Fatal Headwind (24 page)

Continuing the interview was pointless. When I let Riikka leave, I heard her conversation with Holma through the open door.

“Let’s go to my place. We haven’t been able to be alone for a long time,” Holma complained.

“I can’t right now. I have to be by myself for a little while,” Riikka replied evasively.

“I need you, Riikka. I have to decide by tomorrow morning if I’m going to take the risk and go for that operation. I need you to help me decide.”

“I don’t want to! I can’t take responsibility for your voice and your future!” Riikka exclaimed. “Take me home. Or I can take the bus.”

Based on the clicking of her heels, Riikka started walking away, and a moment later Holma followed.

“Let’s get going. We can grab some food on the way to the NBI,” I said to Koivu, who had rewound the tape and was beginning to transcribe the important notes.

“How about McDonald’s?” Koivu said.

“No hamburgers, thank you very much!” Koivu looked confused at my response. “I want to eat something that isn’t going to make me feel guilty. Let’s go hit the cafeteria for some mashed potatoes.”

Taskinen was there too, sitting with Laine from Organized Crime next to some large potted ferns. I joined them, but Koivu said he preferred eating with his equals and went to a table with some officers from Robbery.

“Orion received another threat,” Taskinen said. “If the company doesn’t release its test animals, it’ll be hit soon. The message was signed by Animal Revolution.”

“Those kids are quick. I thought some of them were still in custody over at SIS.”

“Come on, Kallio, this isn’t a laughing matter,” Laine said, wiping a smear of mashed potatoes off his dark-blue silk tie.

“Why would we start guarding a rich corporation’s lab when we don’t even have the resources to protect victims of domestic violence?” I said pointedly, thinking both of Ari Väätäinen’s wife and another case from the previous weekend in which a woman almost died. The violence had been going on for some time in that family too.

This comment gave Taskinen an opportunity to turn the conversation to Ström.

“Ström’s situation looks pretty bad, since he already has so many marks on his record. He’s going to have to stay on administrative leave at least until the trial. It might be permanent too.”

“What kind of statement do you intend to give?”

I looked into Taskinen’s serious blue-green eyes. I knew he didn’t like Ström any more than I did.

“Ström has his good aspects, but he could never be a leader here. He solves his cases but never for free. Last winter half of your unit was on the edge of burnout, and it was mostly caused by interpersonal tensions.” Taskinen looked back into my eyes, and if Laine hadn’t been sitting at the table, he probably would have taken my hand.

“I could have punched Väätäinen in the mouth too,” I said in exasperation.

“Me too. But we wouldn’t have.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. I stood up, motioned to Koivu, and we headed to our interviews at the National Bureau of Investigation several miles north in the city of Vantaa. As we were passing Helsinki-Vantaa International Airport, I called home. Antti and Iida were back. Iida had woken up normally from the sedation and was now eating leftover carrots au gratin as if she hadn’t seen food in a week. I promised that I’d try to be home by four at the latest.

I had been interviewed by the NBI before, most recently when an escaped prisoner kidnapped one of my partners and both of them died in the ensuing standoff. Even so, changing from interrogator to interrogatee felt strange. There were only two interviewers, Supervisory Agent Suurpää and Senior Special Agent Peltonen, who stayed quiet throughout. Agent Suurpää was at least six foot two, with a heavy build and thick hair. Gray strands had appeared among the black, and Suurpää seemed like the type whose hair would be completely white long before his sixtieth birthday.

“Cases like these are unfortunate,” Suurpää began as if wanting to give the impression we were on the same side.

“The county prosecutor is obligated to press charges, especially since the case has received so much bad press. Let’s talk first about Lieutenant Ström’s background. You’ve worked together for three years, I believe, which is plenty of time to get to know someone.”

“Actually we were in the same class at the police academy too, and we’ve bumped into each other now and then otherwise as well.” I smirked to myself at my choice of words, since Ström and I spent most of our time on a collision course.

“Ström has received complaints before about violent behavior toward individuals in custody. Do you have any experience with that?”

