funeral, hundreds of strangers, if the date had been publicly announced. Fortunately it had not.
Most of the methods and opportunities known to forensic medicine had been tried with the unknown woman, but they had not provided any decisive clues as to her identity. An isotope analysis had shown that she was of northern European and probably Finnish origin.
‘A Finnish woman. A perfectly normal Finnish woman,’ Sundström had said, putting into words what they were all thinking – if, in that case, the dead woman had spent most of her life in Finland, then the absence of any useful clues was particularly annoying.
The number of people calling the police about the unknown woman had fallen, and her photograph appeared in the media only when the press office deliberately placed it there, to keep the stream of further information from drying up entirely.
There would presumably be a revival of interest at the end of the month, when the unsolved murder was one of the incidents mentioned in the Turku university hospital’s retrospective survey of the year. A private broadcasting station had already asked Police Chief Nurmela for an interview, and he had said he was inclined to accept.
Nurmela had drawn Kimmo Joentaa aside several times in the corridor or the cafeteria to ask about Larissa in a whisper, with an almost comic conspiratorial expression on his face. Was she back? Had he heard anything of her?
Kimmo Joentaa had said no, and Nurmela had nodded in silence. Once Joentaa had plucked up courage, or simply obeyed an impulse, and asked the question that was of no significance, yet was still on his mind.
Why August?
Nurmela had stared at him, and in those seconds of silence Joentaa had wondered what devil had impelled him to ask.
But then Nurmela just uttered a brief, dry laugh and said, ‘Well, no idea.’
‘Probably a silly question,’ Joentaa had said.
‘Hmm? No, not at all. A good question. Wait a moment.’
Nurmela had gone to the drinks dispenser, fetched himself a coffee, and then sat down at the table again.
‘Although there are one or two things that would interest me,’ he said. ‘For instance, how you came to know that woman. What were you thinking of?’
‘What do you suppose I was thinking of?’ Joentaa had replied.
‘Kimmo, sometimes I seriously doubt whether—’
‘I met her at Christmas last year. She simply turned up. I like her a lot. That’s all.’
Nurmela had looked at him for some time.
‘That’s really nice, but the lady practises a profession that—’
‘And by the way, she plays ice hockey really well. She’s a goalie,’ Joentaa had said.
Nurmela had leaned back to drink his coffee, and Kimmo Joentaa had thought about that remark of his. She simply turned up. I like her a lot. That’s all. And really there wasn’t much more to say. Except that he missed her.
Investigations of the case of the unknown murder victim concentrated on information that had come in, not all of which the team had yet looked at, although the number of new calls had died down. Day after day Joentaa, Grönholm, Sundström and three more detectives who had been assigned to the core group interviewed people who claimed to have known the woman in the photograph, but it turned out that none of them did.
They also interviewed those who asked after missing persons. Several cases that had been put on ice some time ago had been solved that way in the last few months. An elderly married couple from Paimio had been reunited with their daughter after many years. She had gone abroad and entirely forgot to tell her parents about it.
On the evening of 12 December, the first snow fell. It had covered the giraffe under the tree when Joentaa came home.
33
12 December now
Dear diary,
OMX Nordic stands at 945 points, OMX Helsinki25 at 2,057 points.
Koski wished me a nice weekend and a good holiday.
I have now found them all except for one.
Kalevi Forsman, forty-three, software adviser.
Markus Happonen,
Most of the methods and opportunities known to forensic medicine had been tried with the unknown woman, but they had not provided any decisive clues as to her identity. An isotope analysis had shown that she was of northern European and probably Finnish origin.
‘A Finnish woman. A perfectly normal Finnish woman,’ Sundström had said, putting into words what they were all thinking – if, in that case, the dead woman had spent most of her life in Finland, then the absence of any useful clues was particularly annoying.
The number of people calling the police about the unknown woman had fallen, and her photograph appeared in the media only when the press office deliberately placed it there, to keep the stream of further information from drying up entirely.
There would presumably be a revival of interest at the end of the month, when the unsolved murder was one of the incidents mentioned in the Turku university hospital’s retrospective survey of the year. A private broadcasting station had already asked Police Chief Nurmela for an interview, and he had said he was inclined to accept.
Nurmela had drawn Kimmo Joentaa aside several times in the corridor or the cafeteria to ask about Larissa in a whisper, with an almost comic conspiratorial expression on his face. Was she back? Had he heard anything of her?
Kimmo Joentaa had said no, and Nurmela had nodded in silence. Once Joentaa had plucked up courage, or simply obeyed an impulse, and asked the question that was of no significance, yet was still on his mind.
Why August?
Nurmela had stared at him, and in those seconds of silence Joentaa had wondered what devil had impelled him to ask.
But then Nurmela just uttered a brief, dry laugh and said, ‘Well, no idea.’
‘Probably a silly question,’ Joentaa had said.
‘Hmm? No, not at all. A good question. Wait a moment.’
Nurmela had gone to the drinks dispenser, fetched himself a coffee, and then sat down at the table again.
‘Although there are one or two things that would interest me,’ he said. ‘For instance, how you came to know that woman. What were you thinking of?’
‘What do you suppose I was thinking of?’ Joentaa had replied.
‘Kimmo, sometimes I seriously doubt whether—’
‘I met her at Christmas last year. She simply turned up. I like her a lot. That’s all.’
Nurmela had looked at him for some time.
‘That’s really nice, but the lady practises a profession that—’
‘And by the way, she plays ice hockey really well. She’s a goalie,’ Joentaa had said.
Nurmela had leaned back to drink his coffee, and Kimmo Joentaa had thought about that remark of his. She simply turned up. I like her a lot. That’s all. And really there wasn’t much more to say. Except that he missed her.
Investigations of the case of the unknown murder victim concentrated on information that had come in, not all of which the team had yet looked at, although the number of new calls had died down. Day after day Joentaa, Grönholm, Sundström and three more detectives who had been assigned to the core group interviewed people who claimed to have known the woman in the photograph, but it turned out that none of them did.
They also interviewed those who asked after missing persons. Several cases that had been put on ice some time ago had been solved that way in the last few months. An elderly married couple from Paimio had been reunited with their daughter after many years. She had gone abroad and entirely forgot to tell her parents about it.
On the evening of 12 December, the first snow fell. It had covered the giraffe under the tree when Joentaa came home.
33
12 December now
Dear diary,
OMX Nordic stands at 945 points, OMX Helsinki25 at 2,057 points.
Koski wished me a nice weekend and a good holiday.
I have now found them all except for one.
Kalevi Forsman, forty-three, software adviser.
Markus Happonen,
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