Death Spiral (31 page)

Weissenberg tossed the latest tabloids on the desk in front of me.
SLAIN FIGURE SKATER’S MOTHER SHOOTS KILLER
claimed one paper. Another headline was even more brazen:
A MOTHER’S REVENGE—WOMAN KILLS DAUGHTER’S SUSPECTED MURDERER.
Both papers had devoted an entire spread to Teräsvuori’s shooting. Taskinen had given a statement to one of the papers emphasizing that Noora’s murder investigation was still ongoing, but that at this stage, it appeared likely that Teräsvuori was not guilty.

The story was definitely juicy and would supply copy for days. Ulrika’s indignation was easy to understand, but I doubted she was here to complain to me about newspaper stories.

“We demand that you increase the priority of Noora’s murder investigation. If the police had solved the case, Friday’s tragedy never would have happened.”

Of course Weissenberg was right. But she was also still a suspect. On the other hand, I had never come up with a reason Kauko Nieminen would have murdered his daughter, even though several incest scenarios had occurred to me over the weekend.

“I can assure you we’ve had every available resource focused on this case from the beginning,” I replied hopelessly.

“Do you call making nonsensical arrests using every available resource? Do you still consider Janne Kivi your prime suspect? You’ve dragged him in here twice already! Haven’t the results from his car come in yet? Certainly they demonstrate his innocence.”

“The second arrest was for speeding and perfectly justified. Janne was driving ninety miles an hour in a fifty zone. As far as the lab results are concerned . . .” I swallowed. I had almost told them the truth, that the forensic investigation hadn’t produced anything helpful. Foreign fibers had been found on Noora’s clothing and bag, but we didn’t have anything to compare them to. The most incriminating evidence was actually Ulrika Weissenberg’s fingernail, which the pathologist had found in Noora’s hair.

“The success rate for solving homicide cases in our country is excellent,” I said, trying to convince all of us.

“I’m prepared to offer a reward for information leading to the capture of my daughter’s murderer,” Kauko Nieminen suddenly said. “Do you think one hundred thousand marks would be enough? What newspapers do I need to put the announcement in? I’ll contact
Police TV
too. And if hiring a private investigator will help, I can find money for that.”

Kauko’s offer was very serious. He obviously thought money could solve this problem too.

“Thank you, Mr. Nieminen. If I were you, I would wait just a little longer before offering a reward. Of course it could help, but you know how mercenary people are. You can certainly hire as many private investigators as you want. And we’ve been thinking about
Police TV
too,” I said, not entirely truthfully, since the topic had only come up once. Although the show could help our work, I wasn’t sure Noora’s murder was really the right kind of crime for them to deal with. The show was so voyeuristic.

“Are you completely sure Teräsvuori didn’t murder my daughter? Hanna believed that bastard did it,” Nieminen said almost pleadingly. That would have been easy. Teräsvuori could be proclaimed guilty, the police crime fighting statistics would go up, and a clear justification would exist for Hanna’s act.

But Teräsvuori hadn’t killed Noora.

“Teräsvuori couldn’t have killed Noora. Both we and the Helsinki police are investigating Teräsvuori’s movements, and the picture that’s emerging is pretty interesting.”

“Do you mean that bastard could have hired someone to kill my daughter?” Kauko Nieminen yelled, his fist slamming down on my desk so hard it knocked the teacup that had been growing mold all weekend onto the floor.

“We can’t rule that out.”

Kauko Nieminen’s self-control failed entirely, and he railed about how lazy and ineffective the police and the justice system were, letting Teräsvuori get off with fines for harassing his family.

“You made Hanna a murderer! If Hanna goes to jail, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” Nieminen tried in vain to invent a sufficiently grotesque threat. Hide a bomb under the Minister of Justice’s chair? Sue the Espoo Police? Write to the president to beg for a pardon?

“How soon do you go on maternity leave?” Ulrika Weissenberg asked, glancing at my belly. Just then the Creature wriggled visibly, which made Ulrika look away.

I should have answered that it was none of her business, but instead I muttered humbly that I was leaving at Midsummer.

“If the case isn’t solved by then, who will be in charge of the investigation?”

