Silence by Jan Costin Wagner Page B

construction stage. I’ll know more when I’ve talked to the potential client.’
    ‘Right, that’s no problem. I’ll hold the fort at the office. I’ll call Kati, maybe she can help out a bit. How long are you going to be away?’
    ’I’ll … oh, not long. I don’t know exactly. I’ll call on Monday.’
    ‘Fine. Enjoy your trip. And my regards and thanks to Marjatta.’
    ‘I’ll tell her. See you soon.’
    Korvensuo broke the connection. He was sweating all over. Marjatta was there in the doorway.
    ‘Anything in particular?’ she asked.
    ‘No, no – or, well, yes, I entirely forgot an appointment. Almost entirely, anyway. I have to go to Turku, today would be best because I have a date to meet the man sponsoring the construction tomorrow. It’s about several terraced houses.’
    ‘In Turku?’
    ‘No, no, the houses are here in Helsinki, but the man happens to live in Turku and he can’t get away just now.’
    ‘And the two of you agreed to meet on a Sunday?’
    ‘That’s right … yes, he could only make Sunday. Pressure of work, apparently.’ He took a step towards her and caressed her face. He felt her wet hair in his hand. ‘I think I ought really to leave this evening.’
    ‘But you can’t, we’re all spending tonight here!’ said Aku, who was suddenly standing beside Marjatta. Korvensuo saw the disappointment in his face.
    ‘Some other time we can …’
    ‘You said you’d be here this weekend! You said so! You said so!’
    ‘Yes, I … I won’t leave till first thing tomorrow, okay?’
    Aku hugged him. Marjatta smiled and, soundlessly, formed the word ‘Thanks!’ with her lips. Korvensuo held Aku tight, as tight as he could, until after a while, half laughing, half scared, Aku cried out, ‘Ow, that hurts, Papa!’
    ‘Sorry,’ muttered Korvensuo, as his son ran down to the lake again.
    4
    T hat evening, looking through his kitchen window, Kimmo Joentaa saw Pasi and Liisa Laaksonen, the elderly couple who lived next door to him. Pasi was carrying his fishing rod over his shoulder, the basket for fish dangled from Liisa’s hand.
    It had been like that the morning after Sanna’s death. Kimmo often saw the two of them, and every time he did he thought of Sanna, because the picture of Pasi and Liisa with the fishing rod and the basket was engraved on his mind.
    Paso and Liisa had seen him through the windowpane that day and waved to him, and they did the same now. This time Kimmo waved back; then, he had stood there motionless. This time they were coming away from the lake; then they were going down to it. And they had come by in the evening to give him and Sanna some of the fish they had caught. Kimmo had felt the fish, wrapped in foil, lying cold in his hands, had seen Pasi and Liisa smiling expectantly, and told the couple that Sanna had died in the night. He hadn’t forgotten that moment either, the moment when what he said had sunk in to the husband and wife.
    A few months ago Pasi Laaksonen had suffered a slight heart attack, Liisa had come in to see Joentaa that evening and they had talked for a while. Liisa had been in tears, and Kimmo hadn’t known what to do, how to comfort her, but when she left Liisa had thanked him for their conversation. A few days later Pasi was going fishing again.
    Kimmo stared out of the window. Very likely Pasi would soon be ringing the doorbell to bring him some fish.
    For a little while he looked at the rather battered cardboard carton standing in the front hall. The files on the old case. He had taken the carton home because he felt he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Sundström had frowned, but said nothing.
    They hadn’t found the body of Sinikka Vehkasalo either that day. They had had two team conferences, they had decided on areas of operation, allotted various tasks to various officers and had already carried out some of them.
    By now about thirty investigators were working on the case. Most of them were officers on patrol or