THEY DON’T HAVE far to drive. Patrik Laukkanen had been found murdered very close to his house. A clinker-built wooden house surrounded by a large garden. It looked as if it had only recently been painted, a soft pastel shade of orange reminiscent of apricots. This was the first time Joentaa had been there.
‘Here we are,’ said Sundström.
Joentaa nodded.
Sundström sat where he was, and Joentaa thought of what Salomon had said.
‘They have a child. A small baby,’ he said.
‘Oh, no, that too,’ said Sundström. He slumped back in his seat. Then he catapulted himself forward and opened the car door. ‘Right, let’s get this over with,’ he said, climbing out. Joentaa followed him. He thought he saw the silhouette of a woman behind the window next to the front door. The nameplate on the letterbox said Laukkanen/Jauhiainen. Sundström rang the bell. Joentaa heard footsteps on the other side of the door, and felt a stabbing pain inside him. Leena Jauhiainen opened the door.
‘Oh, Kimmo … and …’
‘Sundström. Paavo Sundström. We met briefly at the Christmas party.’
‘Of course. I remember. Patrik isn’t here. Since the snow started he’s been going out cross-country skiing every morning. I hope … I hope he doesn’t have to go in to work today, does he?’
‘Yes?’ she said. A baby was crying in the background. ‘Is … is everything all right?’
‘May we come in?’
‘Of course. Go into the living room, I must just see to Kalle for a moment.’ She went into another room, and Joentaa followed Sundström into the house. A large, lavishly decorated Christmas tree stood in the living room. Leena came back with the baby, who was not crying so noisily now, in her arms.
They stood looking at each other for a little while.
‘Has … has anything happened? You’re kind of frightening me,’ she said.
‘Patrik is dead,’ said Sundström. ‘He was … was attacked while he was skiing and killed.’
Leena did not reply, and Joentaa froze.
‘I … I’m very sorry,’ said Sundström, and Leena shook her head.
The baby smiled.