Suhonen considered the various ways that he could arrest Martin. If the house was packed with lawyers, sending in the SWAT team would likely be ill-advised, though quite educational. Karila and Takamäki had emphasized the importance of the lowest possible profile and minimal publicity. The goal was to turn the situation back in the Lehtonens’ favor.
In terms of a low profile, Martin’s party was clearly a terrible starting point. No matter how they got him out of the house, there would be an uproar amongst the guests. Suhonen couldn’t wait until the party was over, because timing was important. But the bosses had only urged the lowest possible profile. Needless to say, they would have to search the house, so the party had to end. But how to do that without revealing the reason for Martin’s arrest to his guests?
Suhonen had looked into Martin’s background. The man was married with two teenage children, but more interesting was what he found in the firearms registry: a shotgun and two handguns registered in his name.
His two-story red brick house was situated just across the street from the ocean front, not far from Mellsten’s beach.
Suhonen took out his phone and called the on-duty lieutenant at the Espoo police department. Takamäki had already arranged for back-up to be available. After that, Suhonen called Takamäki, who had no objections to his straightforward plan.
Within ten minutes, the cruisers from Espoo had pulled up to the agreed-upon meeting spot in the parking lot of the Toppelund school. Suhonen briefed the uniformed officers on his strategy and showed them a photo of Martin he’d gotten from a directory of lawyers.
The squad cars pulled up to the house in single file with their roof lights off. Suhonen parked his vehicle behind them and he, along with four other cops, weaved through the cars parked in the driveway. One of the uniformed officers rounded the house to cover the back door.
Suhonen reached the front door and was about to ring the bell when it opened. He recognized Martin immediately. The man had a glass of Cognac in his hand. He reeked of alcohol, and his pupils were dilated. Latin music and the smell of cigar smoke wafted outside.
“What’s this?” he said. “Are the neighbors complaining? We’ll turn it down.”
“No need. I’ll take care of it,” said Suhonen.
“What? You can’t just…”
“Shut up,” said Suhonen, and one of the Espoo cops twisted Martin’s arms behind his back. The glass of Cognac fell to the floor and shattered.
“What the hell…” Martin managed to say before the burly officer slapped on the cuffs, took hold of his suit coat and started hauling him toward the cruiser. Martin wasn’t wearing any shoes, but the cop didn’t care.
“What is this!” shouted Martin, struggling against the cuffs.
“I’ll explain in a bit,” said Suhonen, and he went inside. The furnishings looked expensive. Suhonen took a quick glance into the two downstairs bedrooms, the bathroom and entertainment room. Empty. He continued on upstairs with two Espoo officers in tow.
“What’s going on down there?” shouted a woman’s voice from the top of the stairs. The music shut off.
Suhonen waited until he reached the top before answering. The two beat cops stayed just behind him.
Once on the second floor, he pulled out his badge, “Helsinki Police.”
Three women and four men were sitting around a large living room decorated entirely in white furnishings. Their posh clothing harmonized with the expensive decor.
“What’s this all about?” said one of the women as she rose. She was slender, with long blond hair and a black knee-length dress. “Where’s my husband?”
“Take it easy,” said Suhonen. “Mats Martin is under arrest.”
One of the men shot a quick glance toward a corner at the back of the room where a couple of chairs and a chess table were arranged. Suhonen caught the glance and walked over to the table.
Martin’s wife was babbling something, and as he neared the table, Suhonen heard one of the men cursing. A couple lines of white powder lay on the marble chess board with a straw to the side. “I see,” said Suhonen with a smile. The drugs would make a convenient excuse for the raid.
“You’re all under arrest on suspicion of drug possession.”
“I haven’t done anything!” one of the men protested as he got to his feet.
The Espoo cops took a step toward him and he fell silent again. Martin’s wife was in hysterics now.
“You can’t just barge into someone’s house like that!”
“But here we are in the middle of your coke party. Imagine that,” said Suhonen. He turned to the other cops. “Take down their names and bring them to the Espoo Station. I’ll call and let them know we gotta bunch of junkies on the way. I need one of you guys to come with me to Helsinki. And cuff ’em all,” he hollered after them. A ride in the back of a cop car with handcuffs on and a night in jail was a more fitting punishment for these types than whatever fine they’d get for possession. Of course, if Espoo Narcotics didn’t have any big cases going on, they’d search their homes and offices to find out where the drugs came from. But Suhonen was confident that that would come out in the interrogations anyway. Whatever the case, he wasn’t interested in the drugs.
While the uniformed officers began shepherding the shocked guests down the stairs, Suhonen opened the door to an adjacent room and glanced inside. One look at the desk, laptop, bookshelves and stacks of paper told him it was Martin’s office. A few cell phones were charging on the desk. Forensics would have fun with this place.
One of the Espoo cops came back upstairs. “We got a little problem. Couldn’t fit all of them in the cruisers, so I called for another. Martin’s waiting in your car, so I’ll ride with him in the back seat and make sure he doesn’t try anything.”
“That’s fine,” said Suhonen.
The beat officer smiled, “Quite the coke party. Two more lawyers, one communications director and a Supreme Court clerk in the bunch.”
“Ha! Looks like headline material,” said Suhonen, and he called Takamäki, who informed him that Jere Siikala had been taken into custody without event.
Suhonen took another look at the man’s lavish home and wondered if Espoo’s Narcotics unit would dare rifle through the office of a Supreme Court clerk. Takamäki, for one, would never miss such opportunity.
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17
CHAPTER 25
SUNDAY, 8:55 A.M.
PORVOO STREET, HELSINKI
Suhonen was sitting in the front seat of his Peugeot, parked in front of Porvoo Street 17 with a clear view of the Lehtonens’ apartment building. Though it had been legally parked, a Volvo had been towed to another spot down the street so Suhonen could have the best vantage point.
Helsinki was awakening to a beautiful, sunny winter Sunday. The temperature was ten degrees below freezing and an inch of snow had fallen overnight. Suhonen occasionally had to run the engine so the windows wouldn’t frost over, and he’d cracked the window to minimize the problem.
All was quiet on Porvoo Street. The Lehtonens’ building was at the old terminal stop of the number 3 streetcar, once called the “five-minute stop” because of how long the streetcar waited before turning around. The stop formed a sort of plaza, decorated by about ten trees, an electrical substation building, a couple of recycling barrels and a cab stand. Seven- and eight-story buildings surrounded the plaza. The Weeruska restaurant lay on Suhonen’s right behind a yellow fence.
The blue-gray building where Tomi Salmela was killed was located directly across from the Lehtonens’ apartment. On the ground floor was a convenience store with barred windows.