“How did you…?”
“Ansa Korpivaara.”
“The mother?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got nothing to say about it,” Rainer Lind said with a blank expression.
“From the criminal justice point of view the statute of limitations has expired, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“You’d better leave now.”
“One more question,” Römpötti began and could see fear in his eyes.
She glanced at the photo on the wall. Nea Lind was about twenty years younger in it, but clearly recognizable.
“How did Nea take it?”
“What? How did you…? It’s none of your business. Nea has nothing to do with it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She has a lot to do with it.”
“How?”
“I’ll tell you after you answer my question,” Römpötti said, keeping her expression stern.
The man ran his hand through his gray hair. Römpötti knew she had him. The surface had cracked, and the fear of the secret coming out was oozing through. He slouched and took off his glasses.
“Nea felt so bad about it, as did I later on. I’ve thought many times about contacting Jorma to apologize. I overreacted back then; I couldn’t help my temper.”
Römpötti disagreed with the man, but didn’t say it.
“How badly did Nea feel about it?”
“She didn’t speak to me for six months. Then I sent her to the States as an exchange student, and she got over it there.”
Römpötti nodded.
“What’s Nea got to do with the case?” he asked.
“She’s Jorma Korpivaara’s defense attorney.”
“What?”
“Yep.”
“Hell, no,” the man said.
Römpötti stood up and got her coat. Mr. Lind followed her.
“Are you doing a TV story about it?”
“That’s very possible.”
“And my role is…”
Römpötti wondered if she should feel sorry for the old man. Probably not.
“I can only promise that I’ll stick to the facts. Nothing more, nothing less.”
The man stood in silence while Römpötti said good-bye and left.
* * *
The taxi drove at 49 miles per hour, just under the speed limit. Römpötti glanced at her watch. The train was scheduled to leave in twenty minutes, and it would leave without her. She’d have to wait an hour for the next one and she wouldn’t reach Helsinki in time. She found herself wishing she had a cab driver from Helsinki; they’d be going at least sixty.
The reporter reflected on her trip. The puzzle had a lot of pieces for her to fit together. Korpivaara’s past was now making more sense. The severe beating in his youth had clearly spun the course of his life into a downward spiral. Medical records would shed light on his injuries. Römpötti couldn’t get them, but Nea Lind could. Potential brain injuries could explain the act, but they wouldn’t have bearing on the case unless they could get him a partial insanity verdict. That seemed highly unlikely.
Römpötti was intrigued by the connection between Lind and Korpivaara. Why did Lind take the case? On one hand, Lind’s history with Korpivaara didn’t make her unsuitable for the case. It wasn’t a problem. And it explained why Lind was eager to take the case. The average lawyer would’ve listened to the police evidence, urged the client to confess, and collected the fee. On the other hand, Römpötti didn’t like the fact that the attorney had concealed such a critical piece of information-but then again, Römpötti hadn’t asked if they had any connections from the past. She would soon, though.
Römpötti thought about the crime, again. She didn’t know exactly what evidence the police had. The authorities were not obligated to share information with the suspect or the attorneys while the investigation was still ongoing. The preliminary report would include all that.
Lind had said that Joutsamo said… There it was; the story could change dramatically, like in the game of Telephone. It was all about two essential parts: forensic evidence and the relationship between the victim and perpetrator. And the man had confessed.
Römpötti couldn’t help thinking that Lind was trying to make amends for Korpivaara’s beating.
With a solid yellow line prohibiting passing, the cab driver had to slow down behind a tractor. The cab was going so slow now that Römpötti knew she would miss her train.
“Okay,” Römpötti said to the driver. “I won’t be able to make my train, so let’s go straight to Helsinki, if that’s alright.”
“To Helsinki?” the driver asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
“If that’s alright.”
“Well,” the driver said, thinking about the request. “Let’s go, then.”
CHAPTER 19
SATURDAY, 4:25 P.M.
HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS, PASILA
Takamäki stepped into the room on the second floor of the police headquarters, and greeted everyone. On the weekends, Helsinki District Court sessions were held at the police headquarters.
In the front of the room, on Takamäki’s left, a female judge and the court clerk were seated behind a table on a platform. The judge grunted something at Takamäki, and the secretary next to him smiled.
An aisle down the middle divided the large room; tables and chairs were set in neat rows, and Takamäki chose a seat in the first row.
Takamäki recalled the retirement party they had for a few colleagues the year before in this room, and now the space served as a courtroom. The judge, in her late fifties, wore a brown cardigan and sixties-style glasses. Takamäki wasn’t sure if they were new, old, or retro.
The detective had changed into his suit coat in his office when he went to get the documents Joutsamo had left there. He had hoped to see the sergeant, but she was out on a case with Suhonen.
“Where’s the suspect?” the judge asked, glancing at her watch. The question prompted Takamäki to look at his own watch. He had arranged for Korpivaara to appear at exactly 4:30 P.M. That was still two minutes away.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“I have better things to do than sit here wasting my Saturday.”
The judges had to take their turns at weekend duty in court, just like detective lieutenants.
There was a knock on the door.
“Enter, don’t be shy,” the judge said.
The guard looked through the doorway and let Korpivaara enter first. Nea Lind followed the suspect.
“Be seated and we’ll start,” the judge said.
Takamäki sat down, and Lind and Korpivaara took seats on his left.
“Okay, will the detective lieutenant please make his case?”
“Yes,” Takamäki said. “The Helsinki Police Department requests that Jorma Korpivaara be detained with probable cause as a suspect for voluntary manslaughter. The shortest mandated sentence is more than two years in prison, and we have reason to believe the suspect is an escape risk. Furthermore, it is possible that the suspect may interfere with the investigation if he is released. As far as our case…a woman named Laura Vatanen was killed with a knife in her apartment on Nӓyttelijӓ Street in North Haaga last Wednesday. Jorma Korpivaara is our primary suspect. The evidence, in detail, has been filed with the court. And, naturally, we ask that the case be handled behind closed doors for the time being in order for us to finish our investigation.”
“I see,” the judge said. “And what does the defense say?”
“My client denies the charges,” Lind said, looking the judge in the eye.
“Excuse me?” the judge said. “The documents say the suspect has confessed.”
Korpivaara looked at his attorney, confused. “I did it,” he said.
“Could Ms. Lind please explain what this is about?” the judge asked, frustrated.