or text messages. I opened his contacts. The first name was Lulu. Then Maki, O-P, and Pate. Dearlulu. Taxi. And that was all. I looked at the numbers. Lulu was the same cell phone we already had for Lulu Nightingale. But what about Dearlulu? I opened the detail screen, and it showed me a completely new number. So Lulu had a second cell phone. Where was it now?
I went to the computer and opened the phone database. At first, I didn’t see the Dearlulu number, so I moved to the restricted number database. There it was, registered to the name Lilli and T. Sulonen. I wanted the call logs for this phone too, but I’d have to wait until tomorrow. I tried calling it from Sulonen’s phone, though I didn’t expect anyone to answer. After a few rings the voice mail picked up.
“Please leave a message after the beep” was the message, said in Finnish and English. Lulu’s voice was easy to recognize.
I didn’t leave a message, although I felt like screaming for joy. Someone had Lulu’s other phone, and as soon as we received a warrant, we’d be able to track it down. The murderer wouldn’t be so stupid to have kept the phone, would he? Maybe he’d just thrown it in the forest. But what sense would that make if the phone contained information the murderer didn’t want getting out? Or had Lulu hidden the phone somewhere, and if so, where?
The call log on Sulonen’s phone told us what we already knew. As I browsed through it, Koivu, who’d finished his own call, sat down next to me.
“Is there any more coffee?” he asked, shaking his thermos. He checked the coffee pot and found it empty. “Damn it. What idiot finished this off and didn’t make more! I could really go for a meat pie and a cold beer.” Koivu grabbed a filter from the cupboard, filled the water reservoir, and then loaded so much coffee in that my stomach began complaining just at the thought of it. “Mauri Hytönen says hi. He was around Heinola when Sulonen was shot. His employees can vouch for him. And he wouldn’t have been able to get to Espoo in time after you left his office anyway unless he had a helicopter since he wasn’t on your flight.”
“But why did Sulonen call him?”
“He wanted to know whether Hytönen knew beforehand that Lulu would be on the TV show. I guess he was trying to solve the case himself. Of course, he accused Hytönen of being the killer and threatened him, but Hytönen just laughed it off. He’d had to catch a ferry then so couldn’t call us. Do you really think it’s wise to let him go running around Estonia?”
“I don’t think Hytönen is our man. Even if he might have connections to the Russian mafia.” I put my fingers on my temples and rotated them to get the blood flowing in my face. “What about Mrs. Saarnio? What did she say?”
“She didn’t answer her cell or the home phone. Should we go pay her a visit? I did leave a message telling her what it was about.”
“I think that’s enough for tonight. I have a hard time imagining Riitta Saarnio running around with a slingshot. Try again in the morning. Do you know how many more interviews are left?”
“Ville just said they’ve got nine left in line. According to Mira, more have volunteered since they started, but they’re scheduled for tomorrow. Respectable people are already asleep.”
The lights of the conference room felt bright, and outside all I could see was darkness because the windows faced the woods. On the tables were dirty coffee mugs and plates with crumbs of pulla and bits of parsley. One coffee cup had a piece of chewing gum stuck to it.
“Forensics went to the train station, and Rasilainen and Airaksinen went with them. They didn’t find anything to write home about, though, since all the staff on the morning shift had gone home. Rasilainen and Airaksinen are going to handle that tomorrow. One of the guards or someone at the ticket booth might have noticed a person hanging around the pay phones, since everybody has a cell nowadays.” Koivu glanced hopefully at the coffee maker and then at the open door. “So, Maria, what happened with you and Antti? Have you cleared it up?”
“No. I’m probably just imagining things.” I felt bad about having shared my stupid suspicions with Koivu. I avoided his gaze, but Koivu took me by the arm. His grip was so tight that I had an urge to shake myself loose.
“Maria, there’s one thing we’ve learned in this job. You never know anyone perfectly,” Koivu whispered, and his voice made me meet his kind, blue eyes. Then he let go and went back for his coffee. He asked if I wanted any. I declined. It would be best to head home, even though the kids were already asleep. Antti’s mom would sleep on the floor in the kids’ room. I’d asked her to take our bed, but she said she was still spry enough to sleep on the floor.
I checked the latest interview records on the intranet, but there wasn’t anything significant in them. I was just turning off the lights in the conference room when someone barged in.
“Is there coffee here?” It was Hakkarainen from Forensics. “What are you going to ask us to do next? A pay phone in the train station? Jesus Christ! I’ve never seen so many fingerprints. Granted, we did get a hit: our old friend Köpä Nykänen. He’s been a wino since the sixties. Strange he’s still alive. But I don’t think he’s who we’re looking for. I checked the registry, and all he’s ever done is petty theft. The other prints didn’t match anything. Do you want us to take DNA too? We found a hair or two and some flakes of skin. Kaartamo’s going to love it when he hears how much this is going to cost him.”
