Fatal Headwind

by Leena Lehtolainen

  “Of course not. Now the little unit commander has to scamper off to cry on Taskinen’s shoulder about what horrible subordinates she has.”

  “I’m not scampering alone, Ström. You and Puupponen are coming with me.”

  Pulling out my cell phone, I called Taskinen, who fortunately was in the building. I didn’t enjoy reporting what Ström had done. The rest of the day was taken up conferring with Taskinen and the chief of police. Along with his nose, Väätäinen had a broken rib, and, despite Koivu’s attempts to stop him, he had called one of the tabloids and the dirtiest yellow rag in the country from the hospital. Of course there was nothing the chief of police could do but remove Ström from active duty.

  “Our unit already has one unfilled position, and if Ström is gone now, our work is going to come to a screeching halt!” I found myself exclaiming to the chief. “I want a replacement for Ström for as long as he’s out, and I want that replacement tomorrow. I know we aren’t going to find anyone at sergeant level on such short notice, but even a junior officer would do. We have a homicide in progress, maybe a double murder.”

  Only once the words were out of my mouth did I realize what my subconscious had made me say.

  Looking back, I don’t think I ever believed Harri’s death was an accident. An experienced ornithologist wasn’t going to slip and fall in that environment. My suspicions that the motive for Juha Merivaara’s murder didn’t have anything to do with family quarrels were growing. Whoever killed him probably killed Harri too.

  8

  The next morning, Koivu and I huddled in the cabin of a large police boat. A southeaster battered the boat nastily, so the motion-sickness pills were earning their keep.

  The chief of police had decided to suspend Ström. The National Bureau of Investigation would handle the inquest, and Koivu, Puupponen, and I would have to testify. To celebrate the hours we were going to spend getting grilled, we went out for beers. At Koivu’s invitation Anu Wang had come too. I had told Antti I only drank a couple of porters, but actually I had also done a couple of shots of anise vodka. I had slept restlessly, dreaming of Ström beating Juha Merivaara with Harri’s bird-spotting scope. Now my head hurt.

  Koivu’s head lolled against my shoulder. I had left the Pickwick Pub a little after ten to make the last bus, but the others had stayed until midnight. In the morning, Wang had seemed just as fresh and ready for work as ever. She had been drinking cautiously, but Koivu and Puupponen had gotten hammered. It felt hypocritical to condemn Ström for drinking at work when I wasn’t in the best shape after the previous night’s boozing either.

  Hakkarainen from Forensics, who was sitting with us in the cabin, glanced at Koivu in amusement. A diver and a Forensics officer assisting Hakkarainen were playing cards with Tapio Holma in the rear cabin. Mikke Sjöberg was up on deck, keeping the captain company.

  I had asked Holma to come along because he had also seen Juha’s body before the police. Of course it was possible he and Mikke had colluded to hide the murder weapon, especially if they thought that it might implicate one of the Merivaara children, for example. Even so, I hoped I would be able to get more out of Holma in an environment less formal than an interrogation room.

  I had been in such a rush to get to work this morning that I barely saw Iida. My conscience nagged at me. I should have spent last night at home with my child instead of boozing with friends from work, but I had needed their company. I couldn’t expect Antti to understand what Ström’s outburst and relief from duty had felt like, but my colleagues did. That was why we stuck to each other, and although we had tried to talk about other things, like the new ice hockey season or the TV shows no one had time to watch, the conversation always turned back to Ström. Wang and Puupponen hoped that Ström would get a transfer. Anu’s bitterness was easy to understand because Ström had been an even bigger bastard to her than he had to everyone else. Puupponen had said he understood Ström, in a way. He had also interrogated Ari Väätäinen before, and the way he treated his wife and children disgusted Puupponen too.

  But a police officer still didn’t have the right to hit anyone like that. Punishments for crimes were administered elsewhere than in interrogation rooms.

