Wolves and Angels (13 page)

Laine must have sensed Koskinen’s interest, because he continued eagerly: “If anyone would know,
it would be
me. I’ve
driven
them home from their outings more than anyone. They couldn’t even ride in the same van, so I had
to make separate trips for them... A
t all hours of the night I might add.”

“All hours?”

“Yeah. Usually only after last call. Sometimes they were so piss drunk that I had to schlep them all the way to their rooms.”

“To their rooms?” Koskinen repeated. “How did you get them inside?”

Laine looked at Koskinen, perplexed. “Through the front door. How else?”

“So you have a key to the building?”

“Of course. I got it when they canceled the nurses’ night shifts. Not just because of the boozers either…sometimes I have to transport the quadriplegics too at night. They can’t use their keys and often have trouble with their remote controls too.”

“Is that so?” Koskinen rubbed his jaw as he thought. It seemed there were more keys in circulation than Kalenius had told him that morning.

Laine glanced at his watch and then jumped out of his chair. “I’m already an hour late. You can’t force me to stay.”

“No, I can’t,” Koskinen said and stood himself. “I’ll see you out.”

“I can find my way.”

“It’s just what we do,” Koskinen said and then noticed, to his irritation, that he had forgotten to turn the recorder back on after
Tomi’
s phone call.

Laine was muttering to himself the whole way down in the elevator, “At this rate I’m not going to have any clients left. Half of them are dying and the other half
are
going to other drivers. They’re real sticklers about time. I’ll be hearing her bitch about it for at least a week. As if she really had anywhere important to be.”

To Koskinen, Laine’s words sounded strange for a man who made his living in disability services. He seemed to be downright antagonistic. Suddenly he remembered Pekki’s mercy killer theory.

“Have you done any driving out around Ikuri lately?” he asked casually.

Laine didn’t show the slightest sign of being put off balance. He just answered calmly, as if it was the type of question he got all the time.

“I have customers all over town, and some even a little farther out.”

Koskinen escorted Laine all the way to the street and saw that he had left his vehicle in a no parking zone—
apparently he trusted in handicap taxis not getting ticketed.

Laine dug his car keys out of his pocket and then turned to Koskinen one last time. “How was
Timonen
killed?”

Koskinen shook his head and hustled Laine along. “Get going already! Your customers are waiting!”

“Let the bastards wait!” Laine hissed. He climbed into the driver’s seat and jerked the door shut a bit too hard. His Ford Transit van had seen better days. The handicap taxi roof light looked like someone had thrown a rock at it. The side was covered in dried mud, and it was hard to make out the cursive text painted under it: ILMARI LAINE – 24-HOUR TAXI SERVICE WITH A PERSONAL TOUCH.

The car slipped down Sorin
Street
and crossed the Tampere Highway, turning left. Laine ignored the traffic sign that prohibited left turns, except for emergency vehicles. Who knew? Maybe he thought his van was one.
His route
was the most direct to the
Hatanpää
hospital.

Koskinen turned and started walking back to his office with his hands in his pockets. He sat down behind his desk, lost in thought. It took a long time before he noticed the yellow sticky note that had been left on his desk. It had a phone number and a request to call immediately.

Koskinen dialed the number. After six rings he was about to hang up, before an out-of-breath female voice answered.

“Katajisto.”

Koskinen’s brain drew a blank.

“Lieutenant Koskinen here,” he grunted into the mouthpiece.

“Oh, hi! I was already starting to think I’d gotten the wrong number from Ulla when this young girl answered.”

“That was Milla, my temporary secretary.” Koskinen faltered for a moment more and then finally realized with whom he was speaking. The person on the other end of the line was Ursula Katajisto
, the occupational psychiatrist.

“I’m glad you called right back,” she said. “Ulla told me yesterday that you’d like to go out and eat some time.”

Damn it, Ulla, come on! Koskinen swore to himself, not remembering having agreed to a date. But now he couldn’t come up with anything more sensible to say than, “Yeah, that would be really nice.”

“Would Friday night work for you?”

“Wait a sec while I look at my calendar,” Koskinen replied, even though he knew perfectly well without looking—every evening was just as empty.

“Yeah,” he said, stretching it out. “Yes, that works.”

“Where should we meet?”

My place or yours, Koskinen thought, but luckily he didn’t have time to open his mouth. Ursula was faster again.

“Should we go out to eat or drink?”

“How about both?”

“Nice! You name the place.”

“No, you.”

“I think you should decide,” Ursula cooed into the microphone: “Since you’re the one asking me out.”

Koskinen grimaced to himself. Ulla, what have you gone and done now! However, he restrained himself.

