“Esa, did you get the impression that someone else was bunking here?”
Nieminen was still guarding the door at a wide stance.
“My impression was that she lived alone,” he said. “The apartment looked clean, not like a drug nest or anything.”
“Remember seeing a weapon?”
“Nope, didn’t see one. I didn’t get close to the body because I could tell right away that she was dead. But go see for yourselves,” Partio suggested.
Joutsamo had brought along white paper coveralls and blue plastic shoe covers. But based on what Partio said, she figured they would let Forensics go in first.
“We’ll let Forensics take care of the apartment and we can come back later. We’ll chat up the neighbors first. Mikko, you start with Ridanpӓӓ, and I’ll talk to the others on this floor. Then I’ll head down and you go up.”
Joutsamo glanced at Partio, “You guys guard the door until Forensics gets here.”
While Joutsamo gave orders, Kulta went to Ridanpӓӓ’s door and rang the bell. The woman took a while to answer. Joutsamo could only hear some mumbled rasps; then, with gusto, the woman slammed the door in Kulta’s face.
“What now?” Joutsamo asked.
“If I understood correctly, Mrs. Ridanpӓӓ won’t talk to me until I get her two bottles of red wine,” Kulta replied.
“Good grief,” Joutsamo sighed. “She’s a witness and under legal obligation to answer your questions. Tell her if she doesn’t cooperate, we’ll take her to the station for questioning.”
Kulta glanced at the door and shrugged.
“Think I’ll make a quick run to the liquor store. It won’t take long, and we’ll get more out of her that way.”
CHAPTER 2
WEDNESDAY, 2:55 P.M.
HELSINKI POLICE HEADQUARTERS, PASILA
Kulta was sipping his coffee in the VCU meeting room. It was strong enough this time, because he made it himself. “Not all the Indians in the canoe…,” he mused.
The meeting was to start at three o’clock, which was in a few minutes. Joutsamo and Takamäki weren’t there yet. Kulta was joined by Undercover Officer Suhonen and a petite redhead, Kirsi Kohonen, both long-time detectives on Detective Lieutenant Takamӓki’s team. The fourth person in the room was Leif Nyström, who had recently joined the team from the East Uusimaa Police Department.
Several veteran detectives from the Violent Crimes Unit had recently retired, and VCU had been able to fill the positions with qualified applicants like Nyström. He was a forty-year-old veteran cop, with plenty of experience investigating various violent crimes in the eastern Helsinki metropolitan area.
“Not all the Indians in the canoe,” Nyström said in a squeaky voice. “That’s such a worn-out phrase. Kind of like ‘dumber than a box of rocks.’ Try ‘slow on the uptake’ or something.”
Kohonen, whose hobbies included horses, added, “Didn’t have all their horses shoed.”
Kulta joined in. “You’re not using your imagination. How about, ‘not all the Nazis in the bunker’ or ‘all the idiots in the village’…”
Suhonen, wearing his usual leather jacket, his black hair pulled into a ponytail, chuckled and said, “Fitting for this case, ‘not the sharpest knife in the drawer.’”
Takamäki walked in just as Suhonen was making his comment.
“What about a knife?” the thin-faced lieutenant in a gray cardigan asked. His short, dark hair showed a hint of silver.
Suhonen explained the pun and Takamäki chuckled. “I’m glad my detectives have an imagination. I’ll throw one out, too.”
“What?” Kulta asked.
“Well,” Takamäki began, molding the idea. “This one is the other way around, but I’m confident you esteemed sleuths will get it. In this case, the guy actually ‘has all the administrators in the building.’”
Suhonen laughed and the others joined in. The newly-restructured police administration had increased bureaucracy, and Takamäki wasn’t a fan.
“But let’s get down to business. Anna, please brief us.”
“Okay, enough with the jokes,” said the detective in a black sweater and jeans. “We’re investigating a brutal homicide.”
Everyone settled down.
“So the victim is Laura Janina Vatanen. She was born in Tampere, February 1985, which made her twenty-six years old. She lived alone in her apartment, where she was found with her throat slashed. She has no criminal background. Based on our preliminary findings, Laura Vatanen was diagnosed with a slight mental disability as a young child. She had trouble learning to read and write, and some of her movements were impaired. She retired on disability at the age of twenty.”
Joutsamo glanced at the others. Nobody was smiling or making jokes now. Society should’ve been able to protect her, and now this had happened.
“According to city records, Vatanen lived on Nӓyttelijӓ Street for two years. She had been in therapy since she was a kid, and had been deemed capable of living on her own. She had a trainee-type job at a local grocery store, but the owner fired her because she required too much help to perform her duties.”
“Cold capitalism,” Kulta said. This time Takamäki didn’t give Kulta his usual reprimand for an unnecessary comment, but nodded in agreement.
Joutsamo continued, “She was on the waiting list for other trainee-type jobs.”
“Anyone from Social Services check on her?”
Joutsamo shook her head. “No. The mother was the designated caregiver and was getting paid for it.”
“Has the mother been told?”
“No,” Joutsamo said, looking at Takamäki. “You and I will take care of that tonight. Well, that’s the short version of Laura Vatanen’s sad story. If anyone wants to take a closer look into her thoughts, I have a notebook where she scribbled her dreams in what I would call fourth-grade handwriting. I also have a friendship book, but the only notes in it are from her three teddy bears on the couch.”
Joutsamo paused. Kulta wasn’t sure if she was wiping the corners of her eyes or just brushing her dark hair aside.
Joutsamo continued in a normal voice. “I read through all of them, but couldn’t find any clues as to the killer. However, I can say that despite her physical age of twenty-six, mentally Laura Vatanen was at the level of a pre-teen. She was actually just a child.”
“But why in the world was she allowed to live alone?” Leif Nyström asked.
“Apparently there are many ways to evaluate someone’s mental age,” Joutsamo said. “And those tests don’t include friendship books. Anyway, that’s the scoop: what the victim was like and what kind of a situation we’re dealing with here.”
Everyone knew that they’d do whatever was necessary to solve the case, especially since the victim was basically a child. Not that the Helsinki PD didn’t do their best to solve every homicide, but after hearing Joutsamo’s briefing nobody was going to be counting their hours.
“Then the report from Forensics. Laura Vatanen’s throat was slashed deep, almost into the vertebrae. We don’t have the full report from the medical examiner, but there was no question as to the cause of death. We didn’t find a weapon in the apartment, and don’t know yet if Laura was drugged. We do know she wasn’t raped, and we found no signs of violence or struggle before her death.”
“Did she have wounds on her hands?” Nyström asked. It was common to see wounds on knifing victims’ hands from attempts to block the attack.
“No.”
“Surprising-usually there’s something.”
“Not this time,” Joutsamo said.
“The door was intact, and no signs of struggle were found. So it had to be someone she knew,” Nyström went on.
Takamäki joined in. “Never assume, and look at the facts. I agree that the first line of investigation should be looking into people she knew. We just need to keep all options open. It’s unlikely we’re dealing with a serial killer-if one was around, I would’ve heard about it.”