And though she didn’t say as much, she’s even contemplated …’
‘You don’t think she’s a dyke, do you?’ Juslin said reflectively, and his eyes lit up with interest. ‘She seemed a bit odd.’
Onerva said nothing but stared at Juslin, her head to one side. He remained unperturbed and tapped his thighs.
‘Come on, darling.’
Juslin was a big burly man who undeniably looked more like a guerrilla or a burglar than a policeman. He had short, spiky hair and a few days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks, and he wore a pair of hunting trousers, tightly laced commando boots and, despite the heat, a thick woollen jumper. At a fair distance his clothes smelled as though they hadn’t been washed for a long time, and if ever anyone commented on this he proudly replied: ‘Real men smell of shit and petrol, that’s the way it is.’ He didn’t smell of petrol, but he enjoyed teasing women, placing his hand on their hips, looking them in the eyes and asking imploringly: ‘How about it, sweetheart?’ He took care of his work well enough, obtaining clues and tip-offs from the underworld; many a case had been solved with information he had provided.
‘What’s her story?’ asked Harjunpää, but Onerva gently squinted her eyes, which meant that she’d tell him later and that she wanted the other two to leave.
‘How about Onerva and I go through this material first, then you go through it, then we have a meeting and see what we’ve come up with. OK?’
‘Oh aye,’ scoffed Lampinen with what was perhaps the most common of his famous television allusions. ‘But I want one thing to be clear from the start: we maintain two parallel lines of approach. You take care of yours, we’ll take care of ours. And just so you know, this won’t be a very long case. It’s Klaus Nikander. Nobody picks locks better than he can, and he’s quite the pervert to boot. Well, his luck’s run out…’
‘You’re going to have him watched?’
‘Him and a couple of others, yes,’ said Lampinen mysteriously and stood up. Juslin followed his example, and when they stood next to one another you could see quite what an odd couple they were: Lampinen was of average height and gangly, while Juslin was over six foot and stocky, and hismovements were somehow exaggeratedly intense, tight and almost bear-like . His belt gave off a dull clunk as, in addition to his revolver, virtually everything that could be used as a weapon dangled around his waist.
‘Onerva,’ he growled. ‘How about it?’
‘Right away, sir,’ she replied and without further ado reached out and put her hand on Juslin’s flies. He gave a start, backed off and disappeared into the corridor. Harjunpää could see that his neck was bright red.
‘Dear oh dear,’ said Harjunpää quietly as he looked out of the window, and a sense of dejectedness began to fill his mind. The basis for the investigation couldn’t have been worse. He didn’t like Lampinen; Lampinen probably didn’t like him either; Onerva was sure to have problems with Juslin – or rather he would have a problem with her. On top of this, supervising everything was Järvi, and Harjunpää felt that Järvi had handed him this case as some form of punishment for the events of the previous day, when he had apparently been incapable of showing due respect.
‘It was a mistake calling him Lempi.’
‘Come on, it just came out.’
‘I know someone who works with his wife. The whole idea of changing his name was to stop people calling him Lempi. He can’t stand it because it’s a woman’s name, and you know he’s a bit…’
‘How was I supposed to know that?’
‘That’s why he’s so pally with Juslin, he wants to look as macho as him. Poor man doesn’t know how wrong he is.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well… You don’t seem that interested in this case.’
‘Not really. But we can get off with admin if Lampinen catches this Nikander in the act.’
‘Don’t get your hopes
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