“I was disappointed when I learned these things, too,” Pasi says. “There’s a lot more information out there if you care to look for it. A lot of it in the public domain on the Internet. Most people just don’t want to hear it.”
When I get off the phone, I hear Kate, John and Mary chatting. Mary isn’t lecturing. John isn’t drunk. Their voices are cheerful. They’re smiling. This heartens me. I say good-bye to them and set out to find Bettie Page Linda.
33
I drive to Vantaa. Road conditions are bad. Helsinki is experiencing a near-record snowfall. Snowplows run twenty-four/seven but can’t keep up. Towers of snow line the streets. Usually, snow is carted away in trucks and dumped, but the city has run out of places to put it. Some roads are impassable.
I get to Filippov Construction at four forty-five p.m. and park about fifty yards from the front door. Because of the falling snow, my car is almost invisible from this distance. Filippov and Linda exit the building at five and leave in separate cars. She drives a 2003 Ford Mustang. He drives a new Dodge Journey. They go in different directions. I suspect he’s going home and she’s going to Helsinki.
Following Linda is easy. She doesn’t drive too fast, road traffic is light, and I’m difficult to spot because of weather conditions. I was right, she goes straight to downtown Helsinki and enters a parking garage. I park in the same garage. She walks toward Stockmann Department Store. I close the gap between us and catch her under the big clock at the main entrance. I touch her arm, and she turns.
“Ms. Pohjola,” I say, “I’d like a word, if I may.”
She bats her dark eyes at me and her red lips turn up into a charming smile. “Tell me, Inspector, what would you like to talk about?”
“Sex, lies and videotape.”
Her laugh is giddy. “Oh, dear, that boy that works with you has been in my computer. He also rooted around in my underwear drawer. If he’s going to be a successful voyeur, he has to learn to put things back in their proper places.”
I wait.
“Yes,” she says, “let’s have a chat. Do you have somewhere in mind?”
“How about Iguana? The tables in the back might offer us some privacy.”
She nods agreement and takes my arm. We walk like lovers across the street and into the faux Mexican restaurant. “A hot drink would be nice,” she says.
She moves toward a big table in the rear and takes off her coat. Underneath it, she has on a tight black sweater and a short black skirt. Black stockings descend into black leather boots. Her attire doesn’t surprise me. A lot of Helsinki women refuse to succumb to the weather, no matter how severe, at the expense of fashion.
I bring us two Irish coffees and sit across from her. She takes a sip. It leaves an ungodly sexy line of cream along her upper lip. She licks it away, provocative. Linda is drop-dead gorgeous. “Where shall we begin?” she asks.
I decide on the aggressive approach. “The murder of Iisa Filippov has strong fetish overtones, and the fetishes you and Ivan Filippov engage in suggest that I should suspect you of the crime.”
She taunts me. “Why, Inspector, what fetishes might you mean? Let me guess, you saw a video in which I perform fellatio on Ivan while I masturbate with a vibrator. He wears a mask and is quite rough with me. I orgasm, then use the vibrator on him, and he comes, too. Did the video you saw go something like that?”
She’s embarrassing me, as is her intention. “Yes, very much like that.”
She looks at me with impish glee, and although Linda is beautiful, I notice certain flaws. Her right eye is a little slow. Her lips are on the thin side. “It’s not as if I’m the only one who enjoys these kinds of sex games,” she says. “Your national chief of police does as well. At least, he seemed to.”
This comes out of left field, takes me off guard. “You enacted this particular sex game with Jyri?”
“Something like it. On the morning of Iisa’s murder. Jyri can serve as my alibi.”
“Why do you think both Filippov and Jyri failed to mention this to me?”