The Hummingbird (48 page)

Anna sighed, avoiding Sari’s eyes.

‘Me too, but there’s nothing we can do about it.’

‘Isn’t it shocking that Veli-Matti Helmerson was attacked at school? That Kaarina…’

‘I know, it’s terrible. Did they find anything else at the school?’

‘The classroom was full of fingerprints, hairs, fibres, everything you can think of, so to save resources Forensics decided not to examine it any further. There’s plenty of evidence as it is.’

‘Look at this,’ said Sari and pointed to Rauno’s emails. ‘This came from Moscow this morning,’ she said, her voice victorious.

‘A shipment of ten Huitzilopochtli necklaces was sent to the city’s central post office at the beginning of July. The name on the order was Veli-Matti Helmerson.’

‘That’s that then,’ said Anna.

A strange sense of emptiness consumed her.

Was that it? Was this what they had been investigating, going over detail by detail, throughout the long autumn? Was the case so simple, so quickly resolved after all?

At the same time she felt a cautious excitement.

This really was the end of the case, once and for all, and soon it would be over altogether. Soon the rush would be over. Soon she would be able to redeem all those hours of overtime.

She could sleep. Finally.

‘By the way, have you received any weird text messages this autumn?’ Sari asked all of a sudden.

‘Yes. How did you…?’ but Anna was cut short as Sari waved an old Nokia mobile phone in front of her face.

‘So have I,’ she said. ‘And they’re from this phone.’

‘What?’

‘Every now and then I’ve received nasty text messages from an unlisted number. I looked into it, and it turns out the messages were sent from the city centre, right next to the station. Of course, that’s not much to go on – this area must have the busiest mobile-phone traffic in the city – but the other day I happened to bump into that patrol officer Sami. You remember, the guy from the gym? What a
prick. I was on my way home, and I was already a bit freaked out – I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, there he was, standing in the foyer, typing away at this phone. I don’t know what came over me; I just had a really strong hunch. I ran up to him, grabbed the phone and ran off. Take a look!’

Anna picked up the phone and opened the messages in the phone’s outbox.

I fuck u till u die.

That’s the one she had received while she was at the Helmersons’ house with Esko.

That and all the other disgusting messages were there in a neat folder, their recipients listed only as A and S.

‘So he realised he had to change the SIM card, but he wasn’t smart enough to delete the messages from the phone’s memory. Maybe he read them at night and fantasised.’

‘What are we going to do about this?’ Anna asked Sari.

‘We’ll come up with something. He’ll get what’s coming to him.’

They both smiled.

NOVEMBER

38

DARKNESS
HADN
’
T
COME
RUSHING
into the city, brash as a troubadour, but still it had taken everyone by surprise. Suddenly people noticed that it was dark all the time. It was dark when you went to work, to school, and it was dark when you trudged through the driving rain and sleet to the local shop and back home. In the November darkness, the desperate plight of the homeless didn’t bear thinking about; not having a place to leave, a place to return to. In the darkness. Despite of the darkness.

Of course, the darkness had announced its arrival through the gradually encroaching evenings, rudely edging the summer out of its way, as it does every year. People knew to expect it, yet it had succeeded in creeping up behind them and startling them with a whisper.
It’s me again. Are you ready?

On a good day, an orange glow might hang behind the apartment blocks for a moment, but for the most part the days passed unchanging through the colourless landscape.

Somewhere else it might have been possible to relax, to let yourself be carried along by the quiet, the stillness, to descend into the darkness as it appeared, to find the beauty in the myriad shades of grey that defined the restrained winter landscape, to let your mind rest with the rhythm of nature. In the city, nobody would even think of such a thing.

Puddles of sleet seeped up through the soles of your shoes, into your socks, chilling your feet. If only it would snow, people said, begging for mercy; it would be so much lighter. Then when the snow
did come, everything went crazy: trains and aeroplanes were late; there were fatal car pile-ups on the motorway; the price of electricity went through the roof. Shops ran out of spades and snow shovels. Flu spread through the city. Alcohol sales reached record levels.

And in the mornings you had to go to work, though it was the last thing anyone wanted to do. Beneath the glare of LEDs and fluorescent lamps, people were expected to unflaggingly present a play directed by market forces, a performance called Western civilisation.

It was the eve of Kaarina’s trial. Anna was on her way to meet Ákos. She had taken her brother to the rehab clinic in Kivelä when, repentant and in very bad shape, he had turned up at her door to apologise.

Anna had forgiven him – almost. And though she knew that by helping him she was actually helping to prolong his illness, she couldn’t turn her own brother away.

Now Ákos was doing much better. The tremors and the voices were kept at bay with sedatives, liberally dished out at the clinic. On principle, Anna thought it was wrong to treat addiction with other substances that caused addiction, but now she didn’t have to strength to care. The priority was to get Ákos back on his feet. At least for a while.

As she wandered along the street, she noticed the Pink Ink tattoo studio and remembered that Virve had said this was the place where she’d had the hummingbird etched into her left arm. On the spur of the moment, Anna stepped inside. A young girl with multiple face piercings was sitting at the counter leafing through a magazine.

‘Hi there.’ The girl raised her eyes from the magazine and greeted her.

‘Hello,’ said Anna and showed her police ID. The girl looked frightened.

‘I’d like to ask about a tattoo. Do you remember a girl who came in here back in May and got a tattoo of a hummingbird sucking nectar from an orchid?’

‘Yeah, I remember her,’ the girl said. ‘It turned out great! But I
don’t do the tattoos here. I only do piercings. Timo!’ she shouted. ‘The police are asking about the hummingbird sleeve you did back in the spring.’

