Behind God's Back (6 page)

“Now?”

“Yes. Before that, I want to have a look inside the safe. Jacobson's wife gave me the keys.”

Hulkko told the secretary to call the staff together. In the meantime, I examined the safe, which was in the CEO's office. It contained cash reserves of five thousand euros, a cheque-book and a packet of lunch vouchers.

Ten minutes later, all of the employees were in the conference room except the driver, who was out on his rounds. There wasn't enough room for everyone to sit. I stood at the head of the table and surveyed the crowd, which was eyeing me inquisitively.

“I'm Detective Kafka from the Helsinki Police, and this is my colleague, Detective Stenman. We're investigating the murder of your employer, Samuel Jacobson. We're trying to find a motive for the crime. Discovering it is critical to our investigation. I know from experience that motives can be surprising. It could be something that happened years ago; it could be hate, love, jealousy, money, racism, revenge. It might be related to work or free time. We know that Jacobson had stayed home from work for three days because he was afraid of something, but we don't know what. I'm hoping you all can help me. He may have told someone something, or one of you may have heard or seen something that can help us make progress in the investigation. So if you know something, you can either tell us now or contact us later. We'll leave our phone numbers on the bulletin board.”

The silence lasted at least twenty seconds.

“I'm curious about the letter that was found in the mail box this morning,” said a balding man in his fifties. From his mustard-coloured coat, I deduced he worked in maintenance.

“We're looking into it and any possible connection to Jacobson's murder, but for the moment we can't tell you any more than that. So let's agree that we ask the questions, you just tell us if you know something.”

Another twenty seconds of silence. Then a young guy standing in the doorway raised his hand, like a kid asking for permission to answer a teacher's question.

“Yes?”

“I don't know if this has anything to do with it, but a couple of weeks ago the boss asked me to check the security and firewall on his home computer. He suspected that someone had hacked into it and installed spyware. I didn't find anything, but I was pretty sure someone had got into it. They had just done a good job cleaning up after themselves, so I couldn't tell who it was and if anything had happened. I updated the virus software and scanned the computer.”

The guy seemed out of breath after his high-speed monologue.

“Did Jacobson say why he suspected someone had got into his computer?”

“He just said that he had read somewhere how easy it was to break into computers and wanted to make sure that the competitors didn't know anything about the company's bids and stuff. It sounded a little strange coming out of the blue like that, but I still did what he asked me to.”

“When you say Jacobson's home computer, are you referring to his laptop?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean that you were pretty sure someone had got into it?”

“Files had been copied from his computer in the middle of the night. I asked Jacobson if he had been using his computer then, and he said no.”

“What files?”

“Email, at least.”

“Did Jacobson have any ideas as to who the infiltrator might have been?” Stenman asked.

“No.”

“Did he ever mention it again?”

“No. It didn't go any further than that.”

I thanked him and asked if anyone had anything else to report, but everyone just stood there, exchanging glances in silence.

“Thank you. You can get back to work.”

Before we left, I went over to the bulletin board and pinned up my number, Stenman's number and our unit's twenty-four-hour number.

“This is a pretty unusual case,” Stenman said, once we were outside. I admitted it was.

“Why didn't Jacobson contact the police if he was too scared to even leave the house?” she wondered.

“Because he was mixed up in something he couldn't tell the police about.”

“That's what I was thinking. And that threat letter is another wrinkle.”

“You think it's a ruse to get us to believe that the killer is a racist?”

Stenman chuckled. “Yes, don't you?”

“Yes. The timing was too convenient – right before the murder – and it really isn't even close to the other ones.”

I scanned the vicinity. Across the road there was a metalworks, up and over to the right a car dealership squeezed in behind a chain-link fence, and to the left a plastics and rubber wholesaler.

“While we're here, let's have a look and see if there are any surveillance cameras in the area.”

We started from the rubber company. Apparently rubber wasn't of much interest to thieves, because we didn't find a camera. The car dealership, on the other hand, produced results. The camera was on the wall of the hut that contained the office. It was positioned to monitor the used cars standing three-deep in the fenced lot, which meant it was aimed right at the road.

Stenman turned into the lot and pulled up next to the hut. The salesman came out before we had a chance to open our doors. The recession was so bad even car dealers were picking up the pace.

“Hi there. What kind of car are you looking for?”

I showed the salesman my police badge, and introduced us. He looked openly disappointed.

I indicated to the camera. “Is that surveillance camera in operation?”

“That's the idea.”

“Show us how it works.”

We followed the salesman in. The hut was hot and smelt of coffee that had been standing too long. A rack filled with car keys hung on the wall. A copier and a printer occupied one corner, and a computer and the surveillance camera monitor stood on the desk.

“I can use this control here to aim and zoom the camera. When I go home at night, I start recording. It goes to this hard drive. If nothing out of the ordinary happens, I empty the hard drive once a week.”

“Show us how wide an area the camera captures.”

The dealer's curiosity was now clearly piqued. “What is it you're looking for?”

I didn't answer; I just told him to play the recording. He fiddled with the machine for a while, and finally got it to work. The guy was no technological prodigy.

“So this is from this morning.”

