Darling (17 page)

“What do you mean?” Lind asked. This was news to her; the police hadn’t mentioned it.

“She was kind of
handicapped. We never made fun of her, but sometimes she talked childish nonsense. She was a full-grown woman, though.”

“How could you tell she was
handicapped?”

“How should I put it delicately? Darling didn’t
quite act her age.”

“But she lived alone?”

“Yeah. She didn’t get along with her old lady so the mother got her the apartment and came in to vacuum and do the dishes for her sometimes—probably outta guilt.”

Lind felt awful. It turned her stomach to think of a mentally disabled girl with these men.

“It didn’t bother you that she wasn’t all there?”

“She was a full
-grown woman,” Niskala grunted.

She knew she had to get away from these sons-of-bitches before she locked the door
from the outside and burned down the bar. And her client Korpivaara was one of them. For a minute she second-guessed her decision to defend him. Even defense attorneys had their limits.

She pulled out business cards and handed one to each of the men.

“Call me if you think of anything.”

Her face suddenly pallid, Lind grabbed her coat. She managed to get three feet outside the door before she vomited in the parking lot. An older man with a small poodle on a leash looked at her reprovingly and said,
“You should grab life by the horns and stop that drinking.”

The men with their beer mugs missed the episode.
Mustache-Rautalampi shook his head and said, “An odd bird, that lawyer.”

“How so?” Lahtela asked.

“Well, we were Darling’s friends. She liked us. Without us she had nobody.”

* * *

Nea Lind and Laura Vatanen’s mother sat in the Jorvi Hospital cafeteria. “I’ve already talked to the police,” said Marjaana Vatanen who was dressed in a nurse’s white coat.

After some coaxing, Marjaana had agreed to meet with Lind
, and they had about fifteen minutes, the length of her coffee break.

Lind figured the police had asked the same questions, but she
too wanted to know about Laura Vatanen’s past, living alone, and how she ended up with the Alamo crowd. Marjaana Vatanen’s answers were short and matter-of-fact. She talked about the disability, their arguments, and Laura’s problems at work. The mother blamed herself for letting things get to that point.

“What should you have done?”

“It’s pointless to think about it now, but I probably should’ve had her placed in some institution.”

Lind wasn’t sure if she should ask
it, but she had to.

“Were you aware that several men used your daughter?”

Marjaana Vatanen’s face fell as she asked, “Used her? How?”

“Sexually,” Lind replied.

“What? I knew she drank with them, but… So, was it the ones from Alamo?”

Lind nodded and said, “Your daughter took them to her apartment.”

“They raped my girl. Oh, shit.”

“I don’t know if it was rape. The men say
it was consensual.”

“It is rape when the girl is mentally thirteen
years old,” Marjaana Vatanen said, her face turning red.

The nurse buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Lind wondered if the mother actually hadn’t realized what had been going on. If the girl drank with men like the Alamo gang, it would inevitably lead to sex. Marjaana Vatanen must have imagined her daughter to be better than that.

“What the hell. Why didn’t the police tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

Marjaana Vatanen twisted her face.

“And what’s your role in this? Are you trying to get the fucking killer and his rapist buddies off the hook?”

Lind was taken aback by the rage
spewing from the woman.

“No. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what happened,” she replied calmly.

“Quit your self-righteous act, you damn bitch,” Vatanen hissed. If you let my daughter’s killer off scot-free, I’ll kill you!”

Marjaana
Vatanen’s eyes were full of hate as she stood up and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Lind watched the woman and wondered about her rage. She had lost her temper quickly.
Even more, she had threatened to kill her.

Lind heard her phone ring. It was
Römpötti.

* * *

Joutsamo turned off her computer. She had typed up most of the interrogations. She had listened to and analyzed the material as she worked, but nothing had changed her view of Korpivaara’s guilt. The man had the means, motive, and opportunity to do it. The proof was a combination of the Forensics investigation and the confession. As soon as the rest of the Forensics results came in, the case could be wrapped up and sent to the prosecutor. Joutsamo and Takamäki had talked about whether the rest of the Alamo gang could be suspected of sexual abuse.

By law, having sex with a person who was unable to fully protect themselves due to limited mental capacity might constitute sexual abuse.
But it would be difficult to get the men convicted on these grounds, as Laura Vatanen had been deemed capable of living alone.

Joutsamo stood up and grabbed her coat from the closet.
The TV was set on mute; she needed to turn it off. She was done for the day, especially since she’d be on call with Suhonen and their unit on Saturday. She hadn’t seen Suhonen at work today, but who knew what projects he was working on.

The computer shut down. As she was getting up, Joutsamo noticed Kulta sitting at his computer, looking at photos. She saw naked women among them.

“What are you looking at?” Joutsamo asked.

Kulta shook his head.

“These were on Korpivaara’s computer. The geeks just brought me the CD. There are hundreds or thousands of them, I haven’t counted.”

Joutsamo took a closer look at the photo on the
screen. The woman looked young—not a child, but a teenager.

“Almost all of the
m are teenage girls. They don’t look Finnish to me,” Kulta said. “But it’s hardcore, for sure.”

Kulta clicked on a few pictures. They were clearly X-rated porn: a man and a girl, two girls, two men and a girl.

“Did he download these off the internet?”

“That’s what the computer guys said. They gave me a server address, but I don’t understand anything about it.”

