Snow Woman by Leena Lehtolainen Page A

dressed. She was clearly enjoying the way Haikala didn’t quite know where to rest his eyes. Milla’s body was more Some Like it Hot -era Marilyn Monroe than the current thin and trim female ideal. Curvy in the lace negligee that barely covered her buttocks, she flounced around the kitchen without any inhibitions, putting on coffee and fishing a package of cereal out of the cupboard.
    “I haven’t had time to eat anything. Want some?” she asked.
    The smell of gas lingering in the kitchen made the bile rise in my throat again, and I knew that coffee on an empty stomach would only make it worse. But I couldn’t very well go munching Milla’s cereal either. For a second I considered just putting the interview off, but I thought it important to question Milla before meeting with Joona Kirstilä.
    Looking around, I guessed Milla’s apartment had once been a second kitchen and servant’s room attached to a larger apartment. Apparently the kitchen now also served as a living room. In addition to a small table and two chairs, there was a battered sofa, an armchair, and a dresser with a TV on top. Haikala sat on the sofa and set up the recorder. I sat across from Milla at the table and tried to position the microphone so it would record both of our voices clearly.
    “Milla Susanna Marttila, born November eighth, 1975, erotic dancer.” The latter item she tossed straight at Haikala in a suggestive voice. Her seductress image broke down, however, as soon as she stuffed her mouth with cereal.
    “How long have you known Elina Rosberg?” I asked.
    “Since that emotional self-defense course where you came to talk,” answered Milla.
    “Why did you attend the course?” This didn’t really have anything to do with the interview. I was just curious.
    Milla glanced at Haikala and then at me. “I guess I didn’t understand the emotional part. I was just thinking about self-defense. A lot of times when I leave work there are weird guys hanging around.”
    Milla didn’t say anything about the rape she had mentioned at the course. Damn it. She was clearly trying to play the hard-boiled stripper for Haikala. Keeping up that role was apparently more important to her than answering my questions.
    “At the self-defense course I got the impression you didn’t really like the Rosberga Institute. But Aira Rosberg said you’ve been living there since the course. What made you stay?”
    Milla swallowed a mouthful of cereal and glared at me. “What does that have to do with Elina’s death?”
    “It indicates how involved you were with Elina,” I answered. “For example, we still can’t rule out the possibility of suicide. Maybe you noticed a change in Elina or someone close to her while you were staying at Rosberga.”
    A violent rumbling from my stomach accompanied this last sentence. It was loud enough that the tape recorder probably picked it up. Milla pushed the cereal package toward me. I shook my head even though the extracrunchy chocolate flakes, which according to the advertisement would give me the power of a tiger, were tempting. Chewing loudly, Milla finished hers off and drank the cocoa-colored milk from the bowl. The way she licked the milk mustache from her upper lip was clearly intended for Haikala.
    Milla lit a cigarette before finally answering my question. Instead of looking at either of us, she stared fixedly at the steel microphone. “I went to the course two days after that neighbor guy raped me. I called the rape crisis hotline, and they said it might help. Of course I’d already heard of Elina. I read her articles in women’s magazines, and when I was a kid I read the psychology column she used to do in Fan Fave .”
    Milla pulled her legs under her on the chair, curling up as if to protect herself. “I couldn’t go to work, I was so bruised and scratched up everywhere. I tried to cover it with makeup, but Rami, the club owner, said he didn’t want me there looking like that. He told me to come back