I had to tell them about Kimmo, a murder suspect I had helped about four years earlier when I was working for a short time in a local law office. Ström had arrested Kimmo in the middle of a sex game and dragged him down to the police station in nothing but a rubber suit. And then there was Joona Kirstilä, whom Ström had goaded into a fight. Ström had demanded Kirstilä be charged with assaulting an officer and resisting arrest, even though Kirstilä had received by far the worst of the exchange.

But Ström’s list of sins wasn’t that much worse than plenty of other cops. And there had also been other kinds of situations. Ström had jumped in an icy lake to save a woman who was trying to drown herself and saved her life. I told Agent Suurpää about that too, although he said it didn’t have any bearing on this situation.

“Now let’s move on to the particular incident in question. You and Officer Koivu were not in the room when the fight started, but you heard it from the hall?”

I related how we had run in to drag Ström off of Väätäinen.

“It’s my belief that Väätäinen provoked Lieutenant Ström into attacking him. Ström has been investigating Väätäinen’s crimes for years, but we’ve never been able to put him away,” I said. “First the wife didn’t want to press charges, and then Väätäinen was sent to mediation. It wasn’t any wonder Ström got frustrated.”

“It’s admirable that you’re trying to protect Lieutenant Ström, since you’re his boss, but you both know the law. There is no defense for using violence during interrogations. Väätäinen also referenced Lieutenant Ström’s own divorce, but that happened years ago. Why did that make Ström so furious?” Agent Suurpää asked.

“I haven’t spoken with Lieutenant Ström about that because he doesn’t like to talk about his private life, so I can only offer guesses. Ström’s ex-wife got remarried two weekends ago. Ström never wanted to get divorced and didn’t want to lose his children. Maybe that’s why it felt so incomprehensible for him that someone would repeatedly abuse his own family,” I said.

“You seem to understand your subordinate’s inner world very well. And it’s also clear you don’t want Lieutenant Ström to lose his job.”

“I didn’t think that was the topic of this conversation,” I snapped, since I wasn’t sure myself what I thought about that. On the one hand, getting rid of Ström would be a relief, but to my own astonishment I almost found myself missing his sullen face around the halls.

“At the time of this incident, Lieutenant Ström’s blood-alcohol level was 0.06,” Agent Suurpää said. “Lieutenant Kallio, did you notice that he had a problem with alcohol?”

This was a trap for Ström and for me. If I said I hadn’t noticed, I would look like a gullible idiot. If I said I had noticed, I could be considered irresponsible as his supervisor.

“I did. My intention was to bring the issue up with him at the earliest opportunity and direct Lieutenant Ström to treatment. I just didn’t have time. That will be my first order of business when Ström returns to work.”

“That would be good. Can you comment on how long his alcohol abuse has been going on?”

I shook my head, pointing to the fact that I’d been away from the department for the past year. Of course I remembered the empty vodka bottle I had found in Ström’s desk drawer just before I went on maternity leave, but he hadn’t necessarily emptied it during work.

“Lieutenant Ström filled in for you as unit commander while you were on maternity leave. Did it cause problems for him becoming your subordinate after that?”

I stared at Suurpää in confusion.

“I thought this investigation was just about whether to charge Ström for assault and battery.”

Suurpää interlocked his fingers and twiddled his thumbs.

“Ström doesn’t seem to have been very well liked in your unit. What if someone paid Väätäinen to provoke Ström into hitting him?”

Damn it, Ström, was that how you were trying to save your skin? Of course I asked whether Ström had suggested this theory himself and whether Väätäinen had confirmed it, and of course Suurpää declined to answer. In this situation, I wasn’t the one with the right to ask questions.

“I think that sounds more ridiculous than anything. I could imagine Väätäinen cooking up something like that in order to get his own sentence reduced, but I can’t imagine anyone in my unit teaming up with a scumbag like him,” I said firmly, although I couldn’t help but think of Puupponen. He really did hate Ström. But even Puupponen wouldn’t have plotted against Ström with someone like Väätäinen.

And I knew who everyone would think wanted most to get rid of Ström. Me. If Ström was trying to blame me for his own mistakes now, he could go to hell for all I cared. Once the interview was finished, I was so angry I marched out to the parking lot and kicked the tires of our car. Then I called Ström. I let the phone ring seven times and then hung up. Then I called again, letting it ring eight times. On the third attempt, Ström answered.

