My First Murder (29 page)

The trouble was that the accused would not be appearing in court. Tuulia had survived, but she would not be able to travel to any courtroom anytime soon. Fractures in her spine had paralyzed her lower limbs. The doctors still thought she might recover, but only after several operations.

I didn’t know whether Tuulia would ever recover psychologically. She had systematically refused to speak ever since the incident. Doctors hadn’t found anything physically wrong with her vocal chords, and she behaved completely normally otherwise: she ate and slept, read the books she was given, and even did some writing from time to time. But she wouldn’t talk.

I tried to visit her. They had allowed me into her room. She had signed the confession Koivu had brought her, a transcript of the tape I made during my visit to her apartment. However, I still had a few questions, and Narcotics and Vice were also
interested in what Tuulia had to say. I didn’t know at that point that Tuulia wasn’t speaking to anyone, and I imagined that she would have the easiest time talking to me.

Of course I wanted to see her. Her face had been tormenting me: the expression on it before she fell out the window, her laughter over beers at Elite, her cold hands slapping against my own...I had thought and thought about what I actually felt for Tuulia, and I was still uncertain about it now.

I had walked down to the end of the hall, where Tuulia was locked in a private room. Legally speaking, Tuulia was incarcerated. I asked the nurse to let me go in alone. The room was small and spare. A pale red potted rose was blooming on the windowsill, and a copy of the collected poems of Edith Södergran lay on the nightstand next to a candle. In the corner across from the bed was a television. The room looked like a cell. Tuulia lay on the narrow iron bed looking small and insubstantial despite her height. When I stepped through the door, she did not even turn her eyes toward me; she just continued to stare at her hands resting on the blanket. I wondered ironically whether her hands were cold. I wanted to take hold of them, to warm them, but I didn’t dare.

I spoke to her, trying to get her to look at me.

“Tuulia. It’s Maria. I have some things I want to ask you.”

Tuulia’s gaze remained fixed on the blanket. I tried for five minutes, maintaining my role as a police officer, though I would have much preferred to just be myself, Maria. After five minutes, the head nurse knocked on the door and I let her in.

“She isn’t likely to talk to you,” the nurse observed, thinking that I was just any cop. She didn’t know Tuulia and I had almost become friends.

The next day I called the psychiatrist who was treating Tuulia. He rattled off a list of terms and explained that Tuulia would return
to normal only if she herself wanted to. Between the lines he was saying she didn’t. Why would she want to get better if she was only going to spend years in prison?

The Narcotics Unit had been making some important arrests lately. They had discovered that the rumors of the eastern mafia’s tightening grip were only partially true—most of those involved were still Finnish. In the end, Tommi had been a minor player and Tuulia merely a pawn. Mattinen’s trail had gone cold in London. He had presumably acquired a false passport and disappeared without a trace. It was possible that Tommi could have done the same, and Tuulia probably never would have been caught if Tommi had successfully fled the country. Maybe she and I would have met in some bar and would be walking in the fog together right now.

I had run into Mira when I was leaving work a couple of weeks earlier. We had been walking to the same tram stop, and chatted stiffly all the way to the stop, despite the fact that the conversation was clearly unpleasant for both of us.

Mira told me that the choir had decided not to formally accuse Riku of anything. Recovering the money was the priority. Mira herself had decided to leave for London after Christmas to study and finish her thesis. Sirkku and Timo had become engaged in September, and Pia had traveled to San Francisco to meet up with Peter. Life continued on as it had before. The only one Mira didn’t mention was Antti, and I didn’t ask.

Although I had seriously screwed up with Tuulia’s arrest, the captain asked me to continue on as Saarinen’s replacement. I said thanks, but no thanks, and I now had only two weeks of work left. An uncommonly brazen and violent taxi robber had been keeping me and the whole unit busy lately. At least one rape a week had been coming in as well, and somehow they
usually ended up on my desk, even when I wasn’t on duty. In my free time, I had been working out and hitting the books for my criminal justice exam. My intent was to graduate by the end of the year and start my court practicum the following fall. I didn’t dare think any further ahead than that.

