The Defenceless (10 page)

THERE WAS NO BALCONY
at the front of the building. The vernal sunshine revealed a faded wall, the roughcast chipped here and there, though the windows seemed relatively new. Three floors, two stairwells with only nine apartments feeding from each. This will still take all day, thought Anna as she and Sari stepped into Building A. Marko Halttu’s flat was on the ground floor. There was no name on the door, only a handwritten sign reading
NO ADVERTS
. The Vehviläinen and Kumpula families also lived on the ground floor. Sari went into Halttu’s apartment, where the forensics team had already started work. Anna had arranged to meet Mrs Vehviläinen’s daughter Leena Rekola, and waited for her in the stairwell.

Halttu’s apartment was depressing. It was so dirty and desolate that Sari shivered. What could go so wrong in a young person’s life that they began to self-destruct? How could she protect her own children from such desperation? They called the boy’s mother soon after they had found Marko. She had come in and identified her son’s body. She seemed perfectly normal, cried a little and told Sari that for the last few years she had shuddered every time the telephone rang, that she’d known this could happen one day, that, as terrible as it sounded, in a way this was almost a relief. She had caressed her son’s hand and told her how Marko used to bring her flowers from the yard, daisies and dandelions. ‘What happened?’ Sari plucked up the courage to ask. The woman raised her tearful eyes, looked at Sari and said that she didn’t know.

The forensics team examined every inch of the apartment; Sari gave the place an overall look to see if she could find anything that might provide more information, something other than the piles of
drugs that lay everywhere. The seizure had been significant: five kilos of amphetamines, two kilos of hashish and 4,700 Subutex pills, a total street value of at least 300,000 euros. Macke hadn’t got himself mixed up with any small-time crooks. They could have got some valuable information from him, and now he was dead. Sari felt bad objectifying a victim like this, as though he didn’t have a grieving mother, as though his life was only interesting as a source of police information. This work toughens you, she thought, and perhaps it was for the best. You’ll never survive if you start weeping over every dead junkie. As long as I never take my hard-boiled work persona home with me, Sari thought and felt a pang of guilt. She had become angry with the children the previous evening and shouted at them over something trivial.

The small, one-bedroom flat was strangely devoid of personality, unless evidence of heavy substance abuse could be considered personal touches. There was nothing there that people normally have in their homes: no real food or cooking equipment, no dishes at all, no books, papers, plants, no decorative items or photographs. Just a few clothes, a few pairs of shoes and a computer – and empty beer cans, litter, empty microwave meal packets and used syringes. Filth.

The bathroom was disgusting. It seems substance abuse upsets your stomach too, Sari concluded. She was just closing the bathroom door, trying to hold back the urge to vomit, when one of the technicians shouted for her.

‘I’ve got blood.’

‘Where?’ she asked.

‘On the corner of the coffee table and on the rug.’

‘Could it have come from those syringes? I bet there’s blood all over this place.’

‘Yes, the sofa and armchair are covered in small specks of blood, but this bit here isn’t from an injection. There’s too much, quite a lot actually.’

‘Do you think Marko and Sammy could have had a fight? The victim had a head wound.’

‘Maybe, either them or someone else. There are always fights in places like this. I’ve swabbed all the samples I’ve found here. There was plenty of other interesting evidence on the rug. We’ll soon find out who’s been hanging around in here.’

Leena Rekola was a youthful woman of around forty. Her slender face bore a look of worry and urgency as she pulled a set of keys from her handbag and opened the door to her mother’s apartment. She explained that she’d visited yesterday and there had been no sign of her mother. She flicked on the hallway lights. A jacket and an umbrella hung in the coat rack, there was a six-piece mirror on the wall, two pairs of shoes on the floor. The long hallway rug was straight. The atmosphere in the apartment was one of calm. The ticking of a wall clock could be heard somewhere.

‘Mother’s outdoor coat is missing,’ said Leena. ‘And her winter boots. Here we only have her smart shoes and wellingtons.’

‘When did you last see her?’ Anna asked.

‘I fetched some groceries for her last Wednesday; I saw her then. I tried to call her the day before yesterday but she didn’t answer, and that’s when I decided to pop in. It was yesterday morning. I called the police straight away.’

