“Okay,” the man said, and the call ended.
Takamäki was at the door again. “Any progress?”
“Some. Apparently, at 9:30 P.M., Eriksson took a taxi from Helsinki Avenue to Oulunkylä, just over a mile from the crime scene.”
“A taxi?” Takamäki wondered. “Well, let’s go to my office. Suhonen’s waiting for us.”
Joutsamo was still thinking about the conversation. “Damn. I can’t remember if there are any security cameras in that area.”
“That wouldn’t help if he was in the taxi alone.”
“No, but it’s possible that Eriksson met the killer somewhere else before going to the garage. They could have met at Pirjo’s Tavern and gone from there. Maybe the security camera could’ve caught a glimpse of a potential suspect.”
“It’s worth a shot, but let’s go talk to Suhonen.”
* * *
Suhonen was perched on the window sill in Takamäki’s cramped office. As usual, he kept his leather jacket on. The detective lieutenant took his seat behind the desk, and Joutsamo sat in the chair by the door.
A bookshelf against the wall was filled with different colored folders, containing case files. A diploma on the wall proved that Takamäki had participated in an international FBI course on profiling. Mr. Kari Takamaki, it read. A couple missing dots over the “a,” but at least they hadn’t called him Ms.
Outside, the morning wind had ushered in another low-pressure system. Beneath the street lamps, the sleet was driven nearly sideways.
Takamäki showed them a letter-sized printout of a photograph. “Forensics found this in Eriksson’s apartment. It was taped to the bottom of a desk drawer.”
Joutsamo examined what appeared to be a photo of a note. In capital letters, someone had written, “JUHA S. 14,000 DUE NOV 15,” followed by a couple of exclamation points.
“In the same drawer, Forensics found what they believe to be a bag of amphetamines.”
“Was Eriksson dealing?” Joutsamo said, more thinking aloud than asking a question.
Takamäki glanced at Suhonen, who added, “And why would he hide the note in his own home? Was he worried that someone would raid his apartment?”
“All good questions,” Takamäki said.
“Were there any prints on the note? When can we get a handwriting analysis?” Joutsamo asked.
“Not sure,” Takamäki said. “Kannas will take care of it… Suhonen, tell Anna.”
Suhonen was still sitting on the windowsill. “This Juha S. is the informant who told me about the body.”
“Wow,” Joutsamo let go.
“Right,” Takamäki said.
“Let’s take him in,” Joutsamo said immediately.
“Good idea,” Takamäki said.
“Naah,” Suhonen stalled.
Joutsamo looked at Suhonen. “I don’t suppose Saarnikangas told you that he owed the victim almost fifteen grand?”
“No, he didn’t. Nor did he tell me where he heard about the body.”
“Right,” Joutsamo continued. “Maybe you should have asked him where he saw the body, not where he heard about it. Or maybe even where he killed him.”
“Looks like probable cause,” Takamäki said.
Suhonen raised his hand, gesturing for some quiet. “Then why would he tell me about it?”
“To throw us off track.”
“Naah,” Suhonen said again. “I know this guy a bit. I can’t say well, but still… In my view, he’s not a killer. He’s more like a pawn, though he’s not as dumb as most junkies. He’s a kind of survivor, who always gets out of trouble by squeezing through some crack.”
“So you’re saying he’s not capable of murder?” Joutsamo asked.
“Everyone’s capable of murder in the right circumstances. Still, it seems to me that if Saarnikangas were in debt, he’d try to resolve it somehow, not bury it by shooting the guy.”
Joutsamo shook her head. “Seems to me we should take him in and interrogate him. If, like you say, he’s some kind of low-class junkie, then he’ll talk within a few days.”
Takamäki turned back to Suhonen.
“I think we should wait for more details from Forensics. The DNA evidence and what not,” Suhonen said. “I agree that Juha knows more about this case than he told me. I could try to get it out of him.”
“I disagree.” Joutsamo said.
“With what exactly?” Takamäki asked.
Joutsamo looked at Suhonen for a moment.
“Alright. This case started with your intel, so let’s see where you can go with it. Let’s try Suhonen’s way, for now at least. But we definitely shouldn’t tell Saarnikangas that we know about the debt,” Joutsamo said.
“Of course. I thought maybe we should use some old-fashioned police work, but blended with a little modern technology?”
“What do you mean?” Takamäki asked.
“Well, a phone tap and a GPS tail.”
“A tracking device?”
Suhonen nodded.
Police tracking devices could be easily attached to any automobile. Every twenty seconds or so, it sent out a signal with its location, which was picked up by police computers, or even a field officer’s cellphone. Narcotics had used them with great success. The cops no longer needed five units to follow a suspect’s vehicle. Instead, its location arrived automatically. Narcotics had made an art of planting the devices inconspicuously; it only took about twenty seconds, and the device was nearly invisible.
The tracking device could also be built into any interchangeable car part. A Finnish company had developed the technology, and now foreign police departments and various intelligence organizations had taken a keen interest in it. Everything related to the device had been declared a state secret in Finland.
“We’d know where he was at all times. He drives an old Fiat van. Let’s watch and listen before we arrest him and show our hand. If Saarnikangas is actually the culprit, I don’t think he did it because of the debt.”
“Anna?” Takamäki turned to her.
“So he drives an old van, huh? According to Kannas, the tire tracks they found were from a van, and they were worn out… But your way is fine with me. It’s not like we have to hurry to prevent a crime or anything. But when you plant the tracking device, check out those tires.”
“Okay,” Takamäki said. “Phone tap and tracking device.”
“And the tires,” Suhonen added.
CHAPTER 11
MATINKYLÄ, ESPOO
WEDNESDAY, 3:05 P.M.
Markus Markkanen was lounging on the sofa in front of a blaring TV. The sports channel was showing a rerun of an NHL hockey game, but he wasn’t watching, just staring past the screen.
His “ex”-wife Riikka was in the kitchen making coffee.
“Want some?” Riikka called.
There was no answer.
“Hey,” Riikka called again. “Coffee or not?”
“I don’t think so,” Markkanen drawled.
He turned his blank stare toward the kitchen. Riikka was measuring coffee into the filter. A shapely woman in her thirties, her perky breasts seemed to stand at attention beneath her white T-shirt. Markus and Riikka had been together, or, more accurately, had been drinking together in the same circles since the late nineties. They quickly took to one another, and Riikka had gotten pregnant unexpectedly. Eetu was born in 2000.
Although Markus had spent a year in prison, the marriage had endured. A few years ago, it had ended in name only, but the relationship had continued. They told the boy that his daddy had gone to workabroad for the year. The last few years had been better, thanks to money. Since he had been working for Lindström, they had much more of it. Money didn’t just soothe the family; for them, it actually created happiness.
“Maybe I will have some,” Markkanen said, sitting up on the sofa. He was wearing gray wind pants and a black T-shirt. He surfed through the channels absent-mindedly, but couldn’t seem to find anything interesting. Eetu had gone to a friend’s house after school.