Pasi Arhela’s trial had taken place the week before. As a habitual offender, he received three years in prison. Marianna had been brilliant on the stand. I almost cried with pride listening to her. She had been attending a therapy group for rape victims, and I met up with her a few times before she returned to Kouvola for her last year of school. Although the incident had hit her hard, Marianna was clearly on the road to recovery. Luckily there hadn’t been any pregnancy or disease transmission to worry about. Marianna said that she already felt comfortable walking outside at night again.

The rain drew me along the southern shoreline. Now and then I passed people running to escape the downpour, some laughing under shared umbrellas. But most were bad-tempered, as if they considered the rain a personal affront from nature. I had no need to run away from the rain, because my oversized bicycling poncho and Wellingtons were keeping me warm and dry, but also cut me off from my surroundings.

On the shore by Kaivopuisto Park, the fog was so thick that even the closest islands just off shore were invisible. The sea was an enormous gray mass that sighed strangely. The fog transformed the sounds, making them unfamiliar. I was walking in a strange country whose language I did not know. From a distance, I heard a rattling and creaking that made me think of a baby stroller, but a stroller couldn’t possibly sound like that. But fifty yards farther on, that was precisely what emerged from the mist. Perhaps the odd rustling coming from the shore was the
sound of the waves on the sand, or perhaps it was something else. Maybe I didn’t need to know.

I had solved a crime. I knew who did it, and I knew her motive. I also knew a great deal about many other people’s lives. But I still felt I didn’t know anything. I would just have to learn to tolerate not knowing what certain things meant, and that I might never know. I had made a few decisions about my life, but those were hardly final. I knew that in a few years I might want to change course again.

I walked toward the pier, and then continued out onto it. The shoreline quickly disappeared, and suddenly there was no reality beyond the pier and the fog, my rubber boots glistening with moisture and the wet curls on my forehead. It felt strangely calming. I felt both lonely and whole.

I heard a new sound, once again distorted by the fog. A moment later, the sound took shape and became steps. Large rubber boots appeared, and a tall, thin figure loomed above them. An aquiline nose was visible beneath the hood—Antti.

I hadn’t seen him since the day of Tommi’s funeral. A couple of days after Tuulia’s arrest, a phone message had appeared on my desk during my lunch break. “I was camping. Sorry for the hassle. Antti.” I hadn’t had any reason to contact him since then.

When I went to return Tommi’s effects to the Peltonens, I kept Antti’s letter. It was still in my desk drawer, and I didn’t know what to do with it. It might be best to destroy it and forget that I had ever read it.

“Oh hi, Maria,” Antti said formally once he recognized me under my poncho. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“Did you have some business to discuss?” I asked, more coldly that I meant to. I was still annoyed with him for the confusion caused by his disappearance.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” he said slowly. “Should we walk so that we don’t get cold?”

We walked along side by side for some time, not saying a word. The silence felt calming, and Antti broke it only once we turned away from the shore toward the city.

“I was pretty messed up after Tommi’s funeral. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I just wanted to get away for a while, to have time to think without any disruptions. So I grabbed my camping gear and jumped on the bus and went out to the forest in Nuuksio to think things over.”

“You knew the whole time?” It was a statement more than a question. Antti looked uncomfortable.

“I knew in a way. More than I realized, I guess. I’ve known Tommi and Tuulia almost my entire life. I could see that weekend that something was wrong between them. I had had some idea about Tommi’s drug dealing, but I had no idea he was in as deep as his dad says he was. Silly.” Antti shrugged under his raincoat, and drops fell onto his shoes.

“My first reaction was to feel hurt. I was hurt because he hadn’t told me what kind of life he was living.”

We walked through Tehtaanpuisto Park to the end of Albertinkatu. The fog wasn’t as thick in the city, and I could see a long way down the street. It was starting to get dark, and cozy lights were burning in the windows of the apartments above the shops. A window opened somewhere, and music flooded out. Mick Jagger inviting us to spend the night with him.

