Suhonen parked the car by the strip mall. He’d take a look in the local bar first. Mehtola-Pispala-Makarov would likely not be at home on Kanteletar Street on a Saturday night.
* * *
One of the streetlamps was burned out, and the apartment building’s front yard was dim. The snowy pavement radiated cold, and Lind made a mental note to switch to winter boots. She passed a dark patch of woods and sped up her steps. She spotted the letter E on the cube light over the door.
The attorney had taken a taxi from Pasila to Nӓyttelijӓ Street. The caller said she lived in stairwell E, which was the one farthest away from the street. Laura Vatanen’s apartment was in the middle.
Lind found the name on the directory outside the front door and pressed the button. The lock buzzed after a few seconds. Lind turned on the stairwell light, stepped past a baby stroller, and walked up two floors.
The brown door bore the same name as the directory: Rentola-Lammi. Lind rang the doorbell, and the door opened as wide as the safety chain allowed. A blonde girl who looked to be sixteen or seventeen peered through the opening with round eyes.
“Hi,” Lind said in a friendly tone. “I’m Nea Lind. Was it you who called me?”
The girl nodded timidly, pulled the door in to undo the safety chain, and opened it again.
“I’m not sure about this after all,” the girl said.
Too late for that, Lind thought and stepped in. The apartment was sparsely decorated. Jackets on a coat rack and shoes all over the floor filled the entryway.
The girl wore jeans and a gray New York sweatshirt. Her hair was in a ponytail and her skinny face lacked makeup.
“I don’t want any trouble…”
“You won’t be in trouble,” Lind assured her. “On the contrary.”
The attorney slid past the girl. Two doors on the right led to the bedrooms. One had a queen bed, the other a twin. The latter was decorated for a teenage girl. Lind took off her coat, and the girl walked into the living room on the left and turned off the TV.
The first thing Lind noticed was a psychedelic Frank Zappa poster. A coffee table from Ikea sat in front of the sofa, and the TV was tucked in a Lundia shelf unit on the opposite wall. In front of the window in the back of the room was a worn-out black armchair. Lind couldn’t see behind the TV shelf, but she assumed the kitchen was there.
“Where’s your mother?” Lind asked.
“She went to the bar,” the girl said. “She won’t be home before midnight,” she added and sat down on the couch. She bent her long legs and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Lind grabbed her notebook and sat in the armchair. It squeaked when she sat down.
“It’s pretty ancient,” the girl giggled.
Lind tried to laugh, but was just relieved that the chair hadn’t collapsed under her. Sini Rentola-Lammi had called her when she was talking with Detective Takamäki in Restaurant Sevilla in Hotel Pasila.
In the absence of a tape recorder, her written notes would have to do.
“Let’s start from the beginning, okay?” Lind suggested. That way she could see if the girl would tell the same story.
The girl nodded.
“Why did you call me?”
“I saw your TV interview. That’s why I called.”
“That was a while ago. Why’d you wait until now to call?”
“I wasn’t going to call at all. Then I changed my mind-I wanted to help Jorma.”
“Why me and not the police?”
“I haven’t exactly gotten along with the cops,” the girl said with a small laugh.
The feeling is mutual, Lind thought, and went on with her questions.
“What do you mean you want to help Jorma?”
“He’s a suspect for Laura’s murder…”
“Killing,” Lind corrected quickly.
“Whatever. But I don’t think Jorma could’ve done it that morning.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I told you on the phone. He was here, with me.”
“Last Wednesday morning?”
“Yes,” Sini said. “He got here around nine thirty and left when he got a phone call.”
Lind wanted to ask what Jorma was doing here in the apartment, but she was afraid that then the girl wouldn’t want to tell her everything. They’d get back to that.
“How do you remember the time of day?”
“I was supposed to leave for school then. School started at ten. But I didn’t go.”
“Didn’t Jorma call you beforehand?”
“He didn’t call much, he just rang the doorbell. Sometimes he’d come in using his key. That’s why I always keep the safety chain on when I’m here alone.”
“Did he know you were home alone?”
“He probably saw my mother leave. She gets on the bus right outside his window.”
Lind was making notes.
“Jorma came here when you were supposed to leave for school. And then what?”
“Then what?” Sini repeated, irritated. “We drank coffee and talked, and then he wanted to do it.”
“Did you do it?” Lind asked, embarrassed by the direct language.
“Yeah.”
“Were you in love with him, or infatuated or something?”
“I don’t know,” Sini said, shaking her head. “I guess there’s something macho about him. But he gave me money sometimes, and presents.”
“What presents?”
“Well, all kinds of stuff. You know.”
“I don’t know.”
“Sometimes it was clothes and things, other times something else.”
“What else?”
“You know,” the girl said, evading the question. “Wine and stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Are you some kind of cop, pressing me like this?” Sini asked, annoyed.
Lind looked at the girl intently and said, “No. I’m an attorney trying to find out what happened and why, so I can help Jorma.”
“Sometimes he’d bring hash and speed.”
“Did you use it together?”
“Sometimes. And if there was enough, I’d sell to my friends at school.”
Lind looked at the girl.
“You may want to keep that from the cops.”
“Do I have to talk to them, too?”
“If you want to help Jorma,” Lind said, nodding, “you need to tell them all this.”
“Do I have to?”
“If you want to help,” Lind said. “One more thing about the phone call Jorma got.”
“Yeah?”
“Who called?”
“I’m not sure, but it had something to do with his job. Someone wanted him to go unlock a door. But he got another phone call, too. Maybe, I’m not sure.”
“Okay. And he didn’t go anywhere in between?”
“No, he was here the whole time.”
Lind kept her eyes on the girl, who stared back at her.
“Jorma’s fingerprints were found on the power button of Laura Vatanen’s coffeemaker, which was left on. Laura’s mother had been there to clean the apartment before Laura was killed. How is that possible if Jorma was here the whole time?”
“On Laura’s coffeemaker? Ha, that’s simple.”
“What do you mean? Lind asked.
“Laura had CP or something, right?”
“Yeah,” Lind said.
“I’d go there sometimes for some wine, and she always wanted to make sure nobody turned the coffeemaker on or off by the switch. It had to be plugged in and then unplugged, for fire safety. Same thing with the dishwasher. She was so scared she might burn to death in her own apartment.”
“So nobody used the switch on the coffeemaker?”
“Right,” Sini said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Everyone who went there knew they had to use the plug.”
“Jorma knew it, too?”
“Well, he’d go there to have sex with her, so he absolutely knew,” Sini said in a huff.
It crossed the attorney’s mind that the girl might be the killer. She had an obvious motive.
“How did you take it?”
“I didn’t plan my life around Jorma. He brought me gifts and that extra stuff. I didn’t care about him.”