Raid and the Blackest Sheep (23 page)

    
“Supposedly they did time together in Oulu.”

    
“And Raid?”

    
“As far as I know they hadn’t met. Oulu PD asked for your help since you know both Raid and Nygren. They’re afraid a gunfight could break out when they arrest those two so they might need a negotiator. I promised you’d call either way. Lieutenant Jaatinen is leading the case…you know him?”

    
“I do. Anything else?”

    
“You asked about that maintenance guy from the casino shooting. Name’s Keijo Hiltunen. Lives in Rovaniemi.”

    
Jansson memorized the address she gave him. Rovaniemi, Finland’s gateway to the arctic, was only about 150 miles north of Oulu.

    
“Thanks.”

    
“How’s it going over there?”

    
“Might be bulking up a bit too much.”

    
“And Huusko?”

    
Huusko heard his name being mentioned and pressed his ear up against the phone.

    
“Completely wiped out. Would’ve never expected it from someone that young.”

    
“Say hi for me.”

    
“I will.”

    
Jansson hung up and turned to Huusko, “You get all that?”

    
“Enough. God will reward my good deeds. I got an idea.”

    
“Do tell.”

    
“We got an excuse to get outta here now. As good cops, how could we turn down an official request for backup? The boys up north need our help finding Nygren and Raid.”

    
“How we gonna do that?”

    
“We’ll have time to think about it on the way to Oulu.”

    
Jansson went into the locker room and called home. He caught his wife just as she was leaving.

    
“Will you be disappointed if we can’t meet up?”

    
“Of course I will. What happened, you find a sexier date?”

    
“No such thing.”

    
“That’ll earn you some points.”

    
“We got a call from Oulu. A murder case.”

    
“Is that what they’re called nowadays?”

    
“I know the suspects and…”

    
She interrupted him.

    
“I was just kidding. Of course you’ll go, as long as they let you come back.”

    
Huusko snuck into the locker room.

    
“I figured I’d come straight home then,” said Jansson.

    
“As long as you let me know ahead of time so I can shoo off all the young bucks.”

    
“I promise I will.”

    
“Drive safely.”

    
“Huusko’s driving.”

    
“Then no point in saying anything to him. You know, I had some plans in store for you. I bought some lingerie…black and naughty.”

    
“Thanks. I’ll enjoy those when I get home.”

    
“Nonsense. I bought them for myself.”

    
“Nonsense. You’re the love of my life.”

    
“That’s enough. You’re getting a little too sappy.”

    
“True.”

    
After saying goodbye, Jansson hung up.

    
Huusko was cramming his things into a tattered gym bag.

    
“You two always talk like that?”

    
“Usually.”

    
“With all that sweet talk, you’re lucky you don’t have diabetes. When do we leave?”

    
“Right away.”

    
Jansson went into his room to pack. He had just gotten his things into his suitcase when the phone rang. It was Raid.

    
“We agreed that I’d call if something happens.”

    
“Yes?”

    
“Something happened.”

    
“What?”

    
“Someone died.”

    
“You killed him?”

    
“No.”

    
“Nygren did?”

    
“Yeah.”

    
“Were you with him?”

    
“Tough to say.”

    
“You talking about a guy from Oulu by the name of Rusanen?”

    
“Good guess.”

    
“Nygren’s car was seen near the crime scene. I’m leaving for Oulu right now to look into it. They’re looking for you two.”

    
“I know. We should meet.”

    
“Where are you?”

    
“I’ll call you back this evening.”

    
“You promised you wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

    
“And I haven’t.”

    
“Nygren has.”

    
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”

    
“Are we talking self-defense?”

    
“In a way.”

    
“In any case, you’ve gone too far.”

    
“If you knew Rusanen, you’d have done the same.”

    
“I doubt it.”

    
“One more request.”

    
“What?”

    
“I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ll call later.”

    
Huusko appeared at the door with his bag. Jansson grabbed his brand-new Samsonite suitcase.

    
“This is the last time you talk me into coming here,” said Jansson.

    
In the parking lot, Anna hurried over to them.

    
“Do you have a minute?” she asked Jansson.

    
Huusko snuck sheepishly into the car. Jansson edged a little further away.

    
“What is it?” said Jansson.

    
“I don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. I wasn’t flirting with you to get you to do something for me. I did it because I like you. You seem so…safe.”

    
Jansson didn’t reply.

    
“What did that cop, Kempas, say about me?” she asked.

    
Jansson recalled her sudden departure after she had caught sight of Kempas.