“I guessed it was Tuulia, but I wasn’t sure why she had done it. I couldn’t tell you my suspicions, though I suppose I should have. And I didn’t dare talk to Tuulia. I wasn’t afraid for myself, but I was afraid she might do something to herself. And in the end she did.”

“Have you been to see her?”

“I tried. The nurse went in to ask her whether she wanted to see me. She still isn’t talking, so she just shook her head. Do you know what kind of sentence she’ll get?”

“It depends on a lot of things. If she goes on being like she is now, they’ll probably commit her to the psych hospital out in Sipoo.”

We had come to the corner of Iso Roobertinkatu. Tommi’s former apartment was a block away.

“I just moved into Tommi’s old place,” Antti said as if in answer to my thoughts. “The Peltonens sold it to me dirt cheap. They just wanted to get rid of it. I’ve been pretty sick of living with roommates in little student apartments for a while now; I’m getting too old for that. And Einstein will like being able to go and wander around in Koff Park.” Antti looked at me thoughtfully and then said, “My shoes are soaked through; I’d better head inside. If you don’t have anything else to do, why don’t you come with me?”

The door said Sarkela now, instead of Peltonen. The apartment itself looked different as well, mainly because it was full of stacks of books.

“I’m still working on building more bookshelves. Do your best to squeeze through.” Antti dove through the piles of books to his bedroom in search of dry socks.

The biggest cat I had ever seen lazed on a blue armchair. It was clearly the cat’s favorite spot, as it was covered in hair. The cat’s underlying color was white, but it had a pattern of dark brown hair on its back and head. The tail went from gray stripes to midnight black at the tip. The creature jumped from the chair and sidled over to rub itself, purring, against my legs. It took only a moment for its nuzzling to leave trails of white hair
on my black pants. I bent down to pet it, and the volume of the purring increased.

“He treats anyone who comes in as a potential source of food,” explained Antti, who was now wearing oversized gray woolen socks. “I’ll make us something hot.”

The cat scuttled into the kitchen after Antti. I inspected the stacks of books. Antti had a Henry Parland that I hadn’t been able to find in any of the secondhand shops.

“Could I borrow this?” I asked when he came out of the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs.

“Sure. There’s a little alcohol in this; I hope that isn’t a problem.” I took a sip and recognized the strong anise flavor of Muuriala moonshine mixed in with the tea.

“Hard tea costs twelve-fifty, fourteen, fifteen—depending on the place,” I said, quoting Parland.

“We’re in the lowest price range here,” Antti said, laughing, clearly recognizing the reference. I shifted a couple of piles of books off the corner of the sofa to the floor and sat down. Antti collapsed into the armchair, and a moment later Einstein, looking injured at the theft of his chair, jumped up next to me. He deftly found a comfortable hollow for himself among the remaining stacks of books.

“Could you tell me what really happened in Tuulia’s apartment?” Antti asked seriously. I took a hefty swig of the burning tea and began to talk. I had spent dozens of nights going over and over it in my head, but I still couldn’t talk about it without getting emotional. My voice started to tremble, and then the tears followed. By the time I reached the end, we were both crying.

“I feel like somehow I’m to blame,” Antti said. “If I had just told you in time...”

“I’ve tried to tell myself over and over that there isn’t any point in what-ifs, but I realize that’s easy to say to someone else. Do you have any more of this fennel liquor?”

“Oh, you recognized it. Yeah, I still have half a bottle. Probably the last of the batch. Timo was complaining about how much of it went down the drain at the police station.” Antti retrieved the bottle from the kitchen, along with a roll of paper towels, which we used to dry our eyes. I felt like touching him, and for once, I did exactly what I wanted. We hugged long and hard.

Then we continued drinking moonshine and petting the cat. We talked until late, about Tuulia, about Tommi, about sorrow, about cats, about everything under the sun. Finally the bottle was empty, and I stayed and fell asleep between Antti and Einstein.