THE SHARP OUTLINE of the glass tower thrust up against the pale blue sky. Kimmo Joentaa entered the building through the broad swing doors. One of the doormen greeted him and tried to call Tuula Palonen, but she was not in her office. He tried again and reached one of her colleagues. After a short conversation the doorman ended the call and said, ‘He’s just coming. You can wait in the cafeteria.’
‘Thank you,’ said Joentaa. He went through another door into the large hall. The place where Hämäläinen had been stabbed was still secured by a barrier of yellow tape, and looked a little like something in an exhibition, or an artist’s installation with some indefinable meaning. He went past it, on to the cafeteria, and sat down at an empty table.
Soon a young man came towards him with quick, purposeful footsteps. ‘Olli Latvala,’ he said. ‘You must be the gentleman from the police?’
‘Yes. Kimmo Joentaa.’
‘I don’t think we’ve met before.’
‘No.’
‘I’ve been busy for the last few days with plans for the annual retrospective. That’s why I’m also pretty busy at the moment. You want to speak to Tuula Palonen?’
‘Yes. Although maybe you could help me just as well,’ said Joentaa.
‘Sure, if I can.’
‘It’s about the show with Harri Mäkelä and Patrik Laukkanen, the forensic pathologist.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’d like to see any recorded material available. I’m particularly interested in the audience.’
‘The audience?’
‘Yes, there’s always a camera turned on the audience, isn’t there? To catch their reactions.’
‘Ah … yes, of course.’
‘Is that material available? Will it be in the archives somewhere?’
‘Er … you may laugh, but I have no idea. I’m responsible for preparations for the show and assessment of it afterwards. In between, the programme itself is in other hands. I’d have to ask the director, or the cutter responsible.’
‘That would be kind of you. It’s rather urgent. And one more question: are the names of the audience for a given show on record?’
‘Er …’
‘I mean, are there lists of their names?’
‘Well, no. Unless we’ve specially asked someone to come. In that case we have the records because we send the tickets for the show by post. But anyone can turn up spontaneously and ask if there’s still space in the studio.’
‘Good. I’d very much like to see any such lists.’
‘I understand. I tell you what, you have a cup or two of coffee here while I try to dig up any material.’
‘Fine,’ said Joentaa.
‘You’re welcome. I’ll be back in quarter of an hour,’ said Olli Latvala, walking purposefully past the yellow tape towards the lifts, and Joentaa sank back into his chair.
The waitress came and wiped his table with a cloth. ‘Can I get you something?’ she asked.
‘Er … tea,’ said Joentaa. ‘Peppermint tea. No … camomile tea, please.’