“Hi, it’s Maria. How’s it going?” I asked, controlling my anger.

“I was fucking sleeping,” replied Ström, sounding hungover. “What’s so goddamn important you had to call me?”

“I’m here at the NBI talking about what you’ve been up to. Who did you blame for paying off Väätäinen?”

I was happy Ström was miles away and couldn’t see the way my hand was shaking with rage, barely able to hold on to the phone.

“What the hell are you talking about? You mean someone paid him to do it?”

“You’re saying you didn’t know anything about it?”

“About what?” Ström’s voice was already sounding much clearer. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Forget about it. Apparently it’s just these G-Men screwing with me.”

I didn’t know who to believe anymore.

“So did you squeal on me? Tell them I’m a shithead always looking for a fight? Glad to get rid of me, right?” Ström’s voice had that familiar testiness to it, and in the background I heard the sound of a refrigerator opening and then a bottle cap coming off.

“I just told them what happened. I have enough work here without having to explain what was going on in your head to all these idiots! Hopefully they get this cleared up fast so you can get back to work.”

“Come off it, Maria. You know as well as I do I’m never coming back,” Ström said and hung up.

I tried to call again, but the line was busy. He had probably pulled the cord out of the wall. I walked to the nearby river and sat down on the grass. While I waited for Koivu, I had a chance to handle a few other phone calls.

This time I reached Kantelinen on the first try. He suggested meeting after five—apparently his schedule was booked solid for the rest of the week. I considered it momentarily but then said no. I wanted to see my family, and I was worried about Iida.

“What about tomorrow morning? I can come in early. How about seven thirty?” I suggested. Kantelinen complained, but then gave in after a little wheedling. Puustjärvi wasn’t particularly thrilled about meeting early, since it would mean he had to leave home before seven to make it in from the suburbs. I felt like a bitchy boss, and for some reason that was gratifying.

Was Suurpää asking Koivu his opinion about whether I could have bribed Väätäinen to push Ström’s buttons? That thought made me so mad I decided not to wait and just left a note on the car saying I had left and telling him about the early-morning meeting. Then I started walking to the nearby train station. The science museum south of the station shone in the sun like a space monster. Once I reached the platform, my phone rang again. The caller was Seija Saarela.

“You asked Mikke about Harri Immonen. Was his death not an accident after all?”

“That’s hard to say at the moment. Did you have something new to tell me about him?”

“Yes, but it’s a little hard to talk right now. I have to get these crystals polished by tomorrow morning.”

“Come down to the police station tomorrow, then.”

“That won’t work either. I promised to spend the whole day covering for a friend who runs a health-food shop, and it’s going to give me an opportunity to sell my own jewelry too.”

“Let’s see if one of my officers can make time to meet with you,” I said bitterly. Today felt like everything was merrily going to hell.

“But you’re the one I want to talk to. It’s about more than Harri. There’s Mikke too. Finding that boy who committed suicide was another terrible blow for him. Why did he kill himself?”

“That’s none of your business. I need to go now.”

The train was coming, so I hung up. To my misfortune I ended up in the same car as a pack of noisy, foul-mouthed teenage boys. At the point one of them started spitting on the floor, I almost intervened, but didn’t dare let myself. There was so much rage pent up inside me that I could easily lose it just like Ström. I didn’t want my career ending because I hit some punk kid over nothing.

Eventually I made it to the Helsinki train station. I felt like going for a beer, but my bad-mother complex hit me again. Of course I would take the first bus home to my injured child. There was enough time until the bus left, though, that I stopped by the state liquor store. I bought a fifth of anise vodka and mini bottle of whiskey, which I opened as soon as I hit the street and poured down my throat. The burning coursed through me, and by the time I climbed on the bus, I started to calm down. I changed buses once, a couple of blocks from Ström’s apartment. I wouldn’t have gone to visit even if I had the time. Not until I was walking down the dirt lane toward our house did I begin to fully relax. The fields were alternating brown and golden yellow, and a flock of sparrows was stripping a rowan tree of its berries. But the constant noise of drilling and blasting from the Ring II freeway construction site shattered the idyllic scene. Then there was an explosion and a cloud of dust spread over the field like a Mars storm in a science-fiction movie.