Death Spiral (29 page)

“But it isn’t fucking fair for some pregnant bitch to get a job that belongs to me!” Ström bellowed, and the buzz in the room suddenly died. “And don’t think I don’t know you spread your legs to get where you are. Who’s really that baby’s daddy, huh? Your husband or the boss—or do you even know?”

Usually the last comment would have just made me laugh, but the previous ones had ripped apart the self-confidence and professional pride I’d just started stitching back together.

I picked up Ström’s drink and dumped it on his head. And then I followed it with my own. From the next table I grabbed a bottle of ketchup and started squirting it at Ström before he had the sense to get up and make his retreat. Koivu stood next to me, guffawing, and then offered me a mustard bottle. The waitress just watched in horror. The room was full of police officers, so she probably expected someone to step in. On the other hand, I was obviously pregnant, and it was clear no one quite had the nerve to confront me, even if I had left a huge puddle of beer and ketchup on the restaurant floor.

“What’s going on here?” Taskinen asked, plowing his way through the gawking crowd.

“Ström and I had a little disagreement. He feels threatened. I imagine you’ve heard about the turn in the promotion drama?” I was surprised at how calm I was, even though a few seconds before I had been ready to kill Ström.

“I heard yesterday morning,” Taskinen said. “I just haven’t had the right opportunity to talk to you about it.”

“Congratulations,” I said.

How much of Ström’s insults had Taskinen heard? The truth was that I liked Taskinen a lot and probably could have developed deeper feelings if I let myself. And I knew Taskinen enjoyed my company and wasn’t afraid of a friendly touch when we both needed a reassuring connection. The fact that we both had great relationships with our own spouses didn’t make us immune from being attracted to someone else.

“I should probably have a talk with Ström,” Taskinen said with a sigh.

“Don’t bother. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, but that was about me too.” Taskinen avoided my gaze, thankfully. Half of our unit was leaning in to hear our hushed conversation.

“If your position did come open, and I was picked, would Ström be my replacement during maternity leave?” I asked, ignoring that Lähde, Ström’s most faithful ally, was standing right behind Taskinen.

“Are you worried it would be like twisting the knife in the wound? That’s a hard one,” Taskinen admitted.

I wasn’t only thinking of Ström’s feelings. If he did my job for six months before I did, he was sure to make coming back to work a living hell.

I wasn’t in the party spirit anymore. I just wanted to get home as soon as possible, away from the stale tobacco stench of the stuffy room where everyone would be watching me for the rest of the night. I was sure some of my other colleagues would want to talk about what happened yesterday too. Even if they were friendlier than Ström, I didn’t have the energy for it.

I grabbed Pihko. Thankfully my fight with Ström hadn’t ruined his party, quite the opposite. Pihko had probably spent a lot of time wanting to slug Ström too.

“Have a good rest of the night. I’m taking off. Thanks for questioning Liikanen. I’m sure that’s going to help the case move forward.”

“I feel bad about leaving in the middle of all that,” Pihko said.

“Koivu and I can call you and tell you how it turns out in the end,” I said with a laugh, although I was sure within a few days, Pihko wouldn’t remember anything about Noora Nieminen’s murder case or Tomi Liikanen’s Russian connections.

As I drove home, I thought about Pertti Ström. I had known him for years. Although we were in the same class at the police academy, I’d gone right after high school while Ström had been held back a couple of grades in school, served in the army, and worked as a guard for a while. After a few years as a cop, he had also gone to law school, in Turku. At that point he already had a wife and his first child. I’d deduced at the time that, between work and studying, Ström hadn’t had much time for his family. Three years ago his wife had kicked him out of their house and filed for divorce. The biggest blow to his self-confidence, though, was that his wife had already had her eye on someone new.

I’d met Ström again when I was working as a lawyer, defending a man he had jailed. Over the course of that case, Ström kept telling me that I belonged with the police, not in a courtroom, and in the end I had to admit he was right. When I went behind his back to solve the case, I was sure he would hate me, but it was Ström who recommended me to Lieutenant Taskinen when the Espoo Police was looking for a female detective for a new unit. Although Ström was a nasty person to work with in most ways, at least he did his job.

