Snow Angels

I open the garage door and reporters start swarming toward us.

“I’ll see you soon,” I say, and wave as Seppo drives away.

I didn’t bring my coat. It’s fucking freezing outside. The reporters start questioning me, but my statement is brief. “That was Seppo Niemi you just saw leaving. He provided an alibi and I released him. We’re now pursuing other avenues of investigation.” They keep shouting. I shut the garage door in their faces and go back into the station.

BACK IN THE COMMON ROOM, I relate my interview with Seppo and lay out what we’ve got to do next. “We’ve made a lot of progress. We know where Sufia was when she was abducted. Since, by his own admission, Seppo’s vehicle was in the parking lot, it could have been used in the commission of the crime. The tears are the key. Because of them, it appears Seppo had an accomplice. Whoever shed them is linked to Seppo. It’s possible Seppo wasn’t even present when the crime was committed. Sufia’s affair with Peter gives him motive. Seppo could have had her killed.”

I’m pretending confidence I don’t feel. Yesterday, it looked like we’d broken the case in forty-eight hours. Now we’re at a standstill.

“We have to pursue the Peter Eklund lead with the same thoroughness as our investigation of Seppo. Peter’s car was in the parking lot too. Antti, you process it.”

He looks demoralized. I don’t have to tell him he can’t go on vacation.

“Jussi, you go to Hullu Poro. Check out if Peter was there at the time of the murder. Question the staff and everyone who’s been hanging around the bar over the past few days. If his car turns up evidence or we can’t confirm his alibi, we’ll treat his house as a crime scene. Valtteri, you go back to investigating locals. Known racists, sex offenders, men prone to violence. I’ll take photos of Seppo and Peter with me and re-canvass Marjakylä. And Valtteri, come into my office, I want to talk to you.”

When we’re alone, Valtteri says, “About Marjakylä, your father wasn’t at work in the bar when Sufia was murdered. You asked me to check.”

“Then I’ll ask him about it myself. I want to talk to you about Heli.”

“What about her?”

“When she left Kittilä, she shook the dust off her feet and never came back. As far as I know, she hasn’t been here since we divorced. She hated her family. When we were married, she only came here when I wanted to see mine. Seppo always came here alone. She tells me, as she put it, that she’s ‘rediscovering her religious roots.’ Have you seen her in church?”

He nods. “It’s true, she’s been attending regularly.”

“Why didn’t you mention it to me?”

“I don’t like to bring up your ex-wife, it’s not my place.” He pauses. “You don’t think Heli could have had anything to do with it.”

“She’s gone for years. Then she shows back up, and her common-law husband’s mistress is murdered. She had keys to his car, she had motive. It’s a natural line of questioning.”

“Maybe you’re not taking the possibility that Peter and his friends killed Sufia seriously enough,” he says. “He and Seppo have nearly identical vehicles and they were both in the parking lot. They smoke the same brand of cigarettes, even have the same shoe size.”

“I’m taking it seriously. If Jussi finds blood in his car, it will provide sufficient grounds to seize his house and treat it as a secondary crime scene.”

“Arresting Seppo has already caused you a lot of trouble. If you accuse Heli, it might cost you your job.”

“I’m not accusing her. It’s a line of inquiry we have to pursue, because it’s our duty. And I’m not investigating her, I’m asking you to do it.”

“How could Heli have done it? I mean physically. She’s a woman. She can’t commit rape.”

“We haven’t proven that Sufia was raped.”

“Heli is so small, how could she have forced Sufia into the car? Don’t you remember how Sufia looked? I can’t imagine Heli inflicting those kinds of injuries.”

“Just nose around,” I say. “Find out what Heli’s been doing and who she’s been associating with. Discreet questioning. That’s all I ask.”

“This is going to lead to no good end,” Valtteri concludes, and walks out.

19

I WRITE A PRESS RELEASE, but not the way the chief wanted it. I don’t mention my previous marriage to Heli, or that she left me for Seppo, and I don’t write anything to tarnish his image. I keep it simple, say he provided an alibi and was released. I e-mail it to all the major Fi

The photocopy of Sufia’s address book is on the desk in front of me. I start making phone calls again. After an hour, I get a hit.

“That bitch fucked my boyfriend. She sucked his cock in my own goddamned house. I’m glad she’s dead.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?” I ask.

“You mean, who was my boyfriend. That bitch wrecked everything.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

She gives me the name of a Fi

“Fuck,” he says. “What did you hear?”

I play him. “Never mind that. Just give me your version of events.”

“Maybe it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, but the blackmailing bitch said she was go

“How did she say she was going to get you?”

“She was never anything to me. I had a girlfriend and Sufia was a side thing. Excuse me for being blunt, but Sufia was an incredible fuck. The girl could suck an egg through a straw. And gorgeous, Jesus, just looking at her could almost make me come. My girlfriend caught us. Sufia was happy about it because she said we could see each other out in the open, but I wanted to get rid of Sufia so I could patch things up. Sufia got angry. She said she’d claim I raped her and told me I had to give her money.”

“Did you?”

“I told her to go fuck herself.”

“Have you been to Levi lately?”

“Not for two years. Am I a suspect?”

“Not at present. Thank you for your cooperation. One last thing, what kind of car do you drive?”

“A BMW. Why?”

I ignore the question and hang up. I can understand Sufia’s attraction to rich and famous men, but I’m left wondering about her obsession with BMWs. I’ve talked to around thirty people about Sufia. No one knew her, not even the men she’d had affairs with. It seems no one cared enough to bother, but I want to. I decide to watch her movies.

I PRINT OUT SEPPO’S arrest photo and one of Peter from the sex offender database, then go to the BMW website, download and print pictures of star-spoked and double-spoked wheels and drive to Marjakylä. I decide to get the worst over with and go to my parents’ house first. I knock, and Dad yells for me to come in. He’s sitting in his armchair smoking an unfiltered North State. A glass of piimä, buttermilk, sits on the end table beside him. I take this to mean he’s not drunk. I’m relieved.

“Hello son,” he says.

The television is turned off, the curtains are drawn. The only light spills out from the kitchen. He’s sitting in the dark and what would be silence, except for the incessant ticking of clocks.

Mom’s dentures are in a water glass beside Dad’s piimä. She got them as a present when she was confirmed into the Lutheran church at the age of fifteen. Years ago, dentures were the traditional confirmation gift. There was little or no dental care then, and most people’s teeth rotted out of their heads not long after they reached puberty.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask.

“Upstairs taking a nap.”

Despite his drinking, Dad’s health is good. Among other ailments, Mom is overweight and has high blood pressure. She tires easily. I sit across from him, in her chair.

“I’m not trying to piss you off,” I say, “but I have to ask you where you were at two P.M. on Tuesday, when Sufia Elmi was killed.”

He takes a drag off his cigarette. “That girl was killed across the road,” he says. “You think I did it, then came back here and talked to you and your mother?”