Behind God's Back (8 page)

“I know all the nice Jewish girls in Finland, and they're already married. And if I married a Finnish Jew, I'd be marrying her entire family. Just the thought gives me the willies.”

I was telling the truth, but I still shouldn't have said anything to Stenman.

“I thought family was the only thing that mattered to Jews?”

“For some it is, for others it's not. Most of us marry outside the faith.”

“Isn't that a shame?”

“It's pretty natural. What would be weird would be if people from as small a group as us Jews only bred… only married each other.”

Stenman had been my subordinate for years, but she had
never asked about my Jewishness before. Maybe she felt that prying was indelicate.

I saw Roni Jacobson exit the terminal carrying a bulging gym bag in one hand and a fishing rod case in the other.

I got out of the car; Stenman followed. Roni saw me, and we shook hands. He had aged since the last time we had met. Despite the fact that he was a couple of years younger than me, he was already greying, and he had a bald spot the size of an apple at the crown of his head. A few days of stubble covered his chin.

I had never particularly liked Roni. Ever since he was a kid there had been an air of arrogance about him, and character traits like that don't just disappear. One glance at Roni's face was enough to see that things hadn't changed – at least not for the better.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” I said. “This here is Detective Stenman.”

“Mom's waiting, so… Are we going to stand here, or should we get in the car?”

“We can give you a lift and talk during the ride. We'll do the official interrogation sometime later.”

I opened the trunk. Roni dropped in his luggage and joined me in the back seat. Stenman drove.

“Did you catch anything?” I asked.

Roni's tone was impatient. “A couple of trout and some grayling.”

We chatted for a minute about Lapland: the weather, the night frosts, the autumn colours. As we curved onto Ring Road III, Roni said: “What was it you wanted to ask me about?”

“Your father was afraid of something. He had stayed home from work for three days because of it. Did he discuss it with you?”

“Yeah, that's what Mom said. At first I thought he was just sick. I wouldn't have gone to Lapland if I had known… It wasn't until Mom called that I found out that something else was going on, but Dad wouldn't say what.”

“When did you leave for Lapland?”

“Four days ago. The company owns a cabin at Pyhä. I always go up fishing there this time of year with a couple of buddies. I didn't see any reason to make an exception this year, because I hadn't taken my vacation yet and there was nothing special going on at the office.”

“Was the timing of the trip your idea or your father's?”

“Mine, because it had to work for my friends too. But I discussed it with Dad, of course. He was fine with it.”

Roni's phone rang. “It's Mom.”

“Feel free to answer.”

Roni took the call and talked with Ethel for a second.

“… I have to get off. I'll be there in just a minute.”

Once the call ended, I pressed on. “There must be a good reason for your father's murder. Do you have any idea what it might be?”

“Isn't it obvious? Anti-Semitism. I heard he got a threatening letter at work.”

“Yes, we heard about that, too, and went and met with your staff. We don't believe that the letter has anything to do with the murder.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have our own information, but we can't discuss it yet.”

“In that case I have no idea…” Roni looked disappointed. Evidently anti-Semitism would have been an agreeable motive for the murder. Anything else meant complications.

“The perpetrator was very methodical. That implies that the motive was not something random. Could the firm's finances have anything to do with the crime?”

“I don't know what you're talking about. We're in a bit of a tight spot at the moment, like thousands of other companies, but it's nothing more than that. Our debt load is relatively low compared to our assets and net worth.”

“Your father wanted to take out a new loan in Finland and pay off the Estonian loan. Why?”

“It was some bee he got in his bonnet. We couldn't have got a loan any more cheaply here than from Estonia.”

“So you were opposed?”

“It would have been six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

“How did you end up taking a loan from Estonia in the first place?”

“We received an offer when we started planning construction of the new building.”

“From whom?”

“Max Oxbaum. I happened to mention to him at some event that Dad wanted to build new offices for the company. Max said that he represented an Estonian finance company and could arrange a loan. It was all above board.”

“Were you opposed to the construction project?”

“No. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I might feel differently now. But no one else predicted the recession, either.”

“Could your father have taken out another loan under the table?”

“Not a chance. And why would he?”

“Say, some personal reason, and then maybe he left the loan unpaid?”

“No,” Roni snapped. “Like I said, the company and Dad had assets. Why wouldn't he have realized his assets instead? I'm pretty sure most people would rather pay a debt than die.”

“You'd think so.”

We stopped at a traffic light. Stenman glanced back. “When did your father intend to retire?”

“By sixty-four at the latest, in other words a little under two years from now.”

“Was he in good health?”

“Sure. He was a little overweight and had high blood pressure, but otherwise he was healthy. What does this have to do with Dad's murder?”

“Did he have life insurance?”

Now Roni was upset. “Yes, and Mom's the beneficiary. You guys can't be turning this into insurance fraud.”

I tried to calm him down and explain that the police have to ask unpleasant questions. My reassurances didn't have the desired effect.

“Can't we talk about these things later…?”

“Unfortunately not. Did Oxbaum handle all the loan arrangements himself, or did you meet representatives of the lender?”