    
“Do you know him?”

    
“I could tell he wasn’t saying anything nice.”

    
“He didn’t say a single word about you.”

    
Anna didn’t seem to hear.

    
“Everywhere you look, there’s spiteful people spreading gossip and lies.”

    
“He wasn’t talking about you,” Jansson repeated.

    
Anna leaned in and kissed Jansson on the cheek.

    
“Maybe another time,” she whispered.

    
“Maybe,” Jansson caught himself muttering.

    
Anna turned and headed off toward the main building.

    
Jansson got in the car.

    
“She sure was lovey-dovey,” said Huusko.

    
“Shut up.”

    
Huusko was surprised by Jansson’s glare, and he bit his tongue.

17.

Raid turned onto a side road and came to a stop in a sparse pine forest. He peeled the wrapper off a disposable syringe and loaded it with a dose of morphine. Nygren had wrapped his arms around himself and was holding on as if fearful of falling apart. Raid pressed him against the seat so he could inject the morphine.

    
The pain had returned a couple of hours earlier, but Nygren had stubbornly resisted until it overpowered him. His face pale and damp, he had asked Raid to drive to a secluded spot.

    
The morphine took effect rapidly and Nygren’s pained expression softened.

    
Raid offered him a carton of orange juice. Nygren drank the whole thing.

    
“Feel better?”

    
The color began to return to Nygren’s face.

    
“Seems rather unfair that at my age and with my history, I’m forced to realize I’m not as tough as I had imagined.”

    
“You don’t have to prove anything to anybody.”

    
“I do. To myself. You can fool others, but not yourself, at least I can’t. And I don’t think you can either.”

    
“True.”

    
“Let’s get going, then. I’d like to sleep in clean sheets tonight.”

    
Raid started the car and drove back to the main road. Nygren settled into the back seat in a semi-reclining position and stared out the window.

    
“How are you feeling?” Raid asked.

    
“Brittle as a cracker.”

    
This most recent bout had sapped Nygren’s energy for the past twenty-four hours. At the outset, he had slept for almost ten hours. After awakening, he had kept to himself in the back seat. Raid almost missed his constant chit-chat.

    
“You never finished the story about this car.”

    
“You really wanna hear it?”

    
“Sure. If you have the energy.”

    
Nygren considered whether he wanted to tell it, and whether Raid wanted to listen. “I think you really wanna hear it.”

    
“Let’s hear it.”

    
Nygren struggled to sit up a bit more.

    
“I think I left off with the rich farmer who had bought the car from a widow. The car had been in the farmer’s garage almost ten years, and he couldn’t bring himself to drive it but a few times, as stingy as he was. He normally drove a twenty-year-old piece of shit Nissan. In the end, he didn’t get to enjoy the car much. Death came and reaped itself a frugal, greedy man. Inevitably, the old maxim held true: you can’t take your mammon to hell with you, not even a Mercedes.”

    
“Ladas are allowed, though.”

    
Nygren glanced at Raid, somewhat confused.

    
“Don’t they drive Ladas in the Mercedes-man’s hell?” Raid continued.

    
Nygren’s cackle turned into a cough. He hacked and barked until his lungs were clear.

    
“And as it often goes in this just world of ours, the money and riches go to those who don’t work up a single drop of sweat for it. The man had a punk kid who’d dropped out of school and was living off his old man’s money. Since he was the guy’s only son, the farm and car went to him.”

    
The sun began to set and an orange fan of light spread out in the western sky. The pines lining the road were flushed in the evening sun.

    
“I had just taken care of a small deal in Rovaniemi and I stayed the night at the Hotel Pohjanhovi. The kid was there with his entourage. He fancied himself quite the card shark and was looking for a game. I happened to have ten grand in loose change in my pocket.”

    
“And you won the car,” Raid guessed.

    
Nygren shot him a dour look.

    
“If someone’s telling you a story, you don’t spoil it by trying to guess the ending.”

    
“Sorry.”

    
“We played all night. As the hours ticked by, the others dropped off one by one, but the kid had serious bread. By six in the morning, he’d lost all his money and was eight grand in debt. He learned the hard way that the world can be a tough place.”

    
“Did you cheat?”

    
“Don’t interrupt. We agreed that we’d sleep a few hours and then meet in the downstairs lobby at noon…”

    
With obvious difficulty, Nygren dug a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one with his old Zippo. He took a drag and blew the smoke toward the roof of the car, took a couple more drags and flicked the cigarette out the window.