Snow Woman (20 page)

“You aren’t a little girl anymore, Mrs. Kallio,” replied the chief. “A police officer needs the eye of a psychologist. Sometimes small concessions can be useful.”

I counted five police chief chins before I lost the battle to keep my mouth shut. “Don’t the same rules apply to Interior Ministry mistresses as the rest of us?”

I should have known that would be too much for the police chief. The screaming fit was pretty dramatic. The content of it was more or less that I should ask for some time off before he gave me a permanent holiday. Taskinen and I sat like two cowed children who had managed to burn down the family sauna playing with matches.

“Jyrki, I trust in the future you’ll take more responsibility for your subordinates’ tact,” the police chief finally snapped. He didn’t shake our hands before rolling out the door, slamming it behind him.

Taskinen looked at me for the first time and took a deep breath. “OK, now tell me what this is all about.”

I tried to keep my cool as I told him, but I saw that my irritation was infecting him too.

“Kivimäki must have been really offended to put such big wheels in motion,” he said after hearing my version.

“That woman is going to be here at ten on Thursday or else. I know how to play this game too,” I said. “The tabloids would just love to hear about a government minister shielding his mistress from a murder investigation!”

“Maria, calm down! Don’t make your life any harder than it already is.”

“If Kivimäki really does have something to tell us about the motive for Rosberg’s murder, I’m going to squeeze it out of her even if it means going through the high heels Martti Sahala keeps in his closet for special occasions.” My rage dissolved into giggles, which only worsened at the thought of how Martti Sahala would look stripped to his skivvies during an assignation.

Taskinen watched me giggle hysterically for a few seconds and then grabbed a bottle of mineral water from his cabinet. “Drink that and try to get a hold of yourself. Are you sure you don’t need more time off?”

“Of course I do,” I said once I was able to speak. “So do you and Pihko. And I want to vomit just thinking about the chief. But don’t worry. I’m not going to lose it. I’m taking the night train to Oulu, and I promise to behave myself. And when I get back on Thursday morning, Tarja Kivimäki will be waiting for me here.”

“Without you doing anything?”

“Exactly. I think she’s aware that she can’t afford not to come, despite her bigwig boyfriend.”

Taskinen looked as if he almost believed me. I wished I did. Marching to my office, I tried to pick up the pieces of my day, but even staring at Geir Moen’s leg muscles didn’t help. I had to force myself to dial Elina Rosberg’s lawyer’s number.

The will didn’t contain anything in particular. There were a few bequests to organizations like the Finnish Feminist Association and the Red Cross Disaster Fund. Otherwise all the property would go to Aira Rosberg. Joona Kirstilä didn’t even rank a mention.

I hadn’t really expected to find a mysterious heir, but I was still disappointed. At least my conversations with Kivimäki and Kirstilä had kept alive my hope of making progress with the case. At the same time the skeptic in the back of my mind reminded me that Kirstilä might be lying about Elina’s late-night visitor just to turn suspicion away from himself and that the motive Kivimäki had promised might be a hoax.

I called Rosberga Manor, and to my good fortune Johanna answered.

“Hi, it’s Maria Kallio from the Espoo Police. How did your visit home go?”

“Thank you, well. I got back yesterday. I could hardly stand to leave the children once I got to see them. Only Johannes, my oldest boy, stayed away.”

“Did you see your husband?” I asked.

“No. He and Johannes were at Leevi’s parents’ place the whole time I was home. If I just had a place to live, I would’ve taken the children away with me right then, at least the smallest ones.”

“How long do you intend to stay at Rosberga?”

“Aira promised I can stay here until I get things worked out. I need to find a job and an apartment, although I think that’ll take a miracle.”

What was Johanna living on now? Where was she getting money? Had Elina lent her some?

“Elina’s body still hasn’t been turned over to us. Aira needs to organize the funeral,” Johanna continued.

I’d forgotten that too. Palo’s death had screwed up a lot of things.

“Maria, I found out that Leevi wasn’t home on Boxing Day. He told everyone he was going somewhere to give a sermon.” Johanna’s voice was agitated. It occurred to me that Elina could have gone out for walks with Kirstilä and Leevi Säntti, although that didn’t seem likely.

