Light in a Dark House Read Online Free Page A

myself laughing at him, when he was trying to tell me that Matti Nykänen is bound to fall flat on his face some time, because there has to be more to life than flying through the air on two boards.
That’s only logical, he says.
I asked him why he wanted to start on about Matti Nykänen when it’s 30 degrees and we’re dangling our feet in the water, and the sun is blazing down like it hasn’t for a long time.
‘You’re right,’ said Lauri. He often says that, although really he’s usually the one who is right.
Sometimes I wonder why Lauri hangs out with me at all, because he’s best at all school subjects and I’m worst at most of them, and by way of saying thanks I picked him first of all for my football team yesterday. I saw the jaws of all the others drop, and Lauri thought he’d heard wrong and didn’t like to come over to me. I had to call his name out loud again, and then he came over slowly and gave me kind of an enquiring look. Then he played really well in defence, threw himself at the ball good and hard.
I guess Lauri also sometimes wonders why I hang out with him, and because we both ask ourselves the same question that makes the two of us a pretty good couple. And this is a lovely summer so far. Lauri said it’s a summer that never ought to end, it’s so good.
We let our feet dangle in the water. I’m quite brown from the sun, Lauri’s wearing a T-shirt and has suncream on his arms, because he’s terrified of sunburn.
He says I’ll want to remember it some time, that’s why I ought to write it all down. Not that I’ve told him anything at all yet. I only said I will, about the piano lessons. That’s all. He gives me a funny look and says that I ought to write everything down, all that I remember, because I’ll always want to remember that, about the piano lessons and of course about her too.
And also, he says, I must watch out, because there’s no point falling in love with the wrong women.
Lauri of all people says that, Lauri Lemberg who’s never kissed a girl because his smooching was useless when fat Satu Koivinen wanted to get up close and personal with him at the midsummer party.
It’s a funny idea when you imagine it. Someone’s smooching turning out useless. We’ll see if I do want to remember it some time, but anyway I’ve written it down now. Dear diary. That’s the way you put it, right? Dear diary. Hi, dear diary. I’ll have to ask Lauri tomorrow if you really do put it that way.

9
    TURKU HOSPITAL. A large, white building with countless windows. Kimmo Joentaa had tried counting them once, on a sunny day before Sanna’s death.
    He had really meant to go home to look through his post and sleep for a few hours. But then he sat in the car instead, staring at the big, solid building, trying to pinpoint the window behind which Sanna was lying. And sleeping. Or dying.
    Then he had begun to count, gave up at 174, got out of the car and went back along all the corridors to Sanna’s room. That was quick, she had said, wearily and in a husky voice, and he had sat down beside her bed and tried to smile.
    The car park still looked the same. Sun too warm for autumn, as it had been then. Grönholm, beside him, got out of the car. Joentaa followed and overtook him. He suddenly felt that he had to get all this over with quickly. He walked purposefully; he knew the way. Right-angled walls, arrows to wherever you were going. There was a uniformed woman officer outside the broad swing doors with the words Intensive Care above them. Joentaa took his ID out of his coat pocket and returned her nod before going on. Behind him he heard Petri Grönholm’s slower footsteps.
    Inside, white-clad forensics officers and a curious silence. Nurses both male and female were leaning against the walls, behind a glazed partition. Sundström was standing at the end of the corridor, deep in conversation with a man whom Joentaa knew.
    Rintanen. The medical director of the hospital, who had looked after Sanna