‘How was she when you last saw her?’

‘The same as she always was. Poorly. That’s why I go shopping for her. She doesn’t have the strength to carry bags of groceries.’

‘Would she have the strength to go away somewhere?’

Leena Rekola laughed. ‘Absolutely not. She never goes on trips.’

‘Where does she go?’

‘Nowhere. That’s what’s so strange.’

‘Does she have any relatives she could be visiting?’

‘My mother’s sister lives down south. I’ve already called her. My aunt hasn’t heard from her.’

‘Any other relatives? Where is your father?’

‘He died years ago. Heart attack,’ Leena explained, holding back tears.

‘Could your mother have some sort of gentleman friend and gone to his place?’

‘My mother? No. She’s a seventy-two-year-old old lady in poor health. She hasn’t had anyone since Father died. Trust me, she never goes anywhere. She can barely take out the rubbish.’

‘Fine. Let’s examine the apartment. Look around, take your time, and tell me if you notice anything out of the ordinary. But please don’t touch anything, just in case.’

Leena sighed and wiped the tears that had run down her cheeks.

‘There was nothing out of place yesterday.’

‘We’ll take another look. Let’s start in the bedroom.’

Leena followed Anna into the bedroom. The air was stuffier than in the hallway. Anna could smell the sheets, the nightgown, the pungent scent of an elderly woman’s body. The room didn’t exactly smell bad, but the air had a hint of someone spending too long between showers. Anna had noted the same thing in the homes of elderly people before. It was as if nothing should be dirty, but that soap and water shouldn’t be wasted on showers and sheets. The curtains were drawn and the bedspread lay neatly folded on the arm of a chair. The sheets themselves were crumpled, the pillow lumpy and the duvet thrown to one side as though she had climbed out of bed only for a moment, to go to the toilet, perhaps, or to have a glass of water.

‘Mother makes her bed every morning,’ said Leena.

Anna looked at the empty bed. Then she carefully lifted the pillow and the duvet. There was no nightgown.

‘Check the cupboards to see if anything is missing, clothes, for instance. In case she has gone somewhere after all.’

Leena Rekola began examining the two wardrobes in the bedroom, cautiously lifting piles of nightgowns and underwear and shaking her head. Then she went through the blouses and dresses hanging in the closet. Women with a penchant for 1960s retro would have been over the moon.

‘I don’t think there’s anything missing. Of course, I don’t know
every item of Mother’s clothes. Anyway, the bed shows that she was sleeping just before she left. She disappeared in the middle of the night. She would never leave without making the bed.’

‘There’s no nightgown in the bed,’ said Anna.

‘Mother used to fold it and put it next to the pillow.’

‘Perhaps it’s in the laundry basket.’

‘I’ll have a look,’ said Leena and went into the bathroom.

Anna looked around the empty room. Decorative plates and the grandchildren’s drawings hung on the walls in endearingly tasteless disarray. Next to the bed, a radio alarm clock showed the time in large, red digital numbers. A glass of water, half full. A jar of pills: Tenox 20mg. So Riitta Vehviläinen had difficulty sleeping. I wonder if I should try those, thought Anna.

Leena appeared at the door.

‘There’s only underwear and socks in the laundry. Has Mother gone off somewhere in her nightgown? I’m beside myself with worry. I’m convinced she’s dead.’

‘Don’t say things like that. We’ll find out what’s happened. Where does your mother keep her bags and suitcases?’

‘In the hall closet,’ said Leena, and disappeared again. A clattering sound came from the hallway. ‘All her bags are here. It seems she didn’t take anything with her,’ Leena shouted.

‘There’s a mobile phone here,’ Anna shouted back. ‘Under the bed.’

Anna looked at the antiquated mobile; its buttons were so large you could press them no matter how badly your hands trembled. The screen showed twelve missed calls.

‘Would your mother go away without her phone?’ she asked Leena, who had returned to the bedroom.

‘No. Check the phone.’

Anna clicked open the phone log. Riitta Vehviläinen seemed to be in contact only with her daughter. All the answered and unanswered calls were from Leena. Even the calls she’d made were all to Leena. All except one, the last one.

