“Well, I’m fine now. The team had a Christmas party.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“No,” said Joutsamo. The teapot began to whistle and she returned to the kitchen with the phone on
her ear.
“Quiet day at the press room here. I thought I’d lure you out for a beer…er… lunch.”
“I’m thinking probably not…” said Joutsamo, perhaps a bit too emphatically.
“Just wanted to congratulate you on the Korpi case. Well done.”
“Well, it wasn’t really all that complicated. Muuri did a good job on the prosecution.”
Römpötti paused for a moment. “What else
is new?”
Joutsamo looked at her bubbling teapot. “Figured I’d have a cup of tea.”
The reporter laughed on the other end. “OK, get better. We’ll talk later.”
“Bye,” said Joutsamo. She set the phone down on the table and took a packet of tea out of the cupboard, and a teacup from the drying rack. Her apartment didn’t have a dishwasher.
Joutsamo was pouring steaming water into the cup when the phone rang again. She paid no attention to the screen, assuming Römpötti had thought of some hangover joke.
“Yeah?” she answered.
A second’s pause passed. “Is this Joutsamo?” asked a woman’s voice. Joutsamo recognized Mari immediately, and her fear.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“OK, uhh…” said Lehtonen, trailing off.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s really not that serious, but I thought maybe you could help.”
“Of course. How?”
“Well, yesterday my ex-husband called to harass me out about that court case, and now this afternoon when Laura came home from school, the lock was all gummed up with some kind of glue.”
“I see,” said Joutsamo. She felt sharper already. “What did he say on the phone?”
“Called me stupid for talking to the police. You know, the kind of things exes say when they’re drunk.”
Joutsamo knew the type. “Are you at home now?”
“Yes. The locksmith changed the lock, so we’re okay on that front, but I just wondered if you could do something about Anton so he doesn’t start with his harassment again.”
“Can’t really take him to jail for it, but I can sure look into it. How’d Laura react?”
“Kind of confused. She didn’t really understand because I haven’t told her everything.”
Joutsamo gazed out the window. Her head was already beginning to clear. “We’ll try to do something about it.”
“Just try. That’s all I ask.”
Immediately after hanging up the phone, Joutsamo dialed Takamäki’s number.
CHAPTER 18
THURSDAY, 3:30 P.M.
KALLIO NEIGHBORHOOD, HELSINKI
Suhonen sat down in the front seat of a gray Peugeot parked at the intersection of Vaasa and Fleming, and took a folded piece of office paper out of the breast pocket of his coat. It was a mug shot printout of forty-year-old Anton Teittinen, Mari Lehtonen’s ex-husband, his dark hair hanging over his forehead, eyes glowering at the camera from beneath his brows. His bloated face was serious enough without the scowl. The photo had been snapped a year ago, after Teittinen was arrested for a bar brawl. A search of his record had turned up several other petty crimes.
Suhonen was out in the field alone. He had begun his search for Teittinen at the man’s home address. No luck knocking on the apartment door. He had listened through the mail slot, but heard nothing. Back outside, Suhonen had checked to see if any lights were on. The man could be hiding out in the dark apartment, of course, but that was unlikely.
He could be at work, but that was also unlikely. The police had his phone number, so in principle, Suhonen could have called and tried to set up a meeting, but that wouldn’t have been as effective-the encounter should come as a complete surprise to Teittinen.
Suhonen started the car, drove a couple blocks and turned onto Helsinki Avenue. Not finding a single parking space, he pulled the car up to a bus stop.
He got out and walked the remaining distance to the Corner Pub. The pavement was slick and the cold seemed to be tightening its grip. It felt about ten degrees below freezing.
The stench of smoke hit him at the door, even with only a third of the seats in the pub occupied. A few tables boasted groups of three and four, while others were occupied by just one man and a beer. Suhonen’s eyes quickly took in the room. The hands on the clock showed half past three.
Teittinen was sitting alone at a corner table reading a daily. Nothing on Suhonen’s face betrayed the fact that he had found his quarry.
The bartender stood behind the bar with an inquiring look.
“Coffee,” said Suhonen.
The man didn’t say anything, just took out a cup and filled it. “One euro.”
Suhonen put the coin on the bar and took a sip. Not bad. Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” was playing softly in the background.
Teittinen had draped his dark, hooded jacket over the neighboring chair. He looked larger than Suhonen had expected, and was wearing jeans and a gray, paint-stained sweatshirt. His hair fell over his forehead in the same way it had in the mug shots. His skin was strikingly bad.
Suhonen took his coffee and strode over to Teittinen’s table. “Looks like you got room,” said Suhonen as he pulled up a wooden chair. The table was riddled with cigarette burns.
Teittinen sized up Suhonen. “Room over there too,” he growled, but Suhonen had already sat down.
Suhonen remained silent and Teittinen started to get edgy. “What the hell?”
Suhonen just took a sip of coffee.
“What, you wanna piece of me? Here I am minding my own business and you come butting in. Look around, asshole. Plenty of seats to be had.”
“I’m not looking for a fight.”
“Well you’re damn sure gonna get one if you don’t start explaining.”
Suhonen calmly drank his coffee. “Listen, Teittinen,” he began, then paused briefly. Mentioning the man’s name seemed to have the desired effect, as he flinched. Suhonen went on, “You’ve been harassing a friend of mine.”
“How you know my name?”
“I know your shoe size, too.”
That was no lie. He had gotten it from one of the case files, in which Teittinen had kicked a victim in
a fight.
“Size ten.”
“What the fuck? What is this?”
“Listen to me when I’m talking to you. I just said you’ve been harassing a friend of mine.”
Teittinen had apparently come to the conclusion that he shouldn’t mess with Suhonen. This was the kind of guy who could be packing, and he seemed to be in good enough shape. Teittinen didn’t even have a knife. “What friend?”
“Mari Lehtonen.”
“What, you banging that bitch?”
“No, just a friend.”
“And who are you?”
“I already told you-I’m her friend. Use your ears, idiot.” Suhonen clearly had the upper hand, and was taking full advantage of it.
“Yeah, right. So what did I supposedly do?”
“You know.”
Teittinen wrinkled up his brows. “I called her once and bitched her out for talking to the fucking cops about that shooting, and then taking it to court.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so? You don’t talk to the cops…everyone knows that.”
“What were you doing at her apartment earlier this afternoon?”
Teittinen looked genuinely confused. “Phh. Been drinking here all day.”
“Bullshit.”
“What are you a cop? This some kinda interrogation?”
“Fuck it,” Suhonen grumbled. “You want to go outside or in here? Fists or knives?”
Teittinen sized him up once more and changed his tack. “Marko!” he shouted at the bartender. “Ain’t I been here since noon?”
Marko appraised the situation at the corner table and shouted back, “Yup, been here all day.”