Cold Trail (25 page)

Kannas
had seen hundreds of old people’s houses like this, usually in cause-of-death investigations where no crime was involved. In those instances, the investigation was significantly easier. The police showed up and did a superficial examination of the scene. The house was only investigated more thoroughly if the medical examiner
decided there was any ambiguity involved.

A couple of younger investigators were
combing the floor. Kannas’ knees were in such bad shape that he left the floor work
to others. He dusted powder on the door and looked for prints. When he found them, he used tape to transfer the print to paper. Then he documented the precise location where he found each print.

Many death
scenes smelled atrocious, with papers, garbage, bottles, and moldy food piled up to the investigators’ ankles in addition to the decomposing body. This was different: very tidy, even if the decor was heavily indicative of the fifties. The family had probably been established and the furniture bought back then. Old people weren’t big on change.

Kannas
moved inside after finishing the door, once the techs crawling along the floor
had moved onward. The area around the light switch was usually good. This time was no exception. The problem here appeared to be that the majority of prints that he had found so far resembled each other. In all likelihood they were from the deceased. Of course he couldn’t say for sure yet, because even the dead had ten fingers, with a different print on each one.

The
techs
put the strands of hair and other items they found into zip-lock
bags and documented the exact spot where each had been discovered.

This is going to take hours,
Kannas thought. But there was no rush. Least of all for the deceased, who was the customer in this case. Kannas liked doing the dead one last service. If someone had taken another person’s life, the living should do everything in their power to figure out who the killer was.

The
techs
had split up. The one on the left circled around toward the living room while the other one continued on toward the body. They should probably take a break soon. Working on all fours was hard on the knees and the back. If anyone knew that, Kannas did. The tech
who was closer to the body had about ten more feet to go.

If there was evidence of the killer in the house,
Forensics
would find it. That had been clear from the start. Tying their findings to suspects was Takamäki’s team’s job.

CHAPTER 16

WEDNESDAY
, 4:57 P.M.

HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS
, PASILA

The meeting had been set for five. Kannas had promised preliminary results by then. Suhonen entered the conference room, where Takamäki, Joutsamo, and Kohonen, the pull-up champ, were already waiting.

“W
ow, you’re on time,” Kohonen said.

Suhonen
grinned
and made some remark about showing up late usually paying off, because meetings normally began with pointless chit-chat. He joined the others around the
gray table-top.

“D
idn’t find him out in Malmi?” Suhonen asked.

Joutsamo
shook her head.

“T
hat Riihimäki thing,” Joutsamo began, giving a Takamäki a glance. “We can probably talk about that for a second before we begin the meeting proper.”

Takamäki
was amenable to the suggestion.

Joutsamo
gave the background. “So about that case where Repo got life. Something about it just doesn’t click. The entire investigation aimed solely at Repo being the only possible perpetrator. And I think there’s something really wrong there.”

“
Brief explanation,” Takamäki said.

Joutsamo
raised her thumb. “One. The act was extremely cruel. Repo’s wife’s throat was slit from the front in such a way that the killer saw her face.”

A forefinger rose up next to
Joutsamo’s thumb. “Two. None of the neighbors heard any fighting to speak of that night.”

Middle finger
. “Three. They weren’t troubled alcoholics, who had gone off the deep end; it was a family with a young child where both of the parents had jobs.”

Ring finger
. “I’ve read all of the preliminary investigation reports and court verdicts, but nowhere is there a mention of a possible motive.”

Joutsamo’s
pinky rose last of all. “And on top of all that, you take into account that the police were informed of the homicide by some external party while the woman was lying dead in the kitchen and the husband in all likelihood passed out in bed. The call didn’t come from the apartment. In other words, something stinks here. And I’d say pretty bad.” Joutsamo’s gaze circled her colleagues, seeking support, but no one responded immediately. “Well, at a minimum. it wasn’t a clear-cut case like that asinine lieutenant in Riihimäki claimed.”

Kohonen
glanced at Takamäki before jumping in. “I agree. There’s something weird about the case. It doesn’t add up.”

Suhonen
shrugged. “Of course you’re more familiar with the paperwork, but the truth is that the motive in those domestic violence cases can be incredibly minor. Something the other person said or did two months earlier that’s been eating at the killer. Then when they get enough liquor in them and they’re not thinking so straight, it just happens.”

Joutsamo looked at
Suhonen. “But who called the police?”

“W
hat time did it happen?” Suhonen asked, continuing without waiting for an answer: “Where did the wife work? Was she supposed to be somewhere at some time, and someone who knew her called the police?”

Joutsamo
laughed. “That’s pretty...”

Suhonen
interrupted her. “If you’re fixated on that innocence theory, that’s just as bad as the Riihimäki police being stuck on the guilt theory, but you have to understand that this thing isn’t based solely on the police investigation. Both the district court and the appeals court found the guy guilty of murder.”

Kulta
came in. “Sorry, couldn’t get off the phone.”

Takamäki
rubbed his face. Discord was the last thing he needed in his team.

“I
think Anna’s approach in that old case is something we should definitely follow up on, but only once Repo is back in prison.”

