“Sure. And, oh yeah,” Solberg added. “Nice shot of you in Iltalehti.”
Takamäki ended the call, and his phone immediately rang again. It was Deputy Chief Skoog, ordering Takamäki and Suhonen to attend a noon meeting. Evidently the topic was important, but Skoog didn’t want to discuss it over the phone. What would Homicide be getting lectured about this time?
* * *
Joutsamo stepped into the office of Detective Lieutenant Leinonen at the Riihimäki Police Department. The big-bellied sixty-year-old was sitting at his computer again, and his brown sport coat hung from the back of the chair, just like during Joutsamo’s previous visit. He was also wearing a white shirt again, too. Maybe it was even the same one, because Joutsamo caught a pungent whiff of sweat.
“Well, what is it this time?” Leinonen growled. Joutsamo had called in advance to announce her visit. Before Joutsamo could get a word out, the gray-haired lieutenant continued, “Haven’t found him yet, huh?”
“No,” Joutsamo smiled. “We’re trying hard.”
Leinonen laughed. “I’m sure you are. I read about the raid in Iltalehti. Do you guys down in Helsinki have to use the papers to handle all of your work?”
Joutsamo was on the verge of giving a snappy response, but changed her mind. There was no point escalating the tension. She just stood there in the doorway, since Leinonen hadn’t asked her to sit. “Listen, one question did come to mind.”
“What’s that?”
“Who informed the police that Repo’s wife, Arja, had been killed?”
“Huh?” Leinonen rumbled. “I can’t remember, and I don’t have time for this shit.”
“You didn’t seem to have time for it during the investigation either,” Joutsamo continued. “Tell me, how did the police know to enter the apartment?”
Leinonen didn’t respond immediately. “What exactly is it you’re getting at?”
“Think about it. According to the preliminary investigation reports, none of the neighbors heard any sounds of arguing or fighting. The police go in and find the wife dead and Timo Repo passed out on his bed. Neither one of them called the police, that’s for sure. So who did?”
“Well, someone definitely did.”
“I agree,” Joutsamo said. “So it didn’t occur to you guys to figure out who that might be?”
“Hell, how would we have figured that out? Besides, it was a cut-and-dried case.”
Joutsamo spoke in a needlessly sardonic tone: “All cases are cut-and-dried if that’s the way they’re investigated.”
“Aha, so now you’re exporting your Helsinki BS out here to the provinces. You guys are worse than those arrogant besserwissers at the NBI. Don’t you go trying anything now, missy.”
“I’m not trying anything, I’m just asking.”
Leinonen turned back to his computer. “Well, the answer is that it’s been eight years since that woman’s murder, and I don’t remember. Believe it or not, we actually have more recent cases to work on.”
Jackass, thought Joutsamo. Actually more than that, a stupid jackass, because he wasn’t capable of admitting to himself that he was a jackass. “One more thing.”
“Oh, you’re still there. I was hoping you had disappeared.”
“Tell it to your fairy godmother.”
Leinonen responded with a mocking smile. “So what else did you need, missy?”
Joutsamo felt like smiling back, because whenever men started calling her “missy” she knew she had won. It was a sign that they couldn’t come up with any rational justifications.
“I need your signature on this.”
“What is it?”
“We need Timo Repo’s DNA, and it presumably exists in the forensic evidence. According to the report, the evidence includes at least Arja Repo’s shirt and trousers, the knife, and Timo Repo’s blood-stained shirt.”
Leinonen laughed arrogantly. “You’re wasting your time, missy. It’s been eight years. It’s probably been destroyed.”
“No, it hasn’t.” Joutsamo said calmly. She brought the paper over to Leinonen’s desk. “I called your evidence clerk. The box is still there on the shelf.”
“It is?” Leinonen sounded genuinely surprised. “Well, if you want those old rags and the knife, you can have them. I guess there’s probably still the kid’s stuffed animal, too. There was also some blood on that.”
Leinonen scratched his name on the document indicating transfer of the forensic evidence to the Helsinki Police Department. Joutsamo thanked him and left.
She was slightly-only very slightly, when it came down to it-ashamed of the fact that she had been forced to lie to the lieutenant. A DNA sample had already been taken from Repo in prison in early 2007, when new legislation had enabled samples to be taken from all felons. Presumably Arja Repo’s blood and maybe Timo Repo’s blood would turn up in the evidence, but would it also contain DNA from some third party?
CHAPTER 13
WEDNESDAY, 9:50 A.M.
MALMI, NORTHERN HELSINKI
Repo was lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. In prison, that had mean either ugly concrete or the bottom of an upper bunk. In Karppi’s home, the ceiling was made of wood that still showed the grain and the knots, although the material had darkened over the years.
Repo had returned to the house in the middle of the night and tried to enter as silently as possible with the keys he had borrowed from Karppi’s coat pocket. He had slept for three hours, but then his thoughts had infiltrated his dreams.
Time went by slowly lying on the sofa, but it had gone by slowly in his cell, too.
Repo heard the front door open. He could feel a current of air. Repo waited for the door to squeak or creak, but it opened silently.
The escaped convict wondered if he should turn his head or just keep staring at the ceiling. What difference did it make? None, presumably. Repo had left the stolen car a couple of hundred yards from the house. He knew he’d need it again. A large shoulder bag was on the floor at his feet.
Someone had entered. The footsteps were light, so the intruder wasn’t a police officer. Repo heard the old man’s voice.
“Where have you been?”
Repo closed his eyes for three seconds and sat up on the sofa. “I went out for a couple of beers.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Lie or not, it’s none of your business.”
“As long as you’re staying here, it is.”
“You won’t have to worry about that for long,” Repo said. His exhaustion had taken the form of physical pain, and he had to lie back down.
“Where were you?” the old man insisted.
Repo didn’t answer.
“The police were here looking for you,” Karppi continued.
“Here?”
“Your dad’s house and here, too. Asked if I had seen you.”
Repo was now sitting up again. “Well, had you?”
Karppi shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Not yet.”
Repo stood, because there was no way he was going to get any sleep now, thanks to the ornery old man. And he wouldn’t have anyway. Maybe he’d better make some coffee.
Karppi moved over so he was standing in front of Repo, blocking him from going into the kitchen.
“I was thinking I’d make some coffee.”
The men stood there, face to face.
“Listen here. I’ve helped you because your father wanted me to. He asked me in the hospital, on his deathbed, to help you if you came here. Well, I’vedone that.”
Repo looked at Karppi. “He asked you to do that?”
Karppi nodded.
“Thanks for the help, then.”
“He also told me some other things.”
“I need coffee,” Repo growled, gently thrusting the old man out of his path. The escapee continued toward the kitchen.