“What are you going to ask on camera?” Lind said, sounding insecure.
Römpötti was familiar with the question and the tone. Sometimes she would share the objectives or line of her questions ahead of time, but not always.
“Just the basic facts: What? Where? When? Why? That’s all.”
“Well, that’s plenty.”
“Shall we?” Römpötti urged, when she saw that Mustikkamӓki had the camera ready.
Lind took a big sip of coffee and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. As she stood up, she glanced at her reflection in the glass wall to check her attire.
Römpötti stood by the camera and led Lind to her spot. Mustikkamӓki asked the attorney to move a half step closer.
“Thanks,” he said. “And we’re rolling.”
Römpötti looked at Lind intently and asked, “What do you think about this case?”
The question confused Lind, and she lost her focus for a moment. “What do I think-what do you mean?”
“What happened?” Römpötti rephrased her question.
“A twenty-six-year-old woman has been killed and my client is the suspect.”
“And, what does he say about it?”
Lind thought for a moment. The police had told the press that the suspect had confessed.
“He may not remember what happened.”
Römpötti had assumed the interview would be routine, but now she perked up. She’d planned to ask about the motive, and the routine background question, but the attorney had just disputed facts from the police bulletin.
“Wait a minute. According to the police, the suspect confessed. Do you disagree?”
“The statement doesn’t represent the whole truth,” Lind said.
“How so?”
“My client was unable to recall all the events during the interrogation.”
“So, did the police bulletin contain false statements?”
“Not false, but I don’t think the police should comment on a suspect’s guilt or innocence, including confessions. Ultimately only the court can determine guilt.”
Römpötti looked at Lind who was standing in front of the camera with a determined look. This wasn’t a routine interview after all, since the defense attorney disagreed with the police bulletin. She wanted Lind to give her a clear statement.
“The police say the suspect has confessed. Do you disagree?”
“The police have their opinion, and as a defense attorney I have mine.”
“Has the suspect made a confession?”
“My view differs from that of the police regarding my client’s guilt,” Lind said and immediately regretted it. But there was no way to take any of it back.
Römpötti nodded, “Would you like to add anything?”
“I suppose that’s about it.”
Römpötti threw a glance at Mustikkamӓki who stopped the camera. This wasn’t an extensive, detailed interview; a few minutes were enough.
Maybe there was something to this case. For a minute Römpötti felt a faint respect toward Lӓhdesranta, but the feeling quickly disappeared. The news chief hadn’t had a sense of the case; he had merely given her a dumb case to chase.
But the fact that Lind disputed the police statement made it newsworthy and Römpötti figured this would be a good story. The reporter and the attorney exchanged business cards and agreed to get back in touch.
CHAPTER 14
FRIDAY, 3:00 P.M.
HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS, PASILA
Detective Lieutenant Takamäki stood in front of the camera in the police station lobby. He had changed out of his usual cardigan into something appropriate for a television interview-a navy blue suit coat, a white shirt, and a gray tie.
Mustikkamӓki said the camera was rolling, and Römpötti began, “What is this case about?”
She passed the microphone to Takamäki.
“It’s a rather typical homicide case for Helsinki. A twenty-six-year-old woman was killed in an apartment in North Haaga. The suspect is a forty-year-old man who knew the victim.”
“What was the cause of death?”
“We can’t disclose that yet due to our ongoing investigation. But I can say it was vicious.”
“So the victim died at the scene?”
“Yes.”
“How did the police discover the suspect?” Römpötti asked. She was starting with a few easy questions.
“We conducted a routine investigation, such as lifting fingerprints on the crime scene.”
“Was it domestic violence?”
“The victim and the killer knew each other, but they didn’t live together.”
“What was the motive?”
“The victim and the killer had an argument before the incident, but the reason for that isn’t clear.”
Römpötti looked Takamäki in the eye.
“You’re saying ‘killer.’ How do you know this forty-year-old is the killer?”
“Well, the correct term is ‘suspect,’ of course. But the police consider the case solved.”
“How?”
“Based on information gathered by the Forensics team, and the suspect’s confession.”
“Has the man confessed?”
“He has confessed.”
“Indisputably?”
“Yes,” Takamäki said, confused by the question.
Römpötti thanked the detective and lowered the microphone. She got what she wanted. She could build a juicy controversial story with the comments from the detective and the attorney. Mustikkamӓki turned off the camera.
Takamäki took a step to the side and said, “I still can’t figure out why you’re interested in this case.”
Römpötti answered with a question. “What sort of woman was the victim? Did she belong to a group of drinking buddies?”
“In a way yes, but…”
“But what?”
“You haven’t asked if there was anything special to this case.”
“Is there?” Römpötti asked, her curiosity piqued.
Takamäki had planned on telling her the one detail necessary to see the full picture.
“There is one thing. The victim was twenty-six years old, but mentally she was much younger. She was mentally handicapped. I don’t know all the medical details.”
“She was mentally handicapped and she lived alone?”
“Apparently the disabilities were mild, and she could manage on her own, most of the time anyway.”
“That’s interesting,” Römpötti said and asked a few more questions.
* * *
Joutsamo sat at the table in the Homicide Unit’s meeting room, eating a salad she had picked up in a nearby grocery store. She had spent the day transcribing the interrogations-a slow, tedious task given she had a few hours’ worth of material. And there would be more after the tenants of the Nӓyttelijӓ Street apartments and other witnesses were questioned. She still needed to set up an appointment to interrogate Laura Vatanen’s mother.
Kulta sat down across from her with a cup of coffee. He had some documents with him.
“The lab sent a report of that towel.”
“What towel?” Joutsamo asked.
“The one that was found in Korpivaara’s apartment, apparently taken from Vatanen’s place. At least she had several of the same brand.”
“And,” Joutsamo urged him on.
“The DNA tests are still ongoing, but apparently the towel only has Korpivaara’s blood on it.”
“He probably hurt his hand in Vatanen’s apartment,” Joutsamo said.
She thought that they had already established that fact, although lab results were just starting to come in. On the other hand, it wouldn’t have been the first time lab results were duplicated. Several forensic tests were going on concurrently, and she couldn’t be sure which ones had been completed without looking at the file, which was at her desk.