“I didn't meet anyone but Oxbaum.”

“But I assume you looked into the finance company, to see if it was solid?”

“No. Dad might have, through his contacts in Israel. He told me that he trusted Max… Besides, it's your brother's company, too,” Roni gloated, as if he had found a weapon to use against me.

“Does the name Benjamin Hararin mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“What about Amos Jakov?”

“You mean the Israeli billionaire?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's about the extent of my knowledge. He's an Israeli billionaire. What does he have to do with this? It sounds like you guys are letting this case get the better of your imaginations —”

“He and Hararin own the finance company Max was representing.”

“So? They're way off in Israel and we're here. Are you finding some significant connections between the two?” Roni asked sharply.

Stenman pulled up in front of the Jacobsons' house.

“You can go. We'll be in touch.”

Once Roni had stepped through the gate, I asked Stenman, “What do you think?”

“I didn't like him, but that's not what you asked.”

“Roni has always thrown money around. When he was twenty,
he drove a Porsche, and he also had a big boat. Sort of a minor-league jet-setter. I heard that a year or so ago he moved into a new place in Marjaniemi: 3,000 square feet, sea views.”

“What if this is about the son's spending, not the father's, and Pops just ended up footing the bill? Maybe Roni had been given his final warning and he hightailed it off to Lapland. He asked the old man not to leave the house.”

“He couldn't have stayed away forever.”

“Maybe he was trying to drum up money to pay off his debts in the meantime.”

“Roni said that his Dad was going to stay on as CEO until he turned sixty-four, so well over a year from now. According to Ethel, Samuel had planned on retiring earlier. Samuel had told his neighbours the end of this year. Sounds like Samuel had decided to push back his retirement. Roni probably wasn't too thrilled about that.”

“Still, it's not likely he'd kill his Dad… What was all that about Hararin and Jakov?” Stenman asked.

“Don't worry about that yet.”

Stenman eyed me evaluatively. Roni's gibe about my brother hadn't gone unnoticed. “All right, I won't worry about that… yet. Is Roni Jacobson a family man?”

“Two children from a previous marriage, and one from the new one.”

“Wouldn't it have made more sense to send muscle to threaten his family instead of his father?”

“Maybe the person making the threats figured that the old man was the one with the money. He doesn't care who pays, as long as he gets his dough.”

“Should we take a closer look at the company's finances, and the son's, too?” Stenman asked. “Maybe it's worth having another word with CFO Pekka Hulkko.”

I couldn't have agreed more.

7

I got to my one-bedroom apartment in Punavuori around 9 p.m. and was greeted by the fug of loneliness that clings to every bachelor pad. I had a reputation of sorts as a ladies' man, although I didn't get where it came from. Maybe I was paying for my years of youthful experimentation and unsavoury stories were being passed from one Jewish family to the next as a cautionary example. The fact was that it had been over six years since I had last lived with a woman. At the time, I had been in a relationship with a Finnish teacher named Suvi whom I had met at a colleague's wedding. I still wasn't sure why the relationship had ended, but apparently the blame was mine.

Living alone had its advantages, but it wasn't a dogma or principle for me. It was ninety per cent sad, especially when your wildest partying days had passed and you started valuing other things.

I don't know what my problem was, but I attracted the wrong sort of women. They represented one of two extremes: either they were too bossy and domineering, or too meek and adaptable.

Another problem was that all the women my age were divorced and usually bitter about it. Plus they had children, and even though I had met some nice kids, I didn't want to be a father to the children of a man I didn't know.

As a bachelor over the age of forty, my relatives considered me a strange bird. I was continuously dodging their attempts to marry me off. “Good Jewish girls” were foisted off on me under any variety of pretences.

I may not be qualified to comment, but I think women found me pretty interesting, and pretty good-looking, too. Something in my melancholic disposition aroused their protective instincts. Plus I kept myself in shape, owned a place in a good neighbourhood, and had a respectable job. I should have been a good match, but I just wasn't able to sell myself to anyone.

I shook myself out of my gloomy musings, popped open a beer and wondered what I should do about Eli. I eventually made my decision and called him. We used to get together at least once a week, but now it had been three weeks since we had last seen each other. We must have overdosed on each other's company at the cottage.

Eli was the first to speak. “What's up, little brother?” I knew him well enough to tell he was drunk – not very, but still.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I'm sipping some pricey vintage whisky. Got it from the father-in-law. What about you?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is it about Jacobson? I heard someone shot him.”

I wasn't the least bit surprised Eli knew about the case. He was on the executive council of the congregation, just like Jacobson, and even if he hadn't been, he still would have heard about it. Someone called someone else, and that someone called a third person. Two hours later, half the Jews in Helsinki knew about it. We had always been good at disseminating information.

“Are you investigating?”

“Yup. Why would you think I'd be interested in discussing Jacobson with you, of all people?”

“Because I know him and —”

“You have time to meet?”

“There's plenty in this bottle for the both of us. Come over and join me.”

“No thanks. Half an hour, at the shore?”

“At the same old spot?”