“That’s why I called you. I’m going to talk to Leevi tomorrow.”

“What? Are you going to arrest him?” Johanna breathed.

“There’s no reason for that yet. But I do intend to talk to him. Thank you for your autobiography, by the way. It was interesting, but I think a couple of pages were missing.”

“That stuff from when I was in school doesn’t have anything to do with my situation now.”

I felt two-faced talking with Johanna as a friend. Of course I wasn’t going halfway to the Arctic Circle just to check on Leevi Säntti’s movements. I was also going there to ask about Johanna. There was something so strange and unhinged about Elina Rosberg’s death, I had a sense that at least one person involved was mentally disturbed. Johanna was a perfect fit for that role.

The phone rang again. It was the officer at the desk downstairs. I had a visitor. “He says he doesn’t have an appointment. His name is Kari Hanninen, and he’s a therapist. Do you want me to send him up?”

I didn’t have the time or energy, but Hanninen was a good excuse to go get some coffee. I said I’d come down and get him. In the elevator, I looked at myself in the mirror: my eyes looked green-black from exhaustion, my skin was paler than ever, and the winter had wiped the freckles from my nose. My hair could have used a new bottle of red dye. Under my green sweater, my breasts looked bigger, but the waist of my jeans didn’t feel tight. Almost the opposite.

Hanninen’s cowboy boots, Levi’s 501s, and black bandanna tied around his neck only added to the aging rock star effect. When he saw me, it was as if he hit an internal charm button: a new glint flashed in his coffee-colored eyes, his mouth with its thin upper lip spread into a wide smile, and laugh lines filled his cheeks and the corners of his eyes.

“Sergeant Kallio. I’m so happy you had time to see me. I happened to be driving by and stopped in to see how you were doing. You said you wanted to talk to m
e.
”

“I need a cup of coffee,” I said. “We can talk in the cafeteria.”

Hanninen followed me, then pulled out my chair as though we were on a date. I wasn’t used to that kind of treatment, at least not at work. Here I was just one of the boys and carried my own gear and put on my own coat.

We talked about Malmberg first. Hanninen was angry about what had happened, and I had heard from colleagues that he’d used some pretty strong language about the police in interviews. I wasn’t surprised, knowing he’d genuinely cared what happened to Malmberg, even if he’d unwittingly made the situation worse.

“Markku was clearly a very disturbed individual,” said Hanninen now. “But do we have the right to just run in and kill people? Even someone like him? All those guns and helicopter
s . . .
Anyone would have gone crazy from that level of intimidation. Not to mention someone with a death wish. What would the situation have been if Markku’s hostage hadn’t been a police officer?”

“Well, maybe they would have rushed things less,” I agreed. “But really I wanted to talk to you about Niina Kuusinen. Do you mind if we move up to my office?”

The coffee had given me heartburn, and being around Hanninen felt oppressive. He was permanently connected to Palo and Malmberg in my mind.

“Theoretically professional ethics don’t allow me to discuss my patients,” Hanninen said once we were sitting in my office. “But maybe I can be a little flexible since you seem to be smarter than the average cop.”

“You knew Elina Rosberg personally, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I knew her really well at one point. We even dated for about a year while we were in college—twenty years ago now. I hadn’t thought about it until I heard Elina had died.”

“I’ve heard rumors of a skirmish between the two of you involving the Psychological Association.”

Hanninen’s eyebrows went up, and he shifted more comfortably in his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him and clasping his hands behind his head.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked in amusement. “You don’t really want to talk about Niina; you want to talk about Elina and me. Are you short on suspects, Sergeant Kallio?”

I didn’t answer. I stared back at Hanninen’s pleasantly wrinkled face, noticing that there were black circles around his eyes, as if he’d been awake for days.

“I can tell you about Elina Rosberg if you want,” Hanninen said. “Isn’t part of police work doing profiles of suspects and victims? Elina thought she was always right. She looked at the world through a very narrow lens. Usually women are more open than men to new things like astrology. But not Elina. I’m sure she was a perfectly good therapist. I have no beef with that.”