‘Your mother called someone called Villy after midnight last Thursday, but it seems nobody picked up. At least, the phone doesn’t tell us how long the call lasted. Since then she hasn’t made any calls.’

‘Who?’

‘It says Villy here.’

‘I don’t know anyone called Villy. Mother never spoke about anyone called
Villy
.’ Leena was becoming agitated.

‘Well, she clearly knows someone by that name.’

‘Good God, what on earth has gone on here? I was only here on Wednesday. Everything was fine then.’

‘Her text-message log is empty.’

‘Mother doesn’t know how to send text messages,’ said Leena. ‘Though I’ve tried to show her.’

‘Let’s give this Villy a call,’ said Anna. ‘We’ll soon find out where you mother is.’

But the call was instantly redirected to the operator.
The number you have dialled cannot be reached
, a monotonous woman’s voice explained.

‘No answer,’ said Anna.

‘Send the number to directory enquiries,’ Leena asked.

Anna did this, but that too drew a blank; the number was either ex-directory or it belonged to a prepaid account.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll find out who this Villy is back at the station,’ Anna tried to reassure her. Leena clasped her hands, wrung them back and forth inconsolably, restlessly shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and held back her sobs.

‘Now, now. Let’s take our time and check everywhere else,’ said Anna and gently touched Leena’s shoulders. Riitta’s daughter tried to give a brave smile.

The kitchen was a bit shabby but tidy like the rest of the apartment. The chipboard cupboards, painted in light blue, were full of crockery and kitchen appliances that looked as old as the dresses in the wardrobe. Why do elderly people put up with old belongings, Anna wondered. And why is the younger generation constantly
amassing new things? If the world revolved around old folk’s needs, we might as well close down most manufacturing the world over. Why on earth do we need so many new things?

Anna and Leena looked in the fridge and the cupboards, the rubbish bin, the chest of drawers, but nothing seemed out of place. On the wall opposite the fridge was a small medicine cabinet. It was full of different packets: Marevan, Diapam, Propral, vitamins and three types of painkillers. A pill dispenser on top of the cabinet was full. Anna noted that all the pills with a street value were still here. And Riitta would certainly have taken the dispenser with her if she had gone away for a few days.

‘Is everything here as it should be?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Mother had lots of aches and pains but nothing deadly. Everything looks exactly as it did before.’

In the living room was a beige three-piece suite complete with threadbare cushions, a large rug and a television, and two framed cross-stitch patterns on the wall; the shelves displayed a few books, trinkets, and photographs of Leena in her confirmation dress, as she graduated from high school, and portraits of the grandchildren on their first birthdays.

‘This is terrible,’ said Leena. ‘Everything is normal; only Mother is missing.’

‘Have you ever noticed anything strange going on here, in the building or in the yard, when you’ve been visiting your mother?’ Anna asked.

‘Such as what?’

‘We’re investigating a drug-related case. The neighbour living opposite was found dead in his apartment yesterday.’

‘Good God, that young man? What’s been going on here?’

‘Do you know any of you mother’s neighbours?’

‘No. Well, I’d recognise some of them. There are a few old people living upstairs and a couple of families with little children.’

‘Did you ever see the neighbour opposite?’

‘Yes, and I could tell that everything wasn’t quite right.’

‘In what way?’

‘I could see his dilated pupils and how dishevelled he looked. I know a junkie when I see one.’

‘Did you ever see anyone with him?’

Leena thought back, then shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. And I never saw the young man much either. Do you think Mother’s disappearance could have something to do with your other case?’

‘I’m sure there’s a pretty logical explanation for all this,’ Anna replied. The suspicious look in Leena’s eyes told her the truth: the explanation would be neither logical nor pretty.

‘We will find out who this Villy is and why your mother called him just before she disappeared. Please call me as soon as you hear anything of her,’ Anna continued.

‘Likewise,’ said Leena and wiped a tear from her cheek.

After Leena had gone, Anna and Sari visited the other apartments in the building. There was nobody in at the Kumpula household. They took the stairs up to the next floor and tried Karppinen. Nobody at home there either.

‘People are at work at this time of day,’ said Sari and rang the bell at a door bearing the name Lehmusvirta. The sound of steps and banging came from inside the apartment. A woman of around seventy opened the door and stared sourly at Anna and Sari.