Ström asked Kimmo, and had the door not opened at that moment, Ström definitely would have gotten that book in the face. The person at the door was the duty officer, coming to tell Ström about a call he needed to take. After being gone for less than thirty seconds, Ström returned and declared the interview over, ordered Kimmo taken back to his cell, and left the room. I stuck my tongue out at Ström’s back, which made the other officer smirk. He looked like a grown-up Dennis the Menace.
“Kimmo, tell me the name of at least one person from the club. I promise to treat them right.”
“Elina Kataja, but she goes by ‘Angel.’ She’s one of the club’s organizers. I don’t remember her number, but it’s in the phone book.”
“Let’s go, Hänninen,” Dennis the Menace said gently, throwing me a farewell smile. He nodded toward the table, where, for some reason, he had left his interview notes. As soon as the two men left, I flipped back a few pages, to a page from the day before, and there it was: the name and address of Ström’s key witness, which I quickly wrote down. Apparently, Ström’s methods had begun to aggravate more than just me.
6
When I arrived home, Antti’s parents’ car was in the driveway. Completely exhausted, I didn’t feel the slightest bit like socializing, but I had to go inside.
“Hi, Maria,” Marjatta Sarkela yelled from the kitchen. “Is Kimmo out yet?”
“No, unfortunately not. We’ll see tomorrow what the judge decides. I think he’ll get out,” I said as I entered the kitchen, where Antti sat with his parents over tea.
“We brought Matti and Mikko home and thought we’d stay over tonight so we can run some errands tomorrow morning,” Tauno Sarkela explained. “Hopefully we won’t be in the way.”
“No, no, of course not. This is your house.” I tried not to sound grumpy, even though these were precisely the sorts of situations that had made me think twice about moving to Espoo. And the Sarkelas had chosen the perfect time for their surprise visit: the whole house was a disaster, and the cupboards were bare. But, damn it, I’d spent the whole weekend running myself ragged trying to help
their
relatives, so when would I have had time for housekeeping? Besides, the state of the house was just as much Antti’s responsibility as mine.
What irked me the most, though, was that I cared at all. Why did I consider the cleanliness of my house and the frequency with which I baked fresh
pulla
a measure of my value as a woman?
“Sit down; pour yourself some tea,” Marjatta said. We were clearly in
her
kitchen, not mine. Einstein came to rub against my legs as I peered hopefully into the cupboard, looking for something to nibble with my tea. I was glad the cat was back; he could keep Antti company during the lonely nights to come.
And, wait, the refrigerator looked surprisingly full. Wagging a wedge of cheese at him, I gave Antti an inquiring look.
“I stopped at the store under the train station on my way in from the city.”
I laughed in relief, although of course Antti knew how to take care of the shopping—he had lived alone just as long as I had. After making myself a heaping ham-and-cheese sandwich, I sat down at the table. The tea tasted of citrus and vodka. I should have guessed. The Sarkelas went in for hard tea, and Antti had inherited the habit from his parents.
“What’s in this?” I asked politely.
“Lemon vodka,” Antti’s mother replied. “Do you like it? Tauno and I needed a little restorative after taking care of the boys. The poor dears were frightened, of course, with Sanna’s death so fresh in their minds, and now Armi. Mikko insisted on calling Marita last night before going to bed to make sure his mother was still safe.”
“Einstein needs a restorative too, now that he’s escaped the little dudes’ clutches,” Antti said. He fished around in the freezer, pulling out a frozen lump and putting it in the microwave to thaw.
“Kimmo, tell me the name of at least one person from the club. I promise to treat them right.”
“Elina Kataja, but she goes by ‘Angel.’ She’s one of the club’s organizers. I don’t remember her number, but it’s in the phone book.”
“Let’s go, Hänninen,” Dennis the Menace said gently, throwing me a farewell smile. He nodded toward the table, where, for some reason, he had left his interview notes. As soon as the two men left, I flipped back a few pages, to a page from the day before, and there it was: the name and address of Ström’s key witness, which I quickly wrote down. Apparently, Ström’s methods had begun to aggravate more than just me.
6
When I arrived home, Antti’s parents’ car was in the driveway. Completely exhausted, I didn’t feel the slightest bit like socializing, but I had to go inside.
“Hi, Maria,” Marjatta Sarkela yelled from the kitchen. “Is Kimmo out yet?”
“No, unfortunately not. We’ll see tomorrow what the judge decides. I think he’ll get out,” I said as I entered the kitchen, where Antti sat with his parents over tea.
“We brought Matti and Mikko home and thought we’d stay over tonight so we can run some errands tomorrow morning,” Tauno Sarkela explained. “Hopefully we won’t be in the way.”
“No, no, of course not. This is your house.” I tried not to sound grumpy, even though these were precisely the sorts of situations that had made me think twice about moving to Espoo. And the Sarkelas had chosen the perfect time for their surprise visit: the whole house was a disaster, and the cupboards were bare. But, damn it, I’d spent the whole weekend running myself ragged trying to help
their
relatives, so when would I have had time for housekeeping? Besides, the state of the house was just as much Antti’s responsibility as mine.
What irked me the most, though, was that I cared at all. Why did I consider the cleanliness of my house and the frequency with which I baked fresh
pulla
a measure of my value as a woman?
“Sit down; pour yourself some tea,” Marjatta said. We were clearly in
her
kitchen, not mine. Einstein came to rub against my legs as I peered hopefully into the cupboard, looking for something to nibble with my tea. I was glad the cat was back; he could keep Antti company during the lonely nights to come.
And, wait, the refrigerator looked surprisingly full. Wagging a wedge of cheese at him, I gave Antti an inquiring look.
“I stopped at the store under the train station on my way in from the city.”
I laughed in relief, although of course Antti knew how to take care of the shopping—he had lived alone just as long as I had. After making myself a heaping ham-and-cheese sandwich, I sat down at the table. The tea tasted of citrus and vodka. I should have guessed. The Sarkelas went in for hard tea, and Antti had inherited the habit from his parents.
“What’s in this?” I asked politely.
“Lemon vodka,” Antti’s mother replied. “Do you like it? Tauno and I needed a little restorative after taking care of the boys. The poor dears were frightened, of course, with Sanna’s death so fresh in their minds, and now Armi. Mikko insisted on calling Marita last night before going to bed to make sure his mother was still safe.”
“Einstein needs a restorative too, now that he’s escaped the little dudes’ clutches,” Antti said. He fished around in the freezer, pulling out a frozen lump and putting it in the microwave to thaw.
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