  Ström had tried to get the prosecutor to attend the interrogation, but he hadn’t been available. Because of due-process requirements, they needed to start Väätäinen’s pretrial investigation fast: they couldn’t detain him for longer than forty-eight hours and they needed evidence to file formal charges. Puupponen almost sounded like Ström as he argued that the law protected crooks better than victims these days. But that wasn’t why Ström hit Väätäinen. It was because Väätäinen had succeeded in breaking through Ström’s carefully constructed defenses.

  The stench of gasoline in the cabin was getting to me. My hair still reeked of cigarette smoke from the pub, even though Puupponen was the only one in our group who smoked while he drank. I decided to climb on deck. I started edging out from under Koivu. He groaned and collapsed on the bench in a position that reminded me of Iida sleeping in her car seat.

  A frost had struck overnight, and the sea sucked away any remaining warmth. It had regained the transparent, dark-blue color the green algae had robbed it of over the summer. The sun climbed steadily toward its apex, and I turned my face toward it as if to draw in strength. The last of the large islands along the shore fell behind to the west, and the air was so clear that I could make out the silhouette of Tallinn to the south.

  Mikke Sjöberg had called yesterday afternoon, just as I was beginning consultations with Taskinen and the chief of police. He had agreed without complaint to come with us to Rödskär. Katrina Sjöberg had a ticket for the night ferry to Åland, and I couldn’t come up with any more excuses to delay her departure. She hadn’t been nearby when Harri died, and she wasn’t my prime suspect in Juha’s death, even though she seemed like a temperamental woman.

  “Nice day,” I said, half to Mikke and half to the boat’s captain. Even though the wind was only blowing at six knots, it cut through my leather jacket and wool sweater, making me wish I had thought to bring a hat. The freezing temperatures had painted the aspen trees on an islet we passed bright red; their reflection broke in our wake, momentarily making it appear like blood was dripping in the water.

  I sat down next to Mikke on a storage bench. When we had met at the marina that morning, he said he had heard about my suspicions that this was a homicide. Mikke’s face looked stretched tight, and he was obviously tired. The fact that he was hiding something practically radiated from him. I was sure he knew what had been used to kill Juha, because when I introduced the diver to him, he seemed agitated. He didn’t relax again until we were out on the open sea. Tapio Holma, on the contrary, seemed to be approaching this as if we were on a pleasure cruise.

  Rödskär appeared on the horizon. The tremulous clarity of the air separated the rocks and buildings from the sea, as if we were approaching a fairy-tale castle suspended above the water.

  “In these conditions anchoring on the east side won’t be any problem!” Mikke yelled to the captain over the engine noise. Landing on the island in Antti’s parents’ sailboat had been tranquil, but the thunderous police-boat motor smothered every other sound, and the stench of gasoline made it impossible to smell the bitter, salty scent of the sea. I understood why Mikke avoided motorboats. The motor drowned out all the nuances of the sea and replaced the rocking of the waves with a steady churning.

  “Let’s circle around the west side since it’s so calm. The site of the accident will be visible from the sea,” I said to the captain.

  Seen from the west, Rödskär looked hostile.

  High cliffs rose from the sea; they appeared utterly inaccessible, even though I knew climbing them was possible. Any ship approaching from this direction would have been easy to fire on from the island without exposing oneself. After getting a good look at the accident site, we continued motoring around the south side of the island to the harbor. I heard Hakk
arainen waking Koivu. Mikke was the first to jump off onto the rocks, and I bounded after him to help fix the aft line.

  Koivu scrambled out of the cabin squinting, quickly put on his sunglasses, and tumbled unceremoniously out of the boat. The captain simply deployed the ladder and climbed down.

  “Koivu, you take Holma and Sjöberg up. I’ll be right there,” I said, handing Koivu the key to the hut. Forensics had been holding it since Sunday.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to Hakkarainen, his assistant, and the diver. “What we’re looking for is a blunt weapon. According to the pathologist, it has an irregular shape and probably contains some glass parts, because there were shards in Merivaara’s skull.”

  “Did he wear glasses?” Hakkarainen asked.

