I imagine the school shooter’s head slump after Milo put a bullet in the back of it. And then the prime minister both pisses me off and makes me cringe.
“And now,” he says, “along with this young man…” He gestures for Sweetness to stand. Sweetness plays the role, lazily stretches his arms in a way that seems natural, and shows the twin monster .45s in their holsters under his jacket. The crowd is drunk and over-impressed. Sweetness gets up. “…they’ll soon bring to justice the murderer of Lisbet S?derlund, an event of such horror that it will be remembered as a dark nadir in the annals of Finnish history. These men are our Untouchables.” He slurs the word. “Untushables.”
Milo shoots me a “Told ya so” smirk. “Inspector Vaara,” the prime minister asks, “would you tell us how the case progresses?”
Rounds of shots start hitting the table at regular intervals. The true boozing begins.
Jenna gazes at Sweetness with an adoration that extends far beyond familial love. A Jerry Lee Lewis scenario is in the making.
I put on my practiced in the mirror smile, the extra-wide version. “With strong-arm tactics, shakedowns, extortion, threats, intimidation and beatings, we intend to terrorize Finland’s racist community until they give up the killer of their own volition, to save themselves more pain.”
The crowd doesn’t know if I’m joking or not. Either way, they like it. They laugh and clap. I notice Kate does neither. The crowd gets drunker and mills around. All the men make it to our end of the table at some point. Whether they’re interested in us crime fighters or not, we’ve got the young primo tail and they want a closer look. Of course, the nation’s leading politicians combined with said primo tail makes our group the focus of attention of all the other patrons in the restaurant.
Kate makes friends with Mirjami and Jenna. Kate wears an evening dress and her Manolo pumps. Mirjami has forsaken Hello Kitty garb and stadin slangi for a white and pretty, rather conservative summer dress that accents her tan, and she speaks standard Finnish. Jenna wears nice jeans and top that shows her magnificent cleavage to good advantage. Casual dress is fine in Juttutupa—I’m wearing jeans myself—and I don’t think Jenna has a big wardrobe budget. She doesn’t drop her East Helsinki dialect. I doubt she can. She doesn’t try to be anything but herself, and with her looks, she doesn’t have to. Mirjami asks Kate questions about me. “What’s it like to be married to a famous cop?”
Kate gives a smirk and drunken snort. “Like being married to Tony Soprano.”
Mirjami asks more personal things, what I’m like as a person. Sneaky. Kate doesn’t catch on. I don’t care for it.
The male politicos all introduce themselves at some point. They’re at that state of drunkenness where they’ve forgotten their own escorts and that our girls are taken and hope our lookers will shoot them some trim.
The prime minister isn’t so drunk, just polite. He strikes up a conversation with Kate, finds out she manages K?mp, and suggests the possibility of making a deal for all foreign dignitaries to stay there at a fixed rate. She gives him a business card. He promises to call. She beams excitement. Everyone drinks too much, except me. A little after midnight, the interior minister suggests a continuation of affairs of state aboard his yacht tomorrow. All present are invited and should meet at the Nyland Yacht Club Blekholmen clubhouse at noon. He asks who’s in. All shout approval.
The interior minister and Jyri approach me. “Allow me to introduce Inspector Vaara, my hatchet man,” Jyri says.
I say, “I prefer the term ‘enforcer.’”
The minister says he’d like for me to be at the yacht club, and hopes I’ll bring Kate. He would like to speak with her as well. This piques my curiosity. I thanked Jyri for arranging the babysitter, she seemed perfect, but said I would need another tomorrow.