“Lieutenant Taskinen has been lead investigator the whole time. The questioning has only been delegated to me due to conflict of interest reasons.” My head was throbbing now and kicking the wall wasn’t going to help. “Since you appear to have time, maybe we could review how your fingernail ended up in Noora Nieminen’s hair. After we get to the interrogation room, I’ll get an officer to come serve as witness. Mr. Nieminen can come along if he likes.”

This worked. Of course Ulrika hadn’t told the Nieminens the truth about her fight with Noora. Kauko Nieminen glanced at his companion in confusion, but then despair spread over his face. He couldn’t lose his only source of support.

“Your fingernail . . . in Noora’s hair? Ulrika, what’s going on?”

For once Ulrika Weissenberg seemed to be at a loss. When she spoke she didn’t look at Nieminen, staring instead at her nails, which were a shiny silver today. I listened to her explanation with a strange satisfaction. Unfortunately Weissenberg’s story was the same as before. Maybe it would still be worth a call to Silja to see if she’d overheard the argument, though. I’d forgotten to check that too. I definitely wasn’t a supercop. And yet, I assured Kauko we would do our best and ratchet up the investigation even more.

17

When I finally got the pair out of my office, I felt tired, impotent, and small, even given my appearance. I felt like I would crumble, peeling away from around the Creature into pieces on the rug. I was too fragile to handle a single nasty word.

And I was surely in for buckets of them that day. I could guess what Taskinen’s meeting would be about.

I decided to correct at least one omission and call Silja Taskinen. At the same time I could hear how her life was going. School had ended the previous Saturday. Silja was unlikely to have a summer job, since she was leaving soon for her training camp in Canada.

“Hi, Maria. I was just cleaning out my closet. I have to do something to keep from thinking.”

Another needle in my heart: the pair who just left weren’t the only ones who needed the peace of mind solving Noora’s case would bring. We chatted for a minute about Hanna and the upcoming funeral. Silja said she felt horrible playing Snow White’s stepmother in the memorial performance, but somehow Ulrika had talked her into it. According to Ulrika, putting on the Snow White piece would be a tribute to Noora and therapy for all of them because, in a way, Noora would be present with them on the ice. The only one she hadn’t convinced to skate was Janne, so the performance would be half baked.

“I’ll probably have a sore throat or twist my ankle. I can go to the funeral, but I can’t skate.”

When I inquired whether Silja had heard Ulrika and Noora’s fight at the ice rink, she sighed.

“Yes, I heard it, as I probably already said, but I didn’t hang around to watch. I’d heard them fight enough times before. And it probably wasn’t the first time Ulrika hit Noora. I don’t like talking about this, though, like I’m blaming Ulrika.”

“It’s just good you’re talking. Did you hear what Noora said to Ulrika? What could have made her hit Noora?”

“It was probably what Noora shouted about Janne. Something about Ulrika thinking she could buy Janne, a horny old postmenopausal harpy like her. Noora could be pretty crude.”

“Bossy old witch” was what Ulrika had claimed Noora said. I should have guessed Noora would have used something more expressive. Postmenopausal and horny was an amusing contradiction, but Ulrika Weissenberg probably hadn’t laughed.

“By the way, how well do you remember spring two years ago?”

“Um, you mean when I was in ninth grade? Why do you ask?”

“Did anything special happen to Noora then? Take your time to think about it and maybe tell me tomorrow if you don’t remember right now. If you have a diary from then, check there.”

“Well I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. That was around the same time Noora’s mom started dating that Teräsvuori guy, though. Are you coming to the funeral, Maria?”

“I guess so.”

I really had no desire to go. I was sure to start crying. Pregnancy had made me so prone to tears that I even bawled like a baby during movies now.

“We have practice at the ice rink at eight. Before that is a hockey clinic being taught by some big hockey coach, so even Ulrika couldn’t get it moved. Stanley Cup champions always beat figure skating in Espoo.”

Ulrika wouldn’t have been able to stop Hanna from pulling that trigger either, I thought after hanging up the phone. That was only a slight comfort. Next I made an appointment to meet Kati Järvenperä that afternoon at the Summer University office. Interviewing the woman whose car Noora’s body was found in had also ended up on the back burner.

