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the office she shared with Kohonen, Kulta and a couple of other officers. Suhonen also had a desk, a chair and a telephone, but had the janitors not visited daily, spiders would have surely overrun it with their webs. The topmost item on Suhonen’s desk was a year-old newspaper.
    Joutsamo rolled her desk chair over to the phone and was just lifting the receiver when Kulta blurted, “Betcha three shifts of coffee-duty it’s some wacko.”
    Joutsamo accepted and grinned as she flicked on the voice recorder.
    “Helsinki Violent Crimes Unit, Anna Joutsamo speaking.”
    “Hello,” said a hesitant female voice. “I’m calling about the incident on Porvoo Street. Is this the right number?”
    “Yes, it is,” said Joutsamo in a cordial voice. “Do you have any information on it?”
    “Yeah. Not sure if it’s important, but I was coming out of the convenience store and saw a Mazda parked there.”
    Joutsamo snatched a pen. The woman had the make of the car right despite its lack of mention in

the press. The sergeant scribbled out, knew Mazda . “You’re sure it was a Mazda?”
    “Yes. A blue 323, as I remember. Not too old. The sort of rounder-looking sedan style. Wasn’t it then?”
    “Uuh,” Joutsamo stalled intentionally. “Maybe I should get your name.”
    Witnesses often wished to remain anonymous. Joutsamo was confident the woman would reveal her name since her number was clearly visible on the caller ID. She had already written it down.
    “Mari Lehtonen.”
    “What did you see there, Mari?”
    “The car, driver and license plate. Nothing more.”
    “Do you recall the plate number?”
    “Yes,” said Mari, and she recited the number. It started with a K .
    Joutsamo was ready to celebrate. The other officers had gathered around as well. Below the plate number she scratched out another message: Kulta, put some coffee on! And tea too!!
    “Was the driver the murderer, then?”
    “It’s best if you don’t ask any questions. What do you remember about the driver?”
    “Male. About forty. Angry-looking eyes, though he never looked directly at me. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. Maybe that’s why it stuck in my head. He was clearly waiting for someone in the store and seemed irritable.”
    “Listen, Mari. We should meet up as soon as possible. Where are you now? Could I come there so we could talk?”
    Mari hesitated for a moment. “Uuh, maybe it’s best if I came to the station. We have secured entry and all that, and I don’t think the management would appreciate if the police came. I can get there by bus just fine.”
    “How about if I pick you up.”
    “That works too. Won’t take too long, will it?”
    “What’s the address?”
    Mari told her and Joutsamo promised to be there within fifteen minutes. She hung up the phone.
    Joutsamo was beaming. “Just hit pay dirt. Almost too good to be true. Not only was she able to describe the driver, she remembered the plate number, too.” Joutsamo handed her notes to Kohonen. “Kirsi, you track down the car. Kulta, I want every photo you can find of every guy connected to Korpi, but toss in ten or so extra photos for a control group.”
     
    * * *
     
    Twenty minutes later, Joutsamo was returning to police headquarters with Lehtonen. She had parked her unmarked Volkswagen Golf in front of the station rather than its reserved spot in the underground garage. She didn’t want Lehtonen feeling intimidated on account of their grim, claustrophobic parking accommodations. This might be their key witness, after all, and it paid to foster a buoyant, talkative mood. On the way, Joutsamo had avoided talking about the case, opting instead to ask about Mari’s background. Mari had talked about her current job, her layoff at the Jyväskylä Savings and Loan, her alcoholic ex and her daughter, who was clearly an important figure in her life.
    Mari Lehtonen seemed to Joutsamo to be a well-balanced woman and first-class eyewitness