He smirks. “We had many falling-outs. He always came groveling back, and I rewarded his cringing monetarily.”
“What if this time he didn’t come groveling back? What if this time he teamed up with the extremists who felt betrayed by you—I understand they were all well acquainted—and together, they faked the kidnapping? It does appear, after all, that Jussi Kosonen was a patsy. Upon examining the man, it even seems ridiculous that he could have pulled off such a crime.”
“Then why,” Saukko asks, and pours another couple hundred euros down his throat in a gulp, “was Kaarina murdered? Antti wouldn’t have shot her.”
“But Kosonen was shot. Maybe Antti fucked his buddies, killed Kosonen, and disappeared with the money. They might have shot Kaarina as payback.”
“Antti,” Saukko says, “is a fucking *. He hasn’t got the balls to shoot anyone.”
I smoke, try not to choke on the cigar and damage my manly image that he seems to value so highly. I hate cigars. “On the contrary, I’m told he’s crazy for water sports—surfing, yachting—and also extreme sports like skydiving and bungee jumping. The impression is that he has plenty of balls and is reckless.”
“A fa?ade, and far different from physical confrontation.”
“True. However, people will surprise you. I understand that the three paintings stolen from you were as yet uninsured. That would be difficult information to ascertain and to cull out from your vast holdings.”
He takes this in. “Somewhat difficult.”
“Who, may I ask, saw to the installation of the security system, which I understand is relatively new?”
He’s coming around and takes time to think before answering. “Antti.”
“How much of this information have you shared with the detective now in charge of your case, Saska Lindgren?”
He scoffs. “As little as fucking possible. That goddamned Gypsy comes here to the house and he steals, and I have to have the place sterilized after he leaves. That’s why Adrien is here. To sort this out, get my money back and kill my daughter’s killer.”
I never really believed all that crazy shit they said about Howard Hughes before now. His soul mate is sitting in front of me.
“Sir, would you have any objection to me exploring the possibility that Antti was involved in a bogus kidnapping, set up and killed Kosonen, and escaped with your ten million euros?”
“No. You may explore it.”
“I’ll have to call Saska Lindgren and ask for his go-ahead.”
“I’ll make the fucking call.” He disappears to another room. He comes back and hands me his cell phone. The prime minister is on the line. “I know you can’t talk in front of Saukko,” he says. “Yes, you can take the case, at least for now, and I’ll square it with Detective Sergeant Lindgren. And I’ll see that he gets credit if you solve it. He’s got a year invested in it after all. It’s only fair, because Saukko impeded his investigation.”
“OK,” I say. The PM rings off.
I sit down again. “You have your own dry dock here, correct?”
“Yes, I have a number of craft of different sizes and varieties, including my smallest yacht. I also collect vehicles and have a large garage for them. And I employ a full-time skipper, crew and mechanics to maintain them all.”
“Would you notice if a small craft was missing?”
“Not necessarily. As the whole family has access to the vehicles and watercraft, only the skipper would know by checking the manifest. The kids sign them out when they take them.”
I finish the cognac, stub out the cigar. “Kosonen was killed on the riverbank. Antti would have needed a small craft to get away. Could we go now and check the manifest to see if a suitable craft has been missing since the kidnapping?”