Wolves and Angels (28 page)

“Someone has to.”

“Well, in that case, Eskola is tailor-ma
de for the job.”
Kaatio grinned
. “Taru can get at least one good night’s rest.”

Koskinen saw what a sore spot Taru and Eskola’s marriage still was for Kaatio, something he perhaps understood better than anyone else. Suddenly he was overcome with an irresistible desire to confide in Kaatio, to tell him about Taru’s phone call and reveal what was really keeping Eskola up at night.

However, he had promised Taru to keep his mouth shut, so changed the topic. “Still plenty to do here?”

“You said it,” Kaatio sighed. “Forensics is still in
Salmi
’s room. Ulla is interviewing the staff—Kalenius and Salonen first and then the cooks and cleaners. We divided the residents into three groups. Riipinen and Palonen got the first two, and I was just about to start with the third.”

“Who has the Fallen Angels on their list, Harjus and Ketterä?”

“Me.”

“Do you have anything against it if I take them?”

“No,” Kaatio responded, relieved. “Not at all.”

“I was also thinking.” Koskinen got out of his chair. “Did you check on the two former Angels?”

“Ruomala and Supala.” Kaatio nodded.
“They’re okay. Neither has left his current place of residence in at least a week.”

“Let’s get to work then.”

“Right on.” Kaatio drained th
e
last drops of coffee from his mug. “Although I’m pretty darn sure this place isn’t going to give us anything that gets us closer to
catching our triple murderer.”

“Double.”

“Double what?” Kaatio’s brow wrinkled.

“Double murderer. I totally forgot to mention that we already solved the other case.”

Koskinen told him about Riitta Makkonen’s visit to the police station and how as a result, they had solved the assault case. He left Kaatio to digest the news.

He found the Fallen Angels outside in the yard smoking. The day had turned out beautiful, the sun felt as warm as in the middle of summer
,
and not even a breeze disturbed the air. Koskinen was happy; if the weather stayed like this, he’d be able to keep his feet dry during Sunday’s race.

Harjus noticed Koskinen first. “What’s up, Gestapo? Did you come to watch episode 102 of
Waste of Our Lives
?”

Ketterä joined in: “Wanna hit the Cat for a beer?”

“I’ll pass this time.” Koskinen snorted and looked at each man in turn. “Who wants to talk first?”

“About what?” Harjus looked back at Koskinen aggressively. “Chicks or bikes?”

Koskinen responded with a shrug and looked around. At the corner of the building, where the asphalted part of the yard ended, was a white garden table and three plastic chairs.

“Let’s go over there to chat,” he said to Ketterä and then turned to Harjus. “You go inside in the meantime so you don’t catch cold.”

“But it’s summer out here,” Harjus snapped. “And
how the fuck is it any of your business if I’m cold.”

He still turned his wheelchair
toward
the door and disappeared inside with a bang of the door posts. Ketterä followed Koskinen, then positioned his chair next to the table and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket.

“So hit me with your questions! That’s how you earn your money, right?”

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About what happened last night.”

Ketterä lit his cigarette slowly and then answered: “Shitty deal. What else could I say? Must’ve been a fucking lunatic.”

“Who could that lunatic be?”

“I’d tell you for sure if I knew.”

“Does anyone come to mind?”

Ketterä sucked on his cigarette contemplatively and then stared past Koskinen with his eyes squinted as if he were watching someone moving. Koskinen quickly turned his head, but no one was there.

“No,” Ketterä said. “The only person who could have done something like that is already a corpse.”

“You mean
Timonen
?”

“Who else? Raymond was always threatening to kill someone just to pass the time.”

“He’s out of the picture, like you said yourself.”

“Good thing.” Ketterä rocked his chair. “I don’t mourn Raymond one bit.”

Koskinen looked at Ketterä narrowly.

“Did you kill him?” he asked directly.

Ketterä’s alarm was impossible not to notice, but he quickly turned it into a joke.

“Of course I did! Who else? And then after I did him I dragged the body over to Peltolammi. With a four-wheeler like this it was easy.”

“You could’ve had an assistant.”

“If only I did.”

“At least you have a motive.”

Ketterä’s mocking grin dried up.

“Motive?”

“Yeah. I heard it from Pirkko-Liisa Rinne.”

“Is that so? You went to torment Pike too.”

“She said that you and Raymond had a constant war going on. Fighting over women it sounded like.”

Ketterä turned his head and splattered a long gob of spit on the grass.

“Every time we had tail come from Helsinki, Raymond always wanted the best for himself. With his money he could get any treatment he wanted.”

“Would that have been enough reason to kill him?”

“Ask Tappi! He fought with Raymond a lot more about chicks.”

The answer made Koskinen reflect—he remembered Tapani Harjus’ aggressive behavior. That temper could easily lead to manslaughter. But that was still a long way from premeditated murder. And both homicides
definitely looked more like that.

Ketterä rocked his wheelchair back and forth impatiently. “Did you have anything else?”

“About these women.” Koskinen turned to a fresh page in his notebook. “I want names and addresses.”

“So do I,” Ketterä said, snorting. “They came and went. And I doubt any of those strumpets ever told us their real names.”

“Open relationships?”

Koskinen didn’t intend it as a taunt, but obviously Ketterä took it that way.

“It’s easy for you to laugh! You don’t know
...
no one can know what kind of a hell this is. All three of us had time when we were young and healthy to experience what heaven life could be with a woman.”