Koivu brought the material I’d requested but instead of letting me jump into it, he announced that the pepperoni pizza I’d promised would hit the spot about now. So we drove to a nearby pizzeria. When the waiter arrived, Koivu thought for a second and then ordered a beer.

He grinned. “Homeopathic medicine. Isn’t that the idea, that you remove the disease with the thing that caused it?” he asked.

After eating half of his pizza, he started recounting his escapades with Puupponen and Pihko. Even though Koivu didn’t admit it, I got the feeling that one of the reasons he and Pihko had gone on such a bender was the bad aftertaste of Teräsvuori’s killing.

“That was definitely the highlight of the year when you dumped that beer and ketchup on Ström’s head,” Koivu said after wolfing down the rest of his pizza. I had only managed to work through half of my sweet-basil pasta, and I was stuffed.

“Yeah . . . did Ström ever come back to the party?”

“No, he left. That’s why we had such a good time.”

Koivu’s phone rang before I could tell him why I gave Ström a bath—someone wanted him at the station. It was probably for the best.

I spent the rest of the time until Taskinen’s meeting with my head in case notes. The reading was so interesting that I almost forgot the time and then had to go to the bathroom. When I finally arrived in the break room, the others, all ten men from our unit, were already there. Taskinen was aglow.

“OK, people. We can probably start now that Maria is here.”

“Maria and guest,” Lähde murmured and then made space next to him. A bit timidly I sat down—the only person who’d be worse to sit with in this situation was Ström himself.

“As you know, the department is undergoing a major shakeup. Our boss, the chief of police, I mean, is retiring in October. The head of the Criminal Division, Captain Vainionpää, has been selected as his successor. There’s been a lot of speculation about who will take that job. For a while we thought they might bring in someone from Turku or Pori, but now the decision has been made to name someone from in-house . . .”

Taskinen paused for dramatic effect, even though we all knew what he was about to say.

“This morning the police commission decided to appoint me. I’ll be moving on starting October first, so this unit will need a new commander. The preference is for making that appointment in-house as well. They want someone who already knows what we do and how we operate. The qualification requirement is a master’s degree or better in law.”

Silence. I stared at the table, feeling everyone else’s eyes staring at me. To lighten the mood, Taskinen continued:

“But don’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet. You aren’t getting rid of me. I’m just moving up a rung, so I’ll still be your boss, and you’ll have to fear me just that much more.”

Puupponen was the only one who had the sense to laugh.

“Even though I’ll also be leading Narcotics, Robbery, and White-collar Crime, and of course Violent Crime II, you’ll still be close to my hearts. This unit has done great work for the two years it’s existed in its present form. We’re undergoing a lot of change, though. Pihko is leaving and his replacement will be starting in July. Maria is going on maternity leave—”

Taskinen shouldn’t have mentioned my name. The murmuring began instantly.

“While you’re on maternity leave, you’ll have plenty of time to come up with new plans for the unit,” Lähde whispered to me.

“Yeah, and organize all my pictures,” I replied with feigned playfulness. That was what my sisters had recommended I do with my time until the baby came.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Taskinen asked to put an end to the buzz. Puupponen was first on the ball again and took the hint to congratulate Taskinen, after which everyone got up to shake his hand. I intentionally avoided a hug so it wouldn’t be misinterpreted.

“Now, let’s get back to business,” said Taskinen. “Where do we stand with our major ongoing cases?”

Taskinen began with the interrogation of the child molester. Ström was happy to report that the pretrial investigation was almost in the bag. Even though the suspect hadn’t confessed, they had enough positive identifications to put him away. Then came a couple of battery cases: routine disagreements over vodka bottles, the sort we dealt with every week. After that quick review, Noora Nieminen’s case was up.

“Where are we with this, Maria?” Taskinen asked, even though he knew we weren’t really anywhere.

“We’re still questioning witnesses. Teräsvuori’s shooting on Friday didn’t have any significant effect on the investigation because we’d just eliminated him from our list of suspects.”

“And why is that?” Ström practically yelled.