But apparently the idea that I’d end up as his boss was too much for him. He had assumed my pregnancy would move me out of the Violent Crime and Repeat Offender Unit. Clearly he didn’t think investigating murders was appropriate work for a mother, and it irritated him that I didn’t have any intention of going anywhere, other than on maternity leave. And yet he had wanted them to hire me. Ström’s logic was a mystery.

I switched on the car radio, which was playing “Police and Thieves” by the Clash. Turning the stereo up, I belted the chorus along with Joe Strummer and wondered why Ström was such a hard-boiled macho jerk. Did he really feel so inferior to women that he had to beat his chest like that all the time? And his hostility wasn’t just directed at women—it was the whole world.

But still: Ström wasn’t stupid. Maybe he was right that I didn’t know how to give orders in difficult situations. I’d always had a tendency to act before I thought. But I did know how to delegate! Pihko and Koivu had got Tomi Liikanen talking. I hadn’t thought to ask whether they had arrested him for the steroids or whether they had cut him loose after questioning. Narcotics would probably want to question him, but I still had a few things on my mind too. Hopefully the boys had the good sense to give him a travel ban.

And where was Hanna spending this night? Probably still in the hospital. Her psychiatric assessment might well show she had been mentally incompetent at the time of the crime, which would mean she’d up in a hospital instead of a prison. In any case, I would have to testify. As long as that trial was ongoing, I would receive regular reminders of my own culpability.

There were three weeks left to solve Noora’s case, I remembered as I opened our front door. The house was quiet. Einstein nuzzled my legs, whining for food, and he started yowling angrily when I didn’t immediately rush into the kitchen to open a can of tuna fish. Antti’s office door was closed, and light shone through the gap. A closed door was our signal that he was working and didn’t want to be bothered. I’d wanted to tell him about my fight with Ström so he could buck up my terrible self-confidence, but I’d survive. Maybe it would be a good idea to do some brainwork.

Almost without thinking about it, I’d grabbed Noora’s last diaries when I was leaving work the previous day. Retrieving them from my bag, I moved an armchair so I could see the fields outside with their rows of green shoots and the birds fluttering about in the trees. The wagtails had only showed up a week before, almost a month later than normal. Now they teased silly Einstein, flying within a couple of feet and waving their tails before speeding off as soon as he tried to charge at them. The previous summer at my in-laws’ cabin, Einstein had been stalking a sandpiper chick that its panicked, twittering mother was trying to lead to safety. I was just about to grab the cat when a clever wagtail showed up on the scene. It landed almost on Einstein’s nose, teasing and bouncing around, leading the cat along the rocks as far away from the sandpiper chick as possible. The stupid cat still hadn’t learned that wagtails were smarter than he was.

A strong east wind bowed the maple trees in the yard and then the spruce stand lining the field. It was as if the wind had hundreds of invisible hands that shook the trees. I felt like waving back. Instead, I turned to Noora’s diary number sixteen, the one with most of the pages still blank.

I forced myself to read methodically, even though the entries for the final weeks were full of heartbreak. It was as if Noora had expected that after their international success, Janne would be hers. She was sorely disappointed. Suddenly I ran into Tomi Liikanen’s name.

Today I got some Mirapront from Tomi. He made me swear not to tell anyone and was really rude, saying he knew how much I needed it. They cost a ton too, almost two hundred marks. They’re from Estonia, so hopefully they work. According to Elena, one of the girls she coached in the Soviet Union got this really nasty rash from some hormone-regulating diet pills. Elena didn’t want to give them to her, but an official in the Sports Ministry ordered her to. But that girl never even won a European Championship medal.

Why hadn’t I noticed this before! Now I had at least one concrete piece of evidence against Tomi Liikanen. How had Noora known to ask Tomi Liikanen for weight-loss pills? Did she know about his steroid business? Wait . . . the call from Tomi the night of Noora’s death about a necklace turning up behind the desk at his gym. What had Noora actually been doing there? Had she been going through Liikanen’s papers?