“O
kay, I’ll write up a memo,” Joutsamo said, but didn’t bother to add that she had already sent the evidence she had got from the Riihimäki police station in for DNA analysis. The question she had posed to the lab was simple: whose DNA was on it?

“
Karppi’s death makes the hunt for Repo top priority,” Takamäki continued. “Karila promised us more resources, as long as we figure out where we need them and can use them. The number one question is, do we have definite proof that Repo has been in Karppi’s home?”

All eyes
turned toward Joutsamo. “I don’t know.”

Big, burly
Kannas appeared at the door. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Definite proof of what?”

Takamäki
looked at his old patrol partner. “Glad you could make it.”

“W
hat do we need definite proof of?” Kannas repeated.

Before
Joutsamo could say anything, Takamäki continued. “A simple question: has Repo been inside Karppi’s home?”

“A
simple answer to a simple question: yes.”

“
Can you elaborate?”

“
But…I only give simple answers to simple questions,” Kannas said.

Takamäki
tried to smile, but it was forced. “Could you give us a little more information—explain in a little greater detail?”

“F
ingerprints?”

“Y
es,” Takamäki said, in a tone of feigned friendliness.

Kannas
sighed. “Of course. A fingerprint is a unique identifier made up of patterns formed on the skin of an individual’s finger. They have been utilized in criminal investigations since the 1890s. The first fingerprint...”

“N
ot now,” Takamäki interrupted with a smile. “Not now. Just give us the information.”

Kannas
glanced at the others and realized that it might be best to get down to business.

“A
ll right. Let’s fast-forward 120 years into Karppi’s house. Timo Repo’s fingerprints were found there in several locations. We can’t tell when he was there or for how long, but he was definitely there. Prints were found on the dining room and kitchen tables, the couch’s wooden backrest, the coffee maker, and in the bathroom. Based on this, we can deduce that he wasn’t there just for a quick visit. And yes... Those prints can’t be eight years old, because the house has been cleaned regularly. And, it’s not likely that Karppi had sworn off coffee for that long, either.”

“W
hat can you tell us about the body?”

The mood seemed somehow tense, so
Kannas decided to stick to the facts.

“T
he body is at the medical examiner’s office, so they will provide more detailed analyses, but it was lying next to the dining table, and there was blood and hair on the corner of the table. A naked-eye estimate: I’d say the gray color of the hair matches the hair on Karppi’s head.”

“S
o he hit his head on the table.” Takamäki said. It was more of a statement than a question.

“Y
es, it’s pretty rare for a table to hit someone in the head,” Kannas jibed, but the joke flopped. “There were no substances on the floor that would directly
indicate slipping. The deceased’s medical history is unknown, so it’s impossible to say whether he had a propensity for fainting or some other condition that could have caused the incident.”

Takamäki
looked at Kannas. “So at this point we know that Repo was inside the home at some point and that Karppi hit his head against the table for one reason or another.”

“T
he cause of death will be revealed during the autopsy,” Kannas said. “I’d estimate the time of death to be morning, maybe between nine and eleven. It’s also possible that he had a heart attack and lost his balance and... Well, there’s no point speculating. The guys are combing through Repo’s dad’s house now, and after that we’ll take a look at that car Joutsamo found down the street, the one stolen from the swimming pool. They promised to call right away if the prints matched Repo’s.”

“W
as there a cell phone or landline in Karppi’s house?”

Kannas
thought for a second. “There was a cordless phone in the living room, but we didn’t find a cell phone.”

“I
’ll find out whether he had one,” Kohonen announced.

“L
et’s get the info on calls made from the landline just in case Repo used it,” Joutsamo continued.

Takamäki thanked Kannas and added, “So the situation is that we have reason to suspect Timo Repo of homicide. Of course it’s also possible that an outsider had been there, but Repo remains our main
line of investigation. We’ll decide on the classification of the crime
once we have more facts, but as of now we’re looking at murder.”

The others nodded.

“And one more thing. Up till this point, our efforts have earned us an F-minus
.
Let’s try and do a little better.”

“W
hat about the press?” Joutsamo asked.

Se
veral reporters had asked about Repo’s hunt that day.

“I
’m still working on that,” Takamäki said.

* * *

The wipers swept the sleet from the car’s windshield. Suhonen was waiting at a red light at the corner of North Shore Drive and Maneesi Street
.
It wasn’t an intersection per se; it was a pedestrian crossing signal. A revolving ad
display
circled lazily in front of a red-and-yellow brick structure dating from 1840, North Shore Drive 18. Liisa Park was on the right, and behind it stood the War Museum. Suhonen had read somewhere that this was Helsinki’s
Jugendstil
architecture atits best.

No one
picked up, and Suhonen
tossed the phone onto the gray passenger seat. Goddammit, Salmela! Okay, it was possible that his SIM card could have expired by now.

The lights changed
, and Suhonen stepped on the gas.

He
hadn’t felt like hanging around the station, where everyone seemed down about their zero-result manhunt. When a case didn’t move forward, police had too much time to think. That’s when it was better to go out onto the streets and see if you could find something there.