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asked, laughing.
    I shook the powder out of my hair before answering.
    “My legs are tired. They feel really weird. I think I might be coming down with something. Or maybe my period is starting. That could be it.”
    “Maybe we should turn back,” Antti suggested.
    I managed to turn around on my Jell-O legs. Trying not to think about how weak I felt, I concentrated on Antti’s back gliding along ahead of me. His green anorak glowed against the snow, his shadow looking impossibly tall and thin. His large, aquiline nose looked even more prominent than usual when he turned back to ask whether the speed was OK. I was relieved when I finally saw the house lights and glad to know a hot sauna was waiting. The thought of getting warm and crawling into bed with Einstein curled up on my feet after his evening meal was heavenly.
    But even when I was finally lying in bed listening to him purr, my thoughts kept turning to Elina. She wouldn’t leave me alone in my dreams either. I saw her walking along a lake of ice, wearing a flowing white nightgown. Suddenly the wind took hold of the nightgown and lifted Elina into the air, twirling her highe r . . . highe r . . . highe r . . . until finally she was nothing but a speck disappearing in a swirl of snowflakes.
     
    In the morning, I’d barely made it into my office before Aira Rosberg phoned. Still no sign of Elina. I explained that I’d have to connect her with Patrol. Without any evidence of a crime, a disappearance didn’t fall under our unit’s responsibilities.
    “I’m so sorry to impose on you, bu t . . . I was hoping tha t . . . that you could come here.” Aira sounded concerned and confused. “If I call the regular police, they’re sure to send a man here, and I know Elina wouldn’t approve of that.”
    “There are plenty of women in that department these days, but I’ll see what I can do.” I put down the handset and quickly checked my schedule. My afternoon wasn’t booked solid, so I had time to swing by Nuuksio. “I’ll come around two. Call me back if you hear anything from Elina.”
    Just then Taskinen opened the door and summoned me to the interrogation room. In addition to all the Christmas assaults, we were in the middle of a complicated money laundering investigation that fell jointly to us and the Finance Unit. One of the main perpetrators was an MBA type who’d started his career in bankruptcy fraud sometime back in the 1970s and had organized this new operation from prison. Today we were interviewing the suspect’s brother-in-law, who was one of the key stockholders in the front company.
    Taskinen and I thought that if we bombarded him with quick cross-examination questions, we might be able to put him off balance, at least momentarily. We badgered him for close to three hours before we were satisfied. He had contradicted himself several times and made so many little slips that we decided we had enough to file charges. We’d been plugging away at the case since the summer, and it felt fantastic to finally have some movement on it.
    “Do you have time for lunch?” Taskinen asked as we were leaving the interrogation room.
    “Actually I have something to talk to you about.” On our way down to the cafeteria I explained Elina Rosberg’s strange disappearance and asked permission to go have a look—informally, of course—to see whether I could find any evidence of a crime. Truth be told, I’d already made up my mind to go whether I had permission or not.
    “I have a feeling Aira Rosberg isn’t telling me the real reason why she’s concerned enough about Elina to turn to the police,” I said.
    We started loading food on our trays. Taskinen chose skim milk and didn’t take any butter for his bread. I squirted ketchup all over my cheesy macaroni casserole and poured thick garlic dressing on my salad. Taskinen shook his head in amusement when he looked at my plate. He waited until we were settled at our table before saying anything