* * *
Anna Joutsamo stopped by her boss’s office. It had been a long day, but that happened when the case called for it.
“I got the pics,” she said, and showed him some letter-sized color prints. The quality wasn’t much, but Saarnikangas was recognizable at the front door of the Pakila Teboil. He had arrived at 9:49 P.M. and left at 10:03; the camera behind the register had recorded him sitting alone at one of the tables. The pictures from the Parkano ABC showed him fueling up in the wee hours of the morning.
“Good. More nails in his coffin,” Takamäki said. “What about the weapon?”
“The lake isn’t frozen yet, so the Fire Department will search for it tonight. Kulta’s on his way to supervise the operation.”
“Good… By the way, did you find anything on Nyholm? Any connection?” Takamäki asked.
“They’re father and daughter. The dad has an unblemished career at Customs, and the girl has no record. Could it just be a coincidence that the girl falls in love with a criminal?” she wondered. “Or maybe some kind of rebellion against a straight-laced dad.”
“You don’t think the girl could have anything to do with Eriksson’s murder?”
“You mean that the dad could’ve killed her boyfriend?”
Takamäki looked out the window. “Or Kristiina, wasn’t that her name, had a former boyfriend-a jealous type?”
“In my conversations with her, she never mentioned any issues or dramas like that.”
“Just thinking out loud… We don’t know whether Saarnikangas knew Eriksson’s girlfriend.”
“No, I didn’t mention Saarnikangas, and neither did she.”
“A woman is always a good motive,” Takamäki said.
Joutsamo was still standing in the door. “By the way, has Suhonen called you?”
Takamäki shook his head. “Has he called you?”
“No. And no sign of Saarnikangas. Should I take a couple SWAT guys and pay a visit to Pihlajamäki?”
Takamäki rubbed his face-he looked worn. The case had been going full-bore for three days. He could use a sauna, two beers, and a long night’s sleep. Joutsamo had bags under her eyes.
“No. Suhonen got the tip about the pictures, and we might find the weapon in the lake. Saarnikangas isn’t going anywhere. Let’s take him down when the time is right.”
Joutsamo crossed her arms. “Sure would be nice if Suhonen told us what he’s up to.”
Takamäki shrugged. “You gonna be here much longer?”
“Should I?”
“Nope, as long as there’s nothing urgent. I’ll help Kohonen with the phone taps, but it doesn’t look like we’ll find anything there.”
“These prepaid phones seem to indicate a professional hit.”
“It’s odd that a junkie like Saarnikangas would get mixed up in a professional job like this. He’s more the type you’d find dead in the bathroom of a downtown bar.”
“Exactly the same thing Suhonen is wondering.”
* * *
Someone slapped Suhonen hard on the shoulder, and the impact nearly made him drop his glass.
“Damned if it ain’t Suikkanen,” the man bellowed.
Suhonen recognized the voice and dropped into a boxer’s crouch. He kept his glass in his left hand and swung a playful right hook, stopping just short of the man’s fat belly.
“Waltsu, you fat hog,” Suhonen grinned. The man grinned back with a broad, bearded face. He wore a tattered denim jacket.
“Suikkanen, you’re still quick as a hippo and sharp as Dumbo.”
They bumped glasses. “You’re almost empty there,” Waltsu growled and shouted at a skinny weasel-faced guy standing in front of the bar, “Hey pal, one more for Suikkanen. It’s on me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like you’ll pay,” the weasel muttered. Nevertheless, he ordered a beer from the barkeep and fished three euros out of his pocket.
Suhonen gave the man a quick nod of thanks and turned back to Waltsu, making sure he could still see the door. “Come on now, I’ve been to the gym a couple times at least.”
“Ha! In the pen, you mean?”
Suhonen laughed. “Nah, I’ve managed to stay out this time. At least so far.”
“Yeah, but seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”
The weasel handed the beer to Suhonen and glowered at Waltsu.
“Thanks,” said Suhonen, and he raised his glass.
“Forget it,” Waltsu said and lowered his voice. “You heard of anything going down? You know, anything where a guy could earn a little cash?”
Suhonen knew that unemployment checks and welfare benefits weren’t enough to fund a constant stream of liquor. In his time, Waltsu had owned an excavator and operated a variety of businesses around the country. His divorce had cost him the firm. Waltsu didn’t really miss his excavator, and the wife even less. Now he brokered small gigs: matching thieves to lucrative targets and getting a small cut of the action.
“Dunno,” Suhonen answered.
“You wouldn’t happen to be setting up a company? I have a couple clean guys. You can have their names for two hundred.”
“Do I look like I’d start up a company?” Suhonen said. Suikkanen was no boss man-more the type to operate quietly in the background.
“No, but you never know nowadays. With globalization and all, it’s become trendy to have your own business.”
The entrance door swung open, and in came the plump “Princess.” Waltsu noticed her too. “Oh shit, here she comes again.”
“Who, Princess?”
“What, you know her?” Waltsu asked.
“Nah. Just know of her. Doesn’t everybody?”
“Steer clear of her,” he groaned.
The weasel had abruptly disappeared from the bar.
The crowd parted, and Princess waddled straight toward Suhonen and Waltsu. The bearded man took a couple steps backwards, “Sorry, Suikkanen. Gotta go.”
“Waltsu, stop!” the woman snarled, and he froze.
Suhonen dodged the perfume-drenched royalty and glanced at the door. At the same time, a tall man in a blue sports jacket entered. It seemed like he was looking for someone. Markkanen, Suhonen guessed.
He wasn’t going to rush right over; he wanted to eyeball the guy first. It was possible Markkanen wasn’t alone. A single glance could reveal an accomplice.
Princess was chewing out Waltsu, and the weasel smirked to himself. Suhonen took a swig of his beer. Markkanen glanced at his phone, and Suhonen decided that now was the time.
He weaved through the crowd towards Markkanen. The big man saw him coming in his leather jacket.
“Hi,” Suhonen said. “You’re Markkanen?”
“Maybe. Who are you?”
“We’re supposed to meet.”
He looked at Suhonen with surprise. “You’re not Saarnikangas.”
“No. But Juha asked me to come.”
Suhonen watched him tense up. He seemed nervous and looked around the room. Perhaps he suspected that Saarnikangas had set a trap.
“What the hell is this?”
Suhonen smiled. “Hey, I don’t know anything. I’m a friend of Juha’s, and he asked me to come. I was supposed to meet this Markkanen, and he described someone who looks like you. So here I am.”
Markkanen eyed Suhonen carefully.
“Well, get us a table, and we can talk.”
“A table?”
“You know, one of those things you sit at?”
Suhonen would have smiled, but Suikkanen just scowled.
The cop turned and surveyed the tables in the room. The table where the two wanted men were sitting was the most promising, and he steered over to it. Their beers had been empty for a while, and neither had got up to fetch more.
“Fellas,” he said coolly.
Neither one answered.
“Here’s the deal. I need your table. I’ll give you twenty for it.”
The men looked at Suhonen, who smiled initially, then abruptly scowled.
“Thirty,” the younger one said, though his hesitation revealed that twenty would suffice.
“Punks,” Suhonen muttered and dropped a twenty on the table. “You can buy three beers a piecewith that.”