A lot of people drink bootleg medical alcohol because it’s cheap, but it’s nearly a hundred percent pure, makes people crazy and mean, especially during kaamos. Urpo didn’t need booze to be an asshole though, he was crazy and mean when he was sober too. I shake my head. A woman had to kill her husband to get some help.
A car pulls up and Jaakko gets out. “I heard about it over the scanner,” he says. “What happened?”
I don’t want to deal with Jaakko right now, but he’s a reporter and this is a crime scene, so I don’t have much choice. “Urpo Virtanen is dead. His wife killed him.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll file a police report in the morning.”
“Give me something, an official statement.”
“Honestly Jaakko, I just don’t have the strength right now.”
“Mind if I take a few pictures?”
“Do what you want outside, but stay out of the house.”
He looks pissed off. “I understand your sergeant’s son committed suicide yesterday.”
“Yes, he did. The past couple days have been sad ones for this community.”
“Finally,” he says, “something quotable. Do you have any reason why?”
“Do we ever really know why people kill themselves?”
“Fair enough. Care to comment on your ex-wife’s marriage?”
He catches me by surprise, as I’m sure he intended. “What marriage?”
“She and Seppo Niemi were married today at the magistrate’s office. You arrested him for murder, released him and he married Heli the next day. I find that intriguing.”
I do too. I need time to process the information and consider the motivations behind their marriage.
“She called me this afternoon to make a statement,” he says. “She says Seppo has been asking her to marry him for many years, and that she finally did so today as a show of support in light of his wrongful arrest.”
“That’s noble of her.”
“She also says that when you arrested him, you pulled the car over to the side of the road and put a gun to his head. Is that true?”
Seppo just couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut. “You should ask Seppo.”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
He pauses, takes a minute to try to think of a way to trap me, but he can’t. “He says it never happened.”
“Then why ask me about it?”
He reminds me of a dog trying to dig a rabbit out of its hole. “Because I think it’s true. I think there’s a lot going on here. I think the investigation of Sufia Elmi’s murder is compromised by personal feelings and old hatreds.”
“You’re welcome to your thoughts, but be careful what you print. A lot will become clear to you in the next day or two.”
“You’re being circumspect. What are you hiding?”
My cell phone rings. I turn away from Jaakko and answer it. “The DNA tests just came back from Valtteri’s house,” Antti says. “They place Heikki at the murder scene, and also inside Seppo’s home.”
For the second time in as many minutes, I’m caught off guard. “Inside the house.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll call you later.”
“What do you think… ”
I cut him off. “I can’t talk right now.”
The EMTs drive Urpo’s body away in an ambulance. Raila stands by herself, looking miserable. Maybe she’s afraid to go home.
I turn to Dad and Big Paavo. “Thank you both.”
Jaakko starts in again, but I cut him off too. I walk Raila home and make sure Tiina is calm, then head to my car. I’ve got to see Valtteri and tell my friend that his dead son is a murderer.
25
AS I REACH THE intersection in the road leaving Marjakyla, the aurora borealis appears. Instead of turning onto the highway, I drive across the road to Aslak’s reindeer farm, park in his driveway and get out of the car.
It’s about twenty below zero. In this kind of cold, the sense of smell is almost useless, but I smell the northern lights. I’m told it’s not possible, but I’ve always been able to. The scent is like copper and burned cinnamon. A couple times I’ve heard them. The sound was like constant humming thunder.
I light a cigarette and watch the northern lights dim and brighten, wavy green serpents of light. Fresh snow has turned the field where Sufia’s body lay into a clean white funeral shroud. Around twenty reindeer saunter toward me, curious.
It occurs to me that I haven’t spoken to Sufia’s father since Seppo was released. He’s going to be upset and the conversation won’t be pleasant. I take my phone out to call him and it rings in my hand. “Good evening Inspector,” Abdi says. “I have read in the newspaper that there has been an unpleasant development in the investigation of my daughter’s murder.”
“You mean the release of Seppo Niemi.”
“Exactly so.”
“I apologize for not calling you about it earlier. The investigation has moved so fast that I haven’t had time. Seppo was released for political reasons. It has no bearing on his guilt or innocence.”
“Will my daughter’s murderer go free for, as you say, political reasons?”
I don’t mention my suspicions about Heli’s involvement. If it proves that she coerced Heikki to murder, Abdi will still be satisfied that justice was done. “I can rearrest him at any time. A new development has come to light that suggests it may be soon.”
“What development?”
“A teenage boy committed suicide yesterday. Forensics place him at the crime scene and also in Seppo’s house. It appears the boy was an accomplice to the crime.”
“I remain unconvinced. When we last spoke, you had Sufia’s killer in custody and believed her case would be brought to a speedy conclusion. Now you talk of political considerations and teenage accomplices. I begin to lose my faith in you Inspector.”
“Mr. Barre, I promise you…”
He cuts me off. “The Koran instructs, ‘There are guardians watching over you, noble recorders who know of all your actions.’ Do not let Sufia’s murder go unavenged.”
The line goes dead. I look up. The northern lights have disappeared, and I’m staring into a dark and lifeless Arctic night.
I KNOCK ON VALTTERI’S door and Maria answers. She looks like she’s aged ten years in a day. I step in and give her a hug, take off my boots in the foyer. Valtteri walks into the living room. He looks frightened, maybe because of what I’m going to tell him.
“Maria, why don’t you make us some coffee,” he says.
“He was my son too.”
“Maria, go in the kitchen.”
She doesn’t argue and walks away. He and I sit side by side on the sofa. “I have to tell you some difficult things,” I say.
He folds his hands, rests his arms on his knees, stares at the floor, waits.
“Heikki was present at the murder scene. The tears on Sufia’s face belonged to him.”