“Forget Kaartamo. We’ll talk again in the morning.” I stifled a yawn, but I didn’t entirely succeed, and Hakkarainen caught it too.
“When is Taskinen coming back?” Hakkarainen asked. I told him when Taskinen’s leave ended and that I didn’t know anything more than that. I walked downstairs slowly, stretching my thigh muscles. My mouth opened in a yawn every tenth step.
Suddenly I heard a commotion in the lobby. The duty officer’s booth was open, and a young woman was screaming and weeping in front of the desk.
“You have to help me before they kill me too! Put me in jail! Can’t you just fucking arrest me? I just took twenty euros for a blow job!” The girl pulled out the bills from between her breasts. I moved closer, but stayed behind the doors into the lobby. The girl’s eyes were almost black, her pupils almost entirely dilated. Sweat and tears had smeared makeup across her cheeks. She was wearing a short l
eather jacket, a top that barely covered the bottoms of her breasts, and tight red satin pants. The four-inch heel of one of her boots was bent. A vein pulsed rapidly in her neck.
“Calm down,” Officer Nyyssönen said in a fatherly tone from behind the desk. He could tell the girl was high too.
“But Lulu and Tero are already dead, and that Russian girl, and I’m next! They’re after me! You have to believe me!”
Hearing these familiar names made me move closer. I opened the glass doors and waved to Nyyssönen.
“I’m going to have a little talk with this young lady. She seems like she might have some information about my case. Come on in,” I said to the girl. “Are you friends with Lulu Nightingale and Tero Sulonen?” I asked as I escorted the girl through the doors. In response, she burst out wailing. I took her to sit in the waiting area. Her age was hard to place because her body was thin and haggard, her face prematurely lined, but the breasts hanging free under her top had the perkiness of a teenager’s.
She cried for a while. “Am I at the police station now?” she finally asked.
“Yes. I’m Detective Lieutenant Maria Kallio. I’m investigating Lulu’s death. Who are you afraid of?”
The girl didn’t answer, but at least she looked at me. Her short hair was greasy and matted to her head. The ends were blond but her roots were dark brown.
“My mouth is really dry,” she complained.
“Have you been taking speed?” She didn’t answer. “Wait here. I’ll get you something to drink. Nyyssönen, make sure she doesn’t go anywhere!” The duty officer had one window into the lobby and another into the space between the two outer doors, where people could come at night to report crimes. I grabbed a Coke from the machine in the downstairs break room. After a moment’s thought, I got a second bottle too.
The girl leaned back in her chair and wiped the sweat from her brow. When I handed her the bottle I’d opened for her, she grabbed it and immediately drained half of it, and then sat still as if waiting for the liquid to take effect. I sat down next to her and thought with longing of my soft bed.
“Who are you afraid of?” I asked again.
“Them . . . those men. They beat me up once. You can never know which guys will be nice and which ones will hit you. And I never go anywhere with Russians!” the girl said.
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t have a name,” the girl said. A small purse was visible under her jacket, with the strap over her shoulder. Maybe it had her identity papers in it.
“You have to tell the police your name. You know that.”
“Will I go to jail if I don’t tell? But that’s where I want to go,” she said, some defiance in her voice now.
“Yes, you will. And they’ll take away all your things.”
The girl’s hand instinctively flew to her purse. “I didn’t dare stay at the train station,” she said. “I jumped on the Kirkkonummi train, but just before Leppävaara a conductor came. I ran and got off the train. I didn’t think they could find me here in BFE Espoo . . . I knew there was a police station in Kilo because of the jokes in school. What’s the heaviest police station in Finland? The Kilo police station . . .” The girl giggled, then hiccuped and sat up straighter.
“I’m a whore. I sell my body at the Helsinki train station and around there. It’s illegal, so arrest me. My name is Pamela. And I knew Lulu, or I did . . . I wished I could be like her. I asked her for a job, but she said she didn’t take druggies.” The girl drank some more Coke. “I’m so tired of everything, being afraid and everything. I just want to die.”
The crying started again. With some patience, I was finally able to drag the story out of her. About two weeks earlier, two Russians had lured her into their car, saying they were customers and promising Pamela two hundred euros if she’d service them both. Then they drove her out of town, dragged her out of the car, and beat her as punishment for trying to turn tricks on their turf without permission. If she didn’t stop, the next time would be her last. “But I couldn’t just stop. Where would I get money?”
“Drug money?” I asked, although I knew the answer.
“And today they were there again. I saw them! It was the same blond liar in his fur coat!”
