Read Online My First Murder by Leena Lehtolainen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leena Lehtolainen
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he had had his own apartment and his own life for ages.
“It’s true that Tommi may have had a few too many girlfriends and that we were starting to hope that he would settle down. Otherwise, he had his act together. He graduated from the Helsinki University of Technology with high marks, his apartment is paid for, he seemed to like his job at Finnish Metals Incorporated, and he loved music and sailing. Aside from his dealings with women, he lived a normal, quiet life. I can’t understand why anyone would have killed him intentionally.”
I noticed that the furrows beneath Heikki Peltonen’s tan had deepened. He obviously wanted to make himself believe that his son’s death had been an accident. Easier to endure the loss that way. If Tommi’s death turned out to be murder, it would inevitably lead to painful questions and even more painful answers.
“What other friends did Tommi have aside from these choir members?”
“He didn’t have very many other real friends, I don’t think. He had colleagues from work and sailing acquaintances, of course,but I didn’t really know the specifics of his life. Antti Sarkela might know.”
“When did you last see Tommi? Did he seem like his normal self?”
“He called us Tuesday evening to confirm that the villa would be empty. It’s been a little while since our last visit because my wife and I have been sailing on the coast of Sweden for the last three weeks. We didn’t arrive home until Monday.”
Peltonen paused to think. His brow wrinkled as he did so, and at that moment, he looked exactly like Tommi, who’d had the same habit.
“I don’t know if this means anything, but a couple of months ago Tommi asked me what recourse there was for making a debtor take legal responsibility when there isn’t any promissory note. When I asked for details, he was evasive. I got the impression that someone owed Tommi money and wasn’t willing to pay, but it didn’t seem like the sum was all that great—maybe around ten thousand marks.”
“Thank you. That may be very important. And finally—and this is just a routine question—where were you anchored on Saturday night? We have to check everyone’s whereabouts.” I was waiting for an indignant protest, but Peltonen just looked resigned.
“Yes, I understand. We spent that night in a small guest marina a little west of Barösund, and in the morning we had coffee in a café nearby. Our friends Jarl and Brita Sundström were with us, so you can check our...hmm...alibis...with them. I can give you their telephone number.”
Even though there was probably no point, I decided to follow up on this anyway. Trying to draw conclusions could be stimulating work in theory, but I had such scant material to workwith at this point. I knew that I would also have to interview Maisa Peltonen once she had had time to recover.
After another attempt, I succeeded in getting through to Germany. A “Frau Schön” answered the telephone, and it took me a moment to realize that this was, in fact, Jaana.
“Hi, it’s Maria Kallio, from Finland. How are you?”
“Maria! It’s nice to hear your voice after so long. Are you coming this way for a visit? I’m on maternity leave right now with my little Michael. He’s three months old. Just think, me with a baby! Sometimes I have absolutely no idea what to do with him.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t know what to do with a baby either. Unfortunately, I’m not coming to Germany. In fact, I’m calling on business. I’m working for the police department again, but it’s a long story why. In any case, this is why I’m calling: Tommi, your old boyfriend Tommi Peltonen, has died, and he was probably killed.”
Jaana’s startled cries and sobs on the other end of the line made me realize that I could have delivered the news less indelicately. But Jaana eventually calmed down, and I was able to explain the general outline of the case.
“I really don’t know why anyone would have
“It’s true that Tommi may have had a few too many girlfriends and that we were starting to hope that he would settle down. Otherwise, he had his act together. He graduated from the Helsinki University of Technology with high marks, his apartment is paid for, he seemed to like his job at Finnish Metals Incorporated, and he loved music and sailing. Aside from his dealings with women, he lived a normal, quiet life. I can’t understand why anyone would have killed him intentionally.”
I noticed that the furrows beneath Heikki Peltonen’s tan had deepened. He obviously wanted to make himself believe that his son’s death had been an accident. Easier to endure the loss that way. If Tommi’s death turned out to be murder, it would inevitably lead to painful questions and even more painful answers.
“What other friends did Tommi have aside from these choir members?”
“He didn’t have very many other real friends, I don’t think. He had colleagues from work and sailing acquaintances, of course,but I didn’t really know the specifics of his life. Antti Sarkela might know.”
“When did you last see Tommi? Did he seem like his normal self?”
“He called us Tuesday evening to confirm that the villa would be empty. It’s been a little while since our last visit because my wife and I have been sailing on the coast of Sweden for the last three weeks. We didn’t arrive home until Monday.”
Peltonen paused to think. His brow wrinkled as he did so, and at that moment, he looked exactly like Tommi, who’d had the same habit.
“I don’t know if this means anything, but a couple of months ago Tommi asked me what recourse there was for making a debtor take legal responsibility when there isn’t any promissory note. When I asked for details, he was evasive. I got the impression that someone owed Tommi money and wasn’t willing to pay, but it didn’t seem like the sum was all that great—maybe around ten thousand marks.”
“Thank you. That may be very important. And finally—and this is just a routine question—where were you anchored on Saturday night? We have to check everyone’s whereabouts.” I was waiting for an indignant protest, but Peltonen just looked resigned.
“Yes, I understand. We spent that night in a small guest marina a little west of Barösund, and in the morning we had coffee in a café nearby. Our friends Jarl and Brita Sundström were with us, so you can check our...hmm...alibis...with them. I can give you their telephone number.”
Even though there was probably no point, I decided to follow up on this anyway. Trying to draw conclusions could be stimulating work in theory, but I had such scant material to workwith at this point. I knew that I would also have to interview Maisa Peltonen once she had had time to recover.
After another attempt, I succeeded in getting through to Germany. A “Frau Schön” answered the telephone, and it took me a moment to realize that this was, in fact, Jaana.
“Hi, it’s Maria Kallio, from Finland. How are you?”
“Maria! It’s nice to hear your voice after so long. Are you coming this way for a visit? I’m on maternity leave right now with my little Michael. He’s three months old. Just think, me with a baby! Sometimes I have absolutely no idea what to do with him.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t know what to do with a baby either. Unfortunately, I’m not coming to Germany. In fact, I’m calling on business. I’m working for the police department again, but it’s a long story why. In any case, this is why I’m calling: Tommi, your old boyfriend Tommi Peltonen, has died, and he was probably killed.”
Jaana’s startled cries and sobs on the other end of the line made me realize that I could have delivered the news less indelicately. But Jaana eventually calmed down, and I was able to explain the general outline of the case.
“I really don’t know why anyone would have
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