Snow Woman (7 page)

“Could she have dragged herself there? Maybe the medicine paralyzed her or—”

“No. I’ll look at the ankles again carefully though. That might give us an answer,” said Kervinen.

“Like what?”

“Depressions or broken tissue could show someone dragged her under the tree or wherever it was you found her. Were there any marks on the ground?”

I shook my head. “The rain softened the snow so much it was hard to tell anything. Show me her back.”

Kervinen handled the dead flesh with nonchalant professionalism. I tried not to look at the long cuts the autopsy tools had made in Elina’s skin—or the minimal stitching that patched them up. Next to the autopsy incisions, the scratches on her back looked insignificant.

“Based on my examination, she was a healthy, fit woman. She doesn’t appear to have smoked or drunk more than usual, and she had good muscle tone,” Kervinen said while I made a mental note to ask who had undressed Elina’s body and what her robe and nightgown had revealed. They would be ripped in the back if she’d been dragged through the forest. “There was one strange thing though. I didn’t find any explanation in her records for the cervix.”

I stared at Kervinen. “Cervix? What do you mean?”

“According to her records, Rosberg never had children or any uterine surgeries. The orifice of a woman’s uterus who hasn’t given birth is sort of round and tight, but Rosberg’s was stretched like a woman who’d had at least one child.”

“Are you saying she gave birth?” I asked.

Kervinen’s embarrassed gaze wandered the room, avoiding mine. “As I said before, I’m not a gynecologist. The stretching could have come from something else, such as surgery. If you think it’s important, I can call in a specialist to have a look.”

“Yes, do that,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going to be important. Maybe it was a miscarriage.”

“That should show in her medical records too,” Kervinen pointed out.

I would have liked to continue speculating with Kervinen, but Aira and Johanna were waiting, and I had other things to do. As I stepped into the corridor, the cold, artificial light of the institute enveloped me and dispelled the thought that had momentarily popped into my mind. Elina couldn’t have had a child. That would have shown up in the population registry too. And why did Kervinen act so embarrassed when he talked about pregnancy? He was a doctor! Most doctors I knew were either emphatically businesslike or flippant when the subject came up. Kervinen was the only one I knew who got nervous.

Aira was sitting in the lobby staring into space, and Johanna was nowhere to be seen. I sat down next to Aira, searching her face for any signs of shock. She was obviously upset, but I didn’t detect anything abnormal.

“Did Johanna go to the restroom?” I asked.

“Johanna.” Aira said the name as if it meant nothing to her. “Oh yes, Johanna. She wasn’t here when I came back.”

So Aira wasn’t as strong as she seemed outwardly. She was upset. But where on earth was Johanna? I wanted to get back to the police station and start my interviews. This was going to be a busy day even without delays. But we couldn’t just leave Johanna. She had no way of getting back to the Espoo Police Station, and I wanted to interview her too.

“Wait here. I’ll find her.”

I looked for Johanna in the nearest women’s restroom and then the other one, with no success. Crap. I knew there was a café. Maybe Johanna had gone there. I wandered in what I thought was the right direction, but after five minutes I became hopelessly lost. I finally asked directions from an amused orderly. I was grateful violent crime detectives didn’t have to wear uniforms; there was something tragically comic about a police officer lost in a forensic medical center. I hated revealing my ignorance by asking for directions.

When I finally made the turn into the hallway leading to the café, I saw Johanna standing near the entrance staring at a painting hung on the wall. I walked up to her, but she didn’t seem to notice me. I turned to the painting. The stylized näivist image depicted a happy brood of children frolicking in a flowery meadow. Tears streamed from Johanna’s eyes, and the collar of her gray coat was completely wet with them. When I placed my hand on her shoulder, she didn’t react. My voice finally snapped her out of her obvious misery.

“Time to go, Johanna. Nice picture.” Nice picture. That sounded so stupid! When would I learn how to deal with people who were hurting? Why couldn’t I just say how sorry I was for her loss? I could handle hard-bitten repeat offenders and slick white-collar criminals, but comforting someone in pain was beyond me. Grief left me mute and shy, irrationally fumbling for words and running away instead of moving closer.

