“If you ever had a chance of making a case against me,” he says, “your moron partner destroyed it with his bungled illegal search.” He stands and walks out.
I recall Milo’s theory about the murder and protective clothing. I picture how it might have been. Filippov and Linda engage in their sexual fetish. As seen on video, Ivan is naked except for the mask and black vinyl gloves. Linda wears black lingerie. A bra that exposes her nipples for easy torture, crotchless panties, garters, stockings and pumps.
During the murder though, they have on toxic-waste gear to keep blood and attendant DNA off of them. She has on a white paper suit with a hood and foot covering, and probably industrial vinyl gloves, as in the video. Only her mouth is exposed. She would have had to tear a hole in the crotch of the suit in order to insert her dildo. Filippov also wears a hooded paper suit and gloves, plus respirator. He also needs a rip in the crotch for his penis to extend through, in order to get it into Linda’s mouth, and for Linda to be able to jam the dildo up his ass.
It comes to me. Filippov and Linda didn’t just make an audio recording of the murder, they made a video. Making the video, so they could watch it again and again during ritualized sadomasochistic sex, may have been as much of a motivation for killing Iisa as committing the murder itself. Because of this, I believe that somewhere, that video exists.
I ask myself-if they got rid of the toxic-waste protection garments after the murder-what might they not have disposed of that could have picked up blood spatter? Answer: Linda’s dildo and the camcorder used in filming. Milo says the dildo was recently washed, but it’s hard to give a camcorder a scrubbing thorough enough to remove all DNA. I think Filippov filmed Milo’s illegal entry of Linda’s apartment with the same camera. We no longer need Milo’s illegally obtained evidence. One way or another, I’ll find the camera and video, and Iisa’s diary, if it still exists. And I’ll convict them.
I go down the hall to Milo’s office and knock on his door. No answer. I open the door anyway. He’s sitting at his desk, staring at a black computer monitor, brooding. I toss him the memory stick. He makes no effort to catch it, lets it land at his feet.
“You got caught,” I say.
No response.
“Iisa’s time of death was in the neighborhood of eight a.m.,” I say. “The security tape proves they got to Filippov Construction around nine. If Filippov and Linda wore protective clothing while they murdered Iisa, they must have dressed for work there in Saar’s apartment, then got rid of the bloody gear somewhere along the drive from Helsinki to Vantaa. Make yourself useful. Figure out their most likely route, drive it, and look for places they might have dumped the gear.”
A waste of time. Useless busywork. Milo is unpredictable at his best, has already come near to destroying this investigation. Killing Legion made him an incompetent emotional wreck, a liability. I picture Legion slumped on the floor, blood trickling out of his head. The experience didn’t do a lot for me, either. Still, as much as possible, it’s time to cut Milo out of the investigation so I can finish it.
30
I make the journey through a snowstorm, along icy highways, back to Porvoo. The faint smell of cat piss and the strong gamey scent of roasting moose and turnips fill Arvid’s house. He invites me in, cordial but wary. I’m not sure if he regards me as friend or enemy. Maybe a bit of both. Ritva greets me with warmth, asks me if I’m feeling better. Arvid and I sit at the dinner table. Ritva serves us coffee and bustles in the kitchen.
I lay Pasi Tervomaa’s book, Einsatzkommando Finnland and Stalag 309, on the table between us. “Maybe you should read what’s been written about you,” I say.