According to Hanninen, the conflict with the Psychological Association was more a matter of narrow-mindedness on the part of Elina and a few other psychologists than his use of questionable therapeutic methods. As a result of the dust up, KELA, Finland’s public health insurance agency, had reevaluated whether it would reimburse for the therapy Hanninen provided, and a couple of years ago it had removed him from their lists.

Hanninen must have realized that I would discover the repercussions of his dispute with Elina if I asked the right person. Madman Malmberg had been one of Hanninen’s last state-covered therapy patients. He didn’t hide his pride as he related that Malmberg chose him as his therapist because he hadn’t seemed like a candy-ass.

It was clear Kari Hanninen loved talking about himself. I wondered if he was as good a listener. He said that after the KELA decision, he’d increasingly focused on his work as an astrologer. People trusted him because he was also a trained psychologist.

“Astrology unties knots,” he said. “It helps people see things in their lives that they wouldn’t recognize otherwise. I never tell people that the stars demand this or that, or that they don’t have any options.”

“Why did you tell Malmberg the stars said it wasn’t his time to die yet?” I asked only because this idiotic comment had been bothering me since I’d heard it.

“It was just a way to get Markku to calm down,” he said. “Even if it was meaningless. I wasn’t—”

I didn’t want to rehash the hostage situation with Hanninen, so I rudely interrupted him and turned the conversation to Niina Kuusinen. “Kuusinen said she went into therapy after her mother died. I’m sure you can talk about that without breaking confidentiality.”

“Niina was very attached to her mother. A typical Cancer. She lived a very sheltered life, the only child of a wealthy family and all that. Her mother wanted her to be a pianist, but Niina didn’t have the self-confidence. Because of Niina’s father’s work, the family lived in France for a long time. That’s probably why she felt a little rootless here.”

“She studied at the Sibelius Academy?” I asked.

“Yes. She graduated as a music teacher last spring. Hopefully she won’t have to work in a school. Giving private lessons is a much better fit for her.”

I thought of how shy and jumpy Niina was and wondered whether she might have feelings for Kari Hanninen. And why did Niina really switch from Hanninen to Elina? Hanninen didn’t say anything about brief therapy. Was Niina dissatisfied with him?

“Kuusinen told me that Elina’s death felt like her mother dying all over again. Could she have been projecting her feelings about her mother onto Elina?”

Hanninen smiled at me in the way adults smile at children who ask silly but adorable questions. “Police psychology is so quaint! Elina wasn’t even old enough to be a mother figure to Niina. And she wasn’t the right type at all. Niina’s mother was the archetypal old-fashioned housewife, gentle and attentive. Of course it’s true that patients frequently project feelings onto their therapists. It’s actually part of the process.”

“Did Niina Kuusinen need sedatives? Sleeping pills?” I asked.

“That definitely crosses over the confidentiality line.”

I knew I wasn’t going to get much more out of Hanninen if we started skirting the edges of patient privacy. “Why did Niina break off your therapy relationship and start seeing Elina?”

Again the amused smile that implied Kari Hanninen didn’t think I was nearly as clever as I imagined. “Who told you she broke off our relationship? It just changed form. I still read Niina’s astrological charts, with her, actually, since she’s become so proficient. She does readings herself now to bring in a little extra cash. KELA paid for the psychotherapy she was getting from Elin
a . . .
I’ve heard some criticism of late concerning Elina’s ultrafeminist approach to her group therapy and seminars. What is it they say about glass houses and casting stones?”

“It sounds like you really hated Elina,” I said. “Did you send Niina Kuusinen to be her patient to spy on her?”

Now Hanninen laughed out loud. “Don’t you wish! On the contrary, I thought Elina’s approach would be a perfect fit for Niina’s mother issues. But I see what you’re getting at. I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear that I don’t have an alibi for the night of the twenty-sixth. I was home alone in my apartment.”

I blushed and saw that Hanninen noticed, which bothered me. As usual, I’d gotten overly excited and run with an idea that was probably ludicrous.

The department secretary knocked on the door. She had a report on Rosberga’s incoming and outbound calls over the Christmas holidays. I’d asked for it ages ago.

I wanted to look the report over in peace, which meant getting rid of Kari Hanninen. But he just lounged in the chair across from me giving no indication of leaving.