Free Darling by Jarkko Sipila

ves, you say,” the man repeated, his voice full of doubt, though seeing the paper overalls at least helped him believe they weren’t two-bit junkies.
    “Yeah, and we’re in the middle of an investigation.”
    “No doubt, no doubt,” the man said. “Must be important.”
    “A murder case,” Kulta added.
    “Huh. I’ll just toss this bag in here, if that’s alright.”
    Kulta glanced at Kohonen, who still had the flashlight directed at the man.
    “And who are you, bringing your trash out at three in the morning?” Kulta asked.
    “Well, I’m leaving for work in a bit , and I needed to walk Riku first. This bag was lying in the park and I thought I’d pick it up. Tryin’ to be ecofriendly, you know.”
    Kohonen turned the flashlight on the yellow Alepa bag. It looked like there was a lump inside.
    “So that’s not your bag?”
    “No, it was in the park.”
    Kulta took a better look at the man.
    “Did we talk earlier today?”
    “Hard to say, I can’t see you,” the man said, squinting.
    Kulta remembered meeting the man while doing his rounds in the apartment building.
    “Do you work for the Parks Department?”
    “No, construction.”
    Kohonen stepped forward, but froze when the dog started growling.
    “Riku, sit,” the man said, yanking the already tight leash.
    “I’ll take a look at that,” Kohonen said.
    The man stretched his arm out to hand Kohonen the bag, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing gloves. Kohonen stepped back and opened the bag with caution. She saw a couple of cloths with bloodstains on them.
    She looked up at the man and asked, “Where was this?”
    “I told you already, it was in the park.”
    “ Show us,” Kohonen suggested and stepped outside behind the man.
    It was still snowing. Not good, Kohonen thought. The fallen snow would cover tracks and destroy evidence.
     
    * * *
     
    Korpivaara lay on the cot in his cell. He stared at the dark ceiling, unable to sleep. He thought of his father again in the Turku University Hospital, in his brown hospital gown and no pants, only a diaper.
    The doctor had said his father wouldn’t make it to his next shift and told the family to just be strong. Korpivaara had wondered how he would do that.
    Jorma had gone to get something to eat at the hospital cafeteria, and when he returned the room was completely silent. Jorma couldn’t feel a pulse. He pressed the alarm and a nurse hurried in. She confirmed what Jorma already knew: his father was dead. There were no emergency teams, no efforts to revive him, only the nurse pronouncing him dead.
    The nurse told him that if anyone wanted to see the body, they’d have two hours. Mom took a taxi there. She said that death was merciful—more merciful than the man himself.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    THURSDAY,
    DECEMBER 8, 2011
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 7
    THURSDAY , 9:10 A.M.
    SOMEWHERE OVER THE GULF OF FINLAND
     
    Nea Lind sat in seat 17C. The Finnair morning flight from Rome was half empty, and she had the row to herself, which suited her just fine. Lind was reading a book on her iPad after she had first leafed through the two Finnish tabloids, both raving about the evening gowns at the President’s Independence Day Ball. The attorney was disappointed that she didn’t find an article about a murder. The press probably didn’t yet know about the case the police had called her about. Interesting, Lind thought. There must be something to hide.
    Nea Lind was pleased—it wasn’t often the police referred a case to her. She wasn’t sure why they had, as she didn’t have much reputation or visibility in legal circles yet, and her practice was too new to have made a name for itself.
    The flight attendant reached for the cup Lind had placed on her tray, and she then closed her tray. She’d had to wake up early for the morning flight. Last night she had had a few drinks at the hotel bar, where an American businessman tried to get her to go to Milan with him, but she had to return