Behind God's Back (13 page)

“Maybe this spot looks the same, but nothing else does. Everything has changed. Helsinki has totally changed; I've changed – even though I'm actually a young man in a middle-aged man's body.”

Lea glanced at me. “It's for the best. Middle age suits you.”

“How about you?”

“A lot of things happen over twenty years. Too many.”

“True. You like living in Israel?”

“Most of the time.”

“Do you visit Finland often?”

“Once or twice a year. The next time I was supposed to come was for Dad's birthday in November… It's hard to believe that he's not here any more. He's always been there… my whole life.”

We strolled slowly towards Laajasalo.

“The motive,” I said. “We don't have a motive yet. If we knew the motive, I think we'd be able to make pretty rapid progress. It's hard to understand why someone would want to kill your father…”

“It's even harder for me than it is for you. Unless it's an act of anti-Semitic violence, which you say you don't think it is. Maybe I don't even want to try and think of an explanation, since it's my father.”

“I get that, but I hope you'll try anyway…”

“You can be sure I've already discussed it with both Mom and Roni. None of us can come up with a believable reason for the crime. Nothing but guesses. Mom even imagined that Dad had another woman. Dad, another woman… Mom has always been jealous of Dad…”

“Your father was afraid of something, and who would he talk about it with if not his loved ones?”

“Not me, at least. Maybe Mom misunderstood and thought Dad was afraid of something, even though something else was going on. Dad was a good man; he didn't have any enemies.”

He had one, at least
, I thought.

“Your mother said that your father had warned her against opening the door to strangers. It's not likely that your mother misunderstood that. Besides, the fear was rational. The killer was dressed as a police officer. There can be no other explanation except that that's how he got your father to open the door. Your father was on his guard because he was afraid.”

“I suppose I'll have to take your word for it.”

“Your brother left for Lapland a day before your dad started staying home from the office. Could that have something to do with all this?”

“What on earth are you implying?” Lea asked, although I knew she understood perfectly well what I was implying.

“Maybe he also believed Roni was in danger, and sent him away.”

“Roni wouldn't have lied to me… or to Mom.”

“Maybe Roni didn't know what was going on. Maybe your dad had just asked or demanded that he take his vacation right when he did.”

“If that were the case, Dad would have told Roni the real reason. It'd be easier for him to avoid danger if he were anticipating it. And if that were the case, why wasn't Dad scared for Mom?”

“Perhaps because your brother and father were caught up in the same imbroglio, but your mother wasn't.”

“You don't respect Roni very much, do you? Since you think he would hold something back that would help you catch Dad's murderer.”

“Why didn't your father contact the police if he was afraid, then?”

“I don't know. You tell me,” Lea said.

“Because he would have been forced to explain something to the police that he wanted to keep under wraps. And that something was to do with him or your brother, or both. Maybe he ended up footing the bill for your brother… Maybe he was killed as a warning to your brother. Regardless of what my opinion is of Roni, it's easier for me to believe that the murder has something to do with him than with anything your father did or did not do.”

My words gave Lea pause. And that had been the point. I was trying to get her to see things more clearly.

Two little boys were digging for worms in the woods. The alders lining the shore were still green, but the nip of early autumn was unmistakable. The last couple of nights had been cold. There had already been night frosts in Lapland, and it had snowed in the fells.

Eventually Lea spoke. “That was a cruel thing to say; Roni is my brother.”

“And I'm a police officer. Sometimes we have to say cruel things. A little over a year ago your brother built a big,
expensive house in Marjaniemi. Do you know where he got the money?”

“He sold his old home and took out a loan. Dad thought the house Roni was building was too expensive and the loan he took out was too big. I presume Roni makes a pretty good living. He is an executive, after all.”

“When was the last time you were in touch with your father?”

“A week… five days ago. Dad called in the evening. We talked for about ten minutes.”

“What about?”

“Completely ordinary things. Were things calm in Tel Aviv, how the kids were doing, were they enjoying school, how I was doing. Then he told me was in good health and Mom was, too. Roni and his new wife were not doing very well, evidently. He always told me whom he had seen at synagogue… He even mentioned you…”

“Me?”

“Yes. He said that there had been an article about you in the paper. You had solved a taxi murder.”

“That was over two months ago.”

“He'd hear about you at the synagogue, from your brother. They were on some committee together.”

“The executive council?”

“Evidently. That's why they saw each other a lot.”

“Eli has always had a big mouth. Did your dad say how the company was doing?”

“He mentioned that there was a recession in Finland and things weren't looking too good. But he had made it through the last recession and he intended to make it through this one, too…”

“Which reminds me. How did Roni react when your dad wanted to stay on as CEO?”

“Roni, Roni, Roni. I don't know; we haven't talked about it. It would have only been a year or two at most.”

“Your father didn't seem concerned about anything?”

“Not to me. When we ended the call, he said to say hello to everyone and reminded me that we'd see each other for his birthday.”

“We found the car that the killer used. It turned up right near your folks' house.”

“Roni told me about that. A pretty unusual place… Audacious.”

“The car was stolen. From Estonia.”

“Is the killer Estonian?”

“We don't know. It's possible. The car is owned by an investment firm based in Estonia, the same company that financed the construction of the new building for your dad's company.”