He passed his hands through his carrot-colored hair. Air hissed from between his teeth and rage flashed in his narrowed eyes.

“Fate punished me the worst.”

He pounded with both fists on his lifeless legs, shaking his frail upper body.

“Sports was my greatest passion, even more than women. And then it did this to me!”

Koskinen considered what Ketterä’s last words had meant, but he didn’t get much time to ponder. Ketterä’s rage had shifted to self-pity. Tears ran down his cheeks, not stopping until they reached his tapered mustache.

“
My life is a waste, a total fucking waste!”

Soon his voice broke completely when he tried to laugh mockingly. “The devil has screwed me over in
every possible way. He probably had a good old laugh down there in Hell when he was going down the list of candidates with his cloven hoof and found me. Fuck, of course he would find someone who loved sports. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ketterä spun his wheelchair around and set off rolling
toward
the door. Koskinen watched him go, torn over whether or not to call him back.

But Koskinen doubted that he’d get anything more out of him this session. The man knew something, Koskinen was sure of that, but ferreting it out would require another time and another place. He would have Ketterä at the station for another official interview by the next morning at the latest. Twenty-four hours to recover from the shock would be enough to loosen up his mental blocks.

Koskinen stood up and walked leisurely into the building. Something was bothering him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it had some connection to Ketterä’s bitter outburst. He lost his train of thought when he saw Mäkitalo in the lobby with his metal case.

He stopped in front of Koskinen and set his burden down on the floor.

“It hasn’t been moved.”

“What hasn’t been moved?”

“The body.” Mäkitalo looked at Koskinen with inquiring eyes. “Everything indicates that she died in her own bed.”

“How sure are you?”

“Almost one hundred percent.”

Koskinen looked at the large winter-themed
rya
tapestry on the wall of the lobby. A skier dressed in a blue winter overcoat was wading through deep snow with poles taller than himself, chasing a moose with a large crown of antlers.

“So the key becomes even more important.”

“How so?”

“The killer
must’ve
had a key to her room.
H
ow
else
would
’ve
he been able to get in to do the deed?”

“It wouldn’t change anything even if she had been killed somewhere else,” Mäkitalo said. “He would have needed a key just as much to move the body into the room.”

“Yeah, of course,” Koskinen said, chagrined. He quickly changed the subject: “Can you confirm the cause of death?”

“It looks like she suffocated. Of course we won’t get final confirmation until the autopsy.”

Mäkitalo picked up his case off the floor. “I just ordered the meat wagon to pick up the body. I moved her clothing and bedding to my car and now I’m headed back to the station to do the fiber analysis.”

“Good.” Koskinen nodded. “Notify me immediately if you find even the smallest similarities to the first case.”

“That’ll take time,” Mäkitalo said and then started walking away.

Koskinen noticed
Nurse
Anniina Salonen walking by in her light green scrubs. He stopped her and asked where he could find Tapani Harjus.

“I saw him going downstairs a little while ago. You
can get there by the elevator or the stairs,” Salonen said, pointing to the reces
s between the lobby and the day
room.

Koskinen thanked her and started walking in that direction. The elevator obviously was not part of the original structure. It was large and only went between two floors. Koskinen chose the stairs. They were steep and winding
. Thus, the elevator.
Halfway down he got a strange feeling, like someone was staring at him from above. He turned quickly, just in time to see Anniina Salonen slipping behind the doorpost.

Downstairs he heard metal clattering, and headed in the direction of the sound. Tapani Harjus lay on his back doing bench press. Sweat had made black splotches on the front of his shirt, and his face and the top of his shaved head were covered in beads of sweat. His wheelchair waited next to the bench. Koskinen moved it a little out of the way.

“So, bodybuilding, are we?”

“What does it look like? Leave my bloody chair where it is. You think I’m going to jump over there to get it?”

Koskinen didn’t answer, just presented the same question
as to
Ketterä.
“What do you think about last night’s death?”

Harjus started a new set. The iron clinked with each rep, accompanied by his rhythmic grunting. Koskinen had to nod in admiration. He couldn’t have moved that much weight off the rack.

After the last rep, Harjus laid his arms straight against his sides. He stared with wet eyes at the ceiling, and spit made bubbles at the corners of his mouth.

“I think that whoever did it should be slowly hung by his fucking balls
from
th
at
pine tree out in the yard.”

He closed his eyes, and his chest rose and fell in time with his heavy breathing.

“I can’t understand why Rauha. You couldn’t find a better, nicer person on the planet. Rauha didn’t want anything but good for anyone.”

Harjus turned his upper body and tried to reach for a roll of paper towels on a low table off to the side of the bench. Koskinen offered it to him. Instead of thanks, he received a venomous hiss.

“I didn’t ask for any help, at least not from a bicycle-riding prick like you.”

Koskinen was shocked once again by Harjus’ bitterness
toward
his bike riding. He looked at Harjus’ legs. They were bound with a wide fabric belt to the bench, and compared to his upper body looked like the roots of a withered tree. He
wasn’t
shocked
any more
.

Harjus ripped a long strip of paper from the roll and began to wipe his face. He spoke in a muffled voice from under the paper, as if ashamed of his surge of emotion.

“I know what Rauha’s life was like. She came down with polio when she was nine. Back then they called it infantile paralysis. Her little brother got it too, and his lung muscles were paralyzed. He suffocated to death.” Harjus sniffed loudly. “But Rauha survived. The disease had messed her up so badly that from then on she had to be pushed around by others and live on charity.”