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Crimes Unit had recently retired, and VCU had been able to fill the positions with qualified applicants like Nyström. He was a forty-year-old veteran cop, with plenty of experience investigating various violent crimes in the eastern Helsinki metropolitan area.
    “Not all the Indians in the canoe,” Nyström said in a squeaky voice. “That’s such a worn-out phrase. Kind of like ‘dumber than a box of rocks.’ Try ‘slow on the uptake’ or something.”
    Kohonen, who se hobbies included horses, added, “Didn’t have all their horses shoed.”
    Kulta joined in. “You’re not using your imagination. How about, ‘not all the Nazis in the bunker’ or ‘all the idiots in the village’…”
    Suhonen, wearing his usual leather jacket, his black hair pulled into a ponytail, chuckled and said, “Fitting for this case, ‘not the sharpest knife in the drawer.’”
    Takamäki walked in just as Suhonen was making his comment.
    “What about a knife?” the thin-faced lieutenant in a gray cardigan asked. His short, dark hair showed a hint of silver.
    Suhonen explained the pun and Takamäki chuckled. “I’m glad my detectives have an imagination. I’ll throw one out, too.”
    “What?” Kulta asked.
    “Well,” Takamäki began, molding the idea. “This one is the other way around, but I’m confident you esteemed sleuths will get it. In this case, the guy actually ‘has all the administrators in the building.’”
    Suhonen laughed and the others joined in. The newly-restructured police administration had increased bureaucracy, and Takamäki wasn’t a fan.
    “But let’s get down to business. Anna, please brief us.”
    “Okay, enough with the jokes,” said the detective in a black sweater and jeans. “We’re investigating a brutal homicide.”
    Everyone settled down.
    “So the victim is Laura Janina Vatanen. She was born in Tampere, February 1985, which made her twenty-six years old. She lived alone in her apartment, where she was found with her throat slashed. She has no criminal background. Based on our preliminary findings, Laura Vatanen was diagnosed with a slight mental disability as a young child. She had trouble learning to read and write, and some of her movements were impaired. She retired on disability at the age of twenty.”
    Joutsamo glanced at the others. Nobody was smiling or making jokes now. Society should’ve been able to protect her, and now this had happened.
    “According to city records, Vatanen lived on Nӓyttelijӓ Street for two years. She had been in therapy since she was a kid, and had been deemed capable of living on her own. She had a trainee-type job at a local grocery store, but the owner fired her because she required too much help to perform her duties.”
    “C old capitalism,” Kulta said. This time Takamäki didn’t give Kulta his usual reprimand for an unnecessary comment, but nodded in agreement.
    Joutsamo continued, “ She was on the waiting list for other trainee-type jobs.”
    “Anyone from Social Services check on her?”
    Joutsamo shook her head. “No. The mother was the designated caregiver and was getting paid for it.”
    “Has the mother been told?”
    “No,” Joutsamo said, looking at Taka m äk i . “You and I will take care of that tonight. Well, that’s the short version of Laura Vatanen’s sad story. If anyone wants to take a closer look into her thoughts, I have a notebook where she scribbled her dreams in what I would call fourth-grade handwriting. I also have a friendship book, but the only notes in it are from her three teddy bears on the couch.”
    Joutsamo paused. Kulta wasn’t sure if she was wiping the corners of her eyes or just brushing her dark hair aside.
    Joutsamo continued in a normal voice. “I read through all of them, but couldn’t find any clues as to the killer. However, I can say that despite her physical age of twenty-six, mentally Laura Vatanen was at the level of a pre-teen. She was actually just a child.”
    “But why