My wounds have taken a great toll on me. I’m in much pain. I use a lot of narcotics. I mostly sit with Kate and Anu or in my massive chair, read, watch TV. I sleep a lot. I don’t read newspapers. I don’t watch news. I don’t answer calls unless I recognize a friendly name on my cell phone.
The next morning, Jyri comes to my home uninvited. He sees me and my condition, sees Kate and her condition. I tell him the story minus the ten million. It was never found. Antti Saukko is dead. Moreau is dead. Three children murdered. All over Helsinki, junkies are dying of strychnine poisoning. Twenty-nine at current count. Twenty-two are black.
He doesn’t believe me, or thinks the money is there but I just couldn’t find it. I tell him to let it be. This is over. Jyri threatens me, tries to intimidate me. I counter, “Watch and see what happens if you don’t fuck off. Go home, take a look around your attic, on the rafters, and in the second snow tire from the bottom of the pile of four in your garage. Check your bank account.” He storms out.
He calls a couple hours later. His voice is controlled. I think he’s both shocked and awed, and finally developed respect for me. “A MAC-10 and an assortment of drugs,” he says. “And I’m broke.”
Jyri asks if I think I’m in charge now. I answer no, but I took this job and started this illegal operation after being promised that it was for the purpose of helping people. At the time, Jyri specified young women being forced into the slave trade and prostitution. That was a lie. This has been nothing but a corrupt scam to make the rich richer. A travesty that cost lives. No longer.
He hems, haws, agrees. I tell him he’ll have his money returned today. But next time, if I’m ever duped again, more contraband and unaccounted-for money will come to light. After I fly a video on YouTube of him with a big green dildo stuck up his ass by a murder victim, I’m going to kill him in the process of arresting him. I ask him if he understands and force him to say yes.
I call Saska Lindgren and give him a tip, with the promise that it didn’t come from me. The rifle used to kill Kaarina Saukko is in the back of a closet in Roope Malinen’s summer cottage. The murder is solved, he just has to concoct a story to go with it. Also, I’ve solved the Lisbet Soderlund murder and will announce it today. Evidence I find should also prove that her killers murdered the black people who were gassed and napalmed, and committed the bank robbery. He starts to ask me how I know. Thinks better of it. Thanks me and hangs up.
The strychnine-laced heroin that has killed so many is traced back to the neo-Nazis. They claim innocence, try to pin it on the two ex-Legionnaires. Unfortunately, they’re dead, unable to provide evidence or testimony. Forty-seven neo-Nazis in total are arrested.
I go to Turku with Milo. For some reason I want to appear strong, not crippled. I use my cane instead of crutches, despite additional pain. We find the meat saw that was used to decapitate Lisbet Soderlund. A forensics team goes over the room. They find her DNA on the saw, and in nearly invisible blood spatter surrounding it. A tough job, separating her DNA from the hundreds of animals the saw has dismembered.
I suppose we’re once again heroes. I continue my media blackout and tell Milo and Sweetness I need a few days alone. I go home to rest, to take a sick leave and let my wounds heal.
I still have no emotions. Each night, after I’m asleep, Mirjami clambers into bed with me. I never realize it until I feel her hand stroking my hair or brushing my arm. I once told her to go away and she did, but I think she came back. I’m not sure. She never comes too close or attempts seduction. For myself, in terms of meaning, it could be a dog in the bed with me, so I let it be.
We never speak of it, it’s not happening. Until one day, while eating lunch, while Kate sleeps.
“You know I’m in love with you,” she says.
“You don’t even know me. You told Milo that about five seconds after you met me.”
“You never heard of the lightning bolt?” she asks.
“I’m honored,” I say. “You’re a beautiful woman and a lovely person, but I’m married and my emotions are…not as they should be.”
“You’re damaged. I see your pain. I want to heal you.”
I don’t know what to say.
“It’s OK,” she says, “unrequited love is sad and beautiful. In a way, I’m at least able to borrow you for a little while. And you’ll never forget me.”
“No, I won’t.”
I feel as if I’m getting worse, not better. I’m sleeping even more. When awake, I’m zonked on painkillers and tranquilizers. And I need them. The pain is severe. I’m living on soup again, as I did the last time my teeth were shot out. My knee throbs and something like knife stabs shoot through it. I can feel it, don’t have to be told they won’t be able to put it back together again.
That afternoon, Kate reaches over and takes my hand. She’s back.
She’s not only back, but lucid. And I snap back, too. Just like that. In the blink of an eye. Emotions start rushing, surging through me. It’s overwhelming. So much so that my mind blanks, just swirls. It’s both agonizing and joyful. The shock freezes me for a minute. I can’t move and the room disappears first into blackness, then to blurry white light.
As Jari told me it might, an event brought my emotions back. I feel love for the first time since my surgery. I feel relief that Kate has come back to me. I make my way over to her. We hold each other for a long time without speaking.
“The last thing I remember,” she says, “is shooting Adrien. Where have I been and what has happened since then?”
“Mostly, you’ve been right here. I’ll tell you what’s happened later.” I remained faithful, but I won’t tell her about Mirjami falling in love with me. I explain, though, that she’s been caring for us.
Finally, Kate lets me go, picks up Anu so she can nurse. She’s quiet for a long time, a couple hours. Then she says I’ve done terrible things. She doesn’t know if they were the result of my surgery, or if she doesn’t know the man she married. And now she’s become a killer, too. She’s become everything she despises.
Mirjami asks if her services are still required. I say I’m not sure, but Kate and I can get by for at least one night. We need the time together.
Mirjami gathers her things. “If you want me,” she says, “just call.”
Kate doesn’t catch the double entendre.
Kate rarely speaks through the evening, and we sleep together, but the distance between us is great.
In the morning, she says, “I’m taking Anu and going to stay at Kamp for a while.”
I lost her to brain surgery, finally got her back, and now she’s leaving me. I say as much.
“I’m not leaving you, I just need time to think. Are you able to care for yourself?”
I nod. In fact, it will be difficult. I’ve realized that I’m in such bad shape that I’m in trouble. The pain is at times exquisite.
She offers me no sign of affection. The door clicks behind her.
41
Over the next twelve days, we have dinner twice. It was a mistake to try. She didn’t want to be with me. The silence roared.
One day, I get a text message from Saska Lindgren. “They covered up the murder weapon I recovered from Roope Malinen’s summer cottage. He got a free pass.” No surprise.
June twenty-sixth is Midsummer Eve, the third anniversary of Kate and my first meeting. On the twenty-fourth, I text Kate, ask her if she would like to spend our anniversary together. She doesn’t reply.
Except for our two disastrous dinners, I’ve seen no one since I went into self-imposed isolation. I call my brother Timo. He’s having a party. He invited me a while ago, and I ask if I can still come. Sure.
I go, get whacked on Timo’s pontikka, eat grilled sausages. They light the bonfire at midnight. I get a text from Kate. “I miss you.” I don’t think she wants a reply. I put the phone back in my pocket, have a long drink from my glass of pontikka, and watch the flames climb higher.