Fortunately Johanna obediently accompanied me down the hall. She was clearly accustomed to following orders. Aira was waiting where I’d left her, and we silently marched out to the car in the rain and drove back to the station.

When we arrived, I asked Johanna whether she wanted to be interviewed first as she’d waited so long at the morgue.

“Waiting doesn’t bother me,” she said quietly. Then a little more loudly, “It’s nice having time to just sit and be.”

Although the Espoo Police Station was new, the interrogation rooms were bleak, sterile white boxes. At least the chairs were comfortable. I was setting up the interview recorder’s microphones when Ström walked in, shoving the last piece of a meat turnover into his mouth. My stomach growled. I asked Aira whether she wanted coffee. She asked for a glass of water instead.

To begin, I recited the date and time of the interview for the recorder and asked Aira to provide her basic information.

“Aira Elina Rosberg, born February second, 1925. Profession: nurse, retired. Unmarried.” Reeling off her official information for the recorder almost seemed to amuse Aira.

“Elina was named after you?” I asked.

“It’s a common name in my mother’s family, and I a
m . . .
I was Elina’s godmother.” Aira’s steady voice cracked. “Talking about her in the past tense is going to take some getting used to.”

“Do you know who will inherit Elina’s property? Did she leave a will?”

“I believe so, yes. You should ask the family lawyer, Juha Saario. The firm’s name is Saario and Ståhlberg. You can find them in the phone book.” Aira barely seemed aware of what she was saying; her mind was so far away.

I wrote down the name of the law office and started running through the events of Boxing Day again. Aira didn’t have anything new to add. But after half an hour of questioning, she awoke suddenly from her daze. Opening her handbag, she interrupted me.

“There’s something I need to show you, Maria. When Elina disappeared, we didn’t find any kind of note from her. But I found this in my purse this morning.” She pulled out a white envelope with “Aira” printed on it in blue ballpoint pen. I reached to take it, but Aira squeezed it tight.

“I only carry a purse when I go out, and I haven’t left home since Christmas. I didn’t open it until I got in the car this morning. That’s when I found this. Look!”

Aira handed the envelope to me. Inside was a handwritten note that read: “Dear Aira, after everything I’ve heard, I can’t go on with this. I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. Elina.” It looked like a suicide note.

I read it again. “After everything I’ve heard, I can’t go on with this.” What had Elina heard that was so damaging it made her commit suicide? My thoughts returned to Joona Kirstilä, whom both Aira and Milla claimed Elina met that night. Could Elina have committed suicide because Kirstilä said he was leaving her? That was hard to imagine.

“What do you think this letter means? Do you think it’s a suicide note?” I asked. “What did Elina hear? It sounds like she expects you to know what she’s referring to.”

Aira shook her head impatiently. “Joon
a . . .
”

“Did Kirstilä intend to leave her?” I realized I was putting words in Aira’s mouth when Ström made a warning sound next to me. I had forgotten he was even there. Aira nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you see Elina again after she came in from that walk?” I asked.

“I already told you I didn’t! But before Christmas she’d talked about the relationship ending.”

“But that’s a classic cause of depression!” I said. “Why didn’t you mention this from the beginning?”

“I didn’t want to blame Joona.” Aira’s voice was both sad and hollow. She began crying, the tears bursting out as though from a faucet that was suddenly twisted on. I just sat in my chair and watched while Ström sat next to me staring at the floor. Only when Aira had cried for a couple of minutes did I have the sense to ask whether she wanted anything, a tissue or another glass of water. She shook her head and pulled a handkerchief out of her purse.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she repeated mechanically as she dried her eyes. I mumbled an attempt at something consoling. Ström pushed his chair back with a clatter and said he would get Aira another glass of water. At that point, I turned off the recorder. I tried not to watch as Aira forced herself to calm down. When I asked, she said haltingly that she would prefer to end the interview unless it was imperative we continue.

“Someone can bring Johanna back to Rosberga if you’d like to go home now,” I said.

“I think I’ll take a little walk while I wait for her. I don’t think I should be driving in this state.” In a couple of quick gulps, Aira drank the water Ström brought. Her hands were shaking.

