night before, and he always kept the notebook on him.
He jumped back on his bike and didn’t turn, as he usually did, toward the station, instead continuing on the bike path toward Kissanmaa. He cut through the ice rink parking lot and turned onto Susi Street at five minutes to eight.
Wolf House was easy to find. It was an elongated wooden building reminiscent of an old village school. The grounds weren’t anything like a school’s, though—no children, basketball hoops , or playground equipment. The left wing of the building was one level, and the right wing, built on a gradual slope, was two storied. In the middle was a covered entrance with double glass doors.
Koskinen dismounted and walked his bicycle into the yard. Two men were sitting by the door smoking. They looked at the visitor curiously, but sat motionless even though he nodded a friendly good morning to them. Finally, each backed up his wheelchair a little to the side and continued their silent puffing .
The door, which lacked a threshold, opened onto a spacious lobby with long hallways leading off in both directions. In the corner on the right was a wide elevator door, and next to it stairs led down to the lower level. The walls were painted in lifeless colors, and the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling added to the institutional feeling of the building.
The wall opposite the entrance was broken by another wide, double glass door. A woman dressed in a light green scrub dress stepped through the doors into the lobby looking like she was expecting someone to arrive. However, her steps slowed, and she looked at Koskinen and his windbreaker suit skeptically.
Koskinen removed his baseball cap and wiped his palm on it.
“Lieutenant Koskinen, Violent Crimes Unit.”
The woman extended her hand hesitantly. “Lea Kalenius.”
Kalenius’ timid expression did not go unnoticed. She sized him up, from his tennis shoes all the way up to his sweaty hairline. He didn’t have to wonder why.
He didn’t start digging for his badge, instead getting straight down to business.
“Was it you who called the police this morning?”
Her chestnut eyes grew even more skittish. “Yes.”
Koskinen took his backpack off. “Where can we talk?”
“Let’s go into the dayroom.”
Kalenius turned and opened the same double doors she had just walked through. They led into a large, open room. The sun was shining in through tall windows, making it a cheerful space. A serving counter stood on the other side of the room, and behind it two women wearing hairnets. The room contained about a dozen tables , and there were people in wheelchairs grouped around all of them. Most of them seemed to manage on their own, but there were also a few who needed assistance. A woman with brisk movements was feeding one who seemed like a helpless young bird , and three more were waiting their turns.
“Let’s sit here off to the side,” Kalenius said and offered Koskinen a chair at a corner table. “We won’t be bothered here, and no one can listen in.”
Koskinen dug the photograph out of his backpack and set it on the table in front of her. Her expression immediately revealed that he was in the right place. The skin over her cheekbones tightened, her eyes widened, and her chest began heaving intensely. Koskinen dug a pen out of his backpack and let the woman collect her feelings in peace.
On the table was a smoke-blue vase with an arrangement of white chamomile and heather. Kalenius lifted her eyes from the photograph to the flowers. It took a long time before she was able to speak.
“It’s Raymond.”
“Raymond?”
“Raimo Timonen . Everyone here called him Raymond.”
Koskinen wrote the name down.
“When did you see him last?”
Apparently she had already thought about it earlier, because she answered immediately. “The day before yesterday. On Monday. He was sitting in his wheelchair in the yard and motored all the way down to the curb when I left work at three
He jumped back on his bike and didn’t turn, as he usually did, toward the station, instead continuing on the bike path toward Kissanmaa. He cut through the ice rink parking lot and turned onto Susi Street at five minutes to eight.
Wolf House was easy to find. It was an elongated wooden building reminiscent of an old village school. The grounds weren’t anything like a school’s, though—no children, basketball hoops , or playground equipment. The left wing of the building was one level, and the right wing, built on a gradual slope, was two storied. In the middle was a covered entrance with double glass doors.
Koskinen dismounted and walked his bicycle into the yard. Two men were sitting by the door smoking. They looked at the visitor curiously, but sat motionless even though he nodded a friendly good morning to them. Finally, each backed up his wheelchair a little to the side and continued their silent puffing .
The door, which lacked a threshold, opened onto a spacious lobby with long hallways leading off in both directions. In the corner on the right was a wide elevator door, and next to it stairs led down to the lower level. The walls were painted in lifeless colors, and the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling added to the institutional feeling of the building.
The wall opposite the entrance was broken by another wide, double glass door. A woman dressed in a light green scrub dress stepped through the doors into the lobby looking like she was expecting someone to arrive. However, her steps slowed, and she looked at Koskinen and his windbreaker suit skeptically.
Koskinen removed his baseball cap and wiped his palm on it.
“Lieutenant Koskinen, Violent Crimes Unit.”
The woman extended her hand hesitantly. “Lea Kalenius.”
Kalenius’ timid expression did not go unnoticed. She sized him up, from his tennis shoes all the way up to his sweaty hairline. He didn’t have to wonder why.
He didn’t start digging for his badge, instead getting straight down to business.
“Was it you who called the police this morning?”
Her chestnut eyes grew even more skittish. “Yes.”
Koskinen took his backpack off. “Where can we talk?”
“Let’s go into the dayroom.”
Kalenius turned and opened the same double doors she had just walked through. They led into a large, open room. The sun was shining in through tall windows, making it a cheerful space. A serving counter stood on the other side of the room, and behind it two women wearing hairnets. The room contained about a dozen tables , and there were people in wheelchairs grouped around all of them. Most of them seemed to manage on their own, but there were also a few who needed assistance. A woman with brisk movements was feeding one who seemed like a helpless young bird , and three more were waiting their turns.
“Let’s sit here off to the side,” Kalenius said and offered Koskinen a chair at a corner table. “We won’t be bothered here, and no one can listen in.”
Koskinen dug the photograph out of his backpack and set it on the table in front of her. Her expression immediately revealed that he was in the right place. The skin over her cheekbones tightened, her eyes widened, and her chest began heaving intensely. Koskinen dug a pen out of his backpack and let the woman collect her feelings in peace.
On the table was a smoke-blue vase with an arrangement of white chamomile and heather. Kalenius lifted her eyes from the photograph to the flowers. It took a long time before she was able to speak.
“It’s Raymond.”
“Raymond?”
“Raimo Timonen . Everyone here called him Raymond.”
Koskinen wrote the name down.
“When did you see him last?”
Apparently she had already thought about it earlier, because she answered immediately. “The day before yesterday. On Monday. He was sitting in his wheelchair in the yard and motored all the way down to the curb when I left work at three
Similar Books
