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in the world was she allowed to live alone?” Leif Nyström asked.
    “Apparently there are many ways to evaluate someone’s mental age,” Joutsamo said. “And those tests don’t include friendship books. Anyway, that’s the scoop: what the victim was like and what kind of a situation we’re dealing with here.”
    E veryone knew that they’d do whatever was necessary to solve the case, especially since the victim was basically a child. Not that the Helsinki PD didn’t do their best to solve every homicide, but after hearing Joutsamo’s briefing nobody was going to be counting their hours.
    “Then the report from F orensics. Laura Vatanen’s throat was slashed deep, almost into the vertebrae. We don’t have the full report from the medical examiner, but there was no question as to the cause of death. We didn’t find a weapon in the apartment, and don’t know yet if Laura was drugged. We do know she wasn’t raped, and we found no signs of violence or struggle before her death.”
    “Did she have wounds on her hands?” Nyström asked. It was common to see wounds on knifing victims’ hands from attempts to block the attack.
    “No.”
    “Surprising—usually there’s something.”
    “Not this time,” Joutsamo said.
    “The door was intact, and no signs of struggle were found. So it had to be someone she knew,” Nyström went on.
    Takamäki joined in. “Never assume, and look at the facts. I agree that the first line of investigation should be looking into people she knew. We just need to keep all options open. It’s unlikely we’re dealing with a serial killer—if one was around, I would’ve heard about it.”
    “Um, t here might actually be one lurking around,” Nyström pointed out. “A serial killer murdered three women in Järvenpää in the beginning of the ’90s, and a few years ago there was some talk about him making a comeback. We checked a case in Vantaa, but the tips didn’t fit. By the way, what color was Vatanen’s hair?”
    “Blonde,” Joutsamo said, passing the victim’s passport picture around.
    “Then it’s probably not the Järvenpää guy; he went after brunettes, unless his tastes have changed. By the way, he was never caught.”
    Kulta looked at the pictu re. He noticed Laura’s childlike features, now that he knew her background. Otherwise he would’ve just considered her slightly simple. She looked gentle and vulnerable rather than pretty.
    “I’ll check with the National Bureau of Investigation about the Järvenpää case,” Takamäki said. “Anna, go on.”
    “Did we get any fingerprints or DNA?” Kulta inserted.
    “Before we get to that… Mikko, tell us what the neighbor woman said about what happened in the morning.”
    Kulta recounted Iina Ridanp ää’s story. Around ten o’clock she had heard noise from the apartment, and when Laura Vatanen didn’t show up at eleven to run her errands, Ridanpää called the police.
    “How sure was she that it was ten o’clock?” Kohonen asked.
    “I asked her that and she wasn’t entirely sure. I would say give or take thirty minutes. She said she was listening to the news on the radio, and that’s how she figured the time.”
    “The radio news is broadcast every thirty minutes.”
    “That’s right. So I figured between nine-thirty and ten-thirty. The w oman told her story to Partio, but wouldn’t talk to me unless I got her red wine from the liquor store.”
    “Did you?” Kohonen asked.
    “Of course he did,” Suhonen replied.
    Kulta nodded.
    “As long as she doesn’t demand a wine bottle on the witness stand,” Nyström joked.
    Kulta chuckled. “No worries. We can get her high-security status, so she can hide behind the black glass and sip her wine.”
    “Back to business,” Takamäki said firmly.
    “Yeah, sorry,” Kulta responded sincerely. Humor wouldn’t fly right now, especially with a mentally immature murder victim. But in this business you couldn’t let the details of the case get to