Stenman and I watched the image intently. The clock was running at the bottom of the screen; the footage was from 8 a.m. It was already light, and we had no problem making out the road between the gaps in the rows of cars – or the left corner of Jacobson's business and the mail box standing there. A van entered from the right and disappeared to the left.

“Looks good. I'm interested in the period between yesterday evening and eight o' clock this morning. Can you copy the last ten hours onto a DVD or something?”

“That's gonna take a heck of a lot of time.”

“Then it's probably best if we take the hard drive back to headquarters and go through it at our leisure.”

“Don't you need some sort of permission slip for that?”

“Do you have some reason to not show that recording to the police?”

“Of course not,” he said. “When would I get it back?”

“Tomorrow at the latest.”

“Oh, go ahead and take it, then. It's never been any use anyway.”

4

Investigating murders is usually simple, which is why the percentage of cases solved is high. The killer often leaves behind traces, or else traces of the victim are left behind on the killer. Also, the murderer is usually found among those close to the victim, and the motive is almost always easy to deduce. In Finnish murders, it is jealousy, money, a grudge, booze.

If the motive remains unclear, the investigation is immediately trickier. If, in addition, the perpetrator and the victim aren't acquainted, the investigation grows even more complicated. And there's a third factor that can hamper an investigation: if the perpetrator is a professional, or at least intelligent and careful.

Jacobson's murder fit all of the criteria of a difficult case. Talking to the neighbours hadn't produced any results. No one had seen the Golf, or anything else that would have furthered the investigation. The murderer's getaway route also remained unclear. A car coming from the scene of the crime could only access the more open waters of Tammisalo by one of two routes: down Tammisalontie and past the manor towards Herttoniemi, or down Ruonasalmentie towards Roihuvuori. There were no surveillance cameras along there, either. After that, the number of alternatives increased dramatically.

The make of the getaway car had been released to the radio stations, television channels and papers that afternoon, but it hadn't made any difference. Not a single clue had come in, even though the murder made the prime-time broadcast. A car as common as a Golf didn't attract any attention. No one had seen a driver dressed like a police officer, either. Presumably
the murderer had changed clothes, or at least covered his police uniform with a coat.

I ordered Stenman to review the footage, and Simolin to call through all of the car rental agencies in town; the call data from Jacobson's landline and his cell phone had already been requested. The Golf was not a phantom car, after all; it was steel, aluminium and plastic. An owner would turn up if we just looked long enough. Dejected, I dropped by Huovinen's office to report the latest on the investigation and went downstairs to eat. I had just started eating my soup when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

“Auvinen here. I'm the driver, and I was just out taking care of some deliveries when you dropped by the company. I heard you were looking for information, all kinds of information about the boss. I have something to tell you…”

I found a pen but no paper. I grabbed the tabloid from the neighbouring table; it would have to serve as an impromptu notebook.

“Yeah?”

“This happened about three weeks ago. The boss's car was in the shop and he asked for a ride to a client meeting in Vantaa. Someone called him during the drive. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but he sounded afraid, so my ears just sort of pricked up.”

“What was he talking about?”

“I was just coming to that. At first he said that he didn't want to be, or couldn't, get involved in anything… He didn't say anything in greater detail about what. The caller talked for a long time, and then the boss started almost shouting that he wasn't going to cooperate in any way, shape or form. The caller talked some more, and when it was the boss's turn to speak, he said that no company is that important and that he – the caller, I mean – could do whatever he wanted but that he was not going to be involved. Then he hung up.”

“Did he explain the call in any way?”

“Not a word. He was quiet for the rest of the trip; he was clearly thinking about something.”

“Do you remember the exact date?”

“Tuesday. It was the third. Check the phone data and you'll find out who it was who called. I have a hunch it could be the killer. The boss was afraid of him, at least.”

“Does anything else come to mind?”

“Nope, that's it.”

“What was your opinion of Jacobson?”

“In what sense?”

“Overall impression. What was he like?”

“A stubborn old bird, but otherwise a nice guy. On a pretty different wavelength from Jacobson junior.”

“Are you saying they fought a lot?”

“Not a lot, but sometimes. The son wanted to establish a subsidiary in Tallinn, but the boss thought it was too risky.”

“What about others? Did Jacobson have disagreements with anyone else?”

“No.”

“Not even Hulkko?”

“Nah, Hulkko is an even-keeled guy.”

“Could Jacobson have been involved with a woman?”

Auvinen laughed. “Not a chance. He was terrified of women.”

“What do you think about the threat that turned up this morning? Did you hear about that?”

“Yeah. There are all kinds of nut jobs on the loose, but it didn't seem like much.”

I thanked Auvinen and asked him to call if he thought of anything else. I never finished my soup. I headed right up to Stenman's office, where she was watching the security tape fast-forwarded many times the normal speed.

“How's it going?”

“I'm already at 6 a.m. I've noted the times of any vehicles that have driven past, plus the make if I recognize it. No Golfs so far. I can't make out the licence plates because the camera
is filming straight from the side. It was a quiet night. Only a few cars drove past, and some of those were patrol cars or security company vehicles.”

“Well, if we don't get anything else, maybe at least we'll get the time… Can you stay late tonight?”