Tear gas leaves an oily mist that would have made my home a health hazard for months if not removed with thoroughness. I called a service that specializes in crime scene cleanup. It charges exorbitant prices. Scraping shotgunned brains off ceilings and suchlike messes warrants a good wage. I paid double for instant service.
I wanted to think this through, narrow down the suspects, figure out who was turning my home into a war zone. I guessed the brick through the window was just the first shot off the bow—the note written on it combined with this escalation made that clear.
Letting these questions gnaw at me, like a dog worrying a bone, had to wait. The living room was a glass-covered danger zone in an apartment with a gimp, an infant and a cat living in it. Sweetness said to call when I needed him. I did.
He answered. “So the hermit reemerges.”
I was shaken, at a loss for words, and took a second to collect myself.
He knows me. “What happened and what can I do?”
I sighed. “I need you to stay here with me.”
He laughed. “You’re lonely and you miss me?”
I explained about the broken window, what was written on the brick, and about the tear gas assault. “This is about the ten million we took, so we could all be in danger. We should talk. And I have Anu with me. I need protection.”
“Where is Kate?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He got it then that I was living a train wreck in progress. “Sit tight,” he said, “I’ll be there soon.”
“No,” I said, “wait. The house is toxic. I’ll take Anu and Katt to the park and call you when it’s safe.”
Next, I tried to call Milo. His cell phone was turned off. Milo and I are well-known figures because of the cases of international interest we’ve solved, a school shooting we ended—we were called saviors of children, but in truth it was little more than an execution when Milo put a bullet into the assailant’s brain—and, to a lesser extent, because we’ve killed more men and been shot more times than any policemen in modern Finnish history.
Anu and I went out. I used the time to order new windows. I own a second house, in Porvoo. My old friend Arvid left it to me, and it fell into my possession when he committed suicide not long ago. I asked them to install bulletproof glass in both my apartment and the house, and air conditioners as well, in case the thick glass made the places airtight, like living in bubbles, and left us sweltering. They had never done such a thing, had no idea what it would cost. “It costs what it costs,” I said, “and I’ll pay you double if you can get it done in three days.” This provided sufficient motivation to get an instant affirmative.
When the cleaners called and said they were done, I called Sweetness back.
Sweetness showed up with his girlfriend, Jenna. She’s sixteen, a teen beauty, five foot nothing, has lush white-blond hair that hangs to her ample bottom, and is brick shithouse built, like a miniature Brigitte Bardot with more curves. She’s also his third cousin once removed. Jenna follows him puppy-dog style wherever he goes. He doesn’t appreciate Jerry Lee Lewis jokes about their relationship.
She has pale white skin, cherry red lips, and large breasts that look almost comically out of place on such a tiny woman. I wished he hadn’t brought her. Pain and worry hadn’t lessened my attraction to women, and she was a potential distraction.
Sweetness is only twenty-two, a happy-go-lucky giant of a man—his size would frighten children like an ogre if not for his baby face—but he’s an alcoholic and a dangerous sociopath. Jenna and Sweetness: Beauty and the Beast.
They brought enough food, beer and booze for an army. Jenna emptied the bags and started filling the fridge. All the food was meat and eggs.
“Jenna goes where I go,” Sweetness said. “And with Anu in the house, Jenna can help take care of her. I don’t know anything about babies. Jenna insisted.”
I thanked her. “What’s with the food? You feeding wolves?”
“We’re on a solid-protein diet,” she said. “No carbs. Except for alcohol, of course.”
“Of course,” I said.
The traditional Finnish breakfast is rye bread with cheese. Maybe with some lunch meat, cucumbers and tomatoes on it. Nowadays breakfast is often bacon and eggs. This fad is driving bread companies out of business. No one seems to