So I told him about Teräsvuori’s alibi. “The forensic investigation still hasn’t given us a clear answer on where Noora was killed or told us anything about the perp. This afternoon I’m interviewing the person who found the body. Next we’re going to—”

Ström interrupted again. “Can I ask why Sergeant Kallio is leading this investigation, even though a lieutenant should have responsibility for a homicide case?”

Taskinen sighed. “I’m the lead investigator, but I also have personal relationships with most of the main players in the case, so I wouldn’t be able to question them impartially. Maria didn’t happen to have anything terribly complicated on her plate, unlike you, for example, Ström. Do you have any other questions, or can Maria continue?”

I felt as if I were stuttering worse than a seventh-grader giving her first public speech. I explained the progress of the forensic investigation: Janne’s and Järvenperä’s cars had been checked, and fibers had been found in the latter that didn’t match anything in Noora’s wardrobe or anything in the Järvenperäs’ house. I listed the people whose fingerprints had been found on Noora’s skates, but I didn’t mention the blade guards. Even though everything was still depressingly preliminary, summing up everything we’d had turned up so far also did me good. I realized I already knew quite a lot and discovered something was solidifying from Noora’s diaries and the conversations I had conducted with the suspects. I had some new questions for the department’s central server and certain individuals.

When the meeting ended, I was actually pretty pleased with myself. I had answered Ström’s irritating questions with confidence and convinced everyone else that the case was progressing. I was even starting to believe that myself.

But maybe I had felt relief too soon. When I turned toward my office, Ström was right on my tail. When I opened my door, he stopped, clearly intending to chat. I was prepared for him to demand that I pay his dry cleaning bill, but to my surprise he was almost friendly.

“Have you already been to your birthing classes?”

“Um, yeah. They only do two nowadays. The second one is tonight.” What was going on here?

“Your husband’s coming to the birth, right?”

At first I was going to tell him it was none of his business, but then I reconsidered. “Of course. The baby is his just as much as mine.”

“Now you’re a bad dad if you don’t go. When Jenna was born ten years ago, they wouldn’t even let me in the delivery room. We lived in Turku back then, and they were strict as hell. Dads only got in the way, fainting or paying more attention to all the interesting tools in the room instead of their wives. That’s what they said to me. I had to wait in the hall for hours. They didn’t even bother telling me Marja was going into emergency surgery because Jenna’s cord was wrapped around her neck. When Jani was born, though, they let me come in. It was pretty great. You never forget something like that. They say it brings a family together, but it didn’t help us. That’s water under the bridge, though,” Ström said, then turned and walked out of my office.

I stared dumbfounded as he left. What was I supposed to conclude from that little monologue? And they say women are unpredictable. I shook my head and returned to my reports.

When I finally finished reading, every muscle in my neck ached, and my right leg kept cramping up. Over the past few weeks, I’d been having an increasingly hard time finding any comfortable way to rest, and the thought of ten more weeks of that wasn’t exactly cheery. Hopefully the Creature wouldn’t draw things out much past the due date. Any extra waiting would be a serious trial of my natural impatience.

To limber up my mind and body, I walked to the train station. My walking pace wasn’t very brisk, and at the end I had to sprint to make the train. Even though my belly got in the way, running felt surprisingly good. How soon after the birth would I be able to get moving again?

The Helsinki Regional Summer University office was located in an old, gilded building in downtown Helsinki. The lobby was full of students signing up for classes. Squeezing through the crowd, I made my way to Kati Järvenperä’s office. Next to the chaos in Järvenperä’s office, my own looked pristine. Hers overflowed with stacks of folders on the floor, and the pile of course descriptions next to her computer looked as though they went all the way back to the founding of the school. But Järvenperä didn’t make any apologies for the mess, she just moved a stack of binders off the chair onto the floor and asked whether I wanted anything to drink. The Jaffa orange soda she gave me was perfect after my run for the train. Kati had heard about Vesku Teräsvuori’s shooting and asked about it before I started my questioning. I was surprised I could already talk about it as if it had happened to someone else. I didn’t really like it.

“Earlier today I reread my notes from our discussion and the report from your very first interview. A few things stood out to me I wanted to ask about. You said you backed your car up right up to the wall?”