From a room at the back emerged an enormous man, his face, neck and arms covered in tattoos. The sight was imposing. And quite sexy, Anna realised and smiled at the man.

‘Fekete Anna from the police. Hello. Do you remember this tattoo?’

‘Sure. I remember all the pieces I do.’

‘Do you remember the customer?’

‘Which one?’ Timo answered.

Anna’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Excuse me?’

‘There were two of them.’

Two hummingbirds.
Jézus Mária.

‘First there was a blonde hippie chick, then a few weeks later another woman, a bit older maybe, a brunette. She had really muscular arms.’

‘Do you have a name for this other woman? The brunette?’ Anna asked, barely able to contain her sense of agitation.

‘We should have. People normally give a name when they book in. Give me a minute, I’ll have a look.’

The man walked over to a computer and started typing. Even his fingers were tattooed. They were beautiful in their own brutal way.

‘Here it is.
Jaana
. No surname; I tend not to ask.’

‘I’ll take your card,’ said Anna pointing to a little box of business cards next to the computer. ‘In case I have any more questions.’

‘No problem,’ the man replied and looked at Anna just a little too long.

Jaana, Anna thought feverishly as she walked back out into the street. Who is Jaana? Have I heard that name somewhere before? Was it in the list of students we got from the school in Saloinen? Anna called Esko and asked him to look into it. Then she telephoned Riikka’s
parents, Virve and Maria Pollari to ask if they knew anyone by the name of Jaana.

No, was the abrupt answer.

‘Just a minute,’ Anna said out loud and stopped in her tracks in the middle of the pavement.

Now she had to think carefully.

It was apparent that Kerttu Viitala’s car had been sighted both at Selkämaa and Häyrysenniemi. At both running tracks they had found hideouts where the killer was able to observe the victims. And at the hideout at Selkämaa they had found sweet wrappers with Kaarina Helmerson’s DNA. And Veli-Matti had been screwing Riikka. And Virve had a hummingbird on her left arm. And so did another woman too.

And it wasn’t Kaarina Helmerson.

Who could have had access to Kerttu Viitala’s car? Just then, Anna remembered the binoculars on Mrs Viitala’s windowsill, the ones the old lady had allegedly used to watch the crowds of people down below whenever she was up to it.

Anna telephoned the holding cells and asked to speak to Kaarina. Afterwards, even more agitated, she called Esko once again.

‘You were right. It looks like we’ve charged an innocent person after all.’

39

ANNA
FORCED
HERSELF
to eat a couple of sandwiches and drink a cup of tea, though she wasn’t hungry in the least. Tonight she would have to have all her wits about her. She went into the living room and switched on the television, which she hadn’t given to Ákos after all. She drew the line at financing her brother’s drinking debts, either with cash or by giving him things to sell off. Again there was nothing interesting on the television. She channel-hopped absent-mindedly, jumping up occasionally as though she had just remembered to do something. She put the laundry in the machine, washed her teacup, dusted the coffee table and the bookshelf, watered the heathers in the box on the balcony, though she knew they didn’t need it. She glanced at the thermometer installed on the balcony door and was surprised to see the temperature reading was two below zero. She remembered her new daylight lamp, still unopened in the kitchen cupboard. Was it too late to start using it, she wondered as she went into the kitchen and opened the box. The lamp was rather beautiful; its oval glass looked frosted. She placed the lamp on the table and switched it on, just to test it, and was taken aback that the bright light didn’t dazzle her. This must be effective, she thought. I’m going to use this in the mornings while I read the paper.

She glanced at the clock. A few hours to go yet.

Restlessness sent small electric impulses through her muscles. She couldn’t sit still.

She would spoil the plan if she didn’t calm down.

All of a sudden Anna felt a strong urge to go running. The feeling of quite how much she had missed exercise all autumn was like the pain of losing a close friend. It was the most effective way of keeping
her wits about her, better than any sleeping pills or antidepressants: the running she loved so much. And at the drop of a hat, she’d traded it in for beer and cigarettes. What an idiot she’d been. She would have time to go for a short run. Just to see what if felt like after such a long break.

It would calm her down and relax her tensed muscles.

The theatre to play out later that evening would go more smoothly.

Anna picked out a warm anorak made of smooth material and pulled on her trainers. They felt snug and familiar, like the embrace of an old lover.

Very quietly Anna walked down the stairs and opened the front door. The sharp, frigid air met her outside; it felt fresh and crisp. With brisk steps she walked to the beginning of the track running around behind the suburb, and as the asphalt gave way to the soft sawdust path, she dived into the darkness of the forest and picked up her speed to a gentle jog.

It didn’t feel too bad.

At least, not to start with.

But it didn’t feel easy either. This run must be on my tired body’s own terms, she decided and continued slowly on her way, moving steadily further away from the street lights. She was concentrating so hard on listening to her body that she didn’t notice how dark the forest had become. And she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

Her heart could have stopped when all of a sudden a bright light flashed behind her and a woman’s voice said: ‘Well, well. Little Miss Policewoman. Haven’t seen you around here for a while.’

The voice was taut, without a shred of happiness at seeing her again. Anna glanced over her shoulder and saw the figure dressed in black running a couple of metres behind her. The jogger was wearing a headlamp, its beam of light bouncing along the track like an amorphous ball, its edges occasionally illuminating Anna. The glare of the lamp prevented Anna from seeing the jogger’s face, but she knew who it was, knew exactly how piercing were the blue eyes lurking in the light’s shadow.