Nothing but the Truth (10 page)

Mari felt her pulse race as she considered her options. Should they cross the street?

“Did you hear what I said?” asked Laura, annoyed. “I wanted to tell you about the production—we got the framework ready today.”

The gap had closed to thirty yards, close enough to make out the men’s faces. The one on the left had a long ugly scar across his cheek. The other kept his hands in his jacket pockets.

The men were coming straight for them, and fast. Mari pulled her daughter to the edge of the sidewalk.

“What’s this?”

She didn’t answer. Ten yards now, and the men were looking straight at them. It occurred to Mari that she could jab them with the umbrella, and maybe shout for help from the soccer players.

They came within arm’s reach when one of them turned to Mari and said, “Boo!”

Both roared with laughter as they continued on their way.

Idiots, she thought, suppressing her urge to cuss them out. She glanced back. The men were still walking.

She took a deep breath.

“What was that about?” asked Laura.

“I dunno. Couple idiots.”

“Can we get some tea somewhere?”

Before Mari had the chance to respond, her cell phone rang. The caller was Anna Joutsamo.

TUESDAY,

SEPTEMBER 19

CHAPTER 9

TUESDAY, 10:30 A.M.

PASILA POLICE HEADQUARTERS

Mari Lehtonen was standing behind a mirrored window. On the opposite side stood six men with shaved heads.

“Number one, could you please step forward to the line,” said Lieutenant Ariel Kafka into the intercom. Takamäki had asked his colleague to conduct the proceedings. The protocol for police lineups explicitly stated that the officer conducting the proceedings must not know which of the subjects was the actual suspect.

Takamäki wasn’t sure if Kafka knew Korpi. He certainly might, but he hadn’t said anything, and his demeanor was perfectly impartial.

Number one stepped forward and Lehtonen shook her head.

Joutsamo was also in the room taking notes. Two video cameras were capturing the event, one trained on the lineup, the other on Lehtonen and Kafka.

“Thank you. Number two, please.”

Lehtonen shook her head again, and did the same over the next minute as numbers three, four and five stepped up to the line.

“Number six, please,” said Kafka.

Lehtonen
nodded. “That’s the one. He was in

the car.”

Number six was Korpi.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Kafka returned to the microphone. “Thank you for participating. Please exit through the door on

your left.”

On the other side of the glass, the men filed out slowly.

Joutsamo finished off the last few words of her notes and Kafka stopped the video cameras.

“Alright. That’s that,” said Joutsamo, as she offered Lehtonen her hand. “Thanks again.”

“What happens now?”

“We’ll finish up the investigation and then send the case to the prosecutor. As I said before, you’ll receive a summons from the court informing you of the date and time of the trial.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep. In court, the prosecutor will ask you a few questions and possibly show this video.”

Kafka handed the tape to Joutsamo as he left. “No need for me anymore?”

“Nah. I’ll just type up my notes and bring them for your sign-off.”

“Sounds good.”

Joutsamo turned to Lehtonen. “I’ll show you out. You need a ride?”

Mari shook her head.

* * *

Helena Muuri, district prosecutor, was sitting in the VCU’s conference room, her expression grim, as usual. Takamäki didn’t know if she was capable of a smile, at least he had never seen one on her.

Muuri was wearing a black-collared shirt and a gray blazer with a red bird-themed brooch. Takamäki likewise wore a blazer and tie. He always dressed up for meetings with district prosecutors.

Joutsamo came in wearing a sweater.

“Do you two know each other?” asked Takamäki. “Anna Joutsamo is my lead investigator on the case.”

Muuri stood and the women shook hands. “Seems like we’ve met somewhere,” said Joutsamo.

“Well, anyway, let’s get to it,” said Takamäki, and he explained the events of the last few days, as well as the highlights of the investigation from the time of the murder to the interrogation of the suspects. Muuri took notes in her notepad.

Takamäki was encouraged that the prosecutor was getting involved with the case before the investigation was closed. This way, she’d know the details much better than if a pile of paper just appeared on her desk.

Takamäki went over the police lineup as well.

“Tsk, tsk…” said Muuri. “Didn’t you mention that you also showed Lehtonen photographs before the lineup?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Well, nothing serious, but you can only ask a witness to identify a suspect once. That happened when you showed her the photographs. The lineup is irrelevant since the witness already identified the suspect earlier.”

“That we didn’t know,” said Joutsamo. “Normally once is enough, but we just thought we’d double check.”

“It just means that the police lineup is inadmissible. It doesn’t really matter, since the witness had already identified the suspect from a photograph.”

“Alright,” said Takamäki. “Though I’d imagine using a lineup would better ensure due process for the suspect, since photographs tend to be older and less accurate.”

“True enough, but the rules are explicit. Do you have a motive for the crime?”

“No,” said Takamäki. “Nobody’s talking. We found cocaine in Tomi Salmela’s apartment, which could be a possible motive.”

“Could be, but motives aren’t always clear cut, either. The forensic evidence against Nyberg is pretty unambiguous, but with Korpi there are still quite a few question marks. Mari Lehtonen’s account puts Korpi near the scene of the crime, but what level of involvement did he really have? It’s a difficult question.”

“Right.”

Muuri continued to reflect, “What we know is that Korpi was in the car with the killer, who left the vehicle, committed the crime and returned to the car. Korpi then drove away and dropped off the murderer somewhere else in the city. We have no information on Korpi’s activities after that. Essentially what we need is proof that Korpi was complicit in the crime, or even ordered Nyberg to commit it. The problem is that Korpi’s a professional criminal, so it’s unlikely you’ll get a single word out of him in the interrogations.”

