Death Spiral Read Online Free PDF Page B

the night before.
    “Koivu, will you do me a favor and call Ulrika Weissenberg? Pretend you’re from some charity or something. I want to know whether she’s home but not let her know I’m coming.”
    “Why me? Why not you or Pihko?”
    “Because we’re going over there right now if she’s home.”
    Koivu muttered something and went to the car to make the call, but he came back almost immediately, his bearish face in a grin.
    “That lady’s hard as nails. She went off like a siren yelling at me. Apparently she already donates to the children’s hospital and Church Aid, so she doesn’t have time for any other panhandlers.”
    “Well, what did you ask for a donation for?” Pihko asked.
    “A shelter for retired police dogs . . . No, actually I said I was from an AIDS Council. That was the first thing that came to mind, but based on the reception I don’t think it was a very good choice.”
    “Thanks, Koivu,” I said. “We’ll see you later today. How about we meet up around two and compare notes? Pihko, come on, let’s go!”
    I didn’t want to hang around the earthy-smelling forest looking for signs of murder any longer. The baby was bored of being in one place too and was swimming around inside me restlessly. Although I would have preferred to climb the grassy hill and stare at the clouds while I felt the movements in my belly, trying to calm down and concentrate on the interviews ahead of me, I knew direct action was the best medicine for the angry pain that was blazing inside of me. I wanted to nail the son of a bitch who had beaten this gifted young girl with her own figure skates.
    The Weissenbergs lived in an expensive old Swedish residential area filled with single-family homes. The yards were big, and each house was more attractive than the last. The Weissenberg’s house seemed to be one story until you noticed how it rambled cleverly down a sloping hill in back. The front door was hard to find among all the rose bushes. I rang the doorbell, but no one answered. We were just about to leave when we heard scratching and then barking, which was cut off by a snapped command. The door swung open, and I found myself staring at the woman from the performance of Snow White, who had been wearing the fur coat and trying in vain to get the kids to be quiet after their performance.
    She was wearing a thick coat of carefully applied makeup and her dark-brown hair was pulled back in a large bun. Gold jewelry framed a tanned, aquiline profile. Her black suit with white trim looked simple but had probably cost a cop’s monthly salary. The heels of her black pumps were at least four inches tall. Ulrika Weissenberg was just the kind of woman who always made me notice the unruliness of my hair and the wrinkles in my shirt. I hadn’t bothered to put on makeup that morning either, since I had biked to work.
    “Hello. I’m Sergeant Kallio and this is Officer Pihko from the Espoo Police. May we come in?”
    Weissenberg ordered the white poodle yapping at her feet to back off. Her gaze scanned me and then Pihko.
    “I imagine you’re here about Noora Nieminen’s death,” she said.
    “So you’ve heard?” I asked as I stepped next to Weissenberg in the entryway, even though no invitation had come.
    “Noora’s father called me an hour ago. Yes, of course, come in. I’ll try to be of any assistance I can, although I don’t know much about the incident. Let’s go to my office.” Weissenberg turned, and I followed in the jasmine-smelling perfume wake she left.
    Weissenberg’s home was just as neatly groomed as its owner. Her office was located at the north end of the house, with a view of a forest growing from exposed bedrock. Separated by only half a mile, the contrast with the bare concrete walls of Elena Grigorieva’s apartment was striking. The furniture was Italian, with delicate lines. Pihko gingerly sat in a tripod chair, as if expecting it to fall over. I sank into a black leather