Lea stopped and stared at me with her chocolate-brown eyes. It reminded me how beautiful they seemed to me when I was young… and still seemed to me now. “So what? You don't believe it's a coincidence?” she asked.

“It could be, but it's a pretty strange coincidence. The company is owned by an Israeli businessman named Benjamin Hararin. You've probably heard of him…” Now it was my turn to stare at Lea.

“I have. Every Israeli has.”

“But Hararin is considered a straw man. The real owner of the company is the Israeli billionaire Amos Jakov. I suppose you've heard of him, too. He's suspected of having contacts in the Russian mafia. It's easier to list what he doesn't own than to list what he does.”

Lea's face went rigid. “Are you trying to offend me? If you are, you've succeeded,” she said, a cold gleam in her eye.

“What do you mean? I don't understand…” I stammered, genuinely mystified.

“Are you trying to tell me you're not aware that my husband is a director at the finance company owned by Jakov? Your brother and Max Oxbaum can thank him that they acquired representation rights in Finland. That's why Dad took the loan through them. Roni, too.”

“I had no idea. Eli didn't say a word. I didn't even know that your brother had taken out his loan through them.”

Lea's tone was barbed. “He did. It's been almost two years now. My husband arranged him a loan with favourable terms. That might explain why he was able to manage it.”

I considered what Lea had just revealed to me. I had been telling the truth when I told her I had no idea that her husband was a director at Baltic Invest. All I knew was that he worked for Hararin. If Jacobson had basically got the loan from his son-in-law and for a good price, why would he have wanted to switch to a different one? Had his son-in-law warned him about the investigation by the Israeli police after all? Or had Jacobson heard unfavourable things about Baltic Invest via some other route and made the call to pull up stakes himself? I decided to get straight to the point.

“If the loan your husband arranged is so inexpensive, why would your father want to take out a new loan from a Finnish bank and get out of the old one?”

“Who said so?” Lea asked, vertical lines running between her dark brows.

“He had mentioned it to both your mother and his CFO, Pekka Hulkko. Roni was aware of it as well.”

“I hadn't heard… Dad never talked to me about things like that. Are you sure?”

I nodded. I didn't dare to tell her about her father's email message to Roni at this point. It didn't leave any room for doubt. “Can you guess what the reason might be?”

“I can certainly ask my husband if —”

“Don't bother, at least for the meantime. Were your father and your husband on good terms?”

“I think so. They'd butt heads now and again and disagree about some things…”

I had made Lea worried. I could see it in her every gesture.

“Could your husband have mentioned something to your father that would have scared him… warned him about something, for instance?”

“You talk as if my husband were a gangster. I don't know about anything like that… I'd better get back to Mom…”

My phone rang. I glanced at the screen and didn't recognize the number. I went ahead and answered anyway. It was Max.

“Hi. Can I call you back later?”

“You said you wanted to see me. I'm free now…”

“Where are you?”

“At the office. But we could meet at my boat. It's at the Lauttasaari marina.”

Max sounded like he really wanted to meet me. Just a few hours earlier it had been just the opposite. His tone was almost pleading. “I'd like to talk in confidence. I might be able to help you with your investigation, but unofficially. No one can ever find out, and I'll never agree to testify… And you're coming alone, right?”

“Fine. Is 8:30 all right?”

“I'll be waiting on my boat. It's at the C Dock. I'll leave the door open. Slip forty-five.”

“See you there,” I said, and hung up.

I escorted Lea to her gate. She stopped and stood there eyeing me coolly, with her arms crossed.

“If you have any evidence against my husband, I'd like to hear about it.”

“Let's talk again later. Say hello to your mother.”

I watched Lea walk away. I had forced her to think about things from a new perspective, but I wasn't sure whether it would help or hinder the investigation.

12

What could Max want to tell me?
I wondered the whole brief trip from one edge of town to the other. Max was one of the last people I could imagine revealing sensitive information about himself. He was an indulgent hedonist who denied himself nothing, annoyingly self-aware and completely blind to his own faults. As far as I could tell, Max's bar for guilt was set extremely high.

He owned a thirty-foot fibreglass yacht, and had for years. However, he preferred spending time at the yacht club's restaurant hobnobbing with its elite members to being at sea. This was also apparent on his boat, which looked like it had been decorated for society functions. I knew, because I had been invited to Max's parties a couple of times.

Like the other big boats, the boat was moored crosswise at the end of the dock. The marina had security, but there was no one in sight. The area was so large that the guard hut was almost a hundred yards away.

The steel-mesh door to C Dock was open, so I didn't need to call Max to come and open it.

I marched down the rocking pier, checking out the boats. Eli wasn't the only one who dreamt of buying one. I'd thought about it myself. I wanted a speedy little number that would take me out to an island in minutes to drop a line. Not to fish; to angle with a hook and worm. That was enough for me. I didn't live far from the marina, and could conceivably get a slip within walking distance.

You couldn't help but notice Max's boat; it was hands-down the handsomest on the dock. It must have cost a couple of
hundred thousand euros. It was Norwegian-made and had all the amenities to make life on board comfortable, including an ice machine and a well-stocked bar whose mahogany walls were lined with humorous brass placards, like
Bar Open: Midnight – 11 p.m.