Light in a Dark House by Jan Costin Wagner Read Free Book Online Page A

it was likely that a severe traumatic brain injury, taking immediate effect, had caused first the coma and then the waking coma into which the unknown patient had fallen in the course of her time in the hospital.
    ‘That’s right,’ Joentaa repeated, and he cleared his throat. ‘What happened is that the woman came out of the coma after a few weeks, but she was still in what they call a waking coma or persistent vegetative state, meaning she was living in a rhythm of sleeping and waking, but was unable to react to her surroundings . . .’ He cleared his throat again, and wondered why he sounded so stilted. ‘Rintanen can’t say for certain what event was the root cause of . . . I mean, what prompted the coma. An accident can lead to a coma, of course, but as we know, when the woman was found in summer our colleagues couldn’t find anything to indicate that she’d been in an accident.’
    ‘So we don’t know who the woman is or what really happened to her,’ said Sundström, getting to his feet, as if this summing-up was something they could live with. ‘Some of the information coming in has already been checked. Questioning will continue at nine in the hospital. You will see who’s assigned to what job from the—’
    ‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Kari Niemi, appearing in the doorway.
    ‘Kari,’ said Sundström. ‘Cheer us up with the findings of forensic science, will you?’
    ‘We actually do have something,’ said Niemi. ‘Whatever it may mean.’
    ‘Yes?’ asked Sundström.
    ‘Lysozyme,’ said Niemi.
    ‘What?’ asked Sundström.
    ‘We found quite large amounts of a fluid on the sheet and the blanket under which the dead woman was lying. And a first analysis shows that this fluid contains lysozyme as well as . . .’
    ‘Lysowhat?’ asked Sundström.
    ‘. . . as well as a large amount of water, along with mineral substances and salts, indicating that . . .’
    Sitting on her bed, thought Joentaa.
    ‘Hm?’ asked Sundström.
    Smoothing out the sheet. Stroking the cold, soft blanket with his hands until he touches her shoulder and her face, very lightly so as not to wake her.
    ‘Lacrimal fluid,’ said Niemi. ‘We established that quite large quantities of lacrimal fluid were present on the sheet and the blanket.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Nurmela, who was leaning against the window wall in the sunshine.
    ‘And what does that tell us?’ asked Sundström.
    Niemi shrugged his shoulders. Niemi, whose hug he still remembered very well, although it was so long ago. The day after Sanna’s death.
    ‘A murderer who was shedding tears,’ said Kimmo Joentaa in the ensuing silence.

16
    KALEVI FORSMAN EXAMINED the name on the business card again. And the design, which had been on his mind all this time. So plain yet so effective. The lines curving harmoniously, the colours seeming to flow gently into each other.
    He couldn’t remember ever seeing such an attractive business card before.
    He crossed the lobby and went up in the lift. The man was as good as his word. A picturesque view of the city and the bathing beach to the west of Helsinki, in the distance several of the huge ferries lying in the water like optical illusions. Women from the hotel or the catering service, in black dresses and white tops, setting up a buffet with drinks, coffee and cakes. He watched them for a while, then turned back to the window and stared out at the sunny sky. The steps behind him sounded soft and springy.
    ‘How do you do?’ said the man, already holding out his hand and smiling as he turned round.
    ‘Hello,’ replied Forsman.
    ‘Come along,’ said the man, going briskly ahead.
    ‘Er, where to?’
    ‘Out,’ said the man, walking on.
    ‘Where are the others, then?’
    ‘You’re the first,’ said the man, opening a door that led out to the roof terrace. In the background the clatter and clink of crockery and the soft, quiet women’s voices could be heard.
    ‘I’m the first?’ asked Kalevi