call.”
“I should still go. It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t have a light on my bike.”
“What does that matter?”
Tomi looked at his father, perplexed, and then stood up to his full height. Koskinen had to admit that his son had turned out taller than him, even though he had always teased him that it would never happen. His dense blond hair was tied back in a thick ponytail, and the beard projecting from his chin was pointed like on a young goat.
“Why didn’t you bring the Volvo?”
“The starter is acting up. The solenoid is probably busted.”
Koskinen nodded sympathetically, happy that he didn’t have to tackle all those repairs anymore. On the other hand, his conscience bothered him for having foisted his old beater off on his son. He dug something from the pockets of his jacket that was hanging on the rack.
“I could give you a key.”
“For what?”
“For this apartment.”
“What would I do with it?”
“I was thinking that you wouldn’t have to wait on the landing like today. I have a few of these extra keys anyways.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t use it. I’ll call when I’m coming by again,” Tomi said and threw his backpack on. “Later.”
“Bye.”
Koskinen stared at the closed door. He stood there in the hallway for a long time, squeezing the key in his fist.
H e ended up going back into the kitchen. The cookies had been eaten, and the tea had already cooled. He sat down at the table, leaned his chin on his palm, and thought about whether he should go back to the station to help Riipinen. That felt ridiculous too. What would Riipinen need help for?
He stared out the window for a while. A gray layer of clouds hung above the rooftops, and the evening had started to darken. He thought about whether Tomi would make it home to Kaleva before dark. Would Silja be surprised that he was coming back so early?
Koskinen decided to go out for a run. He would have time to go around the shoreline trail three times before nine. That was when the old Hitchcock movie would be starting on TV. The one he had been thinking of watching with Tomi .
Five minutes later he was already running toward the lake so fast that passers-by must have thought he was being chased.
6.
The man was old and sick—he didn’t get much sleep anymore. The disease tore at his insides, never giving rest the opportunity to come.
The convulsive burning had forced him up out of his bed. He had shuffled into the kitchen and pressed his perspiring forehead against the cool window. Even with his eyes clouded in pain , he had noticed the movement in the dark yard. Someone was skulking behind the R aven. Anger gave him a moment of relief, shaking his frail body, and for a few seconds extinguishing the fire raging in his belly. With no time to waste, he t ook support from the door jamb and staggered out.
He had to protect the R aven.
The man knew he would soon escape his suffering. His last days would have been easier in the hospital, but he wanted to die at home with his R aven. It was always faithful. God took his wife, and his son hadn’t visited in years.
The R aven had spread its wings threateningly, but the human figure behind it did not seem afraid. The man struggled closer with the last of his strength. Fly away, he gasped, fly away to safety and take me with you. The man was thankful one last time as he saw the R aven stir.
Dear bird, always faithful, in you I trust.
The R aven pecked the man on the top of his head, and the agony that had shaken his body departed, along with his consciousness.
7.
Koskinen’s breakfast was, in all its simplicity, high in fiber. He mixed oat grits and lingonberries with nonfat milk, stirred them into one big, pink m e ss, and added a pinch of sugar on top. It would keep his hunger at bay until noon.
He spread the morning paper out in front of him , and f ound the article on page eight. It said that the body of an unidentified man had been found in a
“I should still go. It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t have a light on my bike.”
“What does that matter?”
Tomi looked at his father, perplexed, and then stood up to his full height. Koskinen had to admit that his son had turned out taller than him, even though he had always teased him that it would never happen. His dense blond hair was tied back in a thick ponytail, and the beard projecting from his chin was pointed like on a young goat.
“Why didn’t you bring the Volvo?”
“The starter is acting up. The solenoid is probably busted.”
Koskinen nodded sympathetically, happy that he didn’t have to tackle all those repairs anymore. On the other hand, his conscience bothered him for having foisted his old beater off on his son. He dug something from the pockets of his jacket that was hanging on the rack.
“I could give you a key.”
“For what?”
“For this apartment.”
“What would I do with it?”
“I was thinking that you wouldn’t have to wait on the landing like today. I have a few of these extra keys anyways.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t use it. I’ll call when I’m coming by again,” Tomi said and threw his backpack on. “Later.”
“Bye.”
Koskinen stared at the closed door. He stood there in the hallway for a long time, squeezing the key in his fist.
H e ended up going back into the kitchen. The cookies had been eaten, and the tea had already cooled. He sat down at the table, leaned his chin on his palm, and thought about whether he should go back to the station to help Riipinen. That felt ridiculous too. What would Riipinen need help for?
He stared out the window for a while. A gray layer of clouds hung above the rooftops, and the evening had started to darken. He thought about whether Tomi would make it home to Kaleva before dark. Would Silja be surprised that he was coming back so early?
Koskinen decided to go out for a run. He would have time to go around the shoreline trail three times before nine. That was when the old Hitchcock movie would be starting on TV. The one he had been thinking of watching with Tomi .
Five minutes later he was already running toward the lake so fast that passers-by must have thought he was being chased.
6.
The man was old and sick—he didn’t get much sleep anymore. The disease tore at his insides, never giving rest the opportunity to come.
The convulsive burning had forced him up out of his bed. He had shuffled into the kitchen and pressed his perspiring forehead against the cool window. Even with his eyes clouded in pain , he had noticed the movement in the dark yard. Someone was skulking behind the R aven. Anger gave him a moment of relief, shaking his frail body, and for a few seconds extinguishing the fire raging in his belly. With no time to waste, he t ook support from the door jamb and staggered out.
He had to protect the R aven.
The man knew he would soon escape his suffering. His last days would have been easier in the hospital, but he wanted to die at home with his R aven. It was always faithful. God took his wife, and his son hadn’t visited in years.
The R aven had spread its wings threateningly, but the human figure behind it did not seem afraid. The man struggled closer with the last of his strength. Fly away, he gasped, fly away to safety and take me with you. The man was thankful one last time as he saw the R aven stir.
Dear bird, always faithful, in you I trust.
The R aven pecked the man on the top of his head, and the agony that had shaken his body departed, along with his consciousness.
7.
Koskinen’s breakfast was, in all its simplicity, high in fiber. He mixed oat grits and lingonberries with nonfat milk, stirred them into one big, pink m e ss, and added a pinch of sugar on top. It would keep his hunger at bay until noon.
He spread the morning paper out in front of him , and f ound the article on page eight. It said that the body of an unidentified man had been found in a
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