I sent Ström to fetch Johanna for her interview. I watched as the women exchanged a few words in the hallway. It was almost twelve, and Milla was supposed to be at the station by one. I was never going to have time to eat between interviews, let alone stop at the pharmacy. Crap.

Johanna removed her coat and scarf. The dress she revealed was so outdated that in a few years it would be back in style. A couple of curls were trying to escape her drab blond bun, which wasn’t pulled as tight today. I had heard that natural curls usually straightened after a woman had a baby, but nine pregnancies had done nothing to tame Johanna’s.

Again I started the interview by asking for personal information. Johanna’s birth date made me swallow; she really was only a year and a half older than me.

“You were eighteen when you had your oldest child?” I asked.

“I was nineteen. Leevi and I got married two weeks after I graduated from high school. Johannes came the next March.”

“Have you been in contact with your children recently?”

For a moment joy flashed in Johanna’s eyes, its light washing away the deep furrows in her face.

“Anna, my oldest daughter, called me yesterday. She ran away and called from the phone booth in the village. She said they all miss me, except, of course, Johannes, who only listens to his fathe
r.
” Her face seemed to shrivel again, but her voice remained strong and warm.

“Anna is a good girl. Only thirteen but so independent. The poor thing has always had to help me with her younger siblings and the house, and now she’s taking care of so much with me gone. Leevi’s mother doesn’t have much energy anymore.”

Ström shifted restlessly. I knew he thought I was wasting time on small talk. But I wanted to get Johanna to relax before I brought up the subject of Elina. Besides, her life story interested me. It was unbelievable that a man could seriously believe that his wife, the mother of his nine children, dying in childbirth was the will of God. Didn’t that sort of thing happen only in faraway places where women wore veils and didn’t even own their own bodies? This was Finland!

“How did you end up at Rosberga Institute? Did you already know Elina?” I asked.

“Where would I have met a person like her in my little village? I gave birth to Maria, my youngest, here in Helsinki, at the Women’s Hospital. It was a high-risk pregnancy too. They had a magazine there with an interview with Elina, and then one night I was watching television—” Johanna blushed as if revealing a transgression, and I remembered that fundamentalist Laestadians considered television sinful. “Elina was on a talk show. She was s
o . . .
so calm and safe, and she said that every woman had the right to control her own body.”

A snort came from Ström’s direction. I knew he was anxious for me to get to the point.

“Actually it was Elina who gave me the courage to terminate my pregnancy,” continued Johanna softly. “I looked up her phone number and asked her for advice. She invited me to Rosberga if I needed a place to rest after th
e . . .
procedure.”

To my horror I heard Ström actually clearing his throat.

“Did you go to Rosberga right after the abortion?” I glared at Ström, who opened his mouth but then closed it when he saw the look in my eyes.

“No. I went home. But Leevi knew what I had done and hit m
e . . .
pretty hard. He told the children I was a murderer.”

As Johanna struggled with her tears, rage welled inside me. I caught myself grinding my teeth. Ström was the one who opened his mouth first.

“You filed a police report about him hitting you, right?” he asked.

The question so surprised Johanna that she was able to swallow her sobs. “I committed a sin. Hitting me was a just punishment.”

“Are you a goddamn Muslim or something?” Ström’s roar made Johanna shrink back in her chair. She looked quickly at the floor.

“Mrs. Säntti is a Laestadian,” I said. “Her husband is a preacher.” I hoped Ström would hear the unspoken “shut your trap” in my words. But then I realized in irritation that I was doing the same thing Elina and Aira had, speaking on Johanna’s behalf. I wanted to teach Johanna to fight, not silence her.

“And after that beating you went to Rosberga?” I said.

“Leevi ordered me to leave. He gave me some money for a train ticket because I used all my savings from my allowance on the trip to the hospital.”

I could hardly believe my ears. An allowance? With nine children, Johanna had to be receiving thousands in benefits from the government. Where was that going? Into Leevi Säntti’s pockets, I presumed.

“Elina picked me up at the train station. She said not to worry, together we could get the children away from Leevi. And Elina would have done it. She knew the right people. That was probably why Leevi killed her.”