  “Yes, and they’re missing too. Check for them in the water,” I told the diver. “I’m going to grill Sjöberg about that weapon.”

  Koivu had taken Mikke and Tapio Holma to the kitchen. The sun didn’t shine through the north-facing windows, so the room was dim. Mikke lit a storm lamp, and Koivu opened a bottle of Coke, presumably to settle his stomach. I was irked that I hadn’t been able to wrangle an extra officer to keep the other suspect company while Koivu and I were conducting the interrogations. I would have to handle it alone, even though that meant any testimony couldn’t be used as evidence.

  “Let’s take a trip to the sauna,” I said to Tapio Holma, who glanced at me in surprise but then stood up.

  Mikke stood up too, but I motioned for him to sit. “Just the two of us.”

  “How is Riikka holding up?” I asked Holma once we were outside.

  He shook his head.

  “Not very well. I think she feels guilty about fighting with her father so much during the last days before his death.”

  The sauna was unlocked. The inside smelled of smoke and dried birch leaves, and a warmth washed through me when I remembered how Antti and I had made love on the middle bench. It felt like so long since that August night, even though only a month and a half had passed.

  “Was she arguing about you with her father?” I sat down on the bench in the dressing room. Someone had left a linen towel in a heap on the corner. Picking up the towel, I noticed brown stains on it, probably blood. Tapio Holma quickly glanced at the towel and then turned his face away. I didn’t comment on the stains and simply folded the towel carefully so that the beautifully embroidered “J. M.” was on the top. Strange that no one had grabbed this on Sunday. Had Forensics inspected the sauna at all? I repeated my question about the argument, and I stared at Holma until he responded.

  “Probably. Juha didn’t bother to hide that he didn’t like our relationship. He asked me whether my intentions toward his daughter were honorable.”

  “Well, were they?”

  “If by honorable intentions you mean planning to marry her, then yes.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Yes, I know Riikka is young, but I want to share my life with her and have children together. My ex-wife, Suzanne, and I agreed that we didn’t want children. It would have hurt Suzanne’s career the most, but mine too, and we thought that was more important than having kids. Now I don’t think that way anymore.”

  Holma glanced out the window. “There was a colony of sparrows under the eaves this summer. We were here the week the chicks learned to fly. They were amazingly noisy. It feels so quiet now that they’ve flown away for the winter.”

  “Let’s go back to Sunday morning and the discovery of Juha Merivaara’s body. Do you think anything indicated it was more than an accident?”

  Holma shook his head.

  “I can’t even imagine that someone really killed Juha. Things like that don’t happen, except in operas,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but I didn’t return his smile. “I saw instantly from Mikke’s expression that something horrible had happened, but he didn’t say anything that would have made me think it was anything but an accident.”

  Now I spread the towel out in front of Holma. He tried to avoid looking at it.

  “Do you know where this blood is from?”

  Holma didn’t answer. Continuing to look out the window, he ran his hand through his hair again.

  “You had a fight with Juha Merivaara in here on Saturday afternoon.”

  “Says who?” Holma’s voice was weak.

  “That doesn’t matter. Tell me what happened.”

  For a long time Tapio Holma didn’t say anything. I looked around the sauna and dressing room for signs of a struggle—Jiri had mentioned pieces of wood being thrown around. But a piece of firewood wouldn’t have caused the damage done to Juha Merivaara’s skull, and the only other possibility was the sauna ladle, which was too light. There was also a dark stain on the bottom sauna bench.

  Holma groaned. “It was so stupid. Two grown men fighting like little boys.”

  “Who started it?”

  “Me.” Holma’s tone was one of embarrassment. “Or I threw the first punch, but Juha actually started the argument.”

  Holma wouldn’t repeat what Juha had said. Apparently it was too personal. It must have had something to do with Riikka. Holma had punched Juha in the face, and Juha picked up a piece of firewood to protect himself. Holma’s second punch landed on Juha’s nose, which had started bleeding. When Jiri came to hurry them along for dinner, Juha cleaned his face with the towel.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  Holma claimed the incident had seemed unimportant, and he didn’t want to sully Juha Merivaara’s memory. That explanation didn’t seem terribly credible.