“I think we both know who killed Noora and why.” That was what Vesku Teräsvuori had said to Tomi Liikanen behind the Fishmaid. On Monday I would finally get the chance to question Tomi Liikanen. He was going have some explaining to do.

Noora definitely had not been at her happiest during her last weeks of life. School testing was weighing her down. Noora wanted to be first in her class. I’d read that figure skaters were usually perfectionists. The last entry in the diary was made two days before Noora’s death.

Ulrika is such a stupid idiot! How dare she promise we’d do such a moronic ad! I’m just surprised she didn’t say I should play a cow and have Janne milk me!

I can’t stand it anymore. I do my own part more than well enough, and everyone else just makes fun of me and wants to use me. I thought that after Edmonton everything would change, but nothing has changed at all. All the worst things just keep repeating over and over again.

I want to blow up the whole shit show and expose all the lies and facades everyone builds up around me. Maybe then Janne would understand me, although I’m sure he would hate me too. Like I hate myself.

But I’m never going to be the best skater in the world if I’m a prisoner to stupid people and my own fears. And only I can free myself. Not Janne, not some therapist, and not a coach. Only I can stop this horrible chain from continuing.

It seemed like Noora was going off the rails. What doses of that medication had she been taking, and how had it affected her? Now that I knew what the exact product was, I could find out what else besides phentermine it contained. Maybe it had mood-altering substances that had such a short half-life they hadn’t showed in her system later the same day.

I’d watched
Sports Update
religiously during the Edmonton World Championships, mostly waiting for Silja’s parts, of course. Noora and Janne’s interview after their fantastic free skate had been fun to watch. Noora had been so bubbly and radiant, saying that in a few years they would be on the medal platform. I wanted to read Noora’s entries from Edmonton. They couldn’t be as negative. Diary number sixteen began on the third of April, so Edmonton would be toward the end of fifteen. I opened the book. I remembered that Edmonton had been pretty soon after my birthday . . . March sixteenth.

On an airplane over the Atlantic.

This is what I’ve been waiting for! My stomach is all in knots with excitement and joy. It’s amazing to be competing in the Senior Division. EVERYONE will be in Edmonton and the audience will be the best in the world. On the outside, of course, I’m trying to look as cool as possible, even though everyone knows how happy I am. And Silja is happy too, of course, since she got to come at the last minute. Luckily the Federation had her as the backup skater for Mila. Apparently Ulrika rammed that through. And it’s thanks to Ulrika that we’re all here on this plane right now. At least sometimes that stupid bitch looks out for her own.

Monday, March 18

I don’t have time to write much, since there’s so much to do all the time. Feelings are high. Silja made it through the qualifying round. She was third best in her group! It’s so amazing, although the jealous part of me keeps reminding me that it’ll be totally different in the real competition. The whole country’s hopes are focused on the Espoo skaters now (so solemn . . .).

Practices have been going well, and the ice has been so incredibly friendly here. It’s hard just the way I like it. Janne and I were interviewed for Japanese television!

Rami is nervous because all his Canadian friends are here. One wanted to talk with me today, but I didn’t have time before the short.

Janne was a little grumpy yesterday, but he was better today since he’s getting over the flight and said he’s never liked skating as much as he does right now. And there’s more: “It’s skating with you I like, Noora. You’re the difference.” I’m so happy. Tomorrow I’m going to be Snow White, not Noora, and I’m sure I’ll get my prince in the end.

Tuesday, March 19

After the short we’re in tenth! Oh my God! There’re
ten pairs behind us, Ukrainians and Americans and English and Japanese . . . Everything went as well as it possibly could, almost perfectly. The only real fault was that Janne’s free foot just barely touched the ice on his double axel. Yeah, I know our technical side isn’t as solid as the top pairs. Our lifts and jumps are easier, but the judges didn’t give us anything less than a four seven!!! The best for presentation was five four!

It’s so hard to calm down after all of this, but I have to think about tomorrow. Everyone always says that you can’t win with the short but you sure can lose. That happens all the time. If we hadn’t screwed up in the short at the European Championships, we would have been in the top seven.