The judge looked at the reporter and said, “I see the media is here.”
“Late, but here nonetheless,” Römpötti said, nodding.
“It’s all the same to me. Don’t bother taking your coat off,” the judge said, and the veteran reporter stopped by the door.
“The case is being handled behind closed doors. So I’ll announce my decision-and at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. Jorma Korpivaara will be detained under probable cause for the killing of Laura Vatanen. And now I’ll announce the reasoning, which is confidential.”
The judge glanced at the reporter, who knew she needed to leave the room at this point.
She stepped out, and the guard shut the door behind her. She pulled her phone out. Knowing that Korpivaara would have to be brought out through the doors, Römpötti set her phone to record video. She still wasn’t sure if she was going to cover the story, but in case she did, she’d have a photo and a video clip. The quality might be rather poor for TV, but she’d blur out Korpivaara’s face anyway, so it didn’t matter.
After about five minutes, Korpivaara came out, trying to shield his face with his hand, which only increased his appearance of guilt. As the suspect in overalls was taken away, Lind walked through the door, followed by Takamäki.
Römpötti filmed for another few seconds and then walked over to Lind.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Römpötti said.
* * *
Suhonen stopped the car under a burned-out streetlamp about fifty yards from the Hiihtomӓki Street apartment building. The street was west of the Itӓvӓylӓ Freeway. The Herttoniemi metro station was about a quarter mile away.
Built in the sixties, the brown, four-story cement building had two stairwells and no elevator. It housed forty small studio apartments, the largest being three hundred square feet. Joutsamo recalled a homicide in the building a year earlier. A group of drinking buddies, watching a movie, got into a fight, with two of them stabbing a third. Their plan was to chop up the body, and they went next door to ask for garbage bags. The police soon got wind of the incident.
The detectives got out of the car, and Suhonen noticed something under a street lamp a hundred feet away. A cell phone light flashed and then went dark as it was held against someone’s ear-probably a lookout. Suhonen wondered if a stash of pot was being flushed down a toilet right then in some nearby apartment. Or it could’ve been just a warning call to get the stuff near the toilet.
Rautis was a two-bit dealer, but there was always something up in this neighborhood. Suhonen wanted to keep an eye on the building for a minute, though he knew he was being watched.
Drug dealers didn’t worry too much about the blue-and-white cop cars with sirens blaring; they knew those had already been sent somewhere. But the pair in street clothes looked much more suspicious. Suhonen could’ve passed for a drug dealer himself, but by walking next to Joutsamo in her black jacket it was obvious what they did for a living. The only thing left for the criminals to guess was whether they were police officers or customs officials.
It wouldn’t have made any difference had they walked hand in hand trying to look like a couple, though it would’ve suited Suhonen fine. Joutsamo wouldn’t have minded terribly, either.
This wasn’t a drug raid and dealers weren’t the target, but the criminals didn’t know that. A number of heavyweight dealers operated around Herttoniemi’s apartment buildings. They were highly dangerous because they had a lot to lose, and they were used to violence.
The front door was locked but loose from frequent use. Suhonen dug a piece of wire from his leather jacket pocket and twisted it a few times. It fit between the door and the frame, and Suhonen was able to click the lock open. With a newer lock, they would’ve had to buzz from the tenant directory or call the custodian.
The stairwell was dimly lit. Suhonen glanced at the building directory, though he knew it wouldn’t tell him anything. The names could’ve been outdated, and some people didn’t want their names listed.
Suhonen knew Rautis lived on the third floor.
“Alright, we’ll both take the stairs then,” Joutsamo said when she saw there was no elevator.
Normally, one officer took the stairs while the other rode the elevator, so the suspect couldn’t escape.
“Stairway to heaven,” Suhonen grunted.
Joutsamo gave him a confused look.
Suhonen opened the zipper on his jacket and instinctively made sure his Glock was holstered on his shoulder. He saw Joutsamo do the same. That was good; they were both on top of it without having to say a word.
“How are we getting in?” Joutsamo asked, as they got to the first landing of the winding staircase.
“I’ll shoot the lock if he doesn’t open the door.”
“Be serious,” Joutsamo replied.
Suhonen detected anxiety in her voice-another good sign that she was alert. Hitting a drug dealer’s apartment with a cocky attitude was a good way to get your name on the Police Academy wall.
Suhonen saw Joutsamo glance at him when they got to the second floor. Did she question his approach? Joutsamo and Suhonen hadn’t been together on a case like this for several years. Nowadays the VCU liked to send the SWAT team even for simple arrests, all in the name of occupational safety.
Suhonen was among the old-school police officers who believed they should handle the arrests themselves. Of course, calling in the SWAT guys was a smart move when it came to dealing with nutcases or gangs.
“I’ll do the talking and you cover me. Let’s be careful,” Suhonen said. He didn’t doubt Joutsamo’s ability to react in dangerous situations. She had shot a member of the Skulls in a firefight a decade earlier.
Joutsamo nodded.
They tiptoed up the last steps, so as not to be heard, and Suhonen stopped on one side of the door. Any shots through the door would miss. Suhonen knocked hard.
“Rautis, open the door!”
Joutsamo stood at the other side of the door, her Glock ready.
“Rautis, open up!” Suhonen repeated.
“Who is it?” said a cautious voice from the apartment.
“A friend,” Suhonen replied. He didn’t want the whole building to know the cops were there. “It’s Suhonen.”
“I can’t,” the voice said after a moment’s silence.
“Then I’ll break the door and come in.”
The door stayed shut.
“Ten seconds and you’ll pay for the door.”
Joutsamo heard steps, and someone came to the door.
The lock unlatched and the door swung open to the stairwell. Joutsamo was behind it for a second and couldn’t see Suhonen. She half expected to hear a gunshot and see Suhonen slumped in a pool of blood, but as she stepped out from behind the door she saw Suhonen standing in the doorway with Rautis in front of him.
The skinny young man had a mess of stringy hair to his shoulders. His beard matched his hair but was confined to the tip of his chin. He had on a worn, plaid flannel shirt and dirty jeans.
“Who’s the gunslinger girl?” Rautis asked, looking at Joutsamo.
“Calamity Jane,” Suhonen said and Rautis chuckled.
Joutsamo held her weapon. She noticed Rautis was missing a finger on one hand.
“How’s it goin’?” Suhonen asked.
“Bad,” Rautis replied, looking at the floor.
Joutsamo thought they should go in to secure the apartment, but Suhonen kept chatting with the guy at the door.
“Rautis,” Suhonen said, waiting for the guy to look up.
Joutsamo could see tears in the guy’s eyes.
Suhonen stepped in the door and Joutsamo followed. Rautis took a step back and Joutsamo shut the door behind her.
“Siwa,” Suhonen began. “What the hell. Why?”
“You know why,” Rautis said, lowering his gaze again.
“I know you’re not on top of the world, nowhere near Mont Blanc…”