  “Of course Jiri will tell Riikka and Anne,” Holma said with a sigh as we were walking back to the fortress from the sauna. “How is that cute little daughter of yours? Who takes care of her while you’re at work? She must still be pretty little for day care.”

  “Her father is on leave from his job,” I said quickly, expecting an exclamation of surprise.

  But instead Holma said, “I could do that too, especially if my voice doesn’t recover. I could stay home and take care of the baby so Riikka could go to school. Having a child wouldn’t have to change her plans.”

  Koivu and Mikke were still sitting in the kitchen, the former slurping Coke and the latter studying a sea chart.

  “Let’s go to the lighthouse,” I said to Mikke, who thankfully didn’t ask why but just stood up and followed me. We climbed the circular stone stairs to the upper level. The wind had died down and only low, lazy waves rippled across the open water. No ships were visible on the horizon.

  “There won’t be many more days like this in store, I wager. The fall storms will be starting soon,” Mikke said wistfully.

  “You’d like to leave, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I would.” Mikke stared at the sea, his eyes motionless. His eyebrows shone a bright white under his black cap, and angular shadows fell beneath his protruding cheekbones. “I’ll have to wait for Juha’s funeral. He was my only brother after all.”

  “The body will be released today. But your leaving depends on more than just his funeral. Right now our forensic team is investigating where you found Juha’s body, even though we can’t see them from here.”

  I motioned to the west shore of the island. We looked at the red granite speckled with moss and lichen that concealed the cliffs beyond.

  “You lied when you claimed you noticed Juha’s body when you climbed up here to admire the sunset, didn’t you?”

  I gave a start when Mikke turned toward me abruptly. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I stared him down as best I could, as if my gaze could penetrate through his eyes, into his mind, and find out what he was concealing. My stare must have worked, because Mikke turned away and I saw him blush.

  “I didn’t mean to lie. I was just embarrassed . . .” Mikke leaned one elbow against the wall, and his face turned to shadow. “I didn’t sleep well, which is normal when I’ve been mixing wine and beer. The wind had changed, so I went to check the Leanda’s moorings.
Something made me think about what Seija had said about spirits. I don’t believe in any of that, but . . .”

  Mikke raised his eyes and tried to look at me, but he couldn’t quite do it. “I brought Harri here last year and then left immediately for my winter trip. I did stop on Föglö to visit my mom on the way, but no one bothered to send news of Harri’s death. I didn’t hear anything about it until January, when I got stuck in Portugal for several weeks with some keel damage. Seija sent me a letter telling me about the accident. I don’t know if I would have turned around for the funeral. Probably. Harri was one of my best friends. It was my fault he ended up dying here. I was the one who suggested he catalog the birds on Rödskär.”

  I listened to Mikke’s monologue without interrupting. I couldn’t help the fact that I liked being close to him, even though fate had thrown us together as adversaries in a murder investigation. At the same time I feared that others would notice, so I was trying desperately to treat Mikke as if he were any other person I had to interview.

  “All Saturday I wanted to go to the place where Harri fell—it had been a year, and it seemed a good way to honor him, but I couldn’t upset Anne by reminding her of the incident,” Mikke continued. “Sunday morning seemed like a good time for it, since I was alone. I walked to the shore and . . . at first I thought I was seeing things. Then when I realized there really was a flesh-and-blood person down on the rocks; I slipped too out of sheer terror. There wasn’t anything I could do for Juha. And then I had to go tell the family that I . . . that I had found Juha’s body. Oh God, it was horrible!”

  Mikke leaned against the glass dome of the spotlight, and his right hand wiped his forehead. I would have wanted to say something completely different, but I continued my questioning.

  “What else did you find besides Juha’s body?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That wound on the side of his head didn’t make itself. I’d like to have what he was hit with. Did you see it?”