“Armi was supposed to call before two o’clock. Did she manage to before her death?”
“To call?” Mallu sounded genuinely confused. “Armi didn’t call me. Who said that? I mean, she could have called, but I was at the store.”
“When we talked on Saturday about Sanna Hänninen, you said that you wouldn’t be surprised if one of them was mixed up in Sanna’s death, meaning one of the Hänninens. Armi was convinced Sanna’s death was a homicide. Did you know that?”
Mallu buried her face in her hands. Rather than a gush of tears, the gesture seemed more like a fierce attempt at concentration. The sun flooding through the window landed on the thick silver streaks on her bowed head, which glittered in the light like Christmas tinsel.
“You mean that Armi was murdered because she knew that Sanna…” Mallu muttered through her hands.
“That is one possibility. Does it seem plausible to you?”
“Yes, actually, it does.” Mallu raised her eyes and looked straight at me. “I can imagine exactly how Armi could slap Sanna’s murderer in the face with the truth, not having the slightest clue how much danger she was in. And I don’t mean blackmail or anything. Armi just enjoyed having the upper hand.”
“Who could you imagine murdering Sanna?”
“I guess her father is the one I always thought of. He’s just so strange.”
“Strange how? I’ve only ever met him once.”
I remembered the tall, slender, slightly stooped frame and the dark Leonid Brezhnev eyebrows. Henrik Hänninen’s mouth was wide like Sanna’s, but there was something cruel about it.
“It’s like Henrik lives in some other world,” Mallu continued. “He’s sort of cold and frightening. Maybe it’s just the eyebrows, but he reminds me of the hit men in those old gangster movies. But he couldn’t have killed Armi—he’s in South America. But maybe he killed Sanna and then someone else killed Armi to cover that up. Like maybe Kimmo.”
Or Annamari. Or Risto. Oh, how I hoped the solution would turn out to be Otso Hakala.
“By the way, when you were coming in, did you notice whether my bike was still standing up against the wall?” I asked as Mallu was leaving. “I left it leaning there a little precariously.”
“Your bike? I only saw one bike, a bright-green one, and it was still standing.” The mention of the bicycle seemed to have no effect on Mallu, so apparently she wasn’t the one who had sabotaged my handlebars.
A phone call back from Pekka Koivu destroyed my wonderful Otso Hakala theory. Otso was currently sitting in his prison cell and would be there for at least another year. Over the past
year and a half, no extenuating circumstances had warranted him leaving prison. Sanna’s and Otso’s criminal records were long enough that my old friend and I decided we’d go through them more carefully on Sunday over beers. Despite the knockout blow to my theory, seeing him would be nice, since we hadn’t done anything together since my law school graduation party. Koivu’s passionate congratulatory kiss had aroused some mild yet entirely unjustified jealousy in Antti.
My phone rang again.
“Is this Maria Kallio?” the quavering voice of an elderly man inquired. When I confirmed that I was Maria, he continued by asking whether I had misplaced my bus pass.
“Yes, on Monday night on the beach in Toppelund by the breakwater.”
“That is exactly where I found it. I have it here with me.”
“Excellent!” So 150 marks hadn’t gone to waste after all. Fortunately, I hadn’t yet had time to get a new one. I arranged to pick up my bus card that evening. Perhaps this meant things were taking a turn for the better. Perhaps I would find some hint about her murderer in Sanna’s papers. Her father and brothers burning her diaries was a shame, though.
Wait…Eki was Sanna’s lawyer before she died. That meant our office had files on her. I went into the firm’s records room—that is, the Henttonens’ rec room—which had boxes and shelves piled high with folders and papers from past clients. Dust particles danced in the light filtering through the windows high up on one wall. Apparently, no one had been in to vacuum in ages. In appropriate alphabetical order, I found a red binder with HÄNNINEN, SANNA typed neatly on the label. Would anyone notice if I borrowed it for the weekend? I was just pulling the binder off the shelf when I heard the doorknob rattle.
I don’t really know why I crouched down out of sight behind the bookcase, but when I peered through the gap on the lowest shelf, I saw a familiar pair of light-gray, thick-soled shoes. Eki.
I knew I should have come out and claimed to have dropped an earring or something, but I didn’t—I eased myself farther back behind the shelving. Eki was doing something with the cabinet where he kept his boating gear. I was sure he would hear my breathing. When he started walking straight toward me, I stopped inhaling altogether.
