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silent. Were anyone else to have thrown a bottle at him he’d have snapped their neck, but Korpi’s psychotic streak made the man seem invincible. Sure, occasionally Siikala had felt like fighting back, but fortunately what little sense he had outweighed his penchant for fists, knives and firearms.
    “Now then,” said Korpi. “Is there something I can do for you?”
    This sudden change of mood was no surprise to Guerrilla. Korpi’s mind routinely reeled from one extreme to another.
    Without saying a word, Siikala handed him a folded newspaper clipping with the headline “Young Man Gunned Down in Alppila.”
    Korpi took the clipping, wrinkling his brow as he read it, “Shit,” he hissed. “Fucking idiot!”
     
    * * *
     
     
    Mari Lehtonen sat at the table inspecting a couple of dozen photos, which were spread out in front of her. She put her finger on one. “No question about it. That one’s the driver,” she said. The man in the photo wore a dour, angry expression. “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He had the same look then.”
    “I just want you to be sure,” said Joutsamo. “So take some time to look over the others once more.”
    Lehtonen scanned the photographs, studying each one for about ten seconds. Joutsamo was satisfied with the care she devoted to each. She studied the collection for nearly three minutes before tapping Korpi’s again.
    “And you’re certain?”
    Lehtonen nodded. “Absolutely.”
    Joutsamo raked up the photos and stood up. “Okay, Mari. I need to go talk with my lieutenant for a while. Go ahead and pour yourself another cup of coffee from the thermos over there.”
    “Okay.”
    “I’ll just be a few minutes,” said Joutsamo, and she headed off for Takamäki’s office. There, Takamäki and Kohonen were discussing the surveillance operation. Not much to discuss, as no phone activity had been detected. The police had obtained a warrant for a list of all cell phone activity from the area surrounding the crime scene. Takamäki had ordered Kohonen to go through the list to look for any interesting phone numbers.
    “Sorry to interrupt,” said Joutsamo from the door.
    “What is it?” said Takamäki.
    “Our witness recognized the driver. Korpi himself.”
    “Huh?” Takamäki seemed surprised. “She sure about that?”
    Joutsamo nodded. “Positively. I showed her more than twenty photos of guys who’ve been connected to Korpi, plus Korpi himself. Lehtonen barely hesitated when she fingered him.”
    “And she’s pretty levelheaded?”
    “Yup. Even remembers the plate number on the Mazda. Said it herself—she’s got like a photographic memory.”
    “Why would Korpi put himself in that kinda situation?” wondered Kohonen. “He’s got plenty of guys to play getaway driver.”
    “Wondered the same thing myself,” said Joutsamo. “He’s not the type to do anything that stupid, even for his godchild.”
    “I guess we’ll just have to ask him, if we can find him. Anna, did you discuss safety measures with Lehtonen?”
    Joutsamo shook her head.
    “Okay, you’ll have to do that. But do a proper interview first and make sure to document in writing which photo she identified. Once we find Korpi, we’ll organize a lineup,” said Takamäki. His phone rang. Before answering, he asked Joutsamo if there was anything more. There wasn’t.
    “Yeah,” Takamäki barked into the receiver. If he ever used his name, he certainly didn’t for unidentified callers.
    “Hi, it’s Sanna,” said a woman’s perky voice.
    “Hi there,” said Takamäki.
    Sanna Römpötti was a long-time crime reporter who had recently moved from newspapers to TV. She was friends with Joutsamo, who Takamäki trusted not to leak any information to the media.
    “So, you guys got a new murder to solve?”

Takamäki smiled. Typical Römpötti. Her interviews were like a page out of a police textbook. Throw out a casual, open question and let the subject ramble on. Afterwards, if Römpötti