“Why was Korpivaara into this kind of porn?” Joutsamo wondered.

“Why is anybody? It’s about fantasies. Some can imagine things, others need pictures, and yet others videos.”

“Were the movies in his apartment the same stuff?”

“I took a quick look,” Kulta said, shaking his head. “They were the same
shit. And there were the edited pictures with Laura Vatanen’s face glued to the bodies.”

Joutsamo looked at the filthy picture on the screen.

“This guy might be more insane than we thought.”

“The modern scientific term for a sexual deviant is paraphiliac but I would use the good old term
, ‘perv.’”

Out of the corner of his eye,
Kulta noticed the TV news was on. He got up to increase the volume; he remembered Taka
mä
ki saying that Römpötti interviewed him that afternoon. The headlines were about bombs in Afghanistan, unrest in Haiti, and a train wreck in England.

Then a news anchor came on and began, “The Helsinki
Police Department is investigating the death of a twenty-six-year-old mentally disabled woman. The case has unusual aspects. Our Sanna Römpötti reports…”

“What unusual aspects
does this case have?” Kulta wondered. “Other than the porn.”

“Shh…,” Joutsamo said.

The picture went to a clip of the Nӓyttelijӓ Street apartment, and Römpötti summarized the basic details of the case. Then the text of yesterday’s police bulletin came on, with the words, “The suspect has confessed,” highlighted in yellow.

Römpötti said it seemed like a
routine case, but that the police and the defense attorney were on a collision course.

Takamäki
looked serious when his face appeared on the screen and said that the police considered the case virtually solved. Lind’s turn was next—she didn’t think the police’s assessment represented the whole truth. Takamäki and Lind took turns talking.

Takamäki
: “The forensic evidence from the crime scene and the suspect’s confession play the most important roles.”

Lind
: “My client was unable to remember all the events during the interrogation.”

Takamäki
: “He has confessed to the crime.”

Lind
: “The police have their view, and as a defense attorney I have mine.”

Römpötti
came back onto the screen in front of the police headquarters.

“The situation is rather unique. Both parties can’t be right
, so one or the other must be lying. We’ll follow the investigation.”

The newscaster moved on to an item about the econom
y and the recession, and Joutsamo and Kulta lost interest.

“What was the lawyer talking about? She was there when
Korpivaara confessed. I don’t get it.”

“Yeah, hard to say,” Kulta agreed
.

Joutsamo shook her head. She returned to her computer and turned it
back on. The TV coverage meant that the police administrators were probably already on the phone with Takamäki, demanding an explanation, and Takamäki would be calling her any minute. Joutsamo decided to write a report to her bosses.

The computer began booting.

SATURDAY,

DECEMBER 10
, 2011

CHAPTER 16

SATURDAY
, 8:30 A.M.

KAMPPI, HELSINKI

Lind had suggested they meet at a coffee shop, but when Römpötti mentioned she was going to the gym, Lind wanted to come along. She was
happy with the reporter’s story, especially the part where the police bulletin’s validity was questioned. Besides, TV exposure would bring her the visibility she desired. And a quick workout wouldn’t hurt; she wanted to drop a few pounds. It was hard to jog in downtown Helsinki—actually for her it was hard to jog anywhere.

Lind sat on a bench, her face glistening with sweat. The spinning class seemed to take much less out of Römpötti.

Römpötti’s hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she wore long, tight jazz pants and a tank top. Lind was embarrassed by her sloppy, gray sweatpants and oversized T-shirt. But she did have more weight to lose—and hide—than Römpötti.

“This was a good idea,” Lind said. They sat in a small lobby with doors leading to aerobics, the weight rooms, and dressing rooms. A vending machine whirred next to them. The entrance was off to the side.

“It’s better than a latté and pastry in a coffee shop,” Römpötti agreed. “I think I’ll hit the weights for half an hour.”

Lind let out a sigh. She was ready for a shower and the steam room.

“There’s one thing,” Lind said. This was her reason for wanting to meet with the reporter. “I need to ask your opinion.”

“Ask away,” Römpötti said, tightening her ponytail.

“What do you think of the way she was killed?”

“I don’t know how Laura was killed.”

“Her throat was slashed.”

“Well, that’s pretty brutal,” Römpötti said, nodding.

“What do you think it could mean?”

Römpötti thought for a moment.

“Was she sexually assaulted? And what was she wearing?”

“I don’t know what she was wearing, but the police said she wasn’t raped, and there were no signs of struggle in the apartment.”

“What position was the body in? I mean, was she set up in some sort of a sexual position?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen pictures of the body. But you think it might’ve been a sex crime?”

“Yeah,” Römpötti thought. “That’s a good starting point when a man kills a woman. It’s hard to speculate without all the information, but as far as I know the act wasn’t premeditated. Also, the police consider the case manslaughter and not murder. The first thing that comes to mind is one of those ‘if-I-can’t-have-you-nobody-can’ type motives.”

“What does the slashing of her throat tell you?”

“Mostly that the killer wanted to be quick and thorough. On the other hand, in some domestic violence cases the killer stabs the victim repeatedly, even a dozen times, in the chest and especially the heart. This usually means the killer wants retaliation for being abandoned. The throat slashing, on the other hand, is usually connected to overkill, where the victim is attacked in other ways, and the final slashing is to make sure they’re dead.”