“Same goes for Nyberg.”

“Right,” said Muuri, returning to her papers. “With that in mind, we can assume that Korpi must have something to hide. His activities would likely cross the threshold for a murder charge, and he’d certainly be an accessory.”

“He’s the leader of a criminal organization where nothing is done without his approval,” said Takamäki. “And he has a long record.”

“Good points,” said Muuri. “And this is a good angle to focus on in the investigation. Can Korpi be tied more closely to Nyberg? Do we have evidence from previous investigations clearly indicating that Nyberg takes orders from Korpi? What about Nyberg’s weapon? Can it be tied to Korpi? Did Nyberg ever live in the same house in Kaarela? What about the drug trade in Korpi’s organization? His funds and other assets?”

Joutsamo was jotting everything down in her notepad. This was plenty to go on, thought Takamäki. They’d need help from Narcotics and the Financial Crimes Division. Takamäki knew from experience that the drug bosses commonly moved their assets abroad, while keeping some funds in the form of loans to street pushers and others. This way, the police wouldn’t be able to confiscate them, but the money was always accessible with the help of hired muscle.

Muuri went on, “This is also important because Nyberg will almost certainly try to exonerate his boss in court and shoulder the blame for everything. At that point we’d need some facts to sling at Korpi. Something that will stick, not just generic observations about criminal organizations.”

“We’ll do our best,” said Takamäki.

“I have to wonder, though. If this Korpi is such a high-ranking boss, why is he chauffeuring some guy around on a hit job. Why didn’t they take care of this Tomi Salmela by some other means if it was so important?”

“You got me,” said Joutsamo.

“Is it possible he truly wasn’t aware of Nyberg’s intent?”

“Possible,” said Takamäki, “but if that were the case you’d think he’d say so instead of insisting on keeping his mouth shut. We’ll try to find out in the interrogations and otherwise.”

A momentary silence fell over the room.

“About your witness, this Mari Lehtonen…”

“Yes?”

“You haven’t promised her anonymity, have you? Or that she could testify behind one-way glass or anything?”

“No,” said Joutsamo. “She’s understandably a little nervous, but who wouldn’t be. We haven’t talked about anything like that. All I promised was that no address or personal information would appear in the case files.”

“That’s fine. But in court we’ll need her to show her face and point out who she saw in the car.”

“Then that’s what she’ll do,” said Joutsamo.

“And what about her safety?” Muuri asked. “She’s so central to the case here that we have to consider whether Korpi’s gang represents a threat to her. They’ll know her identity once they receive the

case files.”

“Right,” said Takamäki.

“You’ll certainly have to keep an eye on that. Witnesses have been threatened and blackmailed for much less. And if this organization is capable of killing competing dealers, then I’d think there’s potential for violence toward the witness.”

“That’ll depend on how good a chance Korpi thinks he has at an acquittal,” said Takamäki.

“Well, I’ll chat with Lehtonen about it.”

“But don’t scare her, of course.”

“Will do,” said Joutsamo. “Won’t do, that is.”

* * *

Suhonen was driving a rustbucket VW Golf eastbound on Helsinki Avenue. He passed Brahe Field on the right. The Corner Pub wasn’t far off, but he wasn’t headed there. Maybe he’d stop by later in the evening to see what he’d find out. The lunchtime crowd was just a bunch of blowhards anyway. Loose talk on last night’s petty thefts didn’t interest him.

Actually, his intentions had nothing to do with work. Maybe in a way they did, since Suhonen had met her while on a stakeout at a downtown pub on Friday night. Deputy Chief Skoog had decided to crack down on the Subutex street trade, so Suhonen had volunteered to help bust a drug ring that was hawking it out of the bars. The operation targeted a number of dealers across various locations where the pills were known to be peddled, and Suhonen wound up staking out a Belgian pub. No traffic in Subutex that night, but at the bar he had met Raija.

Raija was about five years Suhonen’s junior, and an employee of an insurance agency on Aleksander Street. The evening had culminated in a long kiss at around midnight before Suhonen had to go back to the station for a wrap-up meeting on the sting. They had arranged to meet again for coffee on Tuesday.

Back at the station, Suhonen had checked her background. Such caution was necessary, since gangs were constantly trying to infiltrate the police by putting women into bed with them. Nothing in Raija Mattila’s background gave reason for alarm. All that turned up was a speeding ticket from a few years back; and she’d been telling the truth about not being married.

Suhonen parked his car near the coffee shop where they had agreed to meet. The spot suited Raija just fine, as it was only a couple of minutes from the Kaisaniemi subway station.

Suhonen arrived ten minutes early, but Raija was already at a table, waving him in. She smiled and whisked back her blonde hair. Suhonen gave a nod and walked to the table. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she chirped.

“You’re early.”

“Yeah, nothing pressing at work. But so are you.”

“Yeah, pretty slow on my end, too.” He hadn’t told her what he did, but neither had he lied. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Yes. Please,” she smiled.

“Cream?”

“No, just black.”

Good, he thought. He liked people who took their coffee straight. “Wanna sandwich or something?”

“No, thanks. I had some chicken salad at work.”

A few minutes later, Suhonen returned to the table with two coffees and sat down. Raija started to dig some money out of her purse, but Suhonen stopped her.