I remembered what Ursula had said about her attackers: one had worn a coat with a fur collar. It seemed as though Mishin’s thugs were on the case again. I called Holding, where the officer on duty said they had a cell open. Even though the police station wasn’t a hotel, I thought it was best to keep Pamela for the night. She tried to object, but it was just for show, and she claimed that she didn’t remember her name or address because she was so tired. We found her ID in her purse with her makeup, money, phone, and condoms. Pamela Donna Lahtela, born 1987, Helsinki. I left instructions for Patrol to find out more details about her and where she lived, and asked the officer on guard to give her something to eat. In the morning, she’d be facing amphetamine withdrawal symptoms, and I couldn’t predict whether she’d be able to talk then.
Espoo was quiet. There was no movement in the apartment building parking lot, and our windows were dark. I managed to open the door almost without a sound and got it closed without any loud banging. I knew my mother-in-law was a light sleeper like most people her age. My care went to waste, though, because no sooner did I have my shoes off than a god-awful racket started in the entryway. It was Venjamin, expressing his disapproval for my coming home so late. Luckily the door to the children’s room was closed—apparently my mother-in-law hadn’t wanted the cat jumping on her or curling up with her. I picked up the silly animal so he’d be quiet. His soft fur felt good against my face, and he almost immediately began to purr. I took him with me into the kitchen and closed the door before giving him some milk and frozen fish. I washed up and then I climbed into bed. The cat jumped up on my feet. We both tried to get comfortable, and Venjamin ended up behind my knees. I’d have to avoid rolling over.
I woke up just before six. Venjamin meowed in irritation when I pushed him off my stomach, where he’d moved during the night. My phone had been on silent, and I’d thought the buzzing on the nightstand would wake me up, but I was wrong. Three calls had come in, two from Puupponen. He’d also left a message, so I let it play.
Hi, Maria. I’m just leaving. It’s 1:00 a.m. Arto Saarnio called to say he got our message on their landline. Mrs. Saarnio is missing. He didn’t come home until midnight, and he couldn’t find her anywhere.
The third call was from Arto Saarnio. The voice on the message belonged to an anxious, tired old man.
I’m sorry to bother you so late at night, but this really isn’t like Riitta. I’ve already called all the hospitals, but there’s no sign of her and she isn’t answering her phone. Can the police track it? Can you call me when you get this message?
Saarnio tried to make it sound like a command but failed.
I went to put the coffee on and sent Puupponen a text message letting him know that I’d be at the station soon. I didn’t dare drive without caffeine in my bloodstream. I glanced briefly at the morning paper. The incident at the mall took up two columns on the first page, with speculation about the weapon and the connection to Lulu Nightingale’s murder. If I could have chosen, I wouldn’t have released Sulonen’s identity yet, but the choice was Kaartamo’s. I gave Venjamin more food because he was meowing at me and tried to keep him from pulling open the belt of my bathrobe. As I was pouring myself a cup of coffee, I heard the door open. It was Taneli.
“Mom, are you going to be home tonight?”
“I’ll do my best, honey. You should go back to sleep. You don’t need to be up for two more hours.”
“Is Dad going to be with us then?”
“No, he’s coming home tomorrow. Grandma will be here.” Taneli pouted, and I picked him up. Just then my mother-in-law appeared in the kitchen.
“Ah, I see we’re already up. Did you get any sleep at all?”
“A few hours. Can you be here tonight again if they
need me at work?”
Marjatta’s steel gray hair was disheveled, and her expression was the same as Iida’s when she was cross. I wondered whether Iida would wrinkle like her grandmother as she aged, in a crisscrossed spiderweb of lines.
“Where is Antti? Isn’t he coming home for the weekend?”
“He has some kind of party in Vaasa. He’ll be home tomorrow. I may be able to come home at the normal time, but if you can just be prepared . . .”
“Is a party more important to him that caring for his own children?” she asked incredulously. Instead of replying, I focused on my coffee and tried to whip up a sandwich while Taneli hung on my legs. Finally, I convinced him to get back in bed. As I stroked his hair, I hoped Iida wouldn’t wake up.
Back in the kitchen, my mother-in-law sat at the table spreading marmalade on a piece of bread. Venjamin batted at the tassels on her slippers and had managed to pull a couple of threads loose. Marjatta didn’t seem to notice him.
“You haven’t had time to talk to Antti about the money, have you?” she asked.
“I’ve tried, but he wanted time to think. I’ll try again once he gets home.”
When I went in the bedroom to dress, Marjatta followed me. I felt uncomfortable removing my bathrobe in front of her, but I had to. Work was calling. And I didn’t presume to be ungracious to her because what on earth would we do without her?
“Is everything OK between the two of you?” she asked sternly. “Or is there something you aren’t telling me? Is Antti moving to Vaasa?”
“No! Why would you think that?” I managed to hook my bra despite my hands’ shaking. Had Antti hinted something to his mother that he hadn’t told me? Marjatta didn’t reply; she just watched as I pulled on my trousers. Makeup would have to wait for the women’s restroom at the station.
The Nightingale Murder Page 23