“There’s this one Greek restaurant downtown on the river
…
by the rapids. They have pretty good food.”

“Nice
!
Shall we meet there at, say, seven?”

Koskinen tried to remember what Ursula looked like. All he could conjure up were fire engine red lips and long, nice-looking legs.

“Yes, that works.”

“Nice! I’ll see you there then.”

Ursula hung up, and Koskinen headed into the hallway. He marched straight to the department secretary’s cramped cubicle.

“Did you leave this on my desk?” he said, waving the note in front of Milla’s frightened eyes.

“Yeah
... She called and asked—”

“I know,” Koskinen said, interrupting and at the same time realizing that he was getting worked up over nothing, again. He just couldn’t help it.

“Next time remember to add the name
to the note
!”

“Why?”

“So I know who I’m calling.”

Milla looked at Koskinen with her large, searching eyes, and then started rummaging in her handbag, which had been crocheted out of gaudy yarn. Koskinen was annoyed by and regretting his behavior again; the girl was probably looking for the resignation letter she had
already typed up.

“Have you had time to go eat at all today?” she asked.

“Uh...
N
o, not yet,” Koskinen spluttered.

“Well, take this at least,” Milla said and offered him the chocolate bar she had found in her bag.

In his astonishment, Koskinen wasn’t able to do anything but thank her and return to the hallway. He walked with the chocolate bar in his hand toward his office and saw Sergeant Martti Meisalmi standing at his door.

“What’s up, Martti?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Come on in,” Koskinen said, opening the door for Meisalmi. However, he raised his hand.

“I’m in kind of a hurry. Can we talk here?”

“Well?”

Meisalmi glanced down the hallway in both directions and then lowered his voice. “To put it bluntly, I’m pretty damn pissed off.”

Koskinen looked at Meisalmi in confusion. He had always considered him a calm man who chose his words carefully.

“What?”

“You gave one of my detectives to Pekki just as if my team didn’t have anything going on.”

“I didn’t mean that—” Koskinen started, but Meisalmi interrupted him immediately.

“
W
e found out that the Ilves elevator rape is connected to
that
rape at the health spa
in Pori.”

Koskinen remembered the case—a woman had been raped in the spa steam room right before closing time. The tabloids had plastered big headlines about it on the front pages for several days in a row. Everybody thought it was incomprehensible how the rapist had managed to disappear from the spa grounds without a trace.

“And I’m sure you know what that means,” Meisalmi said, his chin defiantly tilted to look the seven inches up to Koskinen’s eyes. “Knowing the Pori cops, we’ll get to do at least ninety percent of the investigation—and now I only have two men left. And besides, she’s the best possible person to interview the rape victims.”

Koskinen understood perfectly well. He scratched his stubble thoughtfully. “Narcotics has been pretty quiet lately, since they busted that ecstasy ring. Borrow Havia or Meresmaa from them.”

“They don’t know how to do anything but phone taps.”

“Well, then get someone from Lehmus’ gang transferred to you. They just have the search for that nail gun guy going on. There can’t be any rush on that.”

“There’s no way that’ll work,” Meisalmi said, shaking his head angrily. “Lehmus hangs on to his people like
a
wolf bitch with her cubs.”

“It’ll work, if I tell him,” Koskinen said, without the least bit of self-importance. “I’ll call him.”

“Okay, then,” Meisalmi said and then pointed at the chocolate bar in Koskinen’s hand. “I don’t even have a mint to thank you with.”

He didn’t stay to wait for a reply, but rather turned and walked away quickly, his arms swinging.

Koskinen handled the matter immediately. Lehmus tried to resist, like Meisalmi had predicted, but Koskinen stuck to his guns. And in any case, sometimes the unit needed to be reminded about who the boss was.

Next he selected Pekki’s number and told him what Laine had said about the motorcycle gang at Wolf House, the men’s drinking excursions, and their quarreling that devolved to the point of death threats.

“Oh, so they’re that kind of angels,” he said, guffawing. “Someone should go question them ASAP.”

Pekki immediately launched into a tirade. “Damn it, why did Ulla have to go in for a tune-up on today of all days?”

Again Koskinen felt a prickling of anger like someone had shoved snow down his shirt. He did everything he could to keep himself in check.

“You do still have Kaatio and Eskola.” He remembered Meisalmi’s grim mood. “And Kaija Palonen from Meisalmi’s team.”

“They don’t have time.”

“Then you’ll have to go yourself.”

“I can’t work overtime tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,” Pekki answered in a voice that made it clear there was no use digging into it anymore.

