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live off your blood money on the island of Lesbos with your girlfriend, or whatever people like you do.”
    I couldn’t help but detest Laitio. His suspicions indicated that the Bureau and the Moscow militia had no clue about this case. Maybe they didn’t even want to be involved.
    “Surely you have access to Anita Nuutinen’s phone records. You can check them to see that I called her many times, apparently even after she was already dead. Why would I have done that if I were her murderer?”
    Laitio let out his unpleasant laugh again.
    “You think I’m an idiot, sweetheart? Of course you would have, so that you could sit here and ask that innocent question! So you regretted leaving her, eh?”
    “Yes, I did. I tried calling her, and—” I was going to tell Laitio that I had gone after Anita, but his phone rang and interrupted us. He answered, and apparently he was angry with whoever was on the other end.
    “Could you leave for a moment?” he spat at me. “Just go to the hallway. I’ll let you back in as soon as I’m done. And don’t even think about running away—I’ll send half of Helsinki’s police force after you!”
    I did as I was told. Although it was annoying to be bossed around, it was nice to get out of the cigar smoke and into the hallway, and the balcony offered even fresher air. To my surprise I could hear Laitio’s voice coming from a small window that was letting out more sound than smoke. He spoke in English with a heavy accent.
    “I don’t believe you. It’s all bullshit and you know it. Shut up! I’ll contact the Finnish Embassy and our foreign minister.”
    When he went quiet, I slinked back to the hallway, and soon his angry red face appeared at the door. His bald head was beaded with sweat when he pulled me in.
    “Get your hands off me or I’ll make an official complaint!” I shouted.
    “Who’d believe you? I’ve been a cop for thirty-two years without a single incident. Goddamned irresponsible women like you really piss me off—you’ll do anything for money. The Moscow militia found the murderer. Some homeless alcoholic who was living at the Frunzenskaya subway station. They found him dead from alcohol poisoning today, with Nuutinen’s wallet and passport on him.”
    I stared at Laitio in disbelief. Now I understood why he’d been yelling on the phone.
    “A homeless man. But wasn’t Anita shot?” I asked.
    “How would you know about that?”
    “You said so on the phone.”
    “Ooh, but I didn’t! I wouldn’t be so stupid as to tell a suspect how the crime was committed. No Finnish media has reported these details.”
    I had told Laitio during our first call that I had not heard anything. I quickly came up with a story about how I had been to an Internet café in Joensuu and happened to check the Russian news sites. Laitio asked me to give him the café address, and I said I hadn’t paid attention to it; it was the one near the marketplace.
    The militia’s story about a homeless murderer was ludicrous. They may have believed it, and someone may have manipulated the evidence to make sure that a single wallet would be sufficiently convincing. But a homeless man probably had nothing more on him than a knife and his own fists, and Anita wouldn’t have gotten near homeless people, anyway. Bullshit, indeed. Laitio was right.
    “So you’d been poking around Russian websites, huh? You speak Russki, or did you get a call from the killer?” Laitio was still trying to be menacing, but he had lost steam after the phone call and started to slump. His cigar had gone out, so he lit it again.
    After a moment he opened the box and offered me one. When I declined he frowned and launched another tirade. “What’s the matter? You’re too good for the good stuff? I thought you had a reason to celebrate! Where are you keeping the blood money, huh? In a safe somewhere in Moscow? Goddamn it, if I catch you trying to cross the border, I’ll have you arrested!”
    I let him rant for