Rautalampi, Mustache Guy, claimed he was driving the delivery van all day. It was difficult to pinpoint where he had been, so he was given a pad of paper and a pen to jot down his route. It would be easy to check his story with the delivery company and its customers.
Joutsamo asked the men about Korpivaara. They confirmed that he had told them about his memory loss. He also told them about the beating, but gave no further details. Korpivaara obviously didn’t want to talk about it, not even with his best buddies.
The previous day they had met in the bar between three and four o’clock. They never set a time; it was just their routine to meet there at some point. Sometimes they were all present, other times only some of them came. On occasion, someone else would join in.
That left Jaakko Niskala. It was his fingerprints on the door that sent the police on the trail to the bar. The man sat behind the table in the interrogation room, wearing overalls, when Joutsamo stepped in. His hair was too short to be messed up from sleep-or anything else for that matter. His high hairline gave the impression of an oval face. He had an unusually weak chin.
“Good morning,” Joutsamo said matter-of-factly as she settled in the chair. She went through the regular routine and informed Niskala that she was recording the interrogation. She asked Niskala if he needed an attorney.
“No,” the man said curtly, his expression hard.
“What can you tell me about the death of Laura Vatanen?”
“No comment.”
Joutsamo was confused. She wondered what Niskala had to hide. Joutsamo strongly suspected that Korpivaara was the killer, and that the others weren’t involved.
“Really?”
“Still no comment.”
Joutsamo sighed and kept her gaze on the man. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were focusing on her or the wall.
“Is that going to be your answer to all my questions?”
“No comment.”
Joutsamo stopped the recording.
“As I said, this is a murder investigation. We’re not talking about a theft or an assault, where you may be released once the interrogations are over. You can play tough, if you want. But the fact that you refuse to answer questions is grounds to have you placed under arrest, and the next thing you know you’re in custody, and we’ll keep you here while we very thoroughly and deliberately investigate the case,” Joutsamo said as she got up.
Joutsamo opened the door and called for the guard.
“Hey, listen,” Niskala pleaded. “Please, don’t go.”
“Yeah, I know the TANK song. And now I’m goin’,” Joutsamo remarked coldly and turned to the guard. “This guy goes back in the cell. We’ll try again in a couple of days.”
“No, let’s do it now,” Niskala said. “I wanna talk.”
“You mean it or are you giving me a load of shit? I’m busy as hell.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Joutsamo shrugged at the guard, who knew the routine and shut the door. Joutsamo returned to the table.
She had a sour look on her face, though in her mind she wondered why Niskala broke so easily and was ready to talk. She figured the guys from the Narcotics Unit were right; the man was a dime-a-dozen crook.
Joutsamo restarted the recording.
“We are resuming the interrogation after a two-minute recess. What can you tell me about the death of Laura Vatanen?”
“I know nothin’ about it.”
Joutsamo shot the guy a reproachful look, aiming to pressure him.
“For real. I had nothin’ to do with it.”
“Did you know Vatanen?”
“Yeah, she was sort of everyone’s honey in the bar. Not all there, but that didn’t bother us. No one forced her into anything; the men and her all did it voluntarily. But she was weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Her mood would change just like that. It was hard as hell to predict what she’d do next.”
“How would that show?”
“She’d invite you to her place, but when you got there, she’d suddenly kick you out. Not every time, of course. Otherwise we wouldn’t have let her hang with us.”
“So sex was the only reason you let her hang with you?”
“Well, we weren’t interested in her stories.”
Joutsamo forced herself to stay calm, even though she wanted to beat the shit out of him. But the only feelings she could acknowledge right now were the suspect’s possible feelings of guilt.
“You think that was a good thing?”
“I dunno if it was good or bad, it’s just the way it was. And she did enjoy the sex.”
“With all of you?”
“One at a time. We’re gentlemen, after all.”
Gentlemen my ass, Joutsamo thought. “What was the relationship between Korpivaara and Vatanen?”
“The same as it was between me and Darling.”
“Do you have any idea who killed her?” Joutsamo asked, keeping a cool face.
“I dunno. I do know it wasn’t me.”
“Oh really? Your fingerprints were found at the crime scene. What do you say to that?”
“What?” Niskala wondered. “They must be old… that’s all I can think of.”
“When was the last time you were in her apartment?”
Niskala thought for a minute. “Maybe a week ago, I’m not sure. All my days blur together.”
“Where were you yesterday morning?”
Niskala smiled. “I’m glad you asked. I have an alibi.”
“What alibi?” Joutsamo wondered why it had taken him so long to mention it.
“I was painting this guy’s apartment in Hertsikka.”
“By yourself?”
“No, with Mika.”
“Who is Mika?”
Niskala told her the guy’s last name and said the number was in his cell phone.
“He called me the night before and asked me to give him a hand. I said I’d do it, and Mika picked me up from Haaga around ten. We were there painting the apartment until about three.”
Joutsamo felt stupid. Was Niskala playing her the whole time, not bringing up his alibi right away? It seemed the guy pretended to be tougher than he was, and got scared when he realized the officer meant business.
CHAPTER 8
THURSDAY, 12:00 NOON
HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS, PASILA
The whiteboard showed a timeline beginning the day before the murder. Below it were several lines, the top one listing Laura Vatanen’s comings and goings and then the names of Korpivaara, Niskala, two other suspects, and the mother. Everyone’s photos were attached to one side.
Takamäki, in a gray cardigan over a white dress shirt, glanced at his watch. The meeting was scheduled for noon.
“Let’s get started,” the detective lieutenant suggested.
“Suhonen isn’t here,” Kulta remarked. Kirsi Kohonen sat beside Kulta, yawning. They’d had a long night and she’d slept lousy. The stench from the garbage lingered in her nose.
“He won’t be here,” Takamäki said.
“Why not?”
“He went to the hospital,” Takamäki said with a somber face.
“What for?” Joutsamo asked.
“No idea, to be honest. He just told me he was going to Meilahti Hospital.”
“Oh. Hope he’s okay,” Joutsamo thought out loud. It wasn’t uncommon for the police to stop by the hospital to question assault victims, but then they usually knew why their colleagues were there.
“Back to the case,” Takamäki said. “Anna, give us an update.”
The sergeant nodded. It was just the four of them since Nyberg wasn’t there either. A while back Leif had reserved a spa weekend in Turku for his wife and him. The case was in relatively good shape so Nyberg got to have his weekend off. That meant at least one well-rested investigator on Monday.
Everyone present knew the basic facts, so, instead of starting from square one, Joutsamo began with the crime scene.
“The Forensics team is done. The door had the fingerprints of seven individuals. One set was Vatanen’s and two belonged to the patrol officers. The fourth set is the mother’s and the other two are from Korpivaara and Niskala. The last set of prints is from Mikael Aarnio, a man who lives in the complex.”