“My problem,” Valtteri says, “is that I don’t think Seppo is capable of butchering a girl, then going back to his room and laughing it up with his friend to give himself an alibi. If he was a serial murderer, used to killing, then maybe, but Seppo?”
“I see your point,” I say, “but it’s a mistake to think you know him. I don’t know anyone, including murderers I’ve put away, that I think capable of committing this kind of crime. Do you?”
“No,” Valtteri says, “I don’t.”
“But somebody did it,” I say. “It could have been Seppo, or Peter, or the third man who cried in her face. I’m inclined to think it was two men. The evidence against Seppo is piling higher all the time. Maybe he had an accomplice.”
My cell phone rings. It’s the national chief of police. “I just got a call,” he says, “from a reporter named Jaakko Pahkala. He says the guy you’re holding for murder had an affair with your ex-wife. She claims it’s an attempt at revenge. The reporter claims you refused comment. Would you care to tell me about it? It might have been courteous to mention it.”
Jaakko screwed me because I wouldn’t give him an interview. The chief is right, I should have told him. “He’s my ex-wife’s common-law husband. I didn’t tell you because it seemed like a simple case. I thought when the DNA test results came back yesterday, they would prove him guilty. It’s turned out to be more complicated than that.”
“You didn’t tell me because you thought I would remove you from the investigation.”
It’s partly true. I don’t say anything.
“Are you?” he asks.
“Am I what?”
“Carrying out a vendetta?”
“Of course not. I think he did it.”
“I’m trying to be fair here. Assuming you didn’t manufacture the evidence, which I don’t think you did, he seems guilty, and I would have thought it was an open-and-shut case too. But now the Eklund boy is in the picture, and I’d say there’s enough evidence to hold him for the crime as well. And this thing about the third man and the teardrops, well, that’s just fucking weird.”
“Yeah,” I say, “it is.”
“So, we’ve got a public relations problem. There’s evidence against one man, and he’s in a jail cell. There’s evidence against another, and he’s not. The man in jail screwed your ex-wife, the one who’s not is the son of a wealthy financier. This could be construed as more than a little biased, wouldn’t you say?”
His sarcasm grates on me. “I did what you told me to do. I arrested Seppo, let Eklund go free for the moment.”
“But you didn’t tell me about your ex-wife and Seppo. I would characterize that as a major fuckup.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“When it comes out in the newspapers today that you arrested the man who broke up your marriage, you’re going to look like an asshole.”
“I know.”
“Your best bet is to cite conflict of interest and recuse yourself from the investigation.”
“Then it looks like I framed him and got caught. I still look like an asshole.”
“It’s called cutting your losses.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know you don’t. I also know you’ve done a good job and collected a mountain of evidence in a short time. The case is in its fourth day. To be honest, I’d replace you, but if I send somebody up there to take over, it’s going to take him a couple days to get up to speed. That’s a lot of lost time, and I want this case solved now.”
“I’m going to solve it. When I locate the third man, the one who cried on Sufia Elmi, he’s going to connect to either Seppo Niemi or Peter Eklund.”
“Here’s what you’re going to do. Issue a written statement to the press. Give enough detail to show that Niemi’s arrest was warranted. Talk about his affair with the victim and about the blood and semen in his car. Paint him black to make you seem justified.”
“That’s unethical.”
“It’s a tough world. Do it.”
I’m not going to. “Okay.”
“Then you say he has an alibi and release him. You come off looking fair and honest.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m almost certain he killed her. If he did, he’s fucking psycho, and I’d be unleashing a danger on the community. It would be worse than irresponsible.”
“If you don’t, I’ll replace you, and he’ll be released anyway.” I’m backed into a corner. I don’t bother to respond.
“Call me and report tomorrow,” he says and hangs up.
Valtteri, Antti and Jussi look at me. “We have to release Seppo,” I say, and try to imagine how I can explain this to Sufia’s father.
18
I unlock Seppo’s cell door and lie to him. “Your alibi checks out, I’m considering setting you free. You should have told me about the phone call earlier-you could have been out yesterday.”
“Considering?” he asks.
“Your buddy says Sufia had just left when you called him. Besides her killer, that makes you the last person to see her alive. You’re a material witness in this investigation. I want you to cooperate with me. I can still hold you for another day.”
“I still think I should have a lawyer present.”
“For what? You’re no longer a suspect.”
“I don’t want certain things to get out,” he says.
“Heli knows about your affair.”
“She does? Fuck.”
“So you don’t have anything to lose,” I say.
We go to my office. I give him coffee and cigarettes. Seppo’s smiling, happy. “About what happened yesterday,” he says, “I understand that you were upset. You thought a murderer threatened your wife. I’m not going to tell anyone about it. What Heli and I did to you was terrible. Maybe we can just call it even.”
I scared him. He played a hand in destroying my marriage. He can’t be stupid enough to consider those things equitable. He probably just doesn’t want anyone to know he pissed on himself.
“That sounds fair,” I say. “Let’s forget the past and start over. Who knows, if we met under different circumstances, we might have been friends.”
This gratifies him. He offers his hand and we shake.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask. “Want anything?”
“Thanks, I’m fine.”
“Are you ready to talk about the case?”
“Anything to help. I guess you know Sufia and I were close.”
“Tell me about you and Sufia.” I start a tape recorder.
“Do we need that?”
“Yeah, we do. Is it a problem?”
He processes the ramifications of being taped. It takes him a while. “I guess not.”
“Good. Tell me about you and Sufia.”
Seppo’s pause tells me he’s thinking about how to present himself in the best possible light. “Sufia was different.”
“How so?”
“I met her at a cocktail party about three months ago. She had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen. We talked for hours. She was interested in me, she listened to me.”
“Did she talk about herself?”
“Not much, she liked to talk about me. It seemed like she really cared if I was happy, like I was important to her.”
“Had you been unhappy?”
“Not exactly.”
“It sounds like she gave you something you felt you were missing.”
He thinks about this. “You know Heli. She can be charming when she wants to. She hasn’t wanted to for a while.”
I don’t know her anymore, so I don’t say anything.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t love her,” he says.
“Of course not.”
“It’s just that some other companionship was nice.”
“Sufia was young and beautiful. That must have been nice too.”
His voice intimates that we’re talking buddy to buddy. “You have no idea.”
I mimic his tone. “I bet the sex was pretty good.”
He looks proud of himself. “The best I’ve ever had. She loved doing it with me. The girl came like a rocket.”
“Let’s talk about Tuesday, the day she was killed,” I say.
“She came to the hotel at about twelve thirty. We didn’t talk much. You know.”
“I can only imagine.”
“She left around two, said she had things to do.”
Maybe to see Peter. “Why did you rent a room at Hullu Poro instead of going to her cabin? After all, you were paying for it.”