“I’ll go myself then,” Koskinen said, slamming down the receiver. So much for the lieutenant being the boss.

He drummed on his desk with his knuckles for a moment and then, when he couldn’t come up with anything else to do, he bit into the chocolate bar Milla
had given him. It had managed to melt a bit in his hand while he was talking with Meisalmi. Still, it tasted good and appreciably eased his irritation.

10.

At 5:30 P.M. the front door at Wolf House was already locked, and Koskinen had to ring the doorbell for a long time before he saw any movement through the glass door. A youngish woman with wide hips appeared in the lobby dressed in the same light green outfit
as the other nurses that
morning.

The woman gawked through the glass at Koskinen’s windbreaker suit and the bicycle leaning against the ramp railing. At last the door cracked a few hesitant inches.

“We aren’t buying anything.”

Koskinen jerked the door open out of the woman’s hand, and she retreated fearfully.

“I’m not selling anything,” Koskinen said, trying to calm her down. “I’m a police officer.”

He stepped into the vestibule and took off his backpack. He dug out his wallet and showed his badge. The woman inspected it carefully.

“Did you come because of Raymond?” she asked with serious eyes.

“Basically, yes. But first I wanted to meet some of the residents.”

“Who?”

“Hannu Ketterä and Tapani Harjus.”

The wide bridge of the woman’s nose wrinkled. “They’re never here at this time.”

“Where then?”

“Drinking beer at the Cat’s Meow.”

Koskinen looked at her. Compared to her delicate body, her face was exceptionally wide. Blond hair hung loose from underneath a hastily tied headscarf, and a button was missing from her scrub dress. Koskinen decided to seize the opportunity. “And who are you then?”

“Kaarina Kauppila,” she answered without hesitation. “I’m working the evening shift.”

Koskinen remembered Lea Kalenius talking about a dingbat named Kaarina who had worked the night before as well.

“Could we talk?”

“I am in a terrible hurry.”

“It won’t take long,” Koskinen said and perked up his ears. From the dayroom came a discordant chorus of an old school choir standby
:
“We too should be vouchsafed honor in Finland’s wide-stretched land,” with one shrill female voice drowning out the others.

Kauppila glanced in the direction of the sound as well. “It’s choir night.”

“Do you
have regular
activi
ties for the residents
?”

“Only now with the elections coming up,” Kauppila said with a wry smile. “The city council candidates each come in turn promising more funding for disability services. Then we go a long time when no one comes by except a priest once a week to hold an evening
service
and send around a collection plate.”

Koskinen took a step closer, cap in hand. “Was it you who was working last night?”

“Yes, from one until nine.”

“
We
called around three o’clock asking you to check if there were any male residents missing
?”

Kauppila nodded uncertainly. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Did you check?”

She lowered her eyes and wrung her hands impatiently.

“Yes, I was supposed to, but I forgot. I was in such a terri
ble rush. If you only knew what this
is like.”

“So, you didn’t check?”

“Well, no,” she said, growing agitated. “I kept thinking about doing the rounds, but then I forgot.”

“You forgot.” Koskinen shook his head, chagrined. “It would
’
ve saved us a lot of time.”

He shouldn’t have said that.

The corners of Kauppila’s mouth twisted.
“Easy for you to get all huffy
...
Y
ou don’t have
a
goddamn clue what this job is like. All by myself basically all day going from room to room doling out medication and changing clothes. One of them needs his toenails clipped, another needs his earwax cleaned out, and a third has to be shaved. And then I have to bathe the ones
who we didn’t have time for during the day. It’s really hard. It’s easy for Lea and Anniina since they’re so big, but sometimes I can barely do it. And then there are those three lunatics.”

“Lunatics?”

“Or, I guess there’s only two left, since Raymond died.”

“What two?”

“Harjus and Ketterä, the ones you wanted to see.” Kauppila sniffed and dug a handkerchief out of her pocket. “I’m scared every time I
gotta
wash them.”

“Why?”

“Well, because they’ve always got a hard-on and try to feel me up the whole time. You do your job with that going on.”

He couldn’t
believe his ears. “That’s completely against the law. Didn’t you file a complaint?”

“
No
point
in that
,” she said as she dabbed the corners of her eyes.

“I’m just a temp. If I started trying to throw my weight around, I’d get fired in a hurry. One girl just got chucked out this summer, and I took her place.”

“Chucked out? Why?”

“They never told me.”

“What was her name?”

“Everybody called her Pike.”

Koskinen pressed the name into his memory and then continued his questioning: “How do the other nurses deal with similar situations?”

“It can’t be any easier for them either. Lea was out on sick leave for three weeks in the spring.”