Eki stopped right at the H’s, snatching a binder off the shelf and leafing through it furiously. Dust particles danced toward my nose. Oh hell—I felt a sneeze coming on. I listened as Eki ripped a page out of the binder and then, a moment later, crumpled it up. Then he shoved it into his pocket, replaced the binder, and left the room.
After another two minutes, I finally dared to leave my hiding place. My heart pounding, I returned to Sanna’s binder and saw immediately that it had been moved: the shelf in front of it was free of dust. Why would Eki remove a page from Sanna’s records? I was irritated at not having come five minutes earlier, and seeing myself in a mirror increased my irritation. One more set of clothes headed for the washing machine.
As I pedaled around the bay that evening, I was still in a bad mood. A message from my mother hadn’t helped, and after I called her back, I had to listen to her “You should come visit” griping and “I’m so worried about Eeva’s pregnancy” hand-wringing for fifteen minutes. Then my youngest sister called.
“Isn’t the house you and Antti live in pretty big?” she asked right off. When I said yes, Helena informed me that she and her boyfriend and Eeva and her husband needed somewhere to stay
on Monday night. They were leaving on a cruise to Stockholm together, and wouldn’t it be so nice to see each other?
Of course I had to agree to this, even though I had plans to go to the movies with a friend from school that night. There was nothing I could do but cancel. Actually, I was a little curious to see Eeva’s big belly. What irked me was that they only ever condescended to come see me when they had some other reason to be in Helsinki—it was never just to visit me. I had become used to being little more than some sort of Helsinki rest stop for my parents and siblings, a convenient bed close to the harbor and the airport. I was also the one they called and sent to buy things at the main Stockmann store in the city when they saw sale ads in the national media.
Although a trip to Stockholm with my sisters and their boring men would have been pure torture, I was still put out that they hadn’t even bothered to invite Antti and me. Of course, Eeva and Helena were much closer to each other than to me. The difference in ages between them was only a little over a year, and between me and Eeva was a gap of more than two. Our mother must have had quite a time of things after Helena’s birth, what with two in diapers and me a defiant three-year-old. And all three, unfortunately, girls.
As the oldest and most spirited, I took on the role of the boy of the family. Living hundreds of miles away from the rest of the family and only seeing them infrequently, I had such a habit of telling them only the most superficial things about myself that I felt like no one in the family really knew me. But did I know them? What did I know about, say, what Eeva thought about her pregnancy?
Maybe I lacked the ability to get close to people. Even Antti needed a vacation from me. After coming home from work, he
had announced his intention of taking the morning bus to Inkoo because he wanted some time alone in the woods.
“I thought I’d take a tent and row out to this one island I know for the night…”
“Oh. Well, I was planning to go out and party a bit on Friday, because last weekend I was working the whole time.”
Antti suggested that I come to Inkoo on Saturday so we could go out for the second night together. When he assured me Einstein could get along just fine by himself for one night, I agreed out of pure curiosity. Years had passed since I had spent any serious time camping. Still, I was irritated by the way Antti had announced his plans—“I’m doing this, and you can do whatever you want”—even though I knew we had an agreement that we wouldn’t get in the way of each other’s pursuits.
I snapped out of my thoughts, but my vexation increased as I came upon a dog running back and forth on a retractable leash in the middle of the bike path. It looked like a crocheted potholder someone had washed in too-hot water. The cord stretching from dog to master blocked the entire trail. I rang my bell testily, and when the dog owner turned to look, I recognized him as Doctor Hellström, Armi’s boss. I didn’t remember seeing a dog when I had visited him.
“Oh, hello, Ms. Kallio. How do you do?” He seemed like he was in the mood to talk. “I hear Kimmo Hänninen is in jail for killing Armi. Is that right?” Hellström lit a cigarette and tried unsuccessfully to curb the dog, now yapping at a crow perched in a tree. The crow cawed back, flapping on a branch and raining last year’s dried pine needles down on us. The dog strained at his leash. “I’m really no good with this animal; it’s my sister’s dog, and I told her I’d watch him for a couple of days,” the gynecologist complained.
