As the rest of the group filed out, Takamäki walked up to Nykänen. “You have time to come over to the old unit for a cup of coffee?”
Nykänen glanced at his watch. “I’m in kind of a rush, actually. I’ve got to get to Vantaa.”
“Jaakko, coffee, now,” Takamäki ordered, as if Nykänen were still working in his unit. “I just have one thing I need to tell Skoog first.”
Takamäki explained the Iltalehti incident to the Deputy Chief, who promised to take it upstairs for further action. Nykänen overheard the conversation, and he struggled to keep a straight face. Not that Nykänen approved of what the reporter had done. It was more the gravity with which Skoog approached the matter that made him smile. Skoog was receptive to Takamäki’s idea of confiscating the reporter’s phone as a warning.
Skoog inquired about the Repo manhunt, and Takamäki said they were doing everything they could. Takamäki didn’t bring up Joutsamo’s suspicions regarding the man’s potential innocence. This was neither the time nor the place.
Then Takamäki grabbed Nykänen, and they headed down the corridors toward the VCU’s premises.
“Jaakko,” Takamäki said, stopping in the hall between closed doors. “I know you’re in a rush, so I won’t force coffee on you.”
Nykänen looked relieved, because he was supposed to be at Vantaa PD in forty-five minutes, giving the same presentation for the third time that day.
Takamäki took out his cell phone and fiddled with it for a second. He pulled up one of the photos he had taken the previous night. Takamäki handed the device to Nykänen, who saw the dented front corner of a Toyota.
“What’s this?”
“Manner’s car.”
“The one that burned?”
“Yup,” Takamäki said.
Nykänen looked at Takamäki. “Who took this photo?”
Takamäki sighed. “I did.”
“When?”
“Last night in Tuomarila.”
Nykänen looked at Takamäki, eyes wide. “Okay, I’m not in a hurry anymore. Goddammit! Suddenly I feel like I could use a cup of coffee after all.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Nykänen and Takamäki were sitting in Takamäki’s office, hot cups of cop coffee in front of them.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Nykänen said.
Takamäki told him about Jonas’s hit-and-run, the Sello surveillance camera images, the indifferent attitude of the Espoo police, his nocturnal verification trip into the wilds of Tuomarila, and his intention of dropping by Manner’s and lecturing him about the morality of hit-and-runs.
“I’ll be damned.” Nykänen sighed heavily. “We’ve been racking our brains trying to think of how we could get a tap in that house and you just waltz in there in the middle of the night like some horny teenager.”
“You guys should probably make sure that Caesar isn’t home.”
“Who’s Caesar?”
“Manner’s dog. I don’t know what breed, but based on the bark, I’d say it’s not too small.”
Nykänen wrote down the dog’s name. “Good to know. But the hit-and-run at Sello?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking during the meeting.”
“Sello has plenty of banks and jewelry stores,” Nykänen reflected.
“And armored cars drop by to pick up cash from the supermarkets and other businesses. But that’s just a guess,” Takamäki said.
“How does the car arson fit into the picture, then?”
“That’s a bit of a mystery. Manner had told the Espoo Police a story about a business trip that he didn’t return from until last night. We don’t know if it’s true or not. But it is possible that one of his colleagues had scoped out the escape route in Manner’s Toyota and he didn’t hear about the hit-and-run until his return. It’d be a good way to cover up his tracks.”
“But why draw the police’s attention if there’s a big gig coming up?”
“An alibi for the car and for Manner?” Takamäki suggested. “If they’ve been staking out other targets in that car, then they can say that it’s been missing for a couple of days. Because if three big jobs went down at the same time, it wouldn’t take us long to start looking for connections from the targets’ surveillance cameras.”
“And had he reported it stolen earlier, he would’ve run the risk the whole time of the car being pulled over by the cops. Now they were able to scout out the fastest escape routes,” Nykänen mused. “With jobs like that, the most important thing is to get the haul out of the getaway car as fast as possible.”
“Who was driving it? Now that’s an interesting question,” Takamäki said, taking a sip of his coffee. He pulled out the Sello surveillance camera images from his drawer and showed them to Nykänen.
“Yeah, well, I can’t make anything out from that, but it’s probably Manner or one of his lieutenants.”
“There’s one more problem.”
“What?” Nykänen shot back.
“A guy named Lauri Solberg over in Espoo is investigating this hit-and-run of Jonas’s, and evidently this car theft of Manner’s, too.”
Nykänen looked thoughtful. “Solberg? Never came across him during my narc days.”
“I think he’s pretty new, but he knows I have these Sello photos.”
“How’d come you’re the one who ended up with those anyway, not the investigator from Espoo?” Nykänen asked.
“I went and picked them up from the Sello surveillance room. Espoo hadn’t thought of that.”
“Of course not.” Nykänen was smiling, but he also rubbed his forehead. “Under no circumstances do we want this Solberg to start digging into Manner’s car’s movements around Sello, because Sello is now the first, and, for the time being, only potential target we know about. If Solberg lets Manner know that we’re aware of his car’s movements there, they’ll drop the target immediately.”
“Right,” Takamäki said.
“We’ll set up stakeout teams at Sello right away, and it’d probably be best for me to get in touch with either Solberg or his boss, and have them drop their investigation of that hit-and-run pronto. If necessary, we could have all cases involving Manner transferred to the NBI for investigation.”
“Right,” Takamäki repeated.
“Sorry. I wouldn’t like it either if there wasn’t even an attempt to find out who was driving a car that hit my kid, but I’m sure you understand.”
Takamäki laughed. “Of course I understand, but hopefully I don’t have to explain it to my wife. Because she’d ask what the police’s priorities are: property that’s covered by insurance, or physical injuries sustained by a human being? In any case, I’ll leave it in your hands.”
* * *
The sleet had started coming down again. It was colder now, and the flakes formed a layer of slush on the asphalt. Repo was walking along Malmi Curve toward the Kirkonkylä Road bridge that spanned the train tracks. He glanced backwards again, but the only person there was the woman pushing a dark blue baby carriage who had been there ten seconds before.
Apartment buildings rose to his right, and the train tracks ran to his left. Repo had wondered what to do. He couldn’t stay in Karppi’s house. The old man’s death was an accident, but of course no one would believe him. No one had listened to him the first time, either.
He had left Karppi’s house and left the car on the street there. Maybe that was a mistake, but he wouldn’t go back now.
Repo knew that he was innocent of his wife’s murder. Understanding that had taken him a couple of years. There’s no way he would have been able to slit Arja’s throat.
On the other hand, he was sure that he wouldn’t have been capable of killing Karppi either, but it had still happened. Repo cursed the old man. Why did he have to go sticking his nose into Repo’s business? Everything had been set, but now it was all a huge mess again.
Repo switched the bag over to his other shoulder and glanced backwards once more. Pain and exhaustion. Of course he had gotten used to it, but before he could go on, he had to get some sleep to clear his head. There was a headline about an escaped murderer on the front page of today’s Iltalehti. Maybe his photo was in there too, so Repo didn’t dare to buy the paper.