With a thick jacket and a scarf pulled up almost to his ears, Hellström looked overdressed for the rather warm late evening. Suddenly he sneezed violently. Obviously, a cold. Physician, heal thyself, I thought, and then replied, “Yes, it looks that way. The prosecutor plans to charge Kimmo with murder.”
“Such an unfortunate incident. One feels sorry for Annamari. First Sanna’s death and now this. Annamari isn’t a terribly well balanced person to begin with.”
“Was Armi on good terms with her?”
Hellström laughed.
“Armi was generally on good terms with everyone. Although Annamari may not have been on equally good terms with Armi, if you catch my drift. I doubt any daughter-in-law would have lived up to Annamari’s expectations. She doted over Kimmo too much, and let Sanna walk all over her, doing whatever she wanted.”
“Was Sanna Hänninen your patient as well?” I remembered Eki mentioning an abortion and thought that Hellström might know something interesting.
“My client. Yes, she was.”
I wasn’t able to talk to Hellström about Sanna’s sex life after all. Suddenly the dog started a row with an approaching greyhound just at that moment, and instead of waiting for things to calm down, I pedaled off.
When I arrived, Annamari was flitting around at home like a moth caught in a light fixture. She was dressed in a flowing yellow dress with big sleeves that rippled with each of her abrupt, nervous motions. The police had allowed her in to see Kimmo the previous day, which seemed only to have addled her even more.
“I don’t really know about your seeing Sanna’s papers,” Annamari said. “Perhaps destroying them would be best, like
we did with the diaries. Wouldn’t it be best to let poor Sanna rest in peace? She had a hard life—why would we want to dwell on that anymore?”
“Is that stack of paper all that’s left of Sanna’s belongings? Is there anything else remaining in her room? Keepsakes, clothing, books?”
“We turned Sanna’s room into a guest bedroom; Matti and Mikko sleep there sometimes. Henrik took Sanna’s clothing and donated all of it. None of us would have worn rags like that. I suppose Kimmo kept some of Sanna’s books and music. I don’t remember what is whose anymore. Look in Kimmo’s room.”
“Let’s get those papers out as well, though,” I coaxed. I had with me a large backpack and my bicycle saddlebags to transport the whole lot home. As it turned out, my decision to leave the papers at the Hänninens’ Monday night had been a godsend. A bath in seawater would have rendered most of them illegible. Would Annamari have wanted that?
“Maria, you don’t understand how difficult being a mother is. And alone, like I am, with Henrik always traveling. To raise Henrik’s child and two of my own. To be in constant fear of what will happen to your children. What if they get run over by a car or fall in with a bad crowd and start getting into trouble? And then you realize you can’t save them if they do. The worst can happen no matter what you do, no matter how much you love them, just like with Sanna. Yes, I do want to forget that.” Annamari stayed at the base of the stairs while I fetched the stack of papers from the closet.
Then I opened the door into Kimmo’s room. No one had cleaned it since the police had visited. The bed covers were a tangled mess, the clothes closet was turned inside out, and here and there lay strange objects, which, upon closer inspection,
turned out to be various S&M paraphernalia: a riding crop, a small rubber sheet, locks. Apparently Ström’s investigators had dumped the sex-toy section of Kimmo’s closets onto the floor.
“Did the police say not to touch anything in here?” I asked Annamari, who was now behind me, peeking over my shoulder.
“No. I just didn’t want to go in there. I don’t want to find out what horrible things Kimmo keeps there.”
Except for the sex-toy section, Kimmo’s room was just like that of any young male college student. A computer on the desk and a printer, a couple of posters, and a giant picture of a smiling Armi wearing a flowery sundress. In one corner there was a TV and a VCR, and most of the books on the shelves were technical manuals and textbooks, along with a few best sellers. Sanna’s books were easy to pick out:
Collected Works of Sylvia Plath
, some Virginia Woolf, and some older English poetry. The margins of the Plath books were full of notes, so I added them to my bag. Next to the books sat a grinning skull.
“Where is this from?” I asked Annamari, who stood hunched in the doorway.
“Sanna bought it somewhere—she always kept it on her desk. Kimmo wouldn’t let me sell it. Ugh, it’s repulsive. Take it away!”
Since she told me to, I shoved the skull into my backpack. I had the urge to start cleaning Kimmo’s